Room 215

Chapter 8

"Deidara"

-X-X-

Kakashi knocked loudly on 211. He didn't have to wait long for the door to open and that familiar blond to show his face.

"Back for another autograph already?" Deidara smirked, leaning against the doorframe.

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something personal. You got a minute?"

"Uh...yeah, sure."

The artist looked uncertain, but he stepped aside to let the other man enter. Kakashi held back a triumphant smirk at the change in attitude he had so effortlessly caused. He wasn't here for that.

Once they were both in the room, Deidara furrowed his brow and regarded him curiously. "So, what's up? You look troubled, un."

Kakashi had spent the journey up the stairs planning how he wanted to bust the outspoken blond, but he realized that nothing overly clever would be necessary to catch the idiotic man in his own lies, so he decided to settle for old-fashioned sarcastic flattery.

"Well, you see...I'm just an average guy. I'm a burn-out salesman with barely any money to my name. The only remarkable thing I've done with my life is master different fishing techniques. But talking with you...it got me thinking. What's it like to paint a masterpiece? To have strangers know you and critics applaud you? I might be interested in giving it a shot, so I was wondering if you had any pointers for me."

The other man seemed to have been stunned into silence as he regarded Kakashi with wide eyes. "You're…asking me how to paint?"

"Well, yeah," Kakashi shrugged easily. "You painted Betrayal and everyone was fascinated, right? So, teach me. Tell me how to come up with something that everybody loves."

Deidara scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Art is not done on a whim. It is a feeling, a passion! Art calls to you and only when you hear its plea can you behold its beauty. I can't just explain it to you. It is beyond words. And it requires the soul of an artist!"

"Come on, Deidara. If you can do it, why can't I?"

"Where is this even coming from?"

"I guess I got the idea after seeing that old notebook of yours. Your ideas for Betrayal are in there, right? Is that how I get started?"

"Yes, but...wait! Wait a minute!" Deidara stared at him in shock. "You looked at my notebook?!"

"Yeah, I did," Kakashi answered simply. He then deviated from his nonchalant tone as he crossed his arms and leveled the man with a dubious stare. "And there was something odd about it. The signature in the notebook? It doesn't look like yours."

The blond recoiled, eyes darting frantically around the room, "...um..."

"But what do I know?" He forced a scoff, waving his hand lazily. "I'm no handwriting expert. Maybe you were experimenting with different styles, but that doesn't explain the name written on every page. You lied to me earlier, Deidara. Your name isn't Sasori anymore than mine is. That pen doesn't belong to you and neither does that notebook. You didn't paint Betrayal either, did you?"

"O-of course I painted it!" The eccentric artist fumbled over his words, eyes wide. "Who else could have created such an exquisite representation of the suffering of man? You are making baseless claims against me! If you continue, you'll regret it, un. I have powerful connections! Give me proof or get out!"

"You want proof? Alright, I think I can come up with something," Kakashi nodded, unfazed by the man's threats. "Give me your autograph."

"My autograph? But you said you didn't want-"

"Stop talking and just sign on that notepad for me," he demanded, indicating the hotel's cheap stationary on the table. "Use that fancy pen of yours. And make it your real name."

"My real name...un."

Deidara retrieved the requested items at a sluggish pace. Once the notepad was in front of him, he took his time writing Sasori on the blank sheet of paper.

"There!" He tossed it at Kakashi. "Does that satisfy your mad request? I don't know what it proves and even if—"

"Give me your notebook."

Deidara froze, mouth still agape after being cut off. "…What?"

Kakashi held out his hand, matching the look of disbelief with an apathetic stare. "Give it to me. I'm going to compare the signatures."

Deidara grumbled as he flipped the notebook open to a random page and placed it in front of him. Kakashi pulled it closer, situating the stationary beside it. The signature was fluid with the letters blending together. It looked almost like a doctor's signature. Deidara's was extravagantly curved with that childish flourish Tsunade mentioned.

He scoffed. They weren't even close.

Kakashi turned both pages to face the scrambling artist, pointing accusingly at the names written on them. "These signatures don't match. There's no way you did these sketches, so who did? Was it the real Sasori?"

Deidara's face fell, and he turned to the side.

"You...you don't understand. You could never understand! The delicate steps required to create art—"

"You're right. I don't care about art, but now I'm invested in whatever you're hiding. Is there more behind that Betrayal title than even your fans realize?"

