Chapter Text
It's always pouring in their district.
For this reason, the inhabitants call it Rain - a kind name for a mishmash of buildings, of concrete and flooded streets and shoddy wooden boards. However, their invaders address it differently; the pit is what they call Konan's home, the earth riddled with holes and scorch marks from explosions and fire ninjutsu, overrun by drunken police.
In the open, they know the police as shinobi and Leaf-nin - behind locked doors and in whispers, they are known as bottle-nin. Bars and pubs are always eager to welcome them in, for the copious amounts of alcohol they will consume and for the chance to pickpocket off of rich Leaf district soldiers.
That's exactly why Konan is sitting in an alleyway just outside a tavern, covering her nose from the smell of alcohol and huddled beneath the tattered awning, scrawny limbs folded up to her chest as she waits. Her purple hair sticks to her cheeks, soaked through with water and burnt grey by the ash. She's one of many orphans hanging outside restaurants and inns, looking for their next meal.
Immoral? Sure. But Konan would rather be guilty than hungry.
As luck would have it, a whole flock comes stumbling out; headbands askew, vests backwards, chortling about one thing or the other. Konan narrows her eyes in anticipation, keen eyes searching for a suitable target. Too muscular, not drunk enough, likely blew all cash on ale - aha. There.
She reaches inside her pocket, pulling out a few ratty squares of newspaper. Konan coats them with a thin film of chakra and shapes them into bugs, slipping them into the folds of her sleeves. Drifting out from her meagre shelter, she takes a few hurried steps and trips over into her target.
"Sorry!" she stutters, playing up her frail form and age as she pushes herself back, snagging a few coins while she does so. "I didn't see you - there's so much rain - "
"Worthless brat!" one snarls and Konan hisses in pain, clutching at her arm as she's kicked carelessly into the pavement. It'll bruise, but that's life. She got what she needed and all that's left to do is use her bugs to cause a distraction, then she can -
"Hey!"
Oh no.
It's. A boy, maybe her age or perhaps a few months younger, with wild orange hair and blue eyes that Konan imagines are what the sky looks like. He has the hood of his tattered jacket pulled over his head but beneath it his expression shines with a baffling - and in her opinion stupid - anger.
"Don't hurt her!" he yells, running forwards to stand before her. His arms are outstretched, pinning him as a target, and Konan can only stare. "It was an accide - "
Konan shakes out her sleeves and scatters her bugs. It only takes a few strategically placed critters to stir the whole group into a mad panic and by then she's grabbed the boy's hand, coins clutched tightly in the other, and pulled them off into the nearby alley. "Hurry!" she shouts under her breath, yanking them through a twisting maze of pipes and into the remains of what was once a library. Beneath the rubble she locates her special tunnel and worms through, not looking back to see if the boy followed her.
Only when she's sure that they're safe does she stop to take a breath, leaning against some wooden scaffolding and pushing her drenched hair aside. The boy flops over across from her, stretching out. "Man, you're fast! I could barely keep up!"
"You shouldn't have done that," Konan scolds, pointing at him. "Besides, it wasn't an accident."
"Wait, really?" The boy sits up, leaning towards her. "Then why?"
"To steal, idiot," Konan says. "They're drunk fools who can't see straight. Everyone does it."
The confused look she gets says that, no, not everyone did it; clearly, there was at least one exception. Konan gives him another long, assessing look.
... seriously?
She opens her hands and counts the coins she'd pocketed; there were five of them. It was enough for now. Dropping them into her pocket, Konan pushes herself to her feet. "I'm going."
"Wait!" the boy says, reaching for her. She squints, mistrustful. "Can I... can I come with you?"
"Why?"
"I have money too," the boy says. His eyes are round and hopeful. "If we pool it together, we can buy something for both of us."
It wasn't always like this. Konan remembers the hazy days where she had a family - her mother was always willing to share food off her plate so that she and her father could eat. They tried to help one another, even as they ran from soldiers from shelter to shelter, numbers thinning until all that remained were stragglers, the lucky few, those who slipped through the cracks.
Her home was once a beautiful little village. They had trading routes and a council and lived in peace. Her mother told Konan stories of how the village was founded; it was a by a young girl who had befriended the gulls, she said, the gulls warned her of incoming storms and she warned her family and they warned their friends and together they survived the floods.
