Portrait of the Cynic
I don't own Naruto.
Flames remain unloved here. Sparkly constructive criticism only. Glittery is fine too )
Chapter One: Monochrome
Her drawings had no color, because she liked them better that way. They had no definition, just like her. This one was of an androgyne from the back view, and it bled from where the wings were joined with the body.
Her drawings always had blood. Blood like those in this drawings, blood from the eyes--she liked to think they were weeping blood--wherever. There was always blood. Perhaps it was because it reflected the way she bled inside--metaphorically speaking, of course--endlessly, always and never ceasing.
Blood would look beautiful on her alabaster skin.
Sometimes she drew the beautiful people she saw on the streets, sometimes of people she knew and what she thought were really like, other times other things. There was her classmate, Uchiha-san. Hinata didn't know him at all; he kept to himself a lot.
There was her beloved, Naruto, who didn't reciprocate what she felt for him. He had a strong adoration for a girl in the best class, Haruno Sakura, someone Hinata loathed for being all that she wasn't: loved, pretty, intelligent, talented, opinionated and distinct. Hinata thought her to be chained from the ceiling in a room with no exit.
"Oh, look there's Shino, he's so cold, there's Kiba, he's so cavalier, there's Sei, he's so bubbly and Hinata, she...uh, draws all these gothic stuff, huh?" She was always the 'undefined'. And contrary to popular belief, what she drew was not 'gothic'. Hinata doubted there was actually a proper genre for it.
"Ohayo, Hina-chan!" Sei waved as he bounced past Hinata's desk which was next to the windows facing the corridor. As suddenly as he appeared by the window he appeared at the door, taking his seat in the second row. Hinata waved back when he turned around.
The day was starting. Soon, Kiba would be dashing into class, maybe knock over a table in his haste, and shout triumphantly that he was early, and seconds later Shino would calmly walk in and look at Kiba as if to say, "What's the rush for? It's still early."
The seat beside Hinata had always been empty since the beginning of the year. Kiba sat in front of her and Shino beside him.
Sure enough, Kiba skidded to a stop at the door at the front of the classroom. "I made it on time!" He shouted. Shino followed, walking into the classroom leisurely.
Everyone was already used to this morning routine. Of course, there was always the occasional snicker at the irony of it all.
"Morning, Hinata." Kiba said as he approached his desk. Shino just nodded in her direction.
"Good morning Kiba, Shino." She replied in that quiet voice of hers, flipping through an old sketchbook she dug out from the back of her desk, which was overloaded with papers, sketchbooks and broken pencils.
That day, there was supposed to be a new transfer student, as their homeroom teacher had announced. The mentioned student was late, however. In the end, he or she never came.
After school, Kiba and Sei decided to skip their club activity and go to Shinjuku, to see cute girls and look around for something or the other Sei's been meaning to get and maybe pop by a petshop to get something for Akamaru.
Hinata spent her afternoon in the empty Art Room 3 and successfully completed another drawing. She hadn't put any effort into this. Lately, she was starting to put effort into things she did less and less. Maybe she needed new inspiration, something more difficult to capture.
Hinata needed something to fill the empty space there, somewhere.
Oh, what are the things I hate? Let me count the ways...He hated his family, his life, people in school, people who looked at him weird on the streets, people who thought he was a pushover and people in general. He also hated anything which squealed, wore pink, had long hair or batted their eyelashes at him.
The flow of the crowd always seemed to be going against him.
Damn this world, really.
Sabaku Gaara shoved his hads deeper into his pocket and cut into a desolate side street. Finally, some space to breathe. He wasn't given enough of that.
His mind was blank as he walked. Gaara was already so familiarized with the place that he didn't even have to take notice of his surroundings of where to go. And he didn't...until something bumped into his arm pretty hard. That did not go well with his mood today.
"Oh...s-sorry. Are you a-alright?" It was a girl who was an entire head shorter than him. In the dim street light, he made out short black hair with eartails and lavender eyes. Very pretty lavender eyes at that.
"Watch it, little girl." Gaara didn't answer her question. That was all he said before he walked off.
---- basket case rants ----
I don't know where the morbid Hinata came from, I swear. Did I OOC her too much?
If you find my writing that horrendous and would like to help me improve it, email me and offer to be my beta-reader. The help would be gladly appreciated.
---- end basket case rants ----