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Chapter Text

"Thank you for accompanying me, Konan."

Sasori and Konan were deep in the Hidden Sand, gliding through the dead of night.

"Of course."

He had been meaning to take Deidara with him for months, but the idiot always found a way to (quite literally) blow up their plans. He could have asked Kakuzu--he almost preferred his stern and silent company over Dei's--but the old bastard was out babysitting Hidan in Hidden Grass for the next few days. Everyone else was not of his interest. So, he asked Konan.

To his pleasant surprise, she had agreed to come, making nothing of their laborious journey. It was a bit of a gift.

"We aren't very far." Sasori announced.

His shoulder blades whirled above like propellers, while Konan's angelic wings of paper swept powerfully through the dry night. Whenever he asked for help (which was not often), Konan was always willing to be of aid. The more Sasori thought of it, Konan coming along made sense. She wasn't the type to complain, either way. 

"Are you getting these from Grandmother Chiyo?" She asked quietly.

"Yes." He replied.

They scanned the terrain below; the Kazekage's glorious chambers rising against the moon while clusters of estates surrounded it. Farther down, markets swamped with the evening rush and busy urban buildings. Farther still, military stakeouts and ramshackle huts. When he was little, Sasori would see fresh rice fields and herds of camels, tended to by farmers. But now such life is gone, due to war. No farmers, no livestock, no endless landscape. All gone. It was traded for pure military prowess, which The Sand exceeded at greatly.

It made Sasori sick.

He soon found their destination and veered down to the left for land. Konan followed suit, her wings dissapaiting as she ellegently floated to the ground. Sasori landed swiftly, a resounding click as his blades folded. They stood in front of a hut, smaller and secluded from the rest of the slums.

"Your old house, I presume?" Konan asked.

“Not necessarily; Mother and Father lived closer to the military barracks. This is only Grandmother's house; I visited frequently, however."

They peered into a broken window; she had not been keeping up with maintenance, it seemed. Sasori fetched a spare key hidden in a potted cactus and opened the door, the pair creeping it silently. It was too musty for Sasori's taste--loads of dust, mildew, and cobwebs showed in detail that Chiyo had not been there in some time.

All the memories he held with her, along with Mother and Father, resided here. The way his mother played dolls with him, how his father taught him how to use his fire technique to perfect his molds. Even how his Grandmother would teach him her ways; all of it still resided, untouched and eternal, in this hut. Yet it was only a shell of what it used to be, a castoff of the past. Similar to himself, really. Sasori led Konan past some rooms until he found the right one, peaking in to check its contents.

"You go in; I'll watch for company." Konan instsed.

Sasori nodded, leaving his partner at the doorway. He crossed the room to where a big, wooden chest sat. A note, its ink still fresh, was tacked to the wall above it.

Replacements in the boxes. Oil and spare paint in the vials.

Sasori cracked open the case, meticulously pulling each item out and inspecting it. The paint smelled right and the oil fresh, while the various parts shined like new. He began laying them on the floor. 

"What's this for?"

Konan held up a delicate brush, inspecting it with her fingers. Sasori grabbed it.

"Paint-job; I need touch-ups on my pelvis, shoulders, and fingers." He said hastily.

"From Deidara, no doubt." She said, a slight smirk gracing her lips.

Sasori scowled.

"Typically, I have to repaint after battles, that's all."

"Uh-huh. Of course."

Sasori examined a small bag of screws and needlenose screwdrivers.

"These," He explained, "Are because Deidara denoted one of his monstrosities too close to us, so my joints have been loose for weeks."

Next, he grabbed a vile.

"I'll need to oil my shoulder blades as well as my cord. Hiroko's tail needs some work too, but I'll work on him later."

Sasori pulled a bag out and dumped a multitude of empty boxes and viles on the floor. Zetsu would be proud of him, recycling and reusing his materials. In a couple of minutes, his organization was complete.

"Ready to go?" Konan asked.

"Yes, but--"

A feeling of embarrassment pinged inside him. 

"Actually, would you mind helping me with some of the touchups?"

"...Of course."

Part of the reason, besides the quiet and reflective attitude of her presence, Sasori appreciated Konan for her inability to judge. The very fact that he, an labor of everlasting art, required frequent repairs was a hypocrisy of the worst construct. He couldn't have Deidara knowing that.

"Let's start with the repainting." Konan decided.

She and Sasori both sat down.

"There's chip marks on my back from Hidden Mist and a few on my shoulders." He instructed, holding out some paint.

Konan dipped in a brush and got to work, meticulously filling spots while Sasori began the process of retightening his joints. 

They talked of work and little else, passing the time with questions about each other's techniques while they worked. Sasori was always curious about Konan's paper jutsu, and offered repeatedly to place his poison techniques into it, but she declined. Konan was not the type of ninja to rely on such additives. They switched projects, Konan working on backside joints while Sasori repainted his front, tucking into his trousers for a quick refurbishing. 

It was nice, the silence. It was comfortable. Typically, it was a rare commodity with Deidara ridiculously loud and Kakuzu's attitude was rarely better than irritated. Konan managed to give Sasori a happy middleground. 

He began examining their handiwork; Sasori looked brand new, untouched, unblemished--unhuman, even.

"Konan, can you please help me with my right hand? My left hand is too shaky."

When he had first joined The Akatsuki, Konan had been the one who taught him how to paint his nails (Orochimaru had been too much of a pompous prick to do so). It was beneath him to reach out for help, so Sasori often made replacement fingertips to rotate between. Regardless, no matter how much he practiced, Sasori always managed to botch his right hand.

"Yes, Sasori. Here." She replied.

He turned to face her, extending his pristine out to her. She took it gently and began to use a fine-tipped brush, working the edges of his fingertips and switching to the back and palm of his hand. She smiled softly.

"Does that tickle at all?'

"No."

"What about here?"

"Not art all."

"Really?"

"Konan, I can't feel anything. I'm a puppet."

It made him sad he couldn't feel anything; it made things with Deidara complicated and ironically touchy. Personally, it made Sasori feel unwhole and unfinished. It made him feel as inhuman as he truly was.

But, it had been his own choice. He was the reason he had become his greatest masterpiece; he needed to continue to adapt as best he could. At least Sasori could still feel emotions; that would have to continue to be enough. When Konan had finished, Sasori packed up his new supplies and took the note as a keepsake. They then left, carefully relocking the door and replacing the key. Once outside, Sasori stretched out his blades, the air reeking of oil and primer. They were leathally smooth.

"Beautiful work, Konan. Thank you."

She smiled and unfurled her own wings.

"You're welcome Sasori. You look lovely. I'm sure Deidara will think so too."

Sasori rolled his eyes and wanted to make a snarky comment, but the thought of that brat, his insane amount of hair swaying as it would when he ran to him, stopped Sasori. How soft of him. They took off, leaving the Village Hidden in the Sand behind them once again and Sasori smiled.

Deidara would be thrilled to see his everlasting beauty.

Chapter Text

“Dammit!”

Deidara had broken another comb, the wooden teeth snapping off in his never-ending length of hair. As of now, it had been the third brush he'd broken in the past month. He had only been with the Akatsuki for not much longer and the only thing they noticed about him was the unruly mass and how it got on the carpet, and in the drains, and occasionally in someone's food. Their attention should be focused on his art, not his hair! So Deidara needed a new look, one that would impress but not distract; inspire and not aggravate. He just didn't know where to draw inspiration from.

Deidara stared into the bathroom mirror and contemplated. He wouldn't hide his hair like Kakuzu and simply refused to take styling advice from Itachi; Sasori didn't care (which hurt) and Hidan--the new newbie--kept telling him to 'put some gel in that shit’. So, Deidara was out of options, his beautiful bangs growing increasingly difficult to keep out of his vision. It needed a new approach. To squander his golden locks, why, it was a waste of art! His hair, radiantly shining in the daylight, was a fleeting masterpiece that had to be repeated. It was a real travesty.

"Now I gotta find a new brush, hn."He grumbled.

It was midday and the only ones still home--Itachi, Kisame, and Sasori--were nowhere in sight. Deidara wanted to find Sasori and ask him for help, maybe have him help detangle or even braid some of the strands, but Deidara decided otherwise. His worst fear, besides a lack of attention, was proving himself too clingy. He decided to wander the halls, hoping to swipe a comb or brush from an empty room. Besides his own room, Deidara really only knew where Hidan and Kakuzu slept (they were...combative at night), so he decided to explore.

"No one will notice me, anyways, hn." He pouted.

Hidan, that artless piece of shit, had only been there for a week and was receiving all the attention and causing so much chaos--chaos that was supposed to be Deidara's specialty--that he was all The Akatsuki would pay attention to. And the Jashinist loved it, gloating to Deidara and disrespecting his reputation. And he had the audacity to call him an attention whore!

It didn't sit well with Deidara; sure, his personality tended to be a bit explosive, but that was who he was. It was his true signature of beauty! There had to be something he could do to get the others to notice him. Deidara wandered into a room with a slightly open door. Kisame was sitting on the ground, back to him, deep in meditation. Slowly, Deidara peered in further. Itachi was also in the room, but laid huddled in a ball on his bed. He was fast asleep, motionless, even. 

"Scram, kid. The guy doesn't feel too good." Kisame barked, not turning to meet him.

Deidara huffed and left without a word, startled have been detected so quickly. He approached another room, which was far too small to house a duo, with it's solitary bed and lone dresser. It smelled far too clean for any of the men's rooms, with traces of lilacs and rainwater wafting around. Deidara didn't know whose it was, and neither did the artist care. He just needed something sturdy.

"Ah, yes, hn!"

To Deidara's delight, a little comb rested on. the nightstand. He rushed in and gingerly picked it up, inspecting it and its craftsmanship. The comb was made of fine ivory and little roses and vines carved into it. The etchings were crude, but they gave the work a humble sense of beauty. styling simplicity as it's forte. It seemed sturdy enough, so Deidara took it to his waves of blonde and gave it a handful of yanks. The comb moved, but barely. He tried again; still bare minimum movement.

"Son of a Bitch, hn!" He growled, now using his entire arm to pull at the comb. Still, it refused to budge.

"Deidara, what are you doing here?"

Deidara, startled, gave a jump and dropped the comb. Before it clattered to the ground, a few sheets of paper swooped it and cradled it midair. Konan stood in the bathroom doorway, her violet hair soaked and down. She had a sleek Akatsuki-themed bathrobe on and wore an expression of both confusion and amusement.

"Oh, Konan, hn! I didn't know this was your room." Deidara replied.

"Yes, it is...do you need help?" She said, gesturing to the floating comb.

Deidara looked to the side, contemplating. He was an adult; surely he could take care of himself. If not, the men would never recognize him as one of them.

"No, hn, I can take care of myself." He replied.

Konan sighed patiently and cocked an eyebrow, folding her arms.

"Are you sure?" She asked.

Deidara blew his bangs out of his face. Maybe a little help wouldn't hurt. Besides, Konan seemed to know her way around hair. It looked flawless, even after long missions! She probably knew best.

"...Can you please help me?"

Konan smiled and cinched her robe tighter, "I'd love to, Dei."

She grabbed a stool from under her bed and set it infront of her vanity, motioning for Deidara to come and sit. The bathroom was small, but elegantly cluttered, small origami roses and cranes clustering in free spaces. Deidara watched Konan open a drawer and pull out a pair of scissors.

"Don't worry; I'm just cutting off the dead ends," Konan explained, "You can't get a comb through them anyways."

"But I don't want it short!" Deidara protested.

"Relax, it will only be a few inches. Besides, you don't want your hair dragging around when you start going on missions." She stated.

Deidara sighed. It was true; he needed to be at his best when the time came to complete missions, he wanted to be his sharpest, so that no one would ignore him. If he had to lose a few inches of hair, so be it. 

Snip, snip!

Deidara gasped as he saw chunks float to the ground. Konan stroked his head as she worked, which somehow was calming him; it would be alright. She had the touch of an older sibling.

"So, you get your own room? Hn, must be nice."  He hummed.

A few paper sheets guided the ivory comb through Deidara's chopped locks.

"I am a woman; I need my privacy, which is hard to come by here. Besides, you boys are too messy. I have hygiene standards." She explained lightly.

"I honestly thought Leader and you shared a room." 

Deidara could see Konan's face sadden a little, but the look quickly dissipated.

"Pein needs his own space."

Konan gently took Deidara's bangs in hand and began to reshape them, sending threads of hair into his face.

"Yeah, hn, it's frustrating trying to share space," He went on, "I try and shave and Kisame's cleaning his gills, hn, or Kakuzu is repairing his creepy face-stitches, or, yeah."

Konan held his face and pretended to inspect it.

"Hm, shaving? You don't even have peach fuzz, Dei." She said.

"Hey, I am a man, hn! I have plenty to shave!" Deidara objected.

Konan shrugged and started parting his hair.

"Hidan is older than you and he doesn't shave." She replied.

"Yeah, well, that's because he's probably actually a demon. Besides, hn, the others do."

"And why is that so important? You are still only a child."

Deidara slouched even further. If he was just a child, he wouldn't even be here.

"I know the others talk down on you," Konan was saying, "But giving them time. Sasori has taken a liking to you and Hidan thinks you are hilarious. Just give the boys time; they'll appreciate you soon enough."

Konan took a swath of Deidara's hair and tied it into a half-up hairstyle, his hair now merely back-length. 

"Hair oil, please."

She extended a hand. Deidara, still contemplating her words, handed her the bottle.

He wanted their attention--their recognition, more specifically--and their respect. He wanted to prove to those stuck-up brutes he was more than just an expendable artist. Deidara wanted them to realize his potential. His art was explosive and so was he!

Konan worked the oil into his hair, fingers trailing through the cascades of blonde.

"There, all set, Dei," She announced, “I think this will be a little bit more manageable."

She held up a small mirror for Deidara to see the backside.

"Oh, my...Konan it is stunning ..."

Deidara's hair was now slightly past his collarbone, with a good portion pulled back and up by ttwine. His bangs fluttered just below his eye and were gracefully shaped to the left, allowing him to see clearly while still fidgeting with it. It was marvelous.

"I think you look very handsome," Konan said, patting his shoulder, "Like a real adult."

"Thank you, Konan."

Even if he was still a child, Deidara was heading the right way. He had a fresh start, a new plan of attack. He would win The Akatsuki over and show them just how explosive he could be! What better way than with a new look? Konan grinned and began to put her materials away.

"Of course, Dei." She replied.

"...do you think Sasori will like it?"

Konan paused and pretended to think.

"Oh, I'm sure he will find it unfathomably beautiful."

Deidara, excited, thanked her and again and headed off to find his partner. When his partner returned, he would tell Sasori how he could take care of himself, how he was growing and learning. It would be enthralling! 

"Hey, Kuzu, look at this sexy, little man!"

Hidan, along with Kakazu, passed him, returning from their sparring. Deidara narrowed his eyes at first, the genuine expression on the Jashinist’s face made him soften.

"Nice cut!" Hidan said.

"Hmm. I agree; very profitable." Kakuzu murmured.

Deidara blushed and flashed them the biggest smile he could create, teeth and everything. Konan was right; he just needed to give them some time.

Chapter Text

Kisame had always been the one to worry, but now Itachi was drawing concern from Pein.

When they had discovered his illness, Itachi and Pein agreed to inform the others of the basic details, but nothing too privy. Especially not how life-threatening it was, or that his ability to live depended on a single source of medication almost a week's worth of walking from them. Pein had declared that it left Itachi too vulnerable--they couldn't have their most skilled member weakened in the eyes of The Akatsuki. It would be devastating to their reputation.

So only Pein knew, and it stayed that way until Kisame weaseled the information out of him. Which Itachi didn't mind; Kisame could smell a lie a mile away and they shared plenty of secrets between each other. And it was nice to know he cared; the fretting was a bit much, but that's what (dare he say) friends did. Regardless, it was nice.

He just hated the long journey, though. It felt like a waste of his strength and his time.

"Itachi, do you remember if we have milk on base?"

Him and Konan were currently on a mission: buying the week's worth of fresh groceries. Typically, they would use their transformation jutsu, but the marketplace today had few customers. Their cloaks and bamboo hats were enough to deter any curious Hidden Rain villagers.

"Yes, but Zetsu said he needs soy milk...which was two yens cheaper last week...did you grab the tomatoes?"

"Yes, I have your precious tomatoes, Itachi."

The pair wandered past an elderly couple and towards a fruit stand, busily comparing their own list to the coupon booklet Kakuzu had lent them. Itachi peered into the stand and picked out a kiwi, examining its state. Kisame had mentioned a new recipe--fruit loaf sandwiches--he wanted to try making one day. Maybe he'd bring him some ingredients.

"We need to stop in the tea shop." Itachi mentioned, putting the fruit back.

Konan gave him a knowing glance, "Of course!"

Passing into the shoppe, Itachi found his target: a fresh stand of hot dango. He'd buy Tobi and Deidara one, as well as himself and Konan. Coming closer, the Uchiha flagged down a clerk.

"How many, sir?" The shopkeeper asked.

"Four please...one with syrup. And anything that is tropical-flavored, please.” Itachi said.

Kakuzu would surely scold him for wasting money on sweets again, but Itachi didn't care. He took the small bag and fished out a dango stick for himself and Konan, carefully setting the box of mochi for Kisame in his tote. They chewed as they walked, carefully reviewing their lists. They still needed leeks and beef. And Itachi needed to set off for his medicine.

But what was the point? Sasuke was no longer in Konoha; he wasn't able to check in on him as he used to. And the journey regardless often proved fruitless--Itachi didn't want to fight his little brother, as he knew was all but inevitable the next time he saw him. There was no point in prolonging. 

"You go find the beef, I'll get the leeks." Konan instructed.

She glided off while Itachi took another bite of his dango. The meat selection smelled freshly cured and was guarded by a stout woman in a greasy-looking smock.

"Whatcha lookin' for, sweetie?" She asked.

Itachi pointed at a few cuts of meat, enjoying the banter and bargaining that occured. He missed taking Sasuke to the market. He missed Sasuke in general, really. Maybe he could find a way to still watch him? He assumed his brother had already fallen into the hands of Orochimaru, so maybe he could convince The Akatsuki to go and track him, argue that Sasuke could be a liable asset in their future. They hated the snake enough to retaliate, at least. Anything was better than not seeing him...

Itachi felt a rush of blood to his head and his legs wobble, his vision clouding intensely. He knew he was going to faint.

"Itachi? Are you alright?" 

Konan appeared by him, concerned written on her face.

"Yes, I am fine..." He mumbled, but his lungs burned.

Itachi's legs buckled violently, causing Konan to drop her groceries and catch him. Itachi coughed violently into her shoulder, blood flying in droplets, his lungs and throat under the pressure under a thousand needles.

"When did you last take your medicine?" Konan asked urgently.

How did she know? Pein must have told her at some point. She was not going to like the answer. Konan guided him to a bench, away from the market, and set both his and her groceries beside him.

"Itachi Uchiha, when did you last take your medicine." Konan demanded.

Itachi took a bundle of tissues from his pocket and coughed into them, spraying specks of blood.

"I went to the mountains fourteen months ago." He replied.

The gutteral noise Konan made reminded Itachi of his mother when she was about to reprimand him.

Itachi," Konan said, "That is too long of a gap. We need to get you up there and those meds in you immediately."

"But why?" he asked wearily.

Sasuke was all that drove him and now he was gone. They'd only ever meet again to kill each other. And he'd win. There was no point.

"Because we care about you!" Konan objected.

Itachic gurgled out a weak, little laugh, causing his face to crease further.

"Konan, I am only an asset. That's what we all are." he spat.

"You are wrong!" Konan insisted, grabbing at their bags, "I am dropping these off and then we are heading to the mountains for your medication."

"But Pein will disagree; Kisame and I have to capture the Five Tails tomorrow." Itachi objected.

"Well, then, Pein will have to deal with me. Besides, Kisame would be distraught to see you in this condition."

Konan’s wings appeared and in an instant she was gone, leaving Itachi sputtering and dumbstruck. A quarter of an hour later Konan returned.

"I will carry you." She instructed.

Itachi frowned; there was no room for debate.

******

Because they were flying, the journey time was cut tenfold; by nightfall, they arrived at the shanty house and entered wordlessly. The clerk, knowing his customer, asked no questions and for no payment, simply producing a handful of vials to Itachi to take. The duo stayed in silence the entire way back, Konan carrying Itachi bridal-style while he drifted between bouts of nausea and sleep. When they returned to Hidden Rain, Konan created a canopy of paper over Itachi to keep him dry until they landed. Finally, on his own feet, Itachi was overcome with coughing and a headache.

"Go in and take it; I will bring you tea and you will use my room tonight." She instructed.

Konan helped him steady himself as he looked around; it was dark--probably close to midnight--and it didn't appear that anyone was awake. Slowly, Itachi used the wall as a guide, passing his room. He saw Kisame in bed, but it appeared the shark-man was tossing in his sleep. He'd ask Konan to leave a note for him on his whereabouts.  Itachi trailed into Konan's room and flopped onto her bed, overcome with exhaustion. A few moments later, Konan came in and handed him his personal mug. It was soothingly warm. and smelled strongly of Hibiscus. She handed him a dish containing a dose of his pills and a fresh dango stick.

"I asked Tobi to get you another one earlier; I figured it would be the only thing you'd eat." She explained.

Konan grabbed a stool and sat beside him, munching on a rice ball she brought in. Sasuke's favorite food was rice balls.

"Why would you do this for me?" Itachi asked.

Konan smiled, but her stare crew blank, gazing past him.

"Itachi," She started, "You forget the value of your life. Regardless of your actions, you have achieved peace. You still can keep achieving peace. That is why Pein and I formed The Akatsuki; so you--and others like you--can achieve peace."

A pause.

"There is still so much good in you."

Itachi took a sip of his tea and swallowed his pills. Konan was right, he just was too tired to articulate that to her. He took another bite of food.

"Thank you, Konan." He said softly.

She nodded, "Get some rest. I will inform Kisame that I will be traveling with him tomorrow. All you need to do is rest and you will recover."

Konan sounded too hopeful, but Itachi would tell her his inescapable fate another time. Right now, all he could do was be grateful. Tomorrow, like always, would be better. Even now, as she left the room and said goodnight, Itachi felt the strength in her words. Maybe there still was good in him...

Chapter Text

"Deidara; quit playing with the stove or I'm going to rip that ponytail off!"

"Relax, hn; fire is my specialty!"

"Says the Earth user..."

"Shut up, Sasori no Danna! Hmpf, these flames are too fleeting to discard!"

"Hey, Kisame! How do I look?"

"Hidan, for the last time, pay attention! There's octopus and roe on the stove!"

"Yeah, but I look sexy, right?"

"Ask Kakuzu, you lousy sack of flesh."

"Sasori; either help out or get out!"

"Bite me, fishsticks."

"See, Leader? I can use fire too, hn! It is glorious... ow! Kisame I burned one of my mouths..."

Kisame was at a loss: he had, rather boldly, offered to cook for the evening, as opposed to ordering a caterer. It was a big night; besides the induction of their newest member, Tobi, The Akatsuki were celebrating their first successful Biju capture, the Four-Tails. The sealing provided a rare occasion to celebrate, so Kisame wanted to pull out all the stops. He had been stockpiling ingredients for days and even purchased brand-new culinary knives. He was in a great spot, but in need of extra sets of hands.

Kisame had purposely assigned the others to their strong suits: Deidara was manning the oven and stove, Hidan cutting vegetables, Pein and Sasori baking a sweet sponge cake, and Kakuzu and Zetsu buying fresh fruit and suitable alcohol. It was the perfect setup. Things in the kitchen had been going smoothly, but twenty minutes in, Kisame realized the horrible irony of his plan.

It started off with Hidan threatening everyone and everything with the paring knife, then Deidara using his detonator clay to smoke up the kitchen; Pein and a wine-drunk Sasori--who had downed an entire bottle of Gekkeikan--were arguing passionately over how to bake the loaf cake. Now, Hidan's short attention span and Deidara's fascination with fire left the seafood in despair, while the other two morons had processed from fighting with words to fighting with flour, tossing it at each other when the other tried to read directions. 

It was an absolute mess.

"Leader, can you please get Sasori off the table so I can prepare the herring roe?"

"I will when this drunken imbecile learns how to measure properly."

"Fine; my apologies for thinking you would be more mature...Hidan! get your naked, A.D.D ass off the counter and finish chopping the ginger!"

