The damage on Dei's face officially put my sanity over the edge; I say "officially" because, to be honest, I had always been subconsciously aware that my sanity was a fragile sliver of logic and self control, perching precariously on the thin line of common sense I still had left. Epic fail, ne? I was seeing colors—they were the layout for the color scheme that clashed to form one single emotion: Fury.
My emotions at this point comprised of sadistic hues of violet, turbulent blacks and grays that formed a murky depth, like bottomless oceans that threatened to consume everything else. The main color that dominated my vision now was red, swatches of it splattering against the sinister canvas of blacks and violets. The crimson shade was overpowering, so much that I wondered briefly if my Sharingan had activated without my consent. I forced it back, though—the Sharingan and the anger, for both threatened to pull me under, below reach of self-control. The last thing I wanted was to lose my sanity. Not now, not ever, and most certainly not here. Not when Deidara needed someone with a level head for comfort…but what could I offer? I, myself, was not, had never been fully stable.
But Deidara had suffered enough for one day—hell, he'd endured enough pain for five years of resolve to make up for it. He did not need my anger to add anything to current situation, so it was all I could do to suppress the rage building beneath my normally good-humored self. There's a common misconception made about people like me, in other words, those who can maintain a light, lofty aura about them: The belief that any person whose personality is normally dominated by a cheery attitude is always happy. Really? Well, that's good to know. Insert Sarcasm Here
Bullshit. In fact, my lack of self control and anger management was the very reason I had survived so long in the Akatsuki. It's the reason I could relate to Zetsu. I was technically bi-polar, as most people may say, and this was a well known fact—or rather, well learned—fact by anyone who knew me. Very rarely have I ever lost my temper, mainly because I know exactly when to put my emotions on lockdown, to prevent any impending violence from erupting. But no one's perfect, and alas, I have been known to lose it before…
Poor Kisame…I bit him once. He really does taste like sushi, you know! Just vaguely, though…sort of a salty flavor…Ah! Erm, moving on!
I suppose I should bring attention to the fact that this was not the first time I'd seen Deidara in such a condition. The first time I had, his appearance at the time had been much the same—that same look of innocence and longing mingled with the dullness of pain lingering in his eyes. He was trapped, more or less, within his own home. The very place that should have held out its arms in safety was now a barricade. It locked him in, serving as his own personal hell. I became aware of this the day I met him, but not immediately, due to such unusual circumstances that day.
Apparently, Deidara's so-called father had been taking him out into the village that day—presumably to shop. Iwagakure, having always been a bustling village, was crowded, as per usual. The only difference was that today was the day before the annual Sakura Festival, and everyone was making preparations. And of course, all the children were closely supervised as a result…except for one. Deidara's bastard of a father wasn't paying attention, not that he would have cared, anyway, so the poor kid got separated from him in the mass of shoppers and passersby. I was in town myself that day--(in disguise, of course—psht, yeah…why don't you try waltzing into town wearing an Akatsuki cloak!)—shopping for a special scroll during my spare time.
Eh? What's that? The scroll…?.....There's no need to be nosey, you know!!! And, damn it, I forgot what I was gonna say—Oh wait, nevermind.
Anyways, Dei stumbled into my peripheral vision, haphazardly pushing his way through the crowd. The sunlight caught the blonde sheen in his hair, discerning the lighter shades from the darker hues. I kept him in my line of vision while at the same time making my purchase. Now that I think about it, that merchant owes me 15 ryo!
I tucked the scroll under my arm, turning on my heels for a better view, watching the blonde wriggle amongst the throng of people—a fine example of a salmon swimming upstream. The kid tripped several times—the road wasn't paved and was uneven, so I couldn't really blame him. A look of panic and apprehension was on his face as he searched wildly for his father. He seemed like any other lost child, but with one exception—no one stopped to help him as he fell, some didn't acknowledge his presence, while others simply turned their heads away, watching him from the corner of their eye. No one stopped to ask if he was okay, but many of them looked as if they wanted to. I would later learn that Deidara's father, the very person the child was so desperately trying to find, intimidated most of the villagers, if not every single one of them.
He was not the Iwakage, but the villagers feared him because of his reputation—he was a violent drunk. They wanted nothing to do with him, fearing that anything or anyone related to him would cause them pain…and Deidara was unfortunate enough to fall under that category. I was a clueless stranger at the time, so I had no idea any of this was going on. All I knew was that it was wrong to let Dei flail helplessly around like that. So as he managed to squirm through the last of the crowd, I stepped forward to offer my help, catching him by the shoulder as he almost tripped again.
