oo5 » dream
When Deidara was five, and his mother had been killed--he'd claimed it was an accident and it had been, and even if he thought it had been pretty, gorgeous, he'd been confused and somewhere in the back of his mind he thought maybe that was bad--he was taken for special training to be a shinobi. And they examined him, and asked him questions, and Deidara got quite bored of it, but eventually they gave him some clay and he was content to sculpt it while they talked about him in another room. If they were going to try to kill him, he supposed, he could kill them first. But when they returned they were smiling, and told him they were going to teach him how to properly use his skills.
And so the training began.
"Bonds with others," the man was saying as he stood at the front of a very tiny class, "are only useful when they can be utilized. Otherwise, they are strings holding you down. Cut those strings, and you will be a proper soldier. Your loyalty is to your village; you live and die for Iwagakure, and that is all."
If there were strings, Deidara felt they were loose ones. He could tie and untie them however he wanted, tug them down or push them off, and so his sensei called him gifted in this regard. It was easy to just focus on art at the exclusion of all else.
But when he went home--and his father never had come back from the war--there was always someone waiting for him.
("Nii-san!"
"Miu-chan, 'm hungry, where's dinner?"
"Bakudan!"
"You stole it from the shop?"
"Don't say it like that.")
And if they were orphans it wasn't a bad life.
-
"Cut the strings," they told him at training. "You don't need bonds to anyone holding you back from serving your village."
And that was easy--if it was too easy his instructors never said so, just praised him and lavished the attention on him that he loved. And so he stood apart from even the class, making sure not to bond, and to cut any strings between them before he went home every day.
("I'm home! ...Tch, Miu-chan, where are you?"
...
"Miu-chan?"
...
"H-hey, Miu-chan, stop being dumb! Where are you?!"
And so he'd looked for her all night, until he found her half-dead in an alleyway.)
-
He wondered if Miu was a string.
(She was in the hospital; he killed the brats who'd touched her, and he started to think.)
-
All strings must be cut.
("How was your training, nii-san?"
...
"Nii-san?"
"...I brought bakudan, un. Food here sucks."
"'Cause it's a hospital."
...
"...Itadakimasu. ...Nii-san?"
"Itadakimasu, un.")
-
It would be better for her--she would be betterperfectart--cutting off something at its prime was (art) best for it, because it would never get any worse and it would be (art) something better than it could have ever been otherwise. She'd be (art) pretty, she'd be (art) gorgeous, she'd be (art) able to understand if anyone would.
("Nii-san?"
...
"Nii-san?"
...
"Nii-san!"
"I'll be back tomorrow, un.")
-
All strings must be cut. If this was the string tying him to the ground and he cut it, what would happen. Well, he'd fly away, wouldn't he? And then he'd be better--the best. Cut the string that ties you down. It was so easy for him, that this one took any thought at all confused him. But no, he could, because he was making her art. He sculpted a bird [I am an artist an artist an artist]. She would look prettier than she'd ever been.
("Miu-chan."
"Nii-san? Are you feeling better?"
"Smile.")
She did.
--
[A hand grips the Hitomi. It's slammed into a wall with a solid noise, and as it hits the ground, it turns off, having landed on the power switch.]
And so the training began.
"Bonds with others," the man was saying as he stood at the front of a very tiny class, "are only useful when they can be utilized. Otherwise, they are strings holding you down. Cut those strings, and you will be a proper soldier. Your loyalty is to your village; you live and die for Iwagakure, and that is all."
If there were strings, Deidara felt they were loose ones. He could tie and untie them however he wanted, tug them down or push them off, and so his sensei called him gifted in this regard. It was easy to just focus on art at the exclusion of all else.
But when he went home--and his father never had come back from the war--there was always someone waiting for him.
("Nii-san!"
"Miu-chan, 'm hungry, where's dinner?"
"Bakudan!"
"You stole it from the shop?"
"Don't say it like that.")
And if they were orphans it wasn't a bad life.
-
"Cut the strings," they told him at training. "You don't need bonds to anyone holding you back from serving your village."
And that was easy--if it was too easy his instructors never said so, just praised him and lavished the attention on him that he loved. And so he stood apart from even the class, making sure not to bond, and to cut any strings between them before he went home every day.
("I'm home! ...Tch, Miu-chan, where are you?"
...
"Miu-chan?"
...
"H-hey, Miu-chan, stop being dumb! Where are you?!"
And so he'd looked for her all night, until he found her half-dead in an alleyway.)
-
He wondered if Miu was a string.
(She was in the hospital; he killed the brats who'd touched her, and he started to think.)
-
All strings must be cut.
("How was your training, nii-san?"
...
"Nii-san?"
"...I brought bakudan, un. Food here sucks."
"'Cause it's a hospital."
...
"...Itadakimasu. ...Nii-san?"
"Itadakimasu, un.")
-
It would be better for her--she would be betterperfectart--cutting off something at its prime was (art) best for it, because it would never get any worse and it would be (art) something better than it could have ever been otherwise. She'd be (art) pretty, she'd be (art) gorgeous, she'd be (art) able to understand if anyone would.
("Nii-san?"
...
"Nii-san?"
...
"Nii-san!"
"I'll be back tomorrow, un.")
-
All strings must be cut. If this was the string tying him to the ground and he cut it, what would happen. Well, he'd fly away, wouldn't he? And then he'd be better--the best. Cut the string that ties you down. It was so easy for him, that this one took any thought at all confused him. But no, he could, because he was making her art. He sculpted a bird [I am an artist an artist an artist]. She would look prettier than she'd ever been.
("Miu-chan."
"Nii-san? Are you feeling better?"
"Smile.")
She did.
--
[A hand grips the Hitomi. It's slammed into a wall with a solid noise, and as it hits the ground, it turns off, having landed on the power switch.]