But the Leaf came, they fished in the rivers and mowed down the forests and ran roughshod through her home until all that was left was something industrial, something foreign. The people were all that remained of Rain.
"Alright," she says. She doesn't know what compels her to do it, but she agrees anyway. "We... we can try."
His name is Yahiko. His parents were killed as they attempted to escape Rain for the neighbouring district of Sound by Leaf soldiers who shot them down as they ran and Yahiko had been forced to turn tail. He does indeed have money - four coins, surprising considering he told her that he hadn't stolen them.
"Where did you get it?" she asks.
"I asked from the workers," he says.
The workers. Konan has seen them, filing in and out of factories in neat rows like ants. It unsettled her.
People weren't supposed to look so broken. Rain wasn't supposed to look so broken.
(When she was younger, she'd known a kid named Ichiro. He went to work in one of the factories, because they promised money and a dry place to sleep and that was more than most of them got every day. Three months later she'd seen him again. He had dark circles under his eyes, two of his fingers were broken and bruising and very clearly infected, and when he breathed it seemed to rattle out of his chest; every inhale and exhale spurred on a small fit of coughs that crackled like radio static. They'd fired him, he told her, because he'd injured his hand while working and there was no more use for him. He died a week after.)
(He was fourteen.)
"Don't go into the factories," she says. "They'll treat you like rats."
"I know," Yahiko says, slumping. Then he straightens up again, eyes flaring with something that reminds Konan of the stories her mother told her, of the rivers and lakes. Now the rivers were gone. There were no more fish and it was clogged with soot. Not even a cockroach would survive swimming there. "I hate it! They have no right to do that to us!"
"Keep your voice down!" Konan hisses, slapping her hand over his mouth. Privately, she can't help but agree, but here wasn't the time or place. Casting a furtive glance around, she breathes a small sigh of relief when she realizes that there aren't any police around. Good. "You're... you're not wrong. But we can't say it here. Let's just get food and then go somewhere sheltered."
Yahiko scowls, mulish, but relents when Konan glares at him. "Fine," he grumbles. Then, like a spring, he perks right back up again. "I think we can get some baozi! Over there!"
Indeed, a sign at a stall proudly proclaims they're selling two baozi for the price of seven coins in faded yellow paint. Konan purses her lips, considering, and then nods. "Alright. Let's go."
Excerpt from episode 232 of the talk show Horizon to Horizon by GloryTV:
[Image Description: Yamanaka Sachiko and Nara Fukashi are sitting to the left of a wooden stage. The screen behind them has an image of a sunset with the words HORIZON TO HORIZON emblazoned in black text and the Konoha Leaf in the corner. The camera zooms in on Sachiko's and Fukashi's faces; Sachiko is smiling, Fukashi has a neutral expression.]
Sachiko: Glory to our Kage and his everlasting rule! As always, listeners, I'm your host Yamanaka Sachiko and this is my co-host, Nara Fukashi. Today on Horizon to Horizon, we have - by popular request - the one and only Toad Sage, Jiraya of the Sannin himself!
Jiraiya: Haha! It is I, the Great Jiraiya!
[Image Description: Jiraiya appears on the stage in a puff of smoke with three toad summons behind him. The camera zooms out and pans over the cheering audience, then back to Sachiko and Fukashi, who look amused.]
Fukashi: So, Jiraiya-san. Undoubtedly, you and your colleagues are some of the most accomplished shinobi in the history of our great nation. May I ask; out of all the places you've visited, which exactly is your favourite?
Jiraiya: Oh, well that's quite hard to answer! I quite liked Tea District - it's just like what you'd expect, haha! The tea there is to die for! And of course the women are beautiful as well!
Sachiko: I've always wanted to take a vacation there, actually!
Jiraiya: It's definitely worth it! But my personal favourite has to be Rain.
Fukashi: Really? Rain? But it's...
Jiraiya: Oh, well, when I visited it was a beautiful place! Rather quaint!
Konan is used to fighting. Where resources are limited and injury or illness is a death sentence, where police prowl about and sow discord, it can be no surprise that they would turn against one another. Everything she earns, she's careful to hide and keep safe.
Yahiko is used to it too - of course he is, they were cut from the same cloth. He's not as good with his chakra as she is but he's got good aim with a knife and really with his size and speed it's all he needs. But for some reason, he refuses to resign to it.