"Make me, chumbucket."

"Very creative...very creative...do we have more wine?"

Kisame was ready to snap the Jashinist's neck when a raging fire appeared out of the corner of his eye.

"Deidara, stop! You'll burn the octopus!"

"Hn, then it will be a glorious work of art! Think of it, all the charred ashes, extinguishing life in an instant, only to dissipate at the slightest touch...it is enamoring!"

"You won't be saying that when your hair catches fire...put it out now."

Admittedly, Kisame was frustrated. He was usually better than this; he prepared most of The Akatsuki's meals. It should have been a breeze. Should have, at least. He left the pork he was brazing to check on the octopus, desperately hoping it could be salvaged. Kisame exhaled in relief; a portion was burnt, but the rest Kisame could still use.

"Samehada!" He whistled.

The beast scampered in, causing Hidan and Deidara to shirek.

"Hey, girl, try this for me; these fools burned it up and I know you like octopus." Kisame cooed.

The creature gobbled up the offering, making excited clinking noises and circling its owner's feet for further scraps.  Soon it became fascinated with Hidan, who started promising to skin it and sacrifice it.  Kisame needed help and fast, otherwise nothing would be done on time. As if on cue, the kitchen door swung open, revealing Zetsu and a very irritated Kakuzu.

"We heard screaming from outside," He said tersely, "What's going on?"

Hidan, who was pulling at a soup ladle Samehada had grabbed, turned and gave his partner an oily smile.

"Hey, Kuzu, do you think I look sexy in this apron?" He asked.

Zetsu giggled while Kakuzu's stitchings crumpled into a frown.

"No." He growled, but Kisame could clearly see his face turning red.

"At least he has underwear on underneath." Zetsu said.

"Zetsu, do not encourage him..." Kakuzu mumbled.

With that, they left before Kisame could ask them for help.

"Seriously, you guys are embarrassing." Sasori mumbled into his cup.

Kisame groaned. He was never going to be ready in time. A half an hour later and he was graced with another interruption.

"Kisame, what happened?!" 

Konan, Itachi, and Tobi stood in the doorway, their arms full of streamers and party decorations, their faces stunned beyond belief. Kisame let out a sigh of relief; Konan could handle this catastrophe.

"Oh, Konan, thank the Six Paths you're here," He cried, "I am so behind; I got roe and octopus on the stove, all the produce to chop, and I haven't even looked at the cake yet..."

"Do not worry; I will take care of this," She said, her face turning stern, "Boys; out, now! Go work on decorating and filling out the initiation records."

Kisame exhaled for what felt like the first time this evening; Konan would be helpful. She ordered the troublemakers out, first a very insulted Pein, followed by Tobi and a curse-spitting Hidan. Deidara was next, dragging Sasori behind him, grumbling something about lack of appreciation. Now Kisame had Konan and Itachi; he was in good hands.

"Konan, we have so much to do," he said, returning his attention to the pork," There's Tako and Kazunoko to prepare as well as the fruit tray and deserts; we don't have a ton of time but I think we can pull this off."

Konan and Itachi nodded, both strapping on their own aprons.

"What do you need me to start with?" She asked.

"Herron roe. Itachi can take the produce"

"On it!"

The trio broke to their separate stations, Konan marinating the roe in Dashi sauce and Itachi using his Sharingan to slice and dice, while kIsame finally finished cutting the pork into thick slices. Luckily, he had woken up at daybreak to begin cooking, so he already had the miso and barbeque finished. This gave him plenty of time to clean up the others' messes. Eventually, Konan sent Itachi to go inspect an argument between Tobi and Deidara down the hall, leaving her to pick up after him. She worked flawlessly, using her paper shuriken jutsu to simultaneously slice and dice the remaining fruits and vegetables while she used her hands to tear apart the roe.

"I didn't know you knew your way around the kitchen." Kisame remarked.

"Every girl learns; it is what is expected of us. Itachi told me you are very good at your craft, though." Konan said with a shrug.

Kisame laughed, gesturing with a knife he was using.

"Oh, please," He protested, "Itachi is too generous. I was the chef in my household, so I have an ample background. Mostly seafood, but I can handle anything at this point."

And it was true: barbeque, Kaiseki, pastries, treachery...total and ruthless slaughter of his comrades...Kisame could do it all. He convinced himself countless times; it was necessary.

When The Akatsuki first enrolled him, they were curious to know how many Hidden Mist comrades he had killed, which Kisame had--at a rough estimate--fifty-two people. It was quite the record his partner had, but they were impressed. They found him to be highly qualified for the position he was offered. After all, who else could say they had the infamous No-Tails as an ally?

But that was an identity Kisame didn't always want. He wanted something more; something more than the hitman, the guy whose loyalty was so deranged that it drove him to slaughter. Kisame knew he was more and he knew he could be more, but he felt trapped. The identity given by others always sticks, anyways. 

"Ready to fix this cake?" Konan asked.

She had appeared by his area, quietly watching him plate the Tako. Kisame jumped slightly, startled.

"Yes, throw it in the oven, our...pushy Leader decided to play food-fight with Sasori instead of actually baking it." He replied.

Konan laughed softly.

"You must forgive him; they were horrible bakers when we were young," She explained, "Tried to bake some cookies and almost burned the house our Sensai and we lived in."

"That's okay; my mother couldn't prepare sushi to save her life--and we're part fish!"

The two laughed with mirth as they began to clean up the station. It felt good to cook for fun again.

They spent the next hour cleaning and reorganizing the entire kitchen, hiding sharp stuff and expense ingredients where only they could find them. They also plated most of them meals, engaging an ongoing conversation of their favorite meals to cook and where they learned the recipes, as well as the gossip of the upcoming party. Word has it that Tobi wasn't really who he said he was, but Kisame didn't care. Both him and Konan agreed he rubbed them the wrong way, but the guy seemed harmless for now. At least they could count on a good party; the food and drink would [ut everyone in a good mood, which was always nice to see.

Finally, The Akatsuki would see Kisame in another light. They would realize how talented he was at something besides mercenary work. That was also nice, too.

Once the cake was popped out of the oven, Kisame and Konan went to decorating it, using remnants of the fruit platter and buttercreme to give the dessert some flair. Kisame watched Konan as she dashed some sprinkles and couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit of jealousy. Not in the conventional way--he certainly didn't envy her in any aspect nor wish her ill--but in the way he was almost jealous of Itachi, who seemed to shoulder the weight of his actions so surely and without regret. He and Kisame had talked before of their deeds, both so similar in motivation, and Itachi never seemed to reprimand himself, while Kisame constantly degraded his being for lack of free will. He wanted the stoic persona Itachi and Koan had, where she flew about doing Pein's dirty work without hesitation and making a name for herself in the village by supposed deeds of good.

She and him were similar, really. Kisame had lost his family, comrades, and home for the path he chose just as Konan did, yet she carried on gracefully proud of her work and with a vision far past the actions of her past. Her identity was clear, while Kisame was convinced he never had one. Konan was her own person, the beloved Lady Angel, not just some rogue ninja from the past. It killed him.

"Kisame, you are your own person, you know. You too make a name for yourself."

Fascinating how quickly her sensory abilities kicked in; it was as if she was reading his thoughts...

"What?" Kisame asked.

Konan waggled her hand, emphasising her ring finger.

"You tend to leave your chakra imprint running, so your thoughts come out very clear. It's quite entraining at meetings." She explained.

Kisame grimaced, deeply embarrassed. Konan waved a hand in dispute.

"It's alright; really, I'm the only one who tunes in...Itachi too, perhaps, since your chakra is so insync...so it isn't too much to worry about. Your meeting commentaries are very amusing regardless. But," She continued, "You are wrong. You have an identity: you are Kisame Hoshigaki, wielder of Samehada and member of The Akatsuki. You protected your village from the loss of many top-tier secrets and are the most loyal person I have ever known. And you are--" She plopped a fistful of cherries onto the cake "--an excellent chef."

Kisame smiled, touched by her sincerity.

"Well, we'll see about that last one." He replied.

He checked the clock: a quarter after 7 PM. Time for dinner. Together, the pair brought food out and began setting the table, Itachi appearing to help with the seating arrangements. Soon the others filed in, with Pein being the last to sit as custom for their meals.

"Tonight, I want to congratulate you all. We welcome a new member and celebrate our first Biju sealing," Pein boomed, glancing around the table, "You should all be very proud of yourself."

He took a final stare at everyone, resting his eyes on Kisame.

"Here's to us!"

The table cheered and settled in to eating, passing dishes and exchanging bits of dialogue with one another. Kisame was met with a plethora of praise and requests for future meals ,all which he humbly accepted and cordially denied. He was a modest man, but deep down Kisame was overjoyed; it was nice to be appreciated. Konan stood and held up her glass.

"I'd like to make a toast to our provider of this meal, Kisame Hoshigaki," She flashed him a smile, "Here's to the Akatsuki's master chef!"

The other men cheered and drank in agreement, causing within Kisame a small sensation of warmth in his chest. It felt like pride . Maybe he really had done good, despite how small the deed was. It seemed all he needed was a little guidance to realize that. Kisame grinned, bearing his sharp teeth, and raised his glass in Konan's direction. Besides, the master chef didn't sound too bad to him. It had a nice ring to it.

Chapter Text

It was four o’clock in the morning and Hidan was trying to pray. Hard. It was perfect conditions: Kakuzu was asleep and couldn't harass him (that's all he needed) and he was awake enough to perform a few verses attentively. It was a great setup.

But there were too many damn distractions in their room: the shutters clacking, the wind howling outside, the snoring coming from Kakuzu and his insidiously cute-yet-frightening chakra beasts, and an annoying cricket that had hopped in some time earlier. At every breath he took, it was one noise or the other, pushing him to the edge of a nervous breakdown. Hidan was ready to scream, or break something, but preferably scream.

"Lord Jashin...please; I am restless and cannot sleep. It's been many nights since I have been able to and my concentration is always failing me."

The wind howled violently outside, causing Hidan to curse.

"Jashin my Lord...my Love...are you demanding a sacrifice tonight?"

The noises around the Jashinist were getting harder to ignore and his patience was running thin.

"My Lord...my Love..."

clack, clack!

"Please, you must know I am trying to pay attention..."

snoooore, grrr!

"...if you need me to sacrifice someone I know just who to use…”

...CHIRP!

"Fucking Hell."

Hidan stood up from his mat and went to put on his cloak, pausing to consider if he should throw something at Kakuzu. The fucker needed a nose bridge and soon, otherwise Hidan was going to flip his shit. Grumbling, he pulled on his pants and cloak and exited. If it was too loud in here, he might as well go outside for a change. Maybe he'd find some peace and goddamn quiet out there. 

Slipping out of his room, Hidan was pummeled by a draft; it was the dead of winter on base and far too cold to head out without an extra layer. So, naturally, Hidan retrieved Kakuzu's shirt. 

"He won't mind." Hidan mumbled, knowing full well that his partner would.

The shirt was huge on him and covered with small rips. Hidan winced in disapproval; Kakuzu's stitching had improved, but the permanent ones on him seemed to still remain coarse. At least they hurt like a bitch anymore, really. Hidan pulled on a sleeve and heard a small tear, grinning instantly. Kakuzu would kill him for this, probably break his neck, or toss him from a window, or whatever other violent shit they typically did. Hidan giggled minically--he couldn't wait for Kuzu to find out. The shit they did was really fun...

Why was he even up right now? Right--to pray. Hidan was restless and needed to pray. He ventured upstairs and outside, entering the balcony, where snow was falling. Down below, Hidan could see street lights being snuffed out by a Wind-user as the sun started to peak up. It looked as if the sky was dissipating under a curtain of red snow.

That was something Hidden appreciated about Hidden Rain; the snow always made his sacrifices come up so crisp, so heavenly against the pure white. He grinned wolfishly, thinking of how elegant the red would pop off the innocent white and then would mix into a delightful pink. That was true aesthetic, if the art whores ever needed inspiration. HIdan could always count on blood to make everything better.

"Lord Jashin, I am in a better place to concentrate, so please," He whispered, "Why am I having a hard time focusing? Why do I get distracted? Is it because you demand more attention from me? I don't want to do anything stupid and..."

And anger Kakuzu. Or scare him. Or hurt him.