"Enough!" Deidara exclaimed, swiping his hand aggressively through the air. "Wh-who are you? Who sent you? Was it the museum? Was it that treacherous Kabuto?!"

Kakashi rolled his eyes. Why did people always jump to their own conclusions?

"What are you talking about? I don't know anyone named Kabuto."

"Don't lie to me! You're here to extort more money from me, un!" The man's nostrils flared as he stepped closer to Kakashi, leveling him with his attempt at an intimidating scowl. "Well, guess what? I won't stand for it. No, I won't!"

So, the moron's secret has already been discovered by someone else. Not surprising. That notebook is a dead giveaway. It makes sense why he freaked out about it so much.

Kakashi, unfazed by the threatening posture of the other individual in the room, simply crossed his arms and maintained his bored stare. "Hey, calm down. I'm not after your money. I'm just a salesman who happened to run into you in this hotel."

Deidara shook his head, form crumpling in defeat as he sank into the nearest chair. "But...but you discovered my secret..."

"Looks like it. The question is, which one? The fact that your breakthrough painting was created by someone else? Or that someone found out and is blackmailing you? You have two secrets and I found both of them. Is that it, or do you have more skeletons rattling in your closet?"

The con artist lifted his head to fix a confused gaze on Kakashi. "…Who are you?"

"I told you already," he replied easily. "I'm just a salesman."

"Then why are you trying to expose my secret?" Deidara pressed.

"That's not my plan. There's nothing in it for me. I just want the truth."

That seemed to satisfy the thieving artist, who furrowed his brows as he appeared to contemplate Kakashi's words. After a few moments, he nodded decisively. "...Okay. If you're interested in hearing my story, I'll share it with you, un. I've been keeping this hidden for ten years...so maybe it will feel good to let it out. Why don't you sit down? Have some wine."

Kakashi shrugged. He might as well take the man up on his offer. He would need the wine to get through the story if Deidara's love of his own voice was anything to go by.

"When I was young, I wanted nothing more than to be an artist," Deidara began. "I was a rebellious teenager and determined to pursue my dream, so I ran away from home when I was fourteen."

Oh, wow. He meant the whole story.

Kakashi held back an eye roll at such a typical choice for the eccentric individual and instead took a long sip from his glass as the man continued his tale.

"I lived on the streets for three months, trying to sell my beautiful sculptures, but everyone turned me away. Eventually, an old man took pity on me and gave me a job at a coffee shop. By day, I was trained in the aromatic barista techniques and by night, I created art!" Deidara's booming voice reverberated through the small room as he lifted a victorious fist into the air, only for his passionate energy to deflate in the next second. He hung his head with a mournful sigh, "But…as the years slipped by and my art was still denied any recognition, I started fading. My muse abandoned me, un. My philosophy of living in the moment and brightening up the excitement of life was starting to wear on me. My clay sculptures, once my pride and joy, fell apart in my fingertips. I tried watercolors, but I couldn't even find the inspiration to lift the brush. I fell to doom and despair. I couldn't fulfill my dream. I was a failure. But it was at that moment, my darkest hour, when I met Sasori."

"The one who owns the pen?" Kakashi interrupted. He had already pieced those clues together, but confirmation never hurt.

"Yeah, un," Deidara nodded. His gaze fell to his lap as he released another deep exhale. "He was...my best friend. He was a regular at the coffee shop. He ordered the same thing every time. It was a little annoying, but he was a creature of habit that way."

…

The bell chime over the café door alerted Deidara to the arrival of a new customer, and once he lifted his head, he instantly recognized the redhead.

When the shorter man approached the counter, he pulled his wallet out of his pocket and announced "the usual" in the same bored tone he always used.

"Coming right up, un!" Deidara exclaimed, trying his best to keep up the energy after the slow afternoon as he punched in the order. "Hey, you ever thought about trying one of the other drinks we've got here? Nothing against your usual, but you're missing out on a lot by limiting yourself!"

The redhead awarded him a slight narrowing of his eyes but provided no further response. He simply paid and stepped to the side to wait for his order. Deidara huffed in annoyance as he started on the coffee. The guy didn't have to be so rude all the time.

After adding the finishing touches, Deidara placed the coffee in front of the customer. "Here you go! Hot and ready, un!"

The regular glanced down at his order only for his eyes to widen slightly. "Hey…you've got some paint on your hands."