"I hate it," he admits to her, the two of them curled by the sputtering embers of a flame. Outside the gales howl and plunder, seeking souls to batter at. "I hate that Rain is like this, Konan. My mother said that, once, there was a time where our entire village would tend to a person who was ill. What happened?"
She vaguely remembers that being true. She can vaguely remember Yahiko being right; that once Rain was a place of community. Just a week ago she saw someone coughing up blood in an alleyway. Yahiko had tried to help but they needed medicine and proper care and they didn't know where to find a doctor. They could do nothing.
"The Leaf happened," she says and doesn't bother to hide the bitterness in her voice, clenching her fingers into a fist. "They... they broke our home. They stole it."
They turned houses and schools into factories where even children would be sent to die. They took away the forests and polluted the rivers and broke apart families. And then they call her home a pit, a land of despair - a land they created.
So she's angry about it, and so what? They all are. It's not fair and it never will be.
"They did," Yahiko agrees and his eyes blaze just as bright - perhaps brighter than - the fire. "We have to take it back, Konan. They can't keep us like this. It's not right."
"How?" Konan can't help but wonder. "There's just two of us and so many of them. We're not weak but we're not that strong, either."
Yahiko's eyes seem to glow; the blue of streams and brooks and lakes, the blue of thunderstorms and the blue of the skies that house them. "But everyone hates the Leaf, Konan. It doesn't just have to be us."
(Years later, she will think back and realize this is when the Akatsuki first truly started. She will grieve for the boy with ocean deep eyes. She will look at the purified rivers and lakes, then up to the heavens and hope that he is watching them, proud.)
(Years later, she will know that when she fights she fights for the hopes and dreams of children like him.)
They find Nagato during a light drizzle. He has long red hair plastered to his face and eyes a bright violet the same shade as Konan's hair. Hidden in his jacket is a dog - certainly not something you saw often in Rain - who is weak and trembling, practically fur and bones.
Can they feed another two mouths? Konan isn't sure. But Nagato pleads and his dog whimpers softly, opening wide soul-crushing eyes on them, and as soon as Yahiko's face crumples she knows what the answer is. They'll do their best to help, whatever that may be.
Nagato, it turns out, want the same things they do. He wants their home back - he wants the Leaf out of Rain, he wants the rivers to be clean and the forests to regrow. Yahiko talks with a fervent passion but it is Nagato who truly makes Konan believe it could be possible; his eyes are fierce and steely, nothing less than purely determined. Yahiko dreams big; he dreams of freeing their home, he dreams of creating a world where everyone has enough food to eat and water to drink, he dreams of rebuilding Rain back into the world their parents described in stories. Nagato is the one, however, who clasps Konan's hand when she's tired and the skies seem to crush her shoulders and says; don't worry. We're here to help you.
Trust is a difficult thing in Rain. Within small groups, there is care and affection; members will support one another, they will share food and water and care for the ill or weak. Between those groups, there is nothing but neutrality at best and rivalry at worst. Konan has always skirted around those skirmishes, always refusing to get involved; better to stay away, better to stay safe.
But they need trust, she knows, if they're going to take back their home. She, Yahiko, and Nagato are a tiny group; it's just the three of them and as it stands they are low in numbers and resources. No one will be reaching out towards them; they'll have to extend the invitation themselves.
Konan is the one who does it first. Their little group can't move forwards unless they have more people, so she takes Yahiko and Nagato and heads out.
We want to take back Rain, Yahiko will say. From the Leaf. We want everyone to be free again and we want your help in doing so.
And Nagato will say; if you hate them, you're not alone. We do, too. We want them out.
And she will say; will you join us? We need strength in numbers. We can beat them if we have more people.
Slowly but surely, over the course of years, their numbers start to swell. She meets adults and teenagers and children alike; my arm is broken, I have no employ, please take me in and I promise I will help you. My little brother is ill, he drank from the river, he needs medical assistance. No matter who it is, they don't turn anyone away.
We were a community, Yahiko will point out when someone protests. We have to take care of each other. That means people who are sick or injured or old or young. Everyone is welcome.
Yahiko delivers all these speeches but it is Konan and Nagato who look at the people in the room and plan accordingly. They're gaining the numbers, now. All they need is action.
"Rivers first," Konan says. "We need clean water and a way to live without depending on the Leaf. Rain won't be able to rebuild without the rivers being so polluted."
"We should evict the police first," Nagato argues back. