Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ A Painted Face ❯ Painted Face ( Chapter 1 )

A Painted Face

Kyuubi Tenshi

 

It wasn't really all that unexpected. But it hadn't been expected either. Especially not from him.

The Godaime had sent them on an undercover mission to secure a fairground for a few days during a traditional festival. Team 7 (save Naruto, as he was on a different mission at the moment) had been selected for the job; it wasn't that there was any danger suspected, but it was just a safety precaution. Sakura had known immediately that she would be a pretty passer-by through the stalls; Kakashi had mentioned something about having a target range for kunai and shuriken. But Sai hadn't said anything about what he was going to be doing.

That's why, when a `new friend' dragged her over to the face-painting stand, she'd been so surprised.

There was Sai, dressed in commoners' clothes- a heavy jacket for the late fall evening, and baggy black cargo pants- his hair sifting a bit with the breeze that passed them by. He gave one of his fake smiles to a small boy that had wanted a dragon drawn onto his cheek, and the boy smiled back excitedly as he took off to show his mother. The girl, one who had called herself `Ina,' noted her new companion's shocked face.

“What's up, Kura-chan? You look surprised to find one of these at the festival.”

The kunoichi shook her head adamantly, turning one of her own well-practiced fake smiles upon the amber-haired girl at her side.

“It's nothing. He just looked familiar.”

She thanked the heavens that she hadn't slipped up and said his name.

They were next in line, though, and when he looked up and saw her there, he too was thankful he hadn't accidentally spilled out her name.

Even her nickname probably would've gotten him in trouble.

It was a surprise, though; he hadn't seen her since the previous night, as he'd had to set up his stall quite early in the morning to be ready for the festival-goers. She was actually… pretty.

He couldn't keep himself from admitting it this time.

She'd dyed her hair just a bit, changing it to where the feathery tips of her roseate-colored tresses were raven black, and flecks of onyx glittered in a seductive manner through her mane. Her kimono was pure black, with cherry blossom petals littering the sleeves and hem, and her obi was colored with mixing shades of pink and deep red. The shock in his eyes only flickered there for a moment before he recovered, and offered her a seat, the fake smile once again in place. The girl next to her giggled.

“Give her something really cute!” she commanded. Sakura stared at him nervously, as his eyes glinted over the materials he had at hand. At last, he glanced back and told her to close her eyes. She obeyed, but nearly flung her eyes back open again when she felt his hand gently cup her face.

She stayed still.

A cold substance made itself known on her forehead. Long, soft strokes caressed her there; she was embarrassed by it for sure- her forehead had always been something she wasn't terribly proud of. But she could feel it; a pen, she was sure, making an intricate design there. Every once-in-a-while, his thumb would just barely caress her cheek, seeming to tell her to trust him, and this once, he would do something she would like. She relaxed beneath that hand, and let it guide her face where he needed it.

The substance moved. As the ink dried on her brow, he moved, his pen gliding softly near the corners of her eyes, and then below them, intricate, supple, calming. His hand moved to prop her chin up, and his thumb caressed her bottom lip as though he didn't notice he was doing so. But she wasn't going to complain. Vaguely, she could hear her friend making exclamations of pure joy and wonder, but she disregarded it for the most part.

That gentle hand was sorely missed when he removed it. She opened her eyes hesitantly, and accepted the small mirror from his hand.

A gasp escaped her lips. A rightful one, at that. Upon her brow he had painted an intricate silver tiara, bright white stars seeming to dangle from delicate chains, the design tricky and seeming to reflect rainbows upon its wrought work. And at the corner of each eye, and just below, he had a cherry blossom petal, singular and subtle. She turned her surprised gaze upon him, and his usually blank eyes held something that she couldn't quite understand. It seemed gentle… yet curious… and in a way, it was so full of wonderment. The kunoichi couldn't help the bright smile that split her face.

“Arigatou!”

And before she left, she did something that surprised them both- she planted a small, innocent kiss on his cheek before bouncing off to join her friend and enjoy the rest of the festival night.

 

For the last two nights of the festival, Sakura insisted to her friend that they go to the face-painter's booth. She disregarded the teasing she received for it completely, and only thought of when his hands caressed her face so gently, as they always did. And from that first night, the designs became even more elegant and stunning. Though it took him longer than with any other of his works, his customers did not complain. Watching him create such masterpieces on the girl's face was awe-inspiring, and even if they had had no intention of getting him to paint their own faces, they would stop and watch as his medium graced the countenance of the beauty that would seat herself before him, and close her eyes so trustingly. It was a breathtaking sight that none wished to miss.

