Chapter 3: Painting Portraits
In truth, Deidara didn’t much like painting. He’d only agreed on the job because, of all the Akatsuki, he was the only one with any degree of talent at it. And then Pein had made him take a year long crash course on it just to make his ability good enough to be believable. He’d hated every minute of it – sitting in class again like a student, when he’d thought he’d left all that behind in Iwa.
As he selected the paint brushes he would need, he instinctively watched the girl, Hinata, from the corner of his eye. She was a pretty thing, of that there was no doubt, and if not for her eyes, and the headband and weapons a quick search had uncovered, he would never have suspected her of being a shinobi. Whereas life as a missing-nin had taught him to always stay alert, the girl had obviously led a safer, more sheltered life. She sat with her back to the door, dangerously vulnerable to silent assailants. Her hands were clasped politely in front of her, well away from the kunai he knew were hidden in ankle pouches, and her legs were curled under her, where she could not spring up quickly in an emergency. In a friendly village, surrounded by shinobi taught to protect her at all costs, such measures weren’t as critical, he supposed. Even on missions she’d have been surrounded by teammates, from what Itachi told of Konoha. Which made him wonder what she was doing alone so far from her village.
“Please sit straight, un.” The girl started and hurriedly turned to face him, and he wondered briefly how Konoha could allow its shinobi to be so high-strung. He put it out of his mind as he studied her critically, deciding on how to go about the painting. “Now turn your head to the right, un, just a little.”
That was all right, he decided. Not like he was painting a masterpiece or something. Picking up a pencil, he began to draw an outline.
At noon, Deidara glanced at the clock above the door. Sticking his brush in a jar of water beside him, he blew a strand of hair away from his face and stood up. “We’re done for the day, un.”
Hinata just nodded, watching him as he started collecting the brushes to be cleaned. “I could help clean,” she suggested softly. Deidara considered it. There wasn’t all that much to clean, but whatever. It meant less work for him, and he’d be able to keep an eye on her. Though he didn’t consider her much of a threat, it wouldn’t do if she went snooping.
He scooped up some other things he’d been putting off cleaning and put them with the brushes, dumping the entire batch in the old sink tucked away in a far corner. “Just don’t break the brushes or anything, un,” he told her. The girl smiled at that, as if she was relieved at being able to help. Odd girl.
Sticking a brush full of paint under the water, he flicked the bristles absently, and heard a squeak from beside him. Turning, he saw that a glob of paint from his brush had landed on her cheek. Hinata had frozen, eyes wide with shock, and Deidara couldn’t help but laugh at the expression on her face. Cheeks going pink, she quickly wiped at the spot, succeeding only in smearing it over her face and hands. Deidara dug up a wet cloth and threw it to her, pretending he didn’t notice the speed at which she caught it. By the time she’d cleaned up, Deidara was done his brushes and had pulled himself up to perch on the drawing table. Hinata folded the cloth carefully after washing it and set it aside, causing Deidara to grin at her meticulousness.
“Deidara,” she began quietly as she cleaned the brush she was holding as carefully as she’d cleaned the cloth. “Why did you save me?” The act of cleaning seemed to calm the nerves that had had her jumping earlier, and now her voice was almost serene.
Deidara was caught off guard by the question, but only a little bit. He studied her for a moment, deciding she was the moral type. So he gave her the answer she'd like best. “I couldn’t just leave you out there, un. You’d have died.”
“Maybe…” She set the last brush aside, not looking at him. “I don’t believe that’s the only reason.”
Deidara raised an eyebrow. She was perceptive. Almost scarily perceptive. He grinned, this little visit was definitely going to be interesting. “All right, you got me, un. I was bored, and picking people up off the streets is always fun.”
Hinata was silent at that. Finished her work, she rinsed off her hands and turned to face him. Her smile was polite, but there was a thoughtful look in her eyes. “I suppose that works,” she conceded. For some reason, that annoyed Deidara, that she was so calm about being picked up on a whim.
“You’re not bothered by that at all, un.” He phrased it as a statement, but was suddenly very curious as to what her answer would be. She was a Hyuuga, a member of an extremely prestigious clan. She should be used to getting her own way, and she certainly shouldn’t be so calm about being treated as a mere distraction.
“No. Not really.” She looked at him, a slightly confused expression on her face, as if she truly didn’t understand why she should be upset.
“Why not?” Deidara pressed..
“Well…why should I be? I don’t know whether I would have died out there if you hadn’t happened to come by…and if you hadn’t happened to be bored. So, really, I’m very lucky. That’s the way I see it.” Hinata’s smile was patient, dismissing his confusion and apologizing for the dismissal at the same time, though the apology did little to curb Deidara’s annoyance at the dismissal.
“You have a strange way of seeing things, un,” was all he said. Slipping off the table, he motioned for Hinata to go ahead of him to the hall. The short walk to the kitchen was spent in silence. Hinata seemed absorbed in her thoughts, and Deidara was trying to figure out what to do after lunch, since he’d originally planned to go flying.
“If you don’t feel like cooking, I could do it instead.” Hinata spoke up suddenly when they’d reached the kitchen. The offer was tentative, and she glanced at him as if she expected him to refuse.
