Hinata couldn't sleep. How could she? She was in the middle of a moral dilemma- nobody would be able to sleep soundly in her position. It wasn't easy to be feeling as she was feeling. Confused, hurt, angry, upset… all in all completely sleepless.
Why did life have to be so confusing all the time?
† † †
Earlier that day…
"Um, what was it you wanted to talk to me about, Sakura-Chan?" The pink haired girl was not what Hinata would refer to as the dearest of pals. There always seemed to be some sort of unspoken rivalry between the two- possibly because of what she supposed was a mutual affection for Naruto. Oh, sure, Sakura claimed to love Sasuke, but it HAD to be a cover-up. Who in their right mind would go for Sasuke with somebody like Naruto around?
And yet the girl had drawn Hinata aside that day, hand on her back and walking slowly to a secluded area behind a cluster of buildings, assuring the shyer girl that she had to talk to her about something very important.
And now the two young women stood about two feet apart, in the shadow of a building that only barely secluded them from the wary eye of passers-by.
"Look, Hinata, there's something you really ought to know-" Sakura began. Her tone was serious and no-nonsense, but there was a kind note of pity there at the same time.
"It's about Naruto."
Needless to say, this caught Hinata's attention. She inhaled a stitch, holding her breath for a lingering moment and turning milky pale eyes to the strawberry-colored girl's face.
"Naruto?"
"Yah… Look, like, everybody knows this but you, and I'm starting to feel really bad for you," she elaborated, "So it's really about time you were clued in."
On tenterhooks, Hinata leaned in, eager for the revelation. Could her wildest dreams be coming to fruition? Did he... could he… maybe… possibly… like her? As she liked him? She barely dared to dream it, let alone breathe.
Sakura decided the best course of action would be to just blurt it out: "Look, kid, he's gay."
Hinata faltered for a moment. "I-I beg your pardon, Sakura-Chan?"
"Naruto," she said, slowly sounding out each syllable, "Is. Gay."
"Wh-wha-" the girl stammered.
"Gay! Faggot! Homosexual! Flaming! Queer as a three dollar bill! Yaoi! Shonen-ai! He likes other boys. Sticks and sticks. Wouldn't touch a girl if his rainbow-striped life depended on it."
Hinata was shell-shocked. What? No! This couldn't be true!
Her shock must have shown on her face, because Sakura nodded, unpleased expression on her countenance. "Yah, I know. With Sasuke, predictably," she snorted before muttering something about 'damn dirty bisexual bastards'.
"O-oh," Hinata was left mumbling, lost. This explained a lot- but also raised several uncomfortable questions.
"Right, well," Sakura said with an air of someone who had just completed a rather unsavory task, "Now you know. So, like, maybe you want to quit embarrassing yourself now? Yah…" she looked over her shoulder to the sunny street, "I've got to see a girl about some flowers, ok? I'll be seeing you around." With that, she exited, leaving a much shaken Hinata alone.
† † †
And so the shy girl had gone the rest of that day in a blur. A shocked, hurt blur. He was gay. So that was why he never noticed her… never felt anything for her… It didn't make it sting any less. Sakura may as well have told her that Naruto was seeing another girl. Either way, he wasn't available to Hinata's affections.
She had tried to sleep. But sleep would not come. She lay in her bed, staring miserably at her walls, tossing and turning and sighing hopelessly.
When she'd finally become sick of her ceiling, she got up. Perhaps a quiet walk through the deserted streets would settle her down a bit. Help her come to terms with something very difficult to accept.
She exited her home quietly as the ninja she was (no matter what her father might have to say on the subject) and set off down the street. Anyone might have planned to visit a park. Hinata didn't need to: Kohoha was as beautiful as a park anywhere you went. A city of trees and flowers and nature. Hinata found that she quite liked it, and she well enjoyed her peaceful walk through the empty, unlit streets. She wandered further and further afield, feeling more secure and slowly relaxing with each step.
† † †
Others were not so relaxed. Indeed, they were jumpy. But then, jumpy was often the way that intruders felt. You couldn't just sneak into an unfriendly city in the middle of the afternoon, strolling along with a whistle on your lips. And Deidara didn't. He skulked into the leaf village in the dead of night.
He would have preferred an entrance with a BANG- literally. An artistic entrance, one that told everyone 'LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT WHAT I CAN DO! LOOK HOW ARTY I AM!!!!' as loud as humanly possible. And this, when it came to Deidara and his unique set of talents, was quite loud indeed. Explosive, one might even say.
But this, to his chagrin, was not an explosive sort of mission. No, this was a stealth job, which entailed a very different sort of artiness.
Get in. Steal the necessary material. Get out. All in the name of his craft.
He would not have been there at all, were it not for that scroll. An old, tattered scarp of material, barely worth a glance. Yet glance he had, and he had found some purely amazing things within. The most relevant, of course, being that relating to the use of sand.
To use sand that has already been infused with chakra from one, and then take it into the use of another, warping its material… it created amazing things. Amazing… and volatile. The scroll had said this warningly, telling the reader to beware of the dangerous nature of such experiments.
"Danger? What danger? Only to those I don't like," figured Deidara. Explosive clay… made all the more explosive.
And perhaps if he was lucky, he'd have the chance to take out that obnoxious Emo bastard Gaara while he was at it. What a treat that would be!
So he snuck into the boy's current city of residence, with the intent to rob him of some of his precious sand… and possibly eliminate him in the process.
Now he only had to find the little bugger. Getting in had been a cakewalk. Not a single soul on the quiet streets. Oh, shit, wait, who was that?
Deidara slipped back behind a cart and out of sight, watching the approaching figure closely.
† † †
Hinata was feeling so much better now. Relaxed and calm and beginning to process it all. Not totally of course. Not yet. This was a hard thing to get through- the person she'd been totally obsessing over for… oh, it had to be years, didn't it? The person she'd been secretly in love with for years was not now, and would never be interested in her. Not even remotely. It was sad, and a harsh crash back to earth.
But at least the walk was helping. She was starting to feel sleepy even, tiring out as she walked. It was just about time to turn around and go home. The idea of her soft bed and the comfort of her pillow and blankets sounded excellent. Heavenly.
"Just to the end of this block," she told herself, "Just a touch further, then I'll go home to bed."
† † †
"The Hell?" muttered Deidara under his breath. A kid. Some scrawny little girl. She was a baby! He had no more reason to be afraid of her then he had to be worried about any of these Emo brats in this village.
But as she approached, her face came into full view in the moonlight. And her body.
A figure usually covered with bulky sweatshirts and trousers was unwrapped. Pajamas showing tantalizing peeks of what you might never otherwise guess to be present. A tank top and jogging shorts- both a soft grey and just the slightest bit too small for her developing figure, causing an altogether pleasing tightness. She wasn't even wearing any shoes! She was short, and that face was nothing but cute, but she wasn't the child he had thought. Not with a figure like that.
Some cute little thing, walking up out of nowhere, in a totally empty street, in the dead of night, all alone, and in a goody-goody city. Oh, this was too perfect. Deidara couldn't resist. It was like a gift from the heavens!
A lecherous grin spread across his lips- all of them, slow and cold as raw egg whites. What was she going to do, anyway? Pull some jutsu? He didn't think so.
He stood up as she approached, still hidden by the building, and waited to pounce.
† † †
As she neared the end of the line of buildings, Hinata took a deep, calming breath. She was so serene here. It didn't even occur to her that she should keep a lookout- that there might be anything here to harm her. Sweet and quiet, this night.
At the end of the block, she stood in the deserted cross roads, closing her eyes and taking a deep, calming breath. Her chest expanded slowly, and her posture fixed itself as she calmed completely.
Maybe life was confusing, but at least she would sleep now.
Exhaling, she turned on her heel and began to step back down the way she had come.
Her eyes opened to a face.
"Ah!" she gasped, surprised.
The face was not in hers, of course. No, it was a bit away, leaning on the corner of the building she had only just passed a moment ago. She didn't know how she'd missed him- not with her sight. But there he was, as if he'd been there all along.
Her heart rate sped nervously. This was… odd. She wished she could get a better look at him, but he was in a shadow, hidden from even the moon.
Still, past him was the way home. The only way, from this spot. She had to go by him sooner or later. She figured it was just best to get it over with.
There really oughtn't have been anything to worry herself about. This was the leaf village- her home. She was safe here. People were good here. Even if a mysterious person had come up suddenly, watching her, he couldn't mean any harm. He was likely just as startled to see her as she was to see him.
Maybe he'd just had something on his mind keeping him from sleep, too. And at least he'd had the good sense to put a coat on before going out, unlike Hinata, who'd not even slipped on a pair of flip flops (her feet were regretting this decision already).
Well, nothing to do but to do it. With a deep, nervous breath, Hinata turned around, starting for the road by him.
"Hello," she murmured softly as she drew near, nodding politely before continuing on.
She'd expected the polite nod of his blonde-haired head back.
What she'd not expected was his response.
"Hello," he replied. The friendly word sounded so very sinister coming from him. Dark and frightening. It made her stomach feel swirly and uncomfortable.
She did not look back, but kept walking… then it occurred to her that he had begun walking, too. Worse then walking. Following.
She sped up. He sped up.
Then he spoke. "So what's a pretty little thing like you doing out on a night like this?" he asked. His quiet voice seemed deafening in the silent night, echoing as the words bounced off of the walls of shuttered buildings all around them.
Knowing better then to say anything, Hinata kept her mouth firmly shut. Yet the stranger persisted.
"Aww, don't be like that, sweetie," he cooed, "Why don't you turn that thing around and back it up, huh?"
Her cheeks reddened and she walked faster, all but running now. Why had some creepy pervert shown up on her walk? And she'd been feeling so good, too!
"Don't run away from me," said a threatening voice from just behind her. He'd somehow closed the gap between them in mere moments. "I was talking to you, you know."
The next thing she knew, his mouth was on hers- no, wait, his hand. His mouth? Hand? She was very confused, and utterly terrified. She screamed, but it was muffled, swallowed by the mouth-hand, which seemed to be smirking.
Then his actual mouth spoke: "See, I don't like being ignored," he explained, "Not one bit." His other hand stroked her face, a tongue emerging to lick slowly up her cheek.
She screamed uselessly into the mouth that held hers as she shoved her against a nearby tree. The other hand moved from her cheek to her waist, tracing over her body on the way down, curving out, then in, then out once more as it made it to her hips, where it began to tug at her shirt.
Hinata twisted against him, eyes brimming, and then spilling over with tears as a vile tongue probed, attempting to gain access to pass her firmly clenched teeth. He pulled her shirt up, and her own hands scrambled to pull it back to its rightful place, muffled noises of protest coming from her throat.
"Oh, come on," he insisted, slapping her hands away, "You don't know who you have the pleasure of being toyed with by, yaknow."
His hands drew back, one going to hold her still by her shoulder, the other pinching her face between his thumb and forefinger.
"I am Deidara. I am an artist, 'kay."
As he spoke, he released her shoulder, demonstrating as a stretch of clay rose from his hand, twisting and forming slowly into the figure of a girl, who looked disconcertingly like Hinata herself.
"And I happen to think-" he said slowly, eyes locked onto hers, even as hers watched the statuette, "that art is an explosion!" on the last word, the figurine exploded, clay activating and blasting shards all around them. They bounced harmlessly off of his coat sleeve (wait, where those red clouds on his coat? Oh god…) but stung Hinata's face where they hit her.
"And you know what?" he chuckled, squeezing her face and forcing her attention back to him, "I think you're a perfect little work of art." He grinned meanly, holding up an open palm to prove that those dreadful hands were grinning, too. "So let's practice a little art appreciation, shall we?"
His mouth moved to cover hers again, only this time it was the mouth in his face, which somehow made it all the worse.
"Let go of me!" she said pleadingly, pushing against his chest, trying to shove him off of her, "Get away!"
He shook his head, hands returning to her shirt. She gasped and kicked him, hard, in the ankle.
He hissed in sudden pain, and his eyes hardened to her. "Tell you what, princess," he suddenly said, "We can do this your way…" His hand circled one wrist, slamming it to the bark behind her. When he lifted it away, she was held there by a strip of hardening clay. "Or we can do it MY way, henh" Deidara repeated the motion with her other wrist before smiling at her. "And I can promise that you will not like my way of doing things, huh."
She tugged at the material, praying for it to crack. He only shook his head at her.
"You don't want to do that… unless you'd like to wind up looking like our statue friend from a second ago," Deidara warned, clicking his tongue. "Which it will do anyway, if we give it enough time. So you might want to focus on persuading me to let you go when I'm finished, henh? …Good girl," he added when she whimpered her consent.
Smirks playing over his three sets of lips, he went back to her shirt, yanking it up to display small but well-formed breasts to the cool night air. Hinata blushed, ashamed and ready to cry as he groped her, tongue flicking along skin.
Why had she ever taken this walk? Why had she been so foolish as to go out alone like this? It was too late at night- she was so stupid to presume herself safe. Why did this have to happen? What had she done? She'd been distracted, not using her full vision, and had missed him completely. And now she was terrified to fight back, terrified to even move, with the clay on her like that.
Clay that seemed to be spreading- a virus, creeping up her arms slowly, tickling evilly.
Deidara released her breasts to unfasten his coat- the mark of just how evil he really was- and then return to her, playing with the hem of her shorts absently, cruelly. He was toying with her; he was a cat and he had her: the mouse he was almost, but not quite, ready to kill.
Hinata's face glistened with tears as he slowly began to work the garment over her hips and-
"ARGH!" he froze, gasping with pain. She looked at him, eyes going wide with surprise. He was ridged, wincing. Something seemed to have just struck him in the back. But what could have-
"Get away from her," growled a low, gravelly voice. Hinata did not see him- in spite of three-sixty vision, the wall was all she saw behind and Deidara was all she saw before here, and the voice came from behind him, directly- but she knew that voice.
A person she knew, though not so very well. A schoolmate. A quiet person she never thought too much about. All she knew was that Naruto didn't really like him for some reason. Why, she did not know. He seemed nice enough. And now he was her only hope.
Gaara.
Deidara turned his head, glaring unwelcomingly. "Get lost, henh!" he growled, "Can't you see the lady and I are a bit busy?" he chuckled darkly. He turned back, but more sand pelted him, cutting like little razors.
This time when Deidara turned around, he actually took notice of who it was.
"Well, well," he growled, laughing at the end of the words, "Just the man I came to see. How nice of you to drop by, heh. Now I can get the job done, and have her as dessert." He cracked a grin, pointing a thumb at her as he turned around fully to face his enemy.
Hinata squeaked, frightened, not knowing what to do. She didn't even dare move, for fear of the clay binding her.
"Let her go," the boy said calmly.
"Psh- and if I don't?" the older boy laughed.
"I will make you let her go," Gaara replied without hesitation. His voice held no fear, and when Deidara stepped away from Hinata, allowing her to see, it proved that Gaara had no fear in his face, either. Either he was brave, or he did not care what happened.
"Oh you will, will you? Henh," Deidara laughed at him, "Then let's go. I needed to finish you off tonight anyway, heh."
Gaara didn't even move, but his chakra was clearly at work, as sand kick up all around, a sprinkling in the air that slowly grew, strengthening to a whirlwind of sand. It effectively surrounded the three young ninjas, forming a cone of silence all around. Nobody would even know they were there unless they looked out the window, and even then, all that would be visible would be a column of sand shooting up into the air.
They were encased, and though the sand never stopped moving, Gaara didn't seem to be concentrating on it, nor wasting any energy keeping it up.
"So let's do it then," he said coolly. One foot went back, twisting as he crouched into a fighting stance. He was fully dressed in complete combat gear- as he always seemed to be- with his sand gourd strapped to his back.
"Eager, huh?" Deidara asked, rolling his neck and causing it to crack threateningly, "Excellent. It's so nice to have a willing victim. Heh-he." His shoulders squared and he brought his hands together. "Let's not waste any of our precious time then." His hands spread apart, the teeth of the mouths gnashing, tongues working furiously as a substance grew between his palms. Clay. More of that horrible, horrible clay. The same stuff that was so cold and clammy on Hinata's arms.
As he worked, clay spreading and forming into a tear-drop shape of sorts, Gaara was manipulating his own element, sand twisting into tail-like whips.
They struck at once, as if my some unspoken agreement. Deidara lobbed the little manikin forward, just as Gaara lashed out with his gritty cat-o-nine. They met in the air, crashing together with n explosion that sent sand flying everywhere. All was absorbed by the swirling walls around them, peppering the teenagers with lumps of sandy clay. The boys shrugged it off and the girl winced, unable to shield herself.
And without so much as a pause for breath, they were back at it. Again, sand flew and clay exploded- more missing then striking. They continued for a moment before breaking apart.
Deidara grinned a lopsided, wicked smile. "So, gone from playing the martyr to playing the white knight, Gaara, hm?"
Gaara's omnipresent from deepened. "And what if I am?"
"Well it just doesn't seem very like you, ya' know?" Deidara wasn't wasting time, using the space provided by his words to grow a larger clay monster.
"And who are you to say that?" Gaara demanded, uncharacteristically snappish as sand flowed around his arms.
"I'm… an artist!" the villain couldn't resist saying. He punctuated by releasing the creation, which approached Gaara and began to quake, as if about to blow.
But Gaara didn't let it get that far, striking it with a sand-shielded hand, blowing it before it could blow him.
The result was an explosion that hit him… but not as much as it hit its creator, who was flung back, crashing into the tree against which he had imprisoned Hinata. She gasped, though nothing had harmed her; she was terrified.
"An artist?" questioned Gaara, "You're nothing but a kid playing with fireworks."
This infuriated Deidara. "Fireworks?" he yelled, "I'll show you-" he stopped himself, and glanced back to the girl. There were better ways to get a person's goat then direct threats of bodily harm. "I'll show you fireworks… then I'll give a few to your girlfriend."
Hinata bit her lip, terrified. Gaara reddened with anger.
"Don't touch Hinata!" he said, voice rising.
"Hinata, huh?" he asked, smirking, "Sweet name, heh. Not that I'll need it- my name will be the one she'll be screaming."
"You won't dare!" Gaara yelled threateningly, the sand barrier around them speeding its pace, flying fast enough to kick up a wind that stirred Hinata's hair. Even the blonde strands so firmly over Deidara's eyes were rustled, flashing glimpses of a mechanical fixture.
The two launched themselves into each other, earth both dry and damp flying. They were lost in a cloud of dirt. Hinata couldn't make out anything, and was distracted by the tightening of the material around her arms as it dried, shrinking on her skin.
When the proverbial smoke finally cleared, the two young men were crouched some distance apart, both breathing hard and glaring daggers at one another.
"This is good for a warm-up," the antagonist panted, "But can we finish up so I can move on to the fun part, hen-heh?"
Infuriated, Gaara stood, launching himself at Deidara. "You will never touch Hinata again!" he swore, laying into the boy, pummeling him with sand-encased and enhanced fists.
Hinata had seen Gaara fight… but never once had she seen him lose his cool like this. Never once had he ever released this fully, so intent to causing true harm. It was terrifying, even if it was in her favor. Where had all of this passion come from? Not that stoic redhead, surely!
He didn't let up. Not even once. Not until Deidara was bleeding, crying uncle. "STOP! STOP! Dammit, you fucking puny bastard, STOP!" he yelled into the sand all around them.
Gaara did not stop. By some miracle, Deidara struggled to his feet. He was bloodied, and badly. The yellow of his long hair was tipped red where it trailed over the many wounds about his face. His coat was ripped, and he looked none to well at all. In fact, he looked downright dead on his feet.
He was beaten, and knew it.
Gaara, however, did not seem to think so. He wouldn't stop hitting. He had every intention of killing the other boy.
All that Deidara wanted anymore was to get out of there. He valued his own life much more then getting some tail and enhancing his prowess- those could come later. Once he was healed and away from this lunatic.
Hinata didn't know how he did it. But suddenly he had a mighty lob of clay in his hands, and was flinging it. It hit Gaara full in the chest, throwing him backwards, striking him to the pavement.
The ginger was down, but would not stay so for long, and all knew it. Deidara took the opportunity to flee.
"It's been fun, heh," he said, shooting clay to break himself a hole in the sand walls and form his exit, "But I'll have to go now. I'll be back though, don't worry, Gaara… and-" he glanced at the girl, looking her up and down once more and smirking, "Hinata. He grinned at them both before saluting with a grinning hand, "Ta'."
He escaped, and the sand closed around the clay as it exploded once more. This time, a large shard broke off, hitting Hinata in the head.
She gasped as stars danced and things began to go fuzzy. Her knees gave out from underneath her and she slumped. The weight added to the clay around her set it off, too. Badly.
The last thing she could remember was the sand all around falling, and Gaara crying, "HINATA!"
And the rest was pain and darkness.