But now they were heading home, and there was no reason for him to paint her face, and probably no way she could persuade him to. On the opposite side of the camp, Kakashi snoozed beneath his newest volume of Icha Icha Paradise, his head pillowed on his pack. It was only his soft breathing and the crackling of the fire that broke what would have been an unbearable silence. She shifted uncomfortably from her position on the ground, her eyes scanning the surrounding woods.

Sai was out there, somewhere, keeping watch. She vaguely sensed his chakra from somewhere to the right, and decided to follow it.

He had determined to remain in the clothes he had been in at the festival, and their dark colors, like his typical garb, made him blend in with the shadows somewhat. But for a fleeting instant, her eyes caught a flash of silver, which was easily identified as his hitai-ate, and she crept up behind him.

Blank, unfocused brown eyes stared into space; he had set himself into one of his peculiar `modes' that she had learned about; he was painting, and the only thing that would draw a reaction from him was a strange chakra. At first, when her chakra had been strange to him, even the slightest hint of her presence alerted him. But the boy was comfortable with her now; her chakra was familiar. It didn't surprise him anymore. It didn't trigger his senses either.

So she could now watch his work from over his shoulder, and he wouldn't even know she was there.

On his pad, she was surprised to find that the designs were incoherent. Face after blank face, the eyes could not be seen, but short, feathery hair with dark ends was drawn, and a dark kimono top, and each face was intricately painted.

Silver stars, golden hearts, butterfly and phoenix wings alike. Every once-in-a-while, the page would depict a full figure- sometimes that of a normal woman, sometimes that of a kunoichi, and sometimes even something of fairy-lore; one with wings, or a tail and ears, or even a mermaid's fin. All with painted faces.

Sakura hadn't known he even knew about such things as those of mythology, but it seemed quite obvious now that he did.

But he flipped the page, and his movements revealed frustration. Had he not been satisfied with any of the sketches, despite their beauty? What was it that made him restless? The kunoichi wondered at it; she had never seen him express any dissatisfaction with his art before, so why would he begin now?

Was there something… specific for once that he wished to depict, and could not seem to do so?

“Can I… again?”

The faint murmur startled her. He was looking at her, as though timid and confused for once. Was his inability to satisfy himself that disturbing? But he hadn't asked directly what he wondered; those words, word for word, left her even more confused and concerned than she had been before.

“The painted faces…”

She didn't ask him what he meant. She wasn't really even sure he knew himself. But Sakura knelt next to him and closed her eyes again. If it was this that he wanted, she would oblige him. It was impossible to deny that she had wanted him to paint her face once more… if only just once more.

But it felt so wonderful to have his callused hand hold her face again.

The medium was cold on her skin as it traced yet another unknown pattern across her face, from her hairline to her eye, her cheekbone, her nose. The lines seemed to overlap, and run on endlessly, but she didn't mind. But tonight he chose a different tool. Before, he had only used pens.

A soft brush caressed her lips.

He painted them, a simple medium that was obviously lip gloss, and she wondered why. He had never painted her lips before. He had always painted around her eyes.

She trusted him anyway.

Something told her that, even without Ina standing over him, he was doing something beautiful. So she waited, eyes closed, trusting him. And he moved to the other side of her face, painting only a few last strokes before he stopped. But still, she didn't open her eyes. She waited. And she heard it at last.

He was sketching.

Sai was sketching her.

Was it her painted face he had been trying to capture? She didn't dismiss the thought.

It seemed that she sat there kneeled before him for hours, unaware of the forest around them, though she knew he was. He was always aware of his surroundings. But he continued to sketch her. Frequently she heard him erase his work, and again, he would try on whatever it was that hadn't seemed perfect enough for his taste. Over and over again- was it nearing dawn now? The birds were moving.

Kakashi-sensei will be waking up soon…

But as soon as the thought had become coherent, it was gone again, and she simply listened to the scratching of her teammate's pencil across his paper.

The suddenly, he stopped.

Sakura vaguely wondered if something was wrong, or if he had simply finished the picture. For good measure, she censored the forest for any movement, and finding none, she waited for him to indicate what he wished for her to do next. He was still sitting there; she could feel his eyes boring into her. She could barely hear his clothing rustle as she felt him move, and she made to open her eyes when he surprised her yet again.

He pressed his lips to hers.

Stunned at first though she was, she responded to him. In only a few minutes, it became passionate, and Sakura didn't understand how he could be so, when he was always so emotionless. Sai knew, though…

Teasing hair. Laughing eyes. Smiling face.

Her face.

A painted face.