“You cook a lot, un?” It was an odd skill for someone who had servants to take care of any domestic tasks, and shinobi weren’t required to know more than basic campfire cooking. Deidara himself hadn’t learned how to cook at all until after he went missing-nin.
“Ah…yes.” Hinata lowered her head as if ashamed of the fact. “I…like cooking. And it’s something I’m all right at. So…please. I don’t want to feel like I’m imposing, so I want to help any way I can.”
Deidara stared at her for a few minutes, then plopped himself down on one of the chairs. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s unhealthy to be so helpful, un?” He waved toward the fridge anyway. “Knock yourself out.”
After lunch, Hinata excused herself and retired to her room, leaving Deidara alone for the first time that day. He waited in the kitchen for several minutes after she left, passing the time by sticking the leftovers in the fridge (she was a surprisingly good cook, despite what she thought), then silently followed her out. He stopped at the door to the guest room and listened, hearing only the soft swishing of movement and an almost indiscernible sound of feet hitting the floor with rhythmic regularity. Taijutsu practice, probably. At the very least, she was dedicated. He had a good hour or two before she was likely to wander outside the room.
Having determined that, he left the girl to her practice and went to his own room. Shutting the door firmly behind him, he sat down at a simple desk he’d picked up on the side of the road the day after he’d arrived in the town. A pad of paper and several pens were the only objects on it. Deidara deftly ripped a piece of paper from the pad and picked out a pen from the pile. He didn’t make a practice of writing up reports, for obvious reasons, and they were rarely necessary besides, but he’d been told very firmly that he was to report any complications whatsoever that arose during this particular mission. He knew better than to inquire as to why.
I’m in. The man hired me on the spot, I don’t see why you were worried about it. My performance was absolutely flawless. Better than the Uchiha could’ve done. Anyway, once I finish the first assignment he’s given me I should be able to secure a private audience with him. It’s so easy I’m bored.
He paused, wondering if he should mention Hinata. No...he’d overreact. If all went well, nobody would have to know, and he was already taking a risk by his tone in the letter.
Anyway, you had told me to report any complications. There was a blizzard here yesterday and it looks like I’ll be snowed in for a while. It’s not a serious setback, unless there’s a deadline for this I’m not aware of, but the mission will take longer than expected.
The report done, he quickly folded the note and opened the bottommost drawer in the desk, releasing the false bottom to retrieve a small bag hidden underneath. Reaching into the bag, he took out a small lump of clay and quickly fashioned it into an equally small bird, which he then handed the note to. Walking to the window, he pushed back the blinds, opened it, and let the clay bird fly off. As he did so, he noticed that it had started snowing again and couldn’t restrain a groan of frustration. He’d expected to be inside for a few days at most, but if the weather kept up they’d be snowed in for weeks.
Sighing, he exited the room and started wandering down the hall to his ‘work room’, yawning as he did so. Odd that he’d be tired this early in the afternoon. Probably from boredom, he reasoned. He was just half a dozen steps from Hinata’s room when he heard a yelp from behind the door, interrupting him from further musing. He paused; looked back. Lessons in proper etiquette, drilled into him at a young age and tossed aside soon after, stirred from the back of his mind. With any of his ‘comrades,’ he’d have ignored it, but this was a guest. He retraced his steps and knocked lightly on the door.
“You okay,” he inquired casually, but with enough concern that she wouldn’t think him callous. Some people took offence to that, he’d noticed. Normally he wouldn’t care, but if he was going to be stuck with her for a week or more it was best to start on good terms. He grinned at that thought: Sasori would be speechless if he knew that Deidara did, in fact, know how to make people like him.
There was a pause at his knock; then some hurried scuffling. “Y-yes, I’m fine.” Hinata’s voice was slightly flustered, but she didn’t add anything more. A few seconds later, he heard her soft footfalls begin anew. She was persistent, if a bit clumsy. Deidara turned away, and sighed again. He was back with nothing to do. He was about to follow Hinata’s example and get some training in (with what, he hadn’t decided yet) when he was interrupted by another huge yawn. On second thought, a nap was sounding better and better. In his work room, so he’d hear Hinata leaving her room. That decided, he continued into the room, heading toward the couch tucked away at the back (for pulling all-nighters, he supposed). He was halfway to the couch when he stumbled, catching himself on the center tables and knocking over a glass bottle. The room started getting hazy, and he barely heard the shatter of glass that followed the bottle. Suddenly alarmed, he lurched the rest of the way to the couch and forced his drooping eyes to stay open and his head to focus. What was happening to him? How…and then he remembered that Hinata had made lunch. Had she…drugged it? She shouldn’t know he was anything other than a civilian – not even Itachi could see through his acting. But…
He lost the fight to keep his eyes open, and his thoughts trailed off as the drug shut down his body and plunged him into a deep, dreamless sleep.
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Chapter notes: I apologize in advance for any mistakes in the actual process of painting, etc. I really don’t know anything about it besides that one painting I did in art class, so most of this is guesswork. Feel free to correct me on anything you find that’s not quite right.
On writing this chapter, I discovered that writing Deidara is a lot harder than writing Hinata. Maybe because I’m more like Hinata than Deidara, but I hope the characterization is all right.