Deidara followed the gaze and released a surprised gasp. "Oops! I was painting last night, and it got a little messy. I guess I missed a bit, un!" He grabbed the closest rag and tried to wipe at the leftover remnants. He didn't want to get written up for having unclean hands.

"Huh…so, you're an artist?"

"Not professionally, but I do love it. Art is the purest expression of emotion that exists in the world! Nothing can even come close to the feelings that it invokes, un!"

As he lost himself in a rant, he heard a low chuckle come from the customer. Deidara blinked and turned to look at him. The redhead was still standing in front of the counter with crossed arms and a slight smirk in place. He had rarely heard this man speak more than a few words, always looking so bored and irritated, but here he was with a sudden fire in his amber gaze.

This was the most alive Deidara had ever seen him.

"I feel the same, although you wouldn't catch me being as animated about it as you were just now. You looked like an idiot."

Deidara's jaw dropped in offense, and he was about to protest when the redhead suddenly held his hand out.

"I'm Sasori. I'm an artist, myself. Not professionally, either, but I'm hoping that will change soon."

The barista stared at the offered hand in surprise, but he didn't hesitate to take hold of it and shake it firmly. This person was an artist, too. He had never met anyone else who shared the same passion for the arts as he did. Could this person understand him?

"I'm Deidara, un."

…

"We then fell into a heated debate about the different forms of art and became fast friends after that. We were very similar. We were the same age, for one, and both served drinks, except Sasori was a bartender. We were also raised by someone other than our parents."

Kakashi leaned back in his chair, following along with the story. "Sounds like you two really hit it off. Opposites attract and all that, but I guess similarities can also bring people together."

"They did," Deidara agreed. "…But one difference set us apart. Unlike me, Sasori was determined to follow his dream. In fact, he was almost consumed by it. He was a dedicated perfectionist and it showed. Even more than that, he was incredibly talented. His style of art appealed to the eye more and opened ponderous thoughts."

The artist's frustration seemed to reach a peak when he pushed himself out of his seat with a derisive grunt. He gestured emphatically to his clay sculptures lined on the shelf. "My art was supposed to represent a fleeting moment of beauty! Beauty exists in what can't last. That's what makes life so pure and mesmerizing, but no one wanted that in the art world! They desired Sasori's," here, he marched over to the teal notebook still resting on the table and aggressively flipped it open to a random page. "He poured everything into each detail, imprinting his very soul on the canvas. How could I compete with that?"

Kakashi peered at the image, which depicted a child staring out at a vast wasteland with shadows closing in around it. He was once again impressed by the talent he saw there. That was consistent, at least. Art didn't make much sense to him, but he could tell there was a lot of feeling put into these sketches, even if they were rough drafts. This one looked particularly lonely.

"Did your buddy know you were jealous of him?"

"No," Deidara shook his head. "I never told him we shared the same dream. He knew me as a passionate art enthusiast but was unaware of my failed ambition. I didn't want to tell him that he was better than me. Then one day, he...he showed me a painting that he was going to enter into an art contest.

…

"My man, Sasori! You home?" Deidara called from the doorway after letting himself into his fellow artist's apartment.

"Out here!" A voice called from the balcony.

The blond nodded and threw his bag on the sofa before navigating his way through the apartment. He found Sasori sitting outside with his easel and paints set up, his amber eyes narrowed in concentration as he held the brush between his fingers.

"What are you working on, un?" Deidara asked, craning his neck to get a good look at the painting.

Sasori instantly blocked his view by standing and turning the easel away, depositing his brush onto the side table with his cleaning supplies. "It's not finished yet. I can't have anyone looking at it before it's ready."

Deidara rolled his eyes with a snort. "I bet it's fine. You're just a perfectionist."

The shorter man glared up at him. "I don't mind being a perfectionist. That just means I'll take my time to create something that is worthy of being admired forever."

That familiar sting of jealousy crept into the blond as he listened to Sasori. He had given up on his dream after the countless failed attempts, but his friend was determined to keep trying. How did he do it?

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I brought your coffee, un! You better drink it before it gets cold."

Sasori nodded gratefully and knocked his Styrofoam cup against his friend's in a mock cheer. After savoring the first sip, he lowered his gaze and tapped his finger uncertainly against the lid. "Hey…Deidara?"

"Hm? What? What is it?"

The redhead glanced to the side, a slight flush coloring his cheeks. "…The museum is holding an art competition, and I was thinking about entering. I want to use this painting, but…I don't know if it's good enough. Do you…think you could look it over for me?"

Deidara's eyes widened. His friend had always acted so confident about his art, but was Sasori just as unsure about its reception as he was? He had never asked him for a favor before. This felt important.

"Yeah, my man! You just leave it to me!"

Sasori looked up at him with a slight smile and nodded, "Thanks, Deidara. I…really appreciate it. Here," setting his coffee down, he procured a teal notebook from his art bag and held it out. "This is where I put all my rough drafts. If there's anything I missed in the final product or that you think should be changed, let me know. I've gotta head out to work soon, so you can just take this and the painting home with you tonight and bring them back in the morning."

…

Deidara flipped the notebook to the infamous sketch of Betrayal. The artist stared longingly at the drawing as he traced the minute details with his forefinger. "I took it home that night to examine...and it was amazing! The masterful shading, the dimensions, the intrigue, the enticing story, the passion...it was all there! I was holding a true masterpiece in my hands! Sasori had actually done it, un. He was going to be recognized as an artist and fulfill his dream."

Kakashi was starting to get the picture. "And you wanted that fame for yourself. Your envious mind couldn't handle the thought of your friend having what you didn't."

The ironic title almost seemed like a curse. Not that he believed in that sort of thing, but Sasori should have never trusted his friend with his painting.

But I trusted my friend with my life and look where that got me. It just goes to show you really don't know some people.

Deidara paced around the room, running his hands frantically through his hair. "I couldn't think. I was in awe. Delighted, confused, drained, filled with jealousy and rage…I desperately wanted my dream to come to fruition, and in my hands was the answer, un! My art was just as good as Sasori's, but the world couldn't see that yet! I just needed a starting point. So I acted! For my dream, I acted, un! The next morning, I went to the art gallery and submitted the painting under my own name. As you know, Betrayal won, and I was suddenly a famous artist. It was everything I ever wanted."

"And Sasori? What happened to him?"

"Sasori…" Deidara trailed off. The thought of the aftermath seemed to sober his intensity and justifications. A look of remorse crossed his face. "He was betrayed by his only friend. After the winner was announced, he disappeared. I never heard from him again. I've spent the last ten years looking for him, but I'm no closer to finding him than when I started. It's like he completely vanished, un."

I know the feeling...Damnit, I didn't want to empathize. This is different, though. Deidara is the traitor in this scenario. He's a jealous moron, but he spent ten years trying to make it right. What have you done to make amends, Obito? Do you even care?

"Kakashi...I became an artist by stealing Sasori's work, but the truth is that I don't possess his talent."

Kakashi stared at the artist. He was surprised the eccentric man was willing to admit his shortcomings.

"Every work I create is criticized more than the last," Deidara continued, staring forlornly at his clay figurines. "No one cares about my incredible sculptures. They only want Sasori's art. I tried painting some of his other designs from the notebook, but I can't figure out human proportions. They never look right, un. And then, the unthinkable...last week, Kabuto, a curator at the museum, found Sasori's notebook."

Kakashi crossed his arms with a sigh. Deidara was a sloppy thief. It was amazing he kept the lie a secret for so long.

"So, you paid him off and he mailed the notebook to you. But why choose this place to handle your shady transaction?"

"It wasn't shady, un!" Deidara replied defensively. "But…that's an easy question to answer. Sasori mentioned Hotel Dusk a few times. He said it was special and something very important happened to him here. I could tell he treasured this place."

"Yeah, I'd treasure this rat-hole, too."

"Kakashi, I-"

"Nope, don't say anything," he held up a hand, effectively cutting off the loudmouth. "I've heard more than enough. I'm done listening to your sob story. Thanks for the wine."

With that, Kakashi downed the last remnants of his drink and dropped the empty glass on the rickety table, feeling no satisfaction from the way the artist flinched at the sound. After wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he turned and walked out of the room.

So, Deidara stole his friend's work. I wonder what this Sasori is up to now. And what was that memory he mentioned? What in the hell happened here? How many secrets does this place have? It's starting to get ridiculous. The guests here eat, sleep, and hoard secrets like a child hoards candy.

Kakashi was willing to let them take their private affairs home and let it be, but that was before someone decided to stash money in his bathroom. Now, it looked like he was part of the mysterious circus.

Well, so be it.

He could feel the old instincts kicking in, and somewhere a part of him kind of liked it. He was still determined to find anything that would lead him to his ex-partner, but nothing was stopping him from solving the other riddles along the way.