Zeelee-Vallen: I would like to think this chapter was very good. I hope you think so too.
We do not own Naruto.
Note: Owari means "The end"
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Owari apartments. She absentmindedly put groceries away, replying the events that just happened. The kind blond gentleman was actually her neighbor, her other neighbor had attempted to attack her, and they both seemed to be rather… special. She could sense strong chakra from both of them. She noticed it earlier with Deidara, but she disregarded it. Everybody had chakra. His was just a bit stronger. But now, she had reason to suspect these people.
She huffed.
You're overthinking.
No, no she wasn't. She put away the last of her groceries and made her way to her bedroom. Quietly she checked for any spy bugs, finding none, she sat on her bed. She had to make sure she wasn't imagining it.
She sat cross legged, her eyes shut. Her hands formed a hand sign to gather her chakra to her eyes. This was her family's secret jitsu, passed down from when there was things like ninja. But this was a long time ago. Now ninja were nothing but fairy tales.
But that didn't mean all ninja were gone.
Her family was one of the prominent clans when ninja were prevalent. They kept practicing ninjitsu long pass the age of Shinobi. It's been centuries since then.
"Byakugan." She said quietly as she opened her eyes. Chakra flowed to her eyes, enhancing them beyond any human standard possible.
Shit.
She was right. Everybody in this building seemed to have trained chakra. Their patterns were very calm, trained. On the bottom floor, there was even a person using it to pick up something heavy!
She leaned back on her bed, examining the chakra signatures. For there to be so many trained people… It was such a high risk to be here. Ninjitsu was supposed to be a secretive art, not to be revealed. After all, the archives from her family told of the wars when all humans used to use chakra. It was all battles. People died each day, killing for more power. They called it the great ninja wars.
That's why it became a forbidden art.
Then, it became a lost art.
The veins faded from around her eyes, her heart pounding lightly.
Should…. She run away? It would be near impossible for her to find another place with such low rent, or such great accommodations. Then there was the fact she was never going back to that house again. Absentmindedly she lifted up her shirt, the pale skin of her stomach showing. Her skin was puckered with scars; some of them had pink puckered skin, others were smooth and white. There was hardly any unmarred skin on her abdomen. She traced the scars, reminiscing.
She was put through so much pain, so much agony. She would rather be in danger here every day rather than to see them again. She pulled down her shirt and rolled onto her side, her silver eyes reflecting the moonlight entering the room.
Yes, she never wanted to go back there ever again.
She curled into a ball.
XxxxXxxxxX Deidara's POV xxxxxxxxxx
She was a strange girl. For some reason, he couldn't get her out of her head. She seemed so… Normal when he decided to help her. No, she seemed less than normal. She seemed to be meek, and fragile. Seeing her titter side to side trying to hold so many bags made her seem so helpless. He liked helpless. So of course, he would help her out.
But somehow, she lived in the same building. This was not just any building. Kakashi was the owner, and he was a very influential person in the underworld. Thus, he made this building for people like them. People who could use chakra. Some would call them ninja, but there is no such use for the word anymore. Now, there were merely special.
He sculpted a small lady-spy-bug, intend on finding out more of the girl. He always had a bad habit of wanting to know more.
He pressed his chakra into it, giving it life. Its wings fluttered, before flying away to fulfil its master's wish.
Deidara sat in his room, clay sculptures all around him. It was dark, making them look slightly sinister. Some were flaking with age, others still new and pristine. This was his art, and his family's practice. Giving life to golems, and he even perfected it to a point where he could mend C4 in it and get it to explode.
He closed his eyes, following the bug.
XxxXXxxXX
He stayed up all night watching her, right now the sun was just starting to show its colorful rays over the horizon. Was he becoming a stalker? He couldn't help it through. The way she slept, she looked so innocent with her angle-like features, and beautiful dark tresses. And each time she moved, sometimes he would be able to catch a glimpse of her stomach line. He had to wonder, why was her skin so white, or so pink?
Yes, he might be a stalker. A pervy one at that. One thing he was curious about, why did she sleep in a long sleeved shirt, and long pants? Most girls suited up in shorts and a tank-top.
….
Not that he peaked in on girls sleeping often!
She awoke, her sleep filled grey eyes watery. His heart jumped, his eyes going wide. Was shy crying? A tear slipped down her cheek, informing him of his worst fears. Indeed she was crying. She sat up, moving like one of Sasori's puppets, stiff and dead. She sat there, tears rolling down her cheeks.
He couldn't help but think one thing. Never before did he see anything so beautiful. Yellow, orange, and red was shining in through her window, seeing as she didn't close her curtains before she slept. But that was beside the point. She looked like a painting, her legs were on either side of her, her arms lifeless at her sides. Her silver eyes reflected the light, orange, red, and yellow, her skin glowing with the morning sun. Then there was the way her straight hair fell over her shoulder like dark silk. Then there was the tears. She looked so lost, just like a fallen angel.
He shook his head, mind blank. Not even Konan, the dark beauty gave him such passion, nor did Sakura the exotic princess. This girl was not just looks, the emotions flowing from her made him want to sculpt her.
She seemed to snap out of it. Absently, she rubbed her eyes, drying the tears. He watched as she gracefully got off her bed, her moves no longer stiff.
She stood in front of her dresser picking out cloths.
Was that… A maid outfit?
It was! A light trickle of blood dripped from his nose. He wiped it away, watching more intently.
She laid the outfit on her bed, she eyed it dreadfully. He had to say, it was rather cute though. It consisted of a long sleeved white dress shirt, a black corset, and a black puffy bottom. Beside it, was full length stockings, obviously not part of the intended outfit. He grinned, why was she so intent on hiding her skin-
He paled, his jaw dropping. He watched in pure awe as she removed her shirt. She was mutilated. She was covered in horrendous scars. Yet, they were somehow beautiful, despite being grotesque. Up and down her arms were filled with white and pink skin, her stomach and chest tarnished. These were not little cutting scars like the pathetic kids tended to do, but battle wounds. Some were so deep, so puckered and ugly, he wondered how she didn't bleed to death. He was so grossly fascinated, he didn't notice as she removed her pants. His eyes trailed down, locking on her legs.
It was disgustingly beautiful. There was slash marks behind her knees, any worst and she could have lost use of her legs.
He sat back in astonishment. He blinked, now deciding to look at her as a bigger picture.
Her beautiful blue-hued tresses fell over her shoulder as she slipped on her white dress shirt. Her fingers worked to button it, her lacy black bra highly visible through the thin fabric. Her lacy panties hugged her every curve. Good god, was she blessed. Her breasts were huge, her hips wide and plump, and her figure a perfect hourglass.
He felt his man parts harden.
Suddenly she tensed, making him tilt his head. Slowly, the veins around her eyes bulged. Wha? Her gaze turned toward his little spy bug. No, there was no way she could see it. It was miniscule-
She rushed at it, and next this he knew, it was blank.
He opened his eyes, his body tingly. Just who…? His lips lifted in a light grin. This girl… He wanted her. She was such a rare specimen. He wanted to know every part of her.
Every part. He looked at the blank slate of clay in the corner of his room. He would make her his personal model.
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Zeelee-Vallen: Rather lengthy too. I was writing this sick, so please enjoy it. I puked two times doing this.
Also, did you get my little hints?