"Looking for someone?"
"Hm? Oh, m-my…father…" he had replied hesitantly.
I noticed with a spark of interest that he had said "father", not "dad" as most children would say as a term of endearment. I sighed, knowing that my conscience would not allow me to leave him all alone.
"Do you need any help finding him?" I ventured, scanning his face for any sign that he was uncomfortable with me talking to him. The kid's eyes widened and he practically super-glomped my leg, clinging there as if his life depended on it. I should have realized it then—the clinginess, the way he had spoken his father's name, the smell of fear I had detected but did not fully catch—but I didn't put those clues together. I did not recognize the essence of pure adrenaline wafting from his skin, but I should have known, and I regret that I did not.
I boosted him up on my shoulders so he could identify his so-called "father". He pointed the way while I parted through the crowd with ease, the villagers casting me curious glances as I went. It was hardly a problem finding hid father, but impossible for me to fathom how Deidara was related to the man in any way. My first impression of this man still haunts me. Deidara lingered by my side upon seeing him, trembling. And hell, I didn't blame him! The man before me—(if he even had the decency of a man, let alone a parent)—was undeniably drunk, slung across the counter of the bar and arguing in an obnoxious, slurred tone with the bartender. The strong smell of alcohol was overwheliming, mixing with sweat and smoke, all three smells enhanced by my Sharingan. It wasn't pleasant. He seemed impatient, potentially violent, and gave off an air of superiority that he, of all people, certainly didn't have. The air around him gave the impression of general filth—but his language was filthier, for it was foul enough to surpass even Hidan's filthy mouth.
"Hey, are you sure you're okay with this…?" I began uncertainly, but the kid was already loping off toward the man, flashing a weak smile, miming the words "thank you" as he followed his father home.
At this point, I was angry with myself for being so helpless…and I suppressed my urge to kill the senseless drunkard then and there. And against all rules of sanity, I followed Deidara home that night, using my wolf transformation to slink into the shadows. Once I arrived, I snuck in through the window—Dei's dad probably left it open—and darted behind the nearest object, a box. I had a gut feeling that Deidara would need me that night, and I owed him, so I was willing to stay, concerned for his safety and well-being. I heard a faint snuffling noise coming from nearby, and stiffened.
It took all of about four minutes of searching before I realized that the noise came from the box itself. It was Deidara, of course, hiding from his father. Cautiously, I poked my shoved my nose into the box, successfully poking Deidara in his side. He squeaked in surprise and fear as he glanced up at my (currently furry) face. It was then that he told me all his secrets, and I told him mine. He began trusting me and I now checked in on him now and then.
So now I was faced with a dilemma—I had to get Dei out of here. He'd be much safer in the Akatsuki, especially since already had special skills that would suit the organization well. Deidara's dad was hammered right now, so it wouldn't be that hard to escape. But if we chose an obvious escape, then he'd follow our trail after he sobered up. The window, for instance, was out of the question. By now, I'd read up on this family—Dei's relatives excelled at tracking missing ninja and Dei's father was a direct descendant of those ancestors—he'd know exactly where we were headed by the time we were half way there, so would have to outsmart him. I could sense the fresh air that came from the upstairs attic, and figures that'd be our safest way to escape. All we needed was a sensibly timed head start. So all I had to do was start from a high point so his father couldn't track my chakra signature throughout the house. If I was lucky, he would follow the trail I took to get here, directly opposite the way I planned on going.
I followed the scent of fresh air, Deidara trailing beside me as my sense of smell picked out the musty smell of the attic cellar from the other smells—blood, sweat, and heavy liquor. Dei clung to my fur—(I was a wolf, to avoid detection)—as we ascended the creaky steps that led to the attic. I avoided making any noise, nudging the blonde in various directions to avoid a faulty step. As soon as we reached the top, I saw a clearly defined opening—a gaping hole in the ceiling that bathed the now sun-bleached floorboards with dappled sunlight. It was a pretty high jump, I figured, but I could manage it. I reverted to my human form, holding out my arms and allowing him to clamber onto my back.
"Y'ready, Dei-chan?" I asked, glancing back at him encouragingly. His answer came in the form of a quavering "un". With that, I leapt up yo the highest point on the roof, careful not to look down, and made a final jump to the forest floor with Dei clinging tightly around my neck. I hit the ground running, and neither of us looked back.
"Lost, but never forgotten…" --Erin Hunter (Warriors: Darkest Hour)