Hidan wandered out onto The Watcher and decided to sit on its tongue. He could understand why Pein came here so often--it was a helluva view. All the remaining lights, now reflecting cleany off the snow...it was straight-up fucking gorgeous. Just a splash of blood and it'd be perfect.

Has Kakuzu ever seen snow? Surely, in his long lifetime, he must have at least once. Maybe the guy would like to know it was snowing...they could watch it together, in the mouth of The Watcher, legs dangling, enjoying the view. Enjoying each other...it was a nice idea.

Hidan felt a sharp snagging in his chest, shaking him from his thoughts. Jashin was growing impatient.

"Forgive, my Lord, for becoming distracted again. I will pray in your Name until you are satisfied." The Jashinist whispered feverishly.

He positioned himself onto his knees and began to recite some of the homilies he memorized, trying to ignore the world around him. Kakuzu, that fucking heathen, would ridicule if he saw his partner like this, bent over for something other than him. It made Hidan's immortal heart ache; he'd give his heart to Kakuzu if he ever needed it. More pains, more shortness of breath. Jashin did not want his time divided. 

Hidan buckled down and began again, desperately trying (for what felt like an eternity) to block out the surrounding noise. But the birds chirping, wind howling, and sleet pelting were all too much for him. Hidan through his hands up in defeat.

"Forget this shit!" He growled, "I'm just gonna sacrifice someone! Where's that tai pad shop with the crappy service...maybe I'll go pay them a visit..."

He leapt to his feet and began stalking back inside, grumbling and swearing to himself. He was seeing red, so much so that he was too worked up to notice Pein and Konan coming up, arriving for their daily patrol. In fact, he ran right into them.

"Woah, watch your ass!" Hidan snapped.

Pein rolled his eyes while Konan sighed in annoyance.

"Hidan, it is a rest day; why are you awake?" Pein demanded.

Hidan shrugged and kicked at a soft mound of snow.

“Wasn't feeling tired; I wanted to get some fresh air." He replied.

He caught a curious glance from Konan.

"Very well, I will start my patrol elsewhere," Pein said, "Enjoy the view."

With that he launched himself into the air, zooming away and out of the Jashinist’s focus. Hidan mumbled something and stomped back to his seat. Konan soon floated over to him and sat next to him.

"Why are you having trouble sleeping?" She asked.

Hidan shrugged again.

"I dunno. It's not like a regular thing--well, sometimes it is. I just got Jashin on my ass because I keep getting distracted so now He's keeping awake." He explained, "Not gonna lie, Angel-face, it's been pretty rough."

"Does Kakuzu know?" Konan asked.

Hidan laughed and shook his head.

"Fuck no! He'd beat my ass if he knew my Lord was keeping me up." He replied.

"...you think you should tell him?" Konan pressed.

Hidan looked off, lost in thought. He wanted to let his partner know--it would make both their lives better--but he didn't want to worry him. Lord knows if Kakuzu found out he was getting more distracted apart from his usual habits...

"Aw, no; nah. Nah, I don't wanna worry him. He'd never go on missions with me if I told him I'm even more spacey. Also, I don't want to distract from our other work, if you know what I mean."

He gave her an oily smile, which she responded to with a solid punch to the shoulder. Hidan squawked out some obscenity as she waved away his complaints. But, instantly, Hidan grinned to himself. He was enjoying himself; he always felt good-natured towards Konan. After all, she could be scary as shit when she wanted to be, so Hidan was usually obliged to to behave around her. She was good company.

"Nah, I'm just having a hard time concentrating," He repeated, "Always have--you see it--it's just sometimes worse than better. I always feel so jumpy and this morning it was just real bad."

Konan nodded along as he spoke.

"Have you ever tried meditation?" She asked.

"You sound like the two zen worshippers." Hidan scoffed.

"Kisame did say it lowers anxiety and Itachi likes to use it to relax his nerves." Konan pointed out.

"Hey, my nerves are calm!"

"Hah, yeah, sure they are."

"They're fucking soaked in calm."

"Clearly, they are not."

Hidan yawned and stretched his arms behind him. The lack of sleep was starting to hit him.

"You know, meditation is similar to praying." Konan pointed out.

"How so?"

"Think of it like this: praying allows you to reach into yourself of peace and calm just like meditation would. The only difference is, in meditation, you do not focus on anyone else. You focus on yourself." She explained.

Hidan chummed in amusement. Focusing on himself and only himself? He liked the sound of that. But would Jashin...

"I'm not so sure, Angel-face..." He replied.

"Hm, I thought as much," Konan smirked, "I guess you are not as brave as we all thought you were. It's a shame, really. I'll have to tell Kakuzu how you couldn't do it..."

Hidan grinned, bearing his teeth in a standoffish way. He never backed down from a good challenge, even if he knew Konan was goading him. He was a motherfucking immortal; he could handle some stupid meditation.

"Okay, I'll try it." Hidan said.

Konan smiled warmly and floated up and dematerialized her lower half, giving the Jashinist space to reposition. He crossed his legs and straightened his posture, letting his muscles relax and his breath even. He closed his eyes.

"Even, deep breaths, Hidan. This will help you relax." He heard Konan instruct.

Right, deep breaths. Easy.

Breathe in. Pause. Breath out.

Breathe in. Pause. Breathe out.

Breathe in. Pause. Breathe out.

Hidan scoffed--he could do this for days.

Breathe in. Pause. Breathe out.

Breathe in. Pause. Breathe out.

'Focus on yourself...focus on your own self and not Jashin...'

Breathe in. Pause. Breathe out.’

Breathe in... Kakuzu's shirt was itchy. Horribly itchy. It must have been from the threads' rips. He needed to take it off. but then he'd be cold...but he would still be itchy! So would it be better to be cold or itchy? Both sound awful...

‘No!’ Hidan reprimanded himself , ‘Back on track: breathe in. Pause. Breathe out. ‘

Breathe in. Pause. Breathe out.

Breathe. Pause. Breathe out.

Hidan felt as if he'd been doing this for days.

Breathe in. Pause. Breathe out.

Kakuzu could do this, probably. But the younger immortal didn't want to worry him, so he had to keep going. He had to try, at least for him. Jashin couldn't control his attention for all of Hidan's time.

Breathe in. Pause. Breathe out.

Breathe in. Pause. Breathe out.

He growled; he couldn't take it anymore.

"Konan," Hidan whined, "Can you track someone for me? Pretty please?"

"And why's that?" Konan asked.

She still had her eyes closed, her face reflecting deep calm.

"Cuz I want to sacrifice someone. Jashin has been on my ass and if I get just one done maybe he'll let me focus on something else for a change." Hidan explained.

"Hidan..."

"C'mon, Angel-face! Nobody ever lets me do it! I won't tell anyone you helped me." Hidan pouted.

Konan inhaled sharply.

"You know I don't like to use my jutsu for that." She said.

"Please! Pick someone you hate, like really, really, absolutely loathe. No one will know!"

"Hidan, that's unethical!"

“Pretty please!"

Konan groaned; then:

"Fine. Hanzo's grandson runs a stripclub three blocks from here. Him and his liaisons are nortorious for exploiting his underaged employees. Go pay him a visit."

Hidan's eyes widened in delight and leapt to his feet. 

."Aw, thanks, Angel-face, you're the best! A real hero." He cried, a phycotic glint in his eyes.

Before he could go, Konan blocked him and put up a hand.

"Just promise me you'll try the meditation at least one more time," She pleaded, "maybe even with Kakuzu. He might enjoy it."

Konan sounded frustrated, but Hidan recognized the smile on her face. She knew she had helped him and she was glad. It was nice for Konan to care about him.

"I'll try, but no promises about Kuzu; we only do hectic stuff." He smirked.

"Hah, I bet." She replied wrly.

Hidan took off, leaving Konan on the balcony.

"Thanks, Konan!" He called.

"Anything for you, Hidan." She replied, "And make sure to give your partner his shirt back before he strangles you!"

Hidan laughed loudly, cackling at the thought.

"Oh, but Konan, it's such an important turn-on!", He continued to erupt with laughter, "It keeps me focused!"

Chapter Text

"Ow, what the absolute Hell, Kuzu?"

"If you just hold still it won't hurt as much."

"How can I when you just writhing around inside me?!"

"Knock it off and keep quiet now, or I'll sew that pretty, little mouth shut."

"Make me, dipshit! Ow!"

"I said, knock. It. Off!"

They had just finished dropping off a bounty from the Land of Fire when, all of a sudden, Hidan needed to make a sacrifice. His target was some poor Sound shinobi who used chakra blades terribly, resulting in his gruesome yet imminent death. It also resulted in some damage to Hidan: besides the typical hole in the chest from his pike, the Jashinist suffered a handful of open gashes on his arms and torso, one so bad that Kakuzu could see a rib bone poking out. Hidan had also broken his left hand trying to punch the ninja's chakra blades from his hands. The shinobi actually laughed at him; Hidan was not pleased.

Thus, the current mess.

"Leave them in. I do not want you passing out while we head home." Kakuzu ordered.

Hidan batted his eyes and smirked.

"Why? Do you care about me, Kuzu?" He drawled.

Kakuzu responded with a rough thread through his flesh, causing his partner to yelp.

"No; I don't want you passing out because then I will have to carry you. Once we're back you can rip them out and bleed all over the damn place. I'm sure Zetsu would love it if you bled all over during cleaning day."

"Jackass."

"Yep. That's me. I'm the worst."

Truth was, Kakuzu did care. Hidan was impulsive and reckless and had a huge authority-complex, but he was still Hidan, who was arguably his favorite person in the world (which, of course, was not saying much). He still cared for the idiot--to an extent, that is. Hidan's temper and intellect rarely allowed for success. Yet, Kakuzu felt... things for the brat. Hidan was an asshole, but so was he. They could be assholes together. He'd never tell Hidan any of this, of course. When they arrived in the Hidden Rain village, The Akatsuki were assembled and waiting.

"How did it go?" Pein asked.

Kakuzu didn't like Pein; why he was unsure. But, he also didn't like Zetsu and couldn't stand Tobi so maybe it was just his demeanor.

"We kicked ass, as usual!" Hidan boasted, throwing his arms behind his head.

Kakuzu rolled his eyes.

"Hidan is the reason we are late; he insisted on another ritual." He explained.

Hidan gave him a faux look of betrayal.

"Oi, Kakuzu! How could you? I thought we were friends."

"You wasted our time giving to a God that doesn't exist."

"Yeah and how many extra hearts do you have now, huh? Asshat."

"Love the Zombie Combo." Kisame sniggered.

"Good work; I'm off to contact a broker regarding the Three-Tails' whereabouts," Pein announced, "Konan and Zetsu are in charge while I'm gone."

The group broke into a few murmurs of "Yes, Sir" and dispersed for the rest of their day. Thankfully, Kakuzu noticed Hidan head off with Deidara and Sasori. Sasori was responsible enough; he could afford a few hours of peace and quiet. The older immortal could clean-up, do some accounting, and maybe even read. It was a gift. Kakuzu went to his room and grabbed a towel, folding his cloak as he left. He desperately needed a shower and maybe a drink after today; travelling with Hidan took quite a mental toll. Noiselessly, he slunk into the communal shower and undressed, his clothing snagged on some of his newer stitches.

Kakuzu scowled. Were they really that crude? He'd admit somewhere down in as hurry, but it was his own handiwork, for fuck's sake. They should be just as concise and accurate as he was. He turned on the faucet, refusing to wait for hot water. Hot water made the shinobi weak. And he was not weak.

Little threads subconsciously snaked out from under his skin in search of the soap bar and shampoo, working at the areas he couldn't fully reach. They seemed agile enough, so maybe Kakuzu just needed to practice a new technique with them. He could always feed the Beasts less,make the threads less powerful, but that would be cruel; they enjoyed their power. He just needed something that wouldn't hurt Hidan.

"Because then he'd finally shut up for a change." He murmured to himself.

Could he go to anyone, though? The Akatsuki were mercenaries, where none of them learned medical jutsu. They couldn't even sew! Kakuzu would always patch the others up or fix their clothes (for a hefty fine) when Konan wasn't around. He had one option.

