Today, Ashita wore yellow with coral pink nail polish. For whatever reason, instead of sandals, she had on a pair of orange vinyl western shoes, with little bows at the top of her feet. It seemed so out of place, but so in place, and Deidara was sitting on a bench with her, spacing out.

Ashita was eating a strawberry ice cream bar, with numerous paper bags at her feet. And Deidara was drinking the soda she had bought for him, ice cold and half gone while the sun spit onto the dirt.

"Ashita, can I ask you something?"

"It must be a big deal if you have to ask."

"So is that a yes or a no?"

The woman didn't answer; she just took a bite of her ice cream while Deidara leaned forward, elbows resting upon his knees.

A couple of second passes and she turned to look at him.

"Okay. I guess you can ask."

"Well." Those blue eyes shot into the sky a second; staring down the sun and the few clouds that somehow survived it. "What was it like?"

"What was what like?" But Ashita knew what. Of course she did; it struck her like a mallet and made her go rigid like a board.

Deidara drank up her face for a moment, all her pink and white. "I'm curious, what it was like living there. You don't have to tell me, if you don't really want to. I guess I can understand not wanting to talk about it. Maybe I wouldn't either."

She took in a breath and bit her Popsicle stick. And those hard green eyes, instead of intimidating him, stuck themselves into her new shoes.

"I don't know what to say. There's so much it's hard to find a place to start. And I don't really want to talk about it. Just thinking of that place makes me want to scream."

There was a long rolling silence for a series of moments, strung tightly together with the tension that lived in the quiet.

But Ashita choked it like a bitch.

"I guess…We spent a lot of time training, and the only person my father was impressed by was Sasuke Uchiha. Even when…" Her brows crunched. "Even when he wasn't there you could feel him watching. It's amazing anyone got away with anything. Eighty percent of time you didn't."

A breath.

"Sometimes you think you would. Like, you'd do something— pick any nefarious activity— do it a couple of times without anyone else knowing. But somehow, that old bastard would find out. But instead of calling you in right away, he'd wait it out, really get something incriminating, and then get you. Have a reason to punish you extra hard."

That stare went forward, not looking at anything in particular. Just into the dead space and infinity, with a million different things existing inside her pupils. "One time, for some reason, Kabuto pulled me by the hair and dragged me around the corridors. I did something wrong, but I can't remember what it was. And when they caught me trying to cut my hair short, I was ordered to spend the night outside…"

Gulp.

"I'd try not to cry. That was letting them win. Even though it was hard and always made it worse."

Ashita stopped, and she got up to throw away that little wooden stick, leaving Deidara somewhat speechless. But she came back and sat down, looking at him straight in the face and said,

"That's all I want to say for now."

The blond still didn't speak much of anything. Words were like these blunt insensitive things with big feet and ugly mouths. There was some remorse for asking in the first place, that punched him in the gut and triggered a gag reflex.

"Look, don't feel sorry for me. You asked and I told you."

"Yeah, but-"

"What? Did you think it would be some kind of happy, awe-enchanting story about what a sweet daddy I had? If that's the case you wouldn't have even asked in the first place."

"I know. But what sort of asshole would just fucking nod and say, 'Oh, that was interesting.' Would you prefer apathy?"

"No. But just- Don't feel sorry for me. I hate that look on your face."

Ashita was somewhat pink, between blush and sunburn and all the sentiment dumped like toxic waste in between her lashes. She looked like she might cry, but Deidara knew she wouldn't because he'd feel even more sorry for her.

The glass bottle of cola was placed into the dirt.

And before Ashita could even raise an eyebrow at him, the poor woman was sucked up into an embrace put together with so much passion and the pure absence of inhibition. It hit like an ocean and swallowed her whole.

Their cheeks were pressing together, and as those enormous sleeves of Ashita's yellow furisode wrapped around him, a hot little tear droplet of water burst between their faces.

One of her palms went to her rouge.

Then she turned a bit and kissed his cheek.

"You're so stupid."

"I know." Smooch. "But you're hanging out with me, so you must be stupid too." Smooch.

Somewhere inside it all, their lips met; the taste of saltwater hitting ether of their tongues and soft pop that separated their faces.

Deidara took his sleeve and wiped away the damp that sat over her blush, giving a little peck to both left and right sides of her visage.

"It is stupid to hang out with you." Sniff. Those bright emerald things glowed glassy and bright. Ashita was like a painting of a thousand different colors and Deidara took the brush to it again, with a palm on the curve of her face.

"You're just saying that because you can't accept the fact that you like-like me." Grunt. "But it's okay if you like-like me, because I kinda sorta like-like you too."

"Just take me home."

He patted her face.

"If you do that again, I'll rip your hand off."

Oh yeah. She definitely like-liked him.