Sai painted pictures in charcoal and ink.
His fingers soon became so stained though, from the constant use, that he had no hope of ever seperating his skin from the black imbedded in it.
Naruto painted too.
But he worked with words and gestures of the hand and trust, oh gawd how he trusted.
There probably wasn't a word for it, for how Naruto drew these images in people's minds - for how he covered up what he wanted to say with what he did and didn't say.
And Sai was laughing at Naruto, his fingers clenching the bench beneath him for support. His voice broke open, a hollow clatter of inexperience.
"Like you could draw, dickless?" His smile, even shady, was wide like his heart meant it.
Naruto only nodded and took Sai's notebook away from him.
"What's so hard about making a picture?" His head inches from the paper, he started scribbling like he was drawing with knives, the sound doing damage to Sai's ears.
Sai moved off the bench to take his notebook back - to stop Naruto from ripping the pages apart by pure force and determination, but Naruto was already walking away from him.
The image on his notebook, when it was his again, was not gloriously drawn. It was not brilliant nor artistic, but it was certainly descriptive.
What else can one say about the sight of Konoha torn to shreds?
"Naruto had become a master of illusion, spending nearly all his days as something that he wasn't. Naruto knew what it was like to smile and laugh on the outside while on the inside things were breaking."
Understanding, by lily day (Story ID: 1889354)