† † †
Hinata woke to birdsong. Sweet and soft, nearby. The warm sensation of sunlight hitting her face through wooden shutter stripes. Soft pillow under her head, soft mattress at her back. A light blanket, comfortingly tucked in around her.
And the undeniable sensation of a presence nearby.
She slowly opened her eyes.
Everything looked fuzzy. The world was cast in sunny whites and yellows, swimming around.
She was in her own room, her own bed. This much was sure. And there was somebody sitting in a chair beside her. A boy?
"N-Naruto?" she asked softly, voice a whisper.
The figure's head came up sharply from where it had been slumped, looking directly at her.
Her three-sixty clicked into place, and the world came into focus. That hair and garb… red, not yellow. Too skinny a figure. Too quiet.
"Not Naruto," he corrected quietly.
Gaara.
"O-oh," she said, embarrassed. Why was Gaara in her room?
Hinata slowly pushed her arms back, sitting up- "Ah!" she gasped, falling back down, head meeting pillow with the sensation of being struck repeatedly with a metal cowbell.
Everything came back to her. Painfully, suddenly. She gasped- not entirely from the pain.
Tears sprang to her eyes. "D-Deidara," she whimpered, "Did… is he…" she couldn't say anything else.
Gaara shook his head. "I don't know. He isn't here anymore. I don't know where he went."
She whimpered. The thought of somebody like that, just wandering around…
The boy noticed her distress. "I promise, though: I'll catch him. And until then, he still won't lay a hand on you ever again." He looked at her seriously, "I'll protect you."
His gaze was so intense. But… not scary, as she usually thought of such looks. It was… warm. Intense and heated, like a sunbeam. A beam shining just for her.
She smiled weakly. "Thank you, Gaara," she said softly.
As she became fully aware of herself, she noticed things. He looked like death warmed-over. His face was scratched, arms and hands scraped and burned. Numerous cuts covered his exposed skin, and his clothes and hair were stiff in places with dried blood. But she was clean. Her clothes had been changed. Everywhere that had been hurt was bandaged with utmost care.
And nobody here but Gaara.
"You…" she began to ask nervously, "You saved me." He nodded. "Did you do this?" He nodded again, not looking at her, a blush covered his cheeks lightly.
"I didn't do anything to you," he mumbled quickly, "I'm not like him."
"No," she agreed, "I know you're not."
They were quiet for a while. Then she spoke up again.
"Why did you save me?"
He looked at her, surprised. "Because you were in danger."
"N-no, I meant… how did you know to be there? That I'd be in trouble?"
"Oh," he blushed again, looking away, "I was following you."
"Following?" she asked, confused and startled.
"Yeah- I saw you leave your house, and I was worried about you," he explained, embarrassed.
"Why were you watching my house?" she asked, blinking.
"I don't sleep," he informed her in low tones, "So I was checking on you… I do that a lot."
She stared at him. "Wh-why do you check on me, then?" Hinata could not imagine why anyone would care to look up on her, to make sure she was doing ok. It was surprising, and she didn't understand it.
"Because I care about you. Very much."
"You care? About me?"
Gaara looked at her seriously. "Naruto isn't the only person who doesn't know when someone is in love with them… And you're not the only one who's fallen for someone who may as well not know they exist."
It took her a moment to comprehend all of this. Gaara… did he…?
"Gaara," she marveled, "You love me?"
"Since the day I first saw you," he assured her without a moment's hesitation.
"O-oh." A blush covered her pale face. She'd resigned herself to a life of pining after Naruto forever… unrequited and lonely. And now, all of a sudden, somebody… loved… her?
"You saved me," she said again, finally. He nodded. "I don't know how to thank you." He shook his head.
Taking a deep breath, she sat up slowly, ignoring the pain inside of her skull. Gaara looked concerned, but she sat up on her bed, turning to face him.
"I want to thank you," she reiterated. "So… may I give you a thank-you kiss?"
Gaara was purely shell-shocked. He opened and closed his mouth like a codfish, not knowing what to say. But, finally, at the insistent look in her eyes, he nodded.
Hinata smiled shyly and carefully, inexpertly, leaned out to him, lips pursed like a child. He mimicked her, leaning in. His hands set gently on her arms, carefully keeping her steady as their lips met. Her eyes slipped shut, as did his. And there, they found bliss. There, they found love.