Using some of the larger threads, Kakuzu began to wring the water from his hair and flick it away. He dried and got dressed, still contemplating. Outside, he heard Sasori gossiping with the two idiots about Orochimaru. Kakuzu chuckled; he appreciated Sasori's company, but the puppet-man could be so fickle and always held a grudge. They weren't marketable traits. Still, it was nice to have someone close to his maturity level. Kisame and Itachi were pleasant, but so wrapped up in each other it was a waste of time sometimes.

Kakuzu passed an empty pein's room, along with Itachi and Kisame, who were playing what he guessed was chess. A quick glance told him Kisame was not winning. He strode passed Sasori and Deidara's room and then his own, passing next the monstrous garden collection Zetsu had recently been accumulating. By his best guess, some of the flora must have cost a fortune, which Kakuzu didn't have the heart to ask where from. The whole group wasted funds so carelessly sometimes.

Kakuzu then searched through the dining room and kitchen; no sight of her. He checked the balcony and finally the makeshift lounge area, where he found his target. Konan was bent over the base’s only shelf of books, which he frequented often. He saw her unloading some from a box.

"Don't worry," She said, not looking up, "These were going to be used as burners today so I saved them."

"I need to ask you a favour." Kakuzu grumbled.

"What do you need?" Konan asked, standing to receive him.

Kakuzu suddenly felt embarrassed. He never went to others for help; it wasn't in his nature. He was capable, logical, and had been on Earth a long enough time to know asking for help was pitiful, especially from a woman. He had an answer to almost every problem. But still, a man had to know when to bite down and ask for advice.

"Konan, I was wondering if you could...assist me with a new thread technique. My stitchwork lately has been too choppy and I am in need of a second opinion." 

"Of course," Konan said, motioning for him to follow her, "So what do you want me to look at?"

They seemed to be headed towards the armory.

"My threads are too thick to stitch up others safely without hurting them, so I was wondering if you could show me a better way to thread with either your medical jutsu or regular sewing skills." Kakuzu explained.

Konan turned and gave him a disappointed look.

"Are you assuming I have these skills because I am a woman?" She asked.

Kakuzu felt his face flush.

"Well, of course--erm, no. I mean, it's statistically proven that a majority of the medical jutus field is headed by women." He stuttered.

Konan's stone-faced expression dissipated into a laugh.

"I'm teasing; I do know a bit of both, but I have an idea that will be quicker for you." She replied.

They entered the armory and Konan grabbed a kunai, transforming her arm to paper.

"I imagine the threads are too thick," She said, "So can we try splitting them in half? They will be thinner and thus penetrate a bit more gently."

Kakuzu had thought about this before; he could indeed generate smaller, slighter threads, but those took time and the few he had were used to thread his fragile hearts. He needed something that was fast and regenerative, which those would not be. He could try splitting threads through force, however. The immortal took the kunai.

"This won't hurt?" He asked,.

Konan shook her head. Kakuzu then took the weapon and sliced into her arm, watching bits of white flutter like a burst pillow.

"Now, threads." Konan instructed.

Kakuzu released a swatch from his wrist, using some to splice other tendrils at a rapid rate. The now-thinner strands seemed to writhe in pain, and it did sting, but they flew strong through Konan's arm and sealed the wound quickly. Together they examined his handiwork.

"That looks respectable." Konan praised.

Kakuzu grunted; respectable wasn't good enough. Not with Hidan using himself as a life-sized butcher block.

"Let me try again."

So, they spent the remainder of the afternoon practicing, Konan ripping her paper mache skin while Kakuzu sliced his threads in self-mutilation.They moved to sparring, giving him the chance to work the smaller threads into combat moves, and eventually returned to the stitching priority. Soon, the jagged ruts smoothed out into discrete lines. They weren't perfect, but they were enough for now. Kakuzu could always practice more if he wanted. It was honestly thrilling he could still learn, even at his age.

"So, this is all because you are tired of Hidan's complaining?" Konan asked.

She had a wry smile on her face as they cleaned up the room; the look made Kakuzu curse himself. He played at one the stitches in his right cheek, making a thrumming noise with his tongue.

"I care about the moron."

Konan said nothing and nodded; women were always so nosey and intrusive. But, it felt good, relieving, to tell someone and he probably trusted Konan the most.

"You should tell him." She insisted, "I know he feels the same way."

"Maybe I will. We'll see. Thank you Konan; you are very helpful." Kakuzu said over his shoulder.

He'd talk to Hidan eventually. After all, they both theoretically had all the time in the world to figure that out. Suddenly, Deidara came running through the halls.

"Kakuzu, my man Sasori and I need you!" the terrorist shouted, "Hn, Hidan cut his hand off--again!"

"It's bleeding all over my carpet!"

"Shuddup, you human dildo! I'm fine!

Kakuzu groaned. So much for peace and quiet. Konan smirked.

"It looks like you might get to tell him sooner than you thought..."

Chapter Text

It had taken him almost a year, but he'd finally found it.

The Viper Fang bloomed only in the Cloud village, rotating its bloom once every six or so months, inside the Raikage's personal greenhouse. The plant was considered so critically endangered and so rare a commodity that guards were stationed twenty-four-seven to keep poachers away. It was nearly impossible for Zetsu to retrieve one, given how conspicuous he looked. He needed a partner of stealth and speed, otherwise his collection would remain incomplete. And that would not do. So, he had asked Konan.

"When will we leave?" She had asked.

She had been working on paperwork, which Zetsu clearly saw were initiation files. His pet project was in motion.

"Now, if you don't mind." 

So they packed up, gave notice to Nagato, and set off in the dead of night. The mission could take well over a week if they weren't careful, but with Konan's flight powers and his teleportation they would arrive in a handful of days. 

Zetsu was impressed; Konan seemed well-versed in horticulture and botany, which was saying a lot for someone who'd only lived in the constructs of an urban downpour. It fascinated Zetsu; she was clearly a more intelligent life form than the other members sometimes. It was a change of pace for the plant-man, who was accustomed to only jeers and snarky comments on his nature-based interests. The Akatsuki could care less about the environment, but Zetsu didn't mind. They were quite primitive compared to him. And certainly wouldn't be important in the next few years.

Thankfully, Konan was an exceptional tracker, using her paper jutsu to disperse herself and cover more ground while Zetsu used his only alien powers to sense the flower through the Earth's chakra waves. She took air, he had the ground. It was the perfect combination. Once they had reached and (rather quickly) infiltrated Hidden Cloud, the breaking into the Raikage's estate was easy, as well as locating the greenhouse. They made quick work of the guards, Konan insisting on leaving them unconcious. 

"I'm not going to kill anyone over a plant."

"Oh, Konan, it isn't that bad. They'd kill you over the plant if they could. It's only natural."

"There's no need."

"Suit yourself."

They had plucked the plant and potted effortlessly and had vacated the area. Now, they were in the middle of the hard part: escaping the Raikage's fortress.

"Konan, quick! We need an exit strategy!" Zetsu called.

A handful of Cloud shinobi tailed them as they ran through the trees, evading the paper bombs and chakra shards they were sending them.

"I know!" She cried.

Zetsu was not fast; with his hard exoskeleton and powerful jaws, he was designed for close combat and brute struggle. This whole running-away-quickly plan was not working for him.

"Zetsu, take the plant," Konan ordered, "I have an idea!"

They paused at a clearing as she placed the Viper Fang safety in the crook of Zetsu's jaws.

"What's the plan?" He asked.

They could hear shouting; the shinobi were getting closer.

"I'm going to use a massive amount of paper bombs, wo you need to stay underground. Hopefully the force will keep them away." Konan explained.

Zetsu nodded and burrowed underground, careful to keep his eyes to the surface to watch. He was curious of how effectively Konan could do this. Nearby, a stampede of footsteps could be heard.

"You have taken a precious resource from Lord Raikage!" A ninja was shouting, "We demand you surrender it, peacefully and quickly."

Zetsu scoffed. As if they'd surrender to a handful of guards. Soon, severe rustling was heard in response, followed by exclamations of surprise. Konan had dispersed herself.

"Fire style: paper smoke-bomb jutsu!"

The ground shook and the surface air quickly heated, causing Zetsu to hide deeper. He could hear screams and commotion above and smelled burning flesh. He nuzzled the plant protectively.

"Don't worry, Little One," He cooed, "Things are alright and you are safe with me. We must be patient."

He waited for what felt like hours, maybe even a day. Eventually, the woodland noises returned to full volume and the plant-man rose from the ground, surveying the now substantially bigger clearing. Shinobi laid, charred and unconscious, but there was no sign of Konan.

"Konan, are you alright?" Zetsu called.

He could sense the chakra from her ring, so she had to be nearby. Her body was, at least--the blast radius boasted even greater than Deidara's best work.

"Konan! Come out now!" Growled the Black Zetsu.

Zetsu searched for her scent as well as any remains, but there was no trace...maybe she was gone. He sighed; Konan had been a great deal of help to him this week and he almost felt bad. She would be missed.

"Oh, dear, how am I going to tell Nagato?" He pondered.

"Tell him nothing." Black Zetsu demanded, "Say she ran off or something trite."

"How am I supposed to tell him I killed his sister over a plant?"

"You don't tell him."

"But I bet she's still here."

"Who cares? We need to keep moving. She'd die soon enough anyways."

Yet Zetsu decided to wait; a half an hour later he could hear fluttering, as if paper was being reworked together. He began looking upwards. 

"Do you still have it?" 

Konan, with a third of herself gone, materialized before him. Zetsu exhaled in relief; nevermind his counterpart.

"That was very effective," He complimented, "Thank you."

He revealed the flower still resting in his fly-trap. Konan smiled tiredly and nodded.

"Well, it's nice to get out from time to time. Maybe next time we can go bird-watching or something less life threatening." She said.

Zetsu shot her a placid look.

"I can make no promises."

*******

When they returned to base, they slipped in early enough where no one saw them, heading straight to Zetsu's plan track. He offered to Konan to feed the new addition, which she took on greatly. Together, they took turns watering and feeding with a special plant powder Zetsu had created, enjoying the comfortable silence. Zetsu liked her; he would make sure that the origami ninja didn't go as quickly as the others.

"Beautiful." Konan said.

They admired the bloomage, watching the plants reach for the morning rays of sun. Zetsu smiled.

"Yes, I agree."

It was quite beautiful.

Chapter Text

Obito hated The Akatsuki; absolutely despised them.

From the two immortal psychopaths, to the angsty teenage-terrorist, to his own genocidal cousin, The Akatsuki were the worst. Nagato, the so-called leader, was too naive for his taste, the shark-man and puppet-man were too freaky, the home base too damp.  Even Zetsu aggravated him, and they were supposed to be working together. But Zetsu had roped him into this just as much as Madara! They were a hopeless group, as Obito saw it; they would never complete the Ten-Tails' collection by the time he needed it.

They were too daft to realize his plan; once Orochimaru was evicted, it was easy pickings. Obito would have them all killed off some way or another. His favorite scheme was through Deidara, where the little shit would get so hostile one insult and the base would be brought to ashes. It would be hilarious. Obito was sitting at the dining room table, a bottle of unknown whiskey from Kakuzu's stash in front of him. He had two shot glasses--one for him and one for Rin. Rin was the goal. He poured them both full and took one, sloshing it a bit. Things were too painful without her.

That was why he was doing this all, right?

Obito heard footsteps, but chose not to react. It was probably Black Zetsu searching for a midnight snack. It wouldn't come to talk to him. Nobody actually did except Deidara, but that child was simply too stupid. He was no more than an extra precaution, ensuring Obito's secret would stay hidden.If he could get rid of Sasori, he'd snatch that poor boy up instantly. But that snarky stick-man was too protective, for now. He took a shot. 

Nobody ever talked to him. But, he liked that. It kept him focused and insensitive, which was what he needed. It forced him to not care about the others.

"Tobi, why are you up so late?"

Ah, Konan. The only woman available for fifty miles. Why was she up? Obito dipped his face down so the natural shadows covered it better.

"Tobi can't sleep." He said in a high pitched voice, "Why are you up?"

He hated the falsetto act, but he had left the damn mask in his and Zetsu's room. Konan pulled out a chair and sat next to him, setting her own bottle on the table.

"Same as you; can't sleep." She replied.

Obito felt himself soten a bit. Konan looked exceptionally tired--more tired that usual, really. He pitied her. Nagato must have been going through his 'routine' more frequently. Obito chuckled to himself; Nagato thought he had successfully hidden his identity, playing the man behind the curtain, but Obito saw all. These fools could never get one up on him.

"I'm sorry to hear that." He replied.

Konan smiled wearily and poured her own drink.

"So, why can't you sleep?" She asked.

Obito smirked. She was a nosey, little bitch.

"Tobi misses his family." He replied,

That was untrue; he could care less about his family. Itachi had already taken care of them, after all. He needed no one.

"I understand," Konan said.

"How so?" Obito inquired.

"Well, we all have lost family, here. That's why we're together." She explained.

An interesting connection, albeit sappy to the fullest. Still, interesting, no doubt. They were all the street trash of the shinobi world; one big, happy, garbage family. Obito wanted to laugh.

"I was very young when I lost mine, as well as my adoptive family." Konan continued.

Obito took his fourth shot; the buzz was starting to feel good. He bridged his fingers together and rested his chin on them.

"I lost my family and the girl I loved."

It was a bit of a blurt, but Obito didn't care. For some reason Konan was approachable. She looked at him with empathetic eyes.

"I am sorry; it is hard to lose the ones you love." She said.

"Yeah, well, it's hard to even find a woman at all these days." Obito remarked, "The Akatsuki are just a sausage party at this point."

Konan laughed, "Oh, that's not true!"

"It sure is!"

"Kisame and Itachi aren't romantically involved." She pointed out.

Obito nodded as she sipped at her shot.

"Yeah, so they say; but let's look at the others," He said, "The two zombies are always going at it--I mean, do they even understand privacy? And Sasori is just Deidara's glorified sexdoll when it comes down to the basics."

"I agree wholeheartedly--none of them know the art of discrepancy." Konan said with a smirk.

"Especially Hidan: 'Hey Kakuzu, wanna blow from my severed head?' "

The pair burst into laughter, jumping into a steady stream of mockery:

" 'No Hidan,' " Konan said in a deep voice, " 'Stop talking before I sew my dick to your mouth!' "

More laughter; Obito was enjoying himself.

" 'Hn, Sasori no Danna! Why don't you ever let me top, hn?' "

" 'Because I don't have any holes for that!' "

" 'Hn, art is an explosion and so is my cum!' "

" 'Art is eternal and so is my boner!' "

Konan and Obito continued to laugh, tears mirthfully rolling down their faces. 

"Now, the real question is Zetsu," Obito pondered, "I bet he likes trees."

Konan let out a short laugh and flapped her hand at him.

"Don’t be crass; he's aromantic; he told me so." She insisted.

Obito pouted; the plant-man had never indulged him on his secrets. And they were supposed to be close! As business partners, at least. Strictly so...Obito did not make friends.

"Well, I assume you and Leader get along comfortably, then, if you know what I mean." He remarked.

"Pein is not concerned with romance."

Something about the way she said it, how her voice hardened so subtly, made Obito drop the subject. A bad  nerve, no doubt. He continued otherwise.

"Well, the point is, Tobi needs her." He said sadly.

"And who's that?"

"Rin. My darling Rin. I lost here when we were young. It was a horrible accident...but she was brave."

He was too drunk now to keep up the facade, letting his voice drop to a deeper octave.

"I love her so much!" He groaned.

Konan put a dainty hand on his shoulder.

"I know it is hard," She whispered, "But we must continue on. We continue on and love those around us."

'We continue on.'

Maybe it was the whiskey talking, but Obito understood what Konan said. He really did, he believed.

"You are wise, Konan."  He replied

"I speak from experience. Again, you are not the only one who's lost their lover early on." Konan said, "We are all here because we lost something we loved. It makes us family." 

Slowly, the origami ninja stood, reaching over and clinking her glass against the untouched one.

"Good night, Obito."

He sat there, long after Konan had retired, mulling over what she had said. After an hour or so, he poured another, final drink. Perhaps she knew who he was--she was far more intunned than the others, that was for sure. Konan was right too; in their own way, The Akatsuki were family, clinging to each other as the ninja world found less and less use for them. Obito took Rin's glass and downed, raising it in silent toast. 

He might not remember this night when morning came, nor even Konan's words. But he would remember, when this all came down, to treat Konan kindly. It's what she deserved, after all.

Chapter Text

Seizing a new body was always a chore: the drugs, the impaling, the continous bleeding that--no matter how hard they tried--always seemed to break their medical stitches. The mind-transferring was difficult too; all the wires and chakra strings they set up practically leached away at his lifeforce. It was exhausting .

Nagato and Konan originally had started with live hosts--deserter shinobi and petty thieves, typically--but the science behind that approach outweighed both of their understanding. It was far too complicated and they had refused Orochimaru's help when he had discovered their secret. He was too slimy to trust. So, Nagato switched to dead hosts. Hence, the pile-up of corpses in the upper corridors of his living space.

"Nagato, hold still." 

Konan was inserting a chakra rod into his back. He twisted to say something, but let out a sharp inhale as the rod nicked at one of his shoulder bones. He heard Konan sigh.

"Dammit, I told you to sit still..."

She was too good to him.

Every time they went through this process, Nagato grew weaker and weaker and Konan always came to his aid. She'd bring him meals, change his bandages; there were times he couldn't even stand and Konan would help him bathe, his naked skeleton reminiscing of the pain they'd been through. She was the big sister he always wanted. It charmed him, reminding Nagato of the things they did for love and freedom, when they were young and filled with passion. When Yahiko still existed. They were unstoppable...now they carried a literal, dying dream.

"If you keep moving, you'll keep bleeding. And I can't ask Kakuzu to stitch you up." Konan said, her voice clipped with masternal authority.

She put her hands on her hips and stared him down, then returned to her station behind him, careful to clean the rods with disinfectant. Nagato chuckled. He imagined she had been much worse with Yahiko when it comes to patching up. He always was aso brash, so careless of his injuries. How had she been with him?

Nagato straightened his posture and smiled; he could imagine Yahiko, all bandaged and yelling, Konan chiding him for his recklessness. He'd smirk at her and tell her that he loved her and she would kiss his injuries asway. They loved each other, Nagato knew. He knew by the way Konan stared at the Tendo, how she fell quiet whenever they discussed the cream they shared. They were all children; Konan behaved as an adult right from the start.

"I know Konan; here," Nagato leaned forward more, "Is this a better angle?"

He felt her small hands ghost across his back.

"Yes, bite this." She instructed.

Konan manifested a cord of origami paper, roughly the size of a gag, and gave it to Nagato. The rod they had inserted--used for a new Animal Path--had gotten stuck between the shoulder blades. It required immediate reentry; Nagato bit onto the paper and braced himself.

"Oh, three, right?"

"Of course. one...two..."

Crunch!

"Argh! !hat ever happened to three?!"

Nagato was seeing stars in the corner of his eyes. Konan was so...affirmative. White-hot pain was flooding through his nerves, but he could take it.

In fact, he always took it: the snides comments during meetings, the look of fear from villagers, the routine act of bloodying his hands with the lives of people he knew were innocent. He withstood it all. He did it for Yahiko's sake, and for Konan's sake. He did it for them all. This mortal wound wouldn't obscure his godly vision; they never did.

Konan left Nagato to retrieve some cloth and alcohol, allowing him a chance to laugh aloud. It was a bitter, brief laugh, where it rattled his throat and pummeled his head. If Yahiko was alive, he wouldn't approve of his methods.  Nagato glanced at the successful arrangement of Path, searching for the Tendo. It laid in its cryochamber, as if peacefully asleep. It looked gentle, with its eyes closed and hands folded. Almost angelic, really.

"If I had made it the 'three', you would have braced for it and hurt yourself even more." Konan said, returning with supplies.

She set her materials down and turned Nagato to face her further, flicking her lip piercing the way she did when she was concentrating.

"You look exhausted, Nagato,'" She scolded, "I thought you were sleeping better?"

Nagato broke the intense gaze, shifting his stare downward. He had the eyes of truth, yet the unwavering ambers in her skull saw through his facade.

"I've had nightmares, recently. About Yahiko." He said quietly.

They both glanced at the Tendo, as if pushed by an unseen force.

"What would he think of us, Ko?"

Nagato felt pricks in his eyes. Yahiko would be angry, disgusted, ashamed, even. He'd be horrified at what The Akatsuki--his Rising Dawn--had become. Nagato was sure of it.

"He'd be relieved," Konan whispered, "He'd be relieved to know that we are alive and fighting."

She set the gauze in her hand on the ground and cupped Nagato's face.

"He'd be relieved to know that you and I are still together."

Nagato shivered out a sob. She was right; they were still together. Through everything, every heartbreak and terror, they had managed to stick together. Like brother and sister, they carried on.

"The wound will heal over the rod in a day or two," Konan stated, "For now, let's get you to your chamber. You need rest."

She reached over and placed a gentle kiss on Nagato's forehead. It felt as light as a pair of wings. He nodded silently, letting Konan take him onto her shoulder and walk him out. Finally, after the longest flight of steps, Konan set him down in his bed.

"I love you, Konan."

She could handle anything and everything and he loved her for that. When he would wake, Nagato would take her to the nearby flower shop to shower her just how much he loved her.

"I love you as well, Nagato."

Chapter Text

Konan woke up with a splitting headache; her chakra ring was vibrating.

It was still dark, but still, the noise continued. Nagato must be summoning them for something important. She groaned and threw off her covers, treading lightly towards her window and opening the blinds: pitch black. It was arguably nighttime.

The past few nights Konan couldn't sleep. She tried every cure she knew, but she was still plagued by raging headaches, endless pains, and a diminishing appetite. There really was only one reason why this was occuring: it was February twentieth.

It was Yahiko's birthday.

The buzzing continued and had increased to an obnoxious pitch, while down the hall Konan could hear Deidara and Sasori arguing. Next door, the scuffle she was hearing in Kakuzu and Hidan's room quieted with a crash; Kakuzu had probably taken a lap to Hidan's head.

Konan cursed. She was not in the mood for foolishness.

Dressing quickly, Konan pulled on yesterday's clothes and headed out into the hallway. She made a quick greeting to Itachi and barely awakened Kisame, who were doing their hair and brushing their teeth, respectively. 

Yahiko, Nagato, and herself technically had no official birthday, but Konan still felt the need to remember the one he gave himself. It was his legacy, afterall. A legacy that made her cry and ache, made her sicker than she ever thought she could be. But Nagato always boasted she was the strong one. And he was right; she was the strongest out of the two, on the outside. On the inside, she was weak and damaged. 

She couldn't let The Akatsuki--her boys that she cared so much for--see her low. It would be bad for her image.

Nagato--Pein specifically--was seated at the head of the table. The other men were filling in on their own accord, murmuring insults and greetings to each other. Konan slumped into her chair, positioned at the right-hand of the Tendo. She heard her stomach growl; all she'd eaten in the past three days were food pills and black tea...she really needed some tea.

Once the last member--a very bruised-looking Hidan--took his seat, Pein rose.

"Good morning, everyone," His voice boomed, "We have roll call."

"Kisame; good morning."

"Itachi; good morning."

"Sasori; good morning."

"Deidara, hn; good morning."

"Kakuzu; good morning."

The Tendo looked dismayed.

"Why must you all sound so dismal? Does anyone want to be here?"

"Good morning motherfuckers!"

"...thank you, Hidan."

Deidara and Tobi broke into a titter of laughter while the others groaned. Konan put her hands to her temples.

"Zetsu; good morning."

"Tobi; good morning."

Konan felt nauseous.

"Konan; good morning."

She could feel the others staring at her, silently asking what was wrong. But could they ever know? She was the woman of the household-- the matriarch --and she always put up a front. She tended to their plights with full attention. Not that she minded; they were her family, after all. She loved them the way someone loves their mismatched socks: perfect fits despites their differences. They all clung to each other in spite of their mismatched personalities.

Konan grimaced. They were the lost-and-found bin of the shinobi world. And she was the laundress.

"Hey, kiddo, what eatin' ya?" Kisame whispered, gently elbowing her.

Konan picked her head up and presented a routine smile.

"Oh, I'm alright. I’m just not feeling too well." She replied.

Pein, Kakuzu, and Zetsu were discussing the upcoming month's budget, while Deidara, Sasori, and Hidan were arguing over Sasori's missing poison box.

"Heh, probably that Ebi Chiri Sasori tried to make last night," Kisame snapped, "Hurt like Hell trying to get that out this morning."

Sasori immediately glared at him.

"Quiet, shark boy, before I turn you into a fresh plate of sashimi!" He threatened.

"Psh, bite me, puppet."

"I will...when you least expect!"

Konan let out a small laugh; at least she could still be entertained.

********

It was housework day as the Tendo began assigning chores to each member. Konan was thankfully partnered with Itachi with sweeping. She was grateful; Itachi Uchiha provided the peace and quiet she needed at the moment. Unlike Hidan and Zetsu in the bathrooms.

"Hidan, we agreed to use the plant-based cleaners starting this week."

"Yeah, yeah, gimme a sec."

"And don't forget to add toilet paper; you didn't last time."

"Bitch, you don't even poop! Worry about your own fucking list!"

"But it's good hygiene."

"My ass is good hygiene! I'll prove it; Kakuzu! C'mere and tell this overgrown fly trap how pristine my ass is!"

"Hidan, no..."

Itachi was working down the hall by their rooms, while Konan took the kitchen and dining room. Breakfast would be had in an hour, so it would be nice for all of them to have a clean floor. Maybe Kisame and Itachi would make eggs again this week.Konan winced as her head started to pound with a brand new wave of intensity. She needed to lie down, escape for a bit and recover herself.

 "Itachi, can you please finish my area? I am not feeling well."

Itachi glided up to her and took her broom.

"Of course, Konan. There are pain-killers in my room. They're the strong type, if you need some." He said.

Konan nodded and thanked him, passing the others and shutting her door. There, with the shutters drawn and door closed, Konan wilted and began to cry. At first, they were powerful sobs, racking her body and causing her to breath in gulps. Let the men hear! They would chalk it up to PMS or female hysteria, for all she cared. Some strong woman she was. But then, Kona's cries turned to soft hiccups.

Did Nagato know what today was? Probably not, since she and Yahiko had plenty of history together before him. It was only she who knew. 

Yahiko; brave, sweet Yahiko. He'd protect her from all her darkest thoughts, save her from her sorrows. He'd rescue her and care for her like she did for him when they were young and in need of each other. Now only she could care for herself. Konan curled into a ball, her eyes now puffy and red. If she didn't wake up, she'd gladly accept it. But then she'd be leaving Nagato, and their dream. She had too much responsibility to even try. Gradually, Konan drifted off, her breaths turning nasally from her tears. 

It was always a new day, anyways.

*******

"Konan? Konan, hn, wake up!"

Konan peeked out from under her thin covers and saw Deidara, standing timid and patient.

"Dei, are you alright?" She asked, immediately alert.

Deidara shook his head, an unreadable look in his cat-like eyes.

"No; we need you in the dining room." He said.

Konan leapt out of bed and threw on her shoes, binding up her hair as she followed Deidara down the hall. It looked dark outside and was too quiet. Was one of them hurt? Captured? Killed? Her brain was panicking at the speed of sound. What could be going on?

"Deidara, what is going--"

The dining room was lit with hundreds of candles, flowers littering every bare corner. The air smelled of lilacs and rainwater and paper lanterns hung from the ceiling. Konan was shocked.

"What is happening?"

"Surprise, Angelface!" Hidan exclaimed, "Thought we'd let your birthday slip by, now didn't ya?”

The Akatsuki--everyone of them--sat at the table, a gift set in front of each member.

"Wait, how did you--"

"I informed them earlier today of your birthday," The Tendo said, "Kisame and Itachi made the cake, Deidara and Sasori worked on decorations, Hidan and Kakuzu took care of catering, and Tobi and Zetsu arranged the gifts."

Konan gazed at them all; she felt as if she could cry.

"How did you pull this off so quickly?" She asked.

"You always do so much for us, so we figured we could do something for you." Itachi explained.

"Yeah, always big-sistering out dumb asses, so you deserve it!" Hidan added.

Konan smiled, "Well, let's eat then."

The night was perfect. Kakuzu had managed to bargain for an entire buffet lineup, while Kisame and Itachi whipped up the best chocolate-cherry cake Konan had ever tasted. The flower arrangement was glorious, Deidara and Sasori using Zetsu's knowledge, no doubt. And the gift were too precious: poison-infused nail polish from Sasori, an case of clay hair clips (both lethal and nonlethal) from Deidara, a hilarious set of Shargian faux lenses from Itachi, a small book of personal recipes from Kisame, a set a (slightly bloody) zen booklets from Hidan, a needle-point craft kit from Kakuzu, a jar of White Egret Orchid seeds--the rarest--from Zetsu, and a sleek bottle of her favorite whiskey from Tobi.

It was too sweet.

The Pein Tendo handed Konan his gift last; a card with messages scrawled across the pages from all members and a jewelry bag attached inside. When Konan opened it, a necklace made of Nagato's chakra bars, polished to shine, fell into her hand. She felt tears trickling down.

"Thank you, boys. This means the world to me."

"Of course, Konan. We are all family here." The Tendo, Nagato, said.

Konan gazed at these men, these monsters and freaks. These outcasts of mismatched life made her feel grateful. Grateful for the fact that she was loved and safe; she was home, in a sense.

The night continued on jovially, The Akatsuki reminiscing and remembering; it was lovely. Sasori brought out his favorite win and raised a toast to the origami ninja, followed by cheering and hollering. For the briefest moment, Konan thought she saw the Tendo smile. She'd make sure to bring Nagato a piece of cake later on. And she'd thank him. She would thank him for always remembering.

For now, though, all Konan would do was enjoy the company of her family.

Chapter Text

"Where is it?"

"Shush; you'll scare it away."

"Yeah, but where did it go?"

"I don't know, Yahi, but you're too loud--you'll scare it off!"

They sat, knee-deep in dewy grass, scanning the surface of a pond. They didn't dare move.

"Ko, you know my mother and father would kill us if they saw our clothes messy."

"Shush; they're right there."

It was summertime and the twilight brought about a world of life for them to watch. Fireflies danced while doves sang; there were fish and crickets and evening flowers that bursted to life in the lowering sun. And the frogs sang so beautifully. So, so beautiful.

"There!"

A cluster of frogs, four in total, huddled together on a mossy rock. They chipped and chortled with such tanaisity it made the pair falter.

"Okay, jar, please."

"Yahiko, you really don't have to do this for me."

"Come on, it's your birthday; I'd do anything for my Wildflower."

"I don't have a birthday."

"Yeah, you do. We agreed that our birthdays were going to be exactly six months from each other, and last time I checked, mine was six months ago."

"Fine, but just be gentle."

"Don't sweat it; I'm as gentle as an angel.”

He lunged and the frogs scattered, leaving him in a swampy puddle. So much for stealth. She giggled.

"Here; let's go home and I will help you clean off. We can make dinner together for my birthday instead."

A sigh.

"You sure?"

A small kiss.

"Positive. Let's go."

"Thanks, Konan. You're the best."

"I always try, silly."

Chapter Text

As he expected, Konan looked puzzled.

"You're asking me to help you with what, exactly?"

Orochimaru sat at a desk in his sandy hideout, Konan adjacent from him. He rolled his eyes.

"Oh, please," He sighed, "It's not that bad...she's very gentle."

He grabbed a kettle off the gaslight and poured them both a cup of jade tea, making note of the wary look in her eyes. Who could blame her, though? Orochimaru had asked Konan to come with him to the Land of Waves, blindfolding her in the middle of the night with no means of secondary communications; the others had no idea where they were and he intended to keep it at that, lest Sasori finally find his hideout. Konan took a small sip from her cup.

"Let me understand this clearly," She repeated, "You need me to  assist you in getting one of your...pets through labor? I thought snakes laid eggs?"

"Ah, you see, most do. However, many members of the Viperidae family give live births--it's quite endearing, actually." Orochimaru replied.

None of the other Akatsuki members would have been of service; Sasori was becoming too intrusive, Kakuzu and Pein were unapproachable, and Biwa was absolutely terrified of snakes. Thus, Konan was Sannin's only option. Besides, Orochimaru imagined that somewhere in her was the maternal instinct; the evening could maybe be fun for her. The origami ninja shrugged off her cloak, crossing her arms with an amused yet confused knit in her brows.

"What species?" She asked.

Orochimaru smiled and hissed out a laugh, sensing the twigne of nervousness she was radiating.

"Oh, don't be scared; she's only a bit venomous." He replied.

"You better hope so."

When they had finished their drinks, Orochimaru led Konan out of his office space and down a corridor of stairs, making sure to lock every door behind them. It wasn't he didn't trust her, no, it was just a precaution: his pets had a tendency to escape on a whim. Konan gave him a look of disdain after he locked the last door behind.

"What? I do not want any of my darling creatures to escape and terrorize the world. That would be such a felony." The snake-man objected.

Konan scoffed and said nothing further, allowing Orchinaru to twist the key and hide it within his pocket. He then sent a serpent from within his robe off ahead, making note of an increasing rattling in the corridors. In truth, his pet wasn't just any regular state; per his trade, Orochimaru tended to save some of the more attractive experiments for his own pleasure, raising them as pets and companions. So far, it has only been ball pythons (his secret favorite), but recently he was able to get his hands on a significantly dangerous breed...

"Alright, Konan, here we are. Welcome to my humble abode."

Orochimaru pushed open the last door with a heavy shove, steam and chirping sounds wafting out. Konan immediately put her hands to her face. 

"What is that smell?" She asked, pinching her nose slightly.

Orochimaru sighed, "That is the stench of a naughty girl who made an accident in her freshly cleaned cage."

The pair was greeted by a massive enclosure, complete with thick branches and vines and a miniature stream residing within. Above them, Kabuto stood on a rafter, peering below them and taking notes.

"Her heart rate steadied an hour ago, but contractions are starting to show," He called, "I suggest we get going now."

"Right then; Konan, let's get you some latex gloves and a smock--this will be messy." The Sanin instructed.

He passed by the glass wall of the enclosure--almost ten feet in height--and led Konan to a closet, pulling it open and searching for a lab coat suitable for her size. Behind them, Kabuto came running down, grabbing at a lengthy syringe and filling it at a counter full of vials.

"Careful!" Orochimaru hissed over his shoulder, "We want to sedate her, not euthanize her!"

An alarm was ringing in his head as the cage erupted with violent thrashing, cracks appearing against the glass panes as a tail thrummed against it in agitation. They needed to act immediately, otherwise his precious pet would tear out its own womb. Konan snapped her gloves on and cinched her smock.

"Where do you want me?" She asked.

Orochimaru glanced around, articulating the best spot; he pointed to the air.

"I need you to take the syringe and sedate my creature," He explained, "You can dissolve yourself and move faster than any other person I know."

Konan took the needle from Kabuto and nodded, a firm look of determination in her eyes. Orochimaru leered lightly--Nagato really did have a fighter of a companion. He ran to the enclosure's opening gate, peering through the bars to see the scene within: a massive snake, almost eight feet in length, sat wriggling and shrieking, blood and urinary fluids leaking from its rectum area. The snake, a viper species only recently named the Habu viper, was one of the most venomous species in the region and at this size contained enough venom within it to kill a battalion of shinobi in one spray (for he had engineered the original snake's embryo to grow for battle). it was important to the scientist as much as it was dear to his heart; he, in some capacity loved the creature and its ways. She was his kind, after all. Konan unfurled her angelic wings and took to the ceiling, sending stray sheets as she rose.

"Make sure you hit her in the jugular vein!" Kabuto shouted.

He and his master ran to grab the birthing equipment--towels, rags, anthesis, an incubator radiator--and began to set up near the enclosure's entrance, Konan circling the space above them. The viper noticed the origami ninja and shot a barrage of venomous, Konan barely disappointing in time for it to pass through her. Orochimaru scowled; he didn't anticipate his Habu to be so testy right away.

"Kabuto, make sure everything is ready..." He mumbled, standing and fishing for his keys and heading towards the gateway. Only he could calm the snake.

"Darling," He cooed, crawling into the cage, "Darling dearest, please listen to me; we are going to help you with your babies. But you have to trust the angel up there."

The Sanin pointed at Konan, watching with delight as the viper's eyes slowly followed and dilated. Konan looked like she was waving slightly from above.

"Yes, that's right. She's here to help us, my pet." Orochimaru crooned.

Carefully, he continued to creep forward, reaching a hand out to approach his snake. In truth, he cared for the creature; all his creatures were valuable--cherishable,even--to him. They were a life form that tied him to his origins, whatever those may have been. This snake's babies deserved to have a chance that he did not. 

'Oh, don't be so senile,' He chastend himself, 'They are experiments. Toys to play around in your study with. Nothing more.'

Orochimaru pulled a hefty treat out of his clothing folds: a genetically altered rat the size of a dinner plate. With a gentle toss, he sent it towards the viper, reveling in how fast she reacted. Konan saw her chance and took it.

"Now, Konan!"

Orochimaru marveled at the scene: Konan dive bombed the snake, disintegrating into a flurry of sheets as the viper turned on a dime and lunged at her. In an instance, the origami ninja materialized her hand and plunged the syringe into the creature's veins as it tried to whip back and devour her. For a second, Orochimaru thought it actually had, watching a pile of papers float in the aftermath. However, moments late, after the snake's eyes started to droop, she appeared once more. Kabuto broke into clapping.

"Very nicely done, Angel of Ame." He drawled, glancing at Orochimaru with a smirk.

"Yes; thank you, Konan. I appreciate the efforts." The scientist added, glaring back at his subordinate.

'That little shit.' He sighed internally.

Konan came back down to Earth with a gentle touch, rushing to help the other two haul in their equipment and set camp by the snake's abdomen. Once done, Orochimaru produced a set of scalpels and incisors, handing them off to Kabuto. The snake would potentially be needed a C-section, by the looks of her over swollen belly, so they had to be prepared for the worst. If they couldn't get the infants out, the Sannin feared he'd have to kill her, and that was something that pained him greatly. These creatures, though the world saw them as vile and loathsome, needed his care; they depended on him to protect them and feed them and help raise their children. Orochimaru scoffed in spite of himself. He basically was running an underground conservation operation at this point. Konan changed her gloves and put a light hand on his shoulder.

"It's alright to be nervous," She said softly, "It means you care about them."

Kabuto snorted and flocked at the bubbles within another syringe.

"Orochimaru cares for nobody." He boasted, cleaning and adjusting his glasses in the hot mist.

The scientist hissed at him but said nothing; Kabuto could never comprehend his fears. The young trator simply knew nothing of death the way Orochimaru did, how the loss of another hurt the living so deeply it left a shell of themselves. Kabuto hadn't seen his teammates--his friends, dare he--lose their loved ones repeatedly the way Orochimaru had. He knew Konan's story--did she ever think ill of him? He couldn't blame her if she did; he had volunteered to kill the origami ninja, along with the others, when they were but children. In fact, he had killed countless people, ripping them from their families like he once was. Orochimaru was nothing but a vessel for death--he didn't deserve the ability to care for others. Konan's words broke him from his train of thought.

"Orochimaru, it's happening." She whispered.

******

Together, for hours it seemed, the trio sat, patiently waiting as the barely-conscious snake pushed out one healthy baby after another, each the length of a cat. Konan worked diligently to help extract each baby as Kabuto placed them into separate incubator crates (six in total by dawn), all the while Orochimaru cleaned each infant delicately and checked its vitals. So far, all the offspring were healthy, with two boys and three girls; using her sensory style, Konan detected two more within. The vipress huffed air as it pushed out another one,  but it was useless: it had died within the womb. The trio fell sullen. 

"I'll go get the disposal equipment." Kabuto said quietly.

He rose and carried two incubator creatures with him, creeping over the habitat's enrichment toys and gate entrance. Orochimaru gently took the dead infant in his hand and tilted its limp head up.

"Oh, poor thing," He mumbled, "You never even had a chance to cause mayhem with me."

The scientist gently stroked his face, rubbing against the garden-green scales as he caressed its body. Of course they had lost one--they always lost at least a few with each brood of babies. It was only natural; he was used to the pain of it by now. He should have been, at least...

"I am sorry." Konan whispered, "Perhaps if I had acted sooner, its mother would have thrashed about so much. Maybe that's why it died."

Of course Konan felt sorry; she still had a sense of empathy within her, something Orochimaru had sworn to extinguish inside himself. He laughed sadly and set the dead baby aside.

"Konan," He started, "You have no need to apologize. You helped me greatly. It's just a part of life; some things live, some things die. We do our best to work between."

"But you do feel sad?" She asked.

Orochimaru barely nodded. Yes, he did--who wouldn't? He may be far from humanity, but a small part of him still cared. He cared about his friends--Jiraiya, Tsunade--and he cared for the parents he never got enough time with...there even was a small part of him that cared for the Akatsuki, or Konan and Nagato, at least. It was partially his fault they were all here, playing gods as they blindly destroyed society around them. He was to fault her and Nagato, as naive as they were.

"Yes, I do, but it does not matter," Orochimaru muttered, glancing down at the dead snake, "Who am I to feel sadness, though? We only live to hurt others in death. It is only natural to experience suffering, be it however small."

Konan nodded, but leaned forward, a finger trace the bejeweled skin of the deceased infant.

"I understand the fear of pain. But you must know it is alright to feel it--it's what makes us human within."

Orochimaru wanted to laugh; she would never know how far away from natural humanity he was, but it didn't matter. She was trying her best, and that's all that counted. She would learn eventually how the world worked, one way or another. For now, Orochimaru would leave it at that. Konan was good company, and he'd hate to squander that.

******

Eventually, the last infant was birthed, covered in placenta and blood, right into Orochimaru's outstretched hands. It was another boy, apparently, and after Konan cleaned him up, Kabuto tucked the infant into its incubator crate and hurried off, disposing of the dead one along the way. As they cleaned themselves, Orochimaru touched Konan's arm, grabbing her attention instantly.

"I appreciate the help." He stated.

'And I appreciate your kindness.' He wanted to add, but thought against it...she probably knew his thoughts anyways.

"Of course," Konan said, "It was quite an, erm, educational experience tonight."

Orochimaru laughed as he hung his lab coat.

"It's always an academic encounter when someone comes and visits me." He hissed pleasantly.

With one last sign of thanks, the Sannin led Konan out, opting to stay the night with Kabuto in order to watch his Habu recover from the drowsiness. Yet, as he watched her fly off, Orochimaru couldn't help but feel at ease; Konan was harmless towards his plans, yet a part of him wanted to spare her. She--the rest of the Akatsuki--had no idea what would be in store for them. But that was not a matter of his concern: tonight, Orochimaru had to tend to his darling creatures, and that was enough for now. The rest of the world could wait.

Chapter Text

Konan dived over a log, her current accomplice not far behind.

"No hits?" Juzo asked.

Konan laughed shakily, "They could never land a target, not if it were the size of a barn."

They were out and about on a mission to the Land of Fire, tailing some debitor Kakuzu was tired of letting go with warnings. After a few cagey threats toward their Leader and a very wily argument between Orochimaru and himself, Juzo and Itachi were assigned to handle the target and take care of them quickly.

Then, of course, Itachi got sick. Typical.

It had been an interesting decision that Konan would travel in his place, but Juzo could hardly complain--she was self-sufficient, quiet, and, most importantly, really good at her job. She had tracked their unfortunate debtor within a few days, using her dispersal jutsu to examine the villages around them as they traveled closer and closer to Konoha. What would have taken him and Itachi weeks was all over in three days.

"We should go out for drinks when this is all said and done," Juzo suggested, "Y'know, after these clowns stop throwing their dinky little kunais at us."

Konan chuckled and peeped past the log they both crouched behind.

"How should we handle this?" She asked.

Juzo shrugged, "Oi, you're the leader on this mission--whatever is your pleasure, I'd say."

The glint of a smile on her lips was fiendishly delightful.

"Paper bombs?"

"Sounds good to me."

They wouldn't kill their pursuers--Pein had asked them to be discreet, and while the body of their debitor was sitting in Juzo's bag, their Leader had been specific that no other lives were taken. Even pesky, kunai-throwing mites like these. 

Bam!

Snap!

Fwoom!

****

"Oi, we gonna find a place to drink at or what?"

Konan waved a hand, too busy ogling at the wildflowers sprouting between the paved street cracks.

"The Poem Card Quarters are no place for a lady like myself," She joked, "This place used to be the favorite stomping ground for my former master and a friend a of his, but I've yet to come down to it. You strike me as more inclined to know your way about it."

Juzo smirked and rolled his eyes, "Yeah, yeah, I think I know a place or two here."

It had been a while since he had hidden out in Tanzaku, but the need to make extra money off foolish gamblers had subsided since Juzo's employment with the Akatsuki. But still, his favorite hiding spot stood, the modest pub open even in the lazy hours of their arrival. 

"Table for two, please," He asked the front hostess, "In the corner, right over there."

A few steps and a handful of teacups later, Konan and Juzo had settled into pleasant banter once more, the private matters of all their teammates laid out on the table: Sasori's weekly modifications, Kakuzu's newfound hobbies, even the Masked One's elusive drinking behavior. Miraculously, Konan had really been involved in almost all their private matter, watching and waiting. She even had once been to Orochimaru's hideout, someplace Juzo hoped he'd never find himself standing within. 

'A mystery, that woman is,'

"Itachi will be needing his medication again soon," Konan mentioned casually, "Perhaps we head out in the evening?"

Juzo shrugged; he had yet to warm up precisely to that kid, " Well, we've taken care of our primary mission. Must we rush off on some do-gooder errand without telling the Leader?"

"You think Pein isn't aware of my agenda?" She asked with a laugh, "He's the one whose asked to take care of it this week. The mountains are a few days' walk, so it would be strategic to start tonight."

"Yeah, but, like, why?" Juzo asked.

"Why what?"

"Well, why you always sticking up for those bastards?" Juzo took a swig, "Why you always gotta be taking care of them? They're grown men, all of 'em."

Konan didn't meet his gaze, "Itachi is barely fifteen right now."

"Eh, he's killed enough people to act grown like the rest of us. Why you gotta mother them all like that? Or...or, like, shit. Act like the big sister or something."

He was thankful for the corner seat; otherwise, their sudden chilly air about them would have caught other customers' attention. Konan sat still, the breeze ruffling her hair like petals. Like feathers or paper. When Juzo thought he had struck a particularly unpleasant nerve and was about to apologize, she put down her cup and exhaled.

"I am no mother, nor am I a sister. But I am a comrade--a friend, maybe. I am their ally in arms and maybe, just maybe, I am someone they can trust. And trust, like everything good in this world, is hard to come by."

Juzo nodded, taken aback, "But, really, are they worth it? Itachi, albeit, is a special case. But the others--"

"Am I not their leader, too?" Konan simply asked.

'Damn, never thought about it that way, then.'

Konan finished her drink and set a few coins on the table, "Come on, Juzo, let's get going before the rain hits."

Juzo nodded and rose, donning their jingasa, tossing a few slips at the entertainer he had bumped into earlier. It still made little sense, just how willing Konan was to give and give and give in a place where all they had been taught was to take as deemed necessary. Was that true leadership? Was she the real one working their strings, not the stone-cold motherfucker who held the purple eyes?

'They are my comrades, all of them,'

Her words lingered too much for Juzo's taste.

"Hey, I hope you don't think i was, like, questioning your authority."

Only a few steps out, the skies clapped open with thunder, most of the other street-goers vacating the outside for someplace drier. Only he and Konan stood in a few moments, shuffling nonchalantly through the main road. His partner turned and gave him a sad smile.

"Don't worry Juzo, you and I are by no means on ill terms. I understand your confusion and it is hard to be the only woman amongst us, but...but we need each other. I will lead with an open heart and Pein leads with open promises. It's what makes us work so well together..."

Juzo could tell that he had lost her attention again, eyes lost in the past he didn't want to ask about. Instead, Juzo decided to change the mood with a hand in his pocket.

"I gotcha something,"

He smiled as he watched Konan's eyes lit up under her jingasa; from his palm, he produced a few of the wild Kierra rose she had been eyeing along the pathways in town, golden, mint, and violet colors all wrapped tenderly in a spare cloth. 

"Oh...oh, they are so delicate..."

It was a rarity, Juzo believed, to see women smile so sincerely. But the look on his partner--Leader--was too earnest to question whatever she did for the rest of the Akatsuki. Juzo believed he had never been around long enough to receive the same treatment. But this trip, this job...this was nice.

"Off to get the meds?" He asked.

On the other hand, his little partner needed all the help Konan had to offer.

"Of course, of course. Alright then," Konan tucked the flowers into her own cloak pocket, "Let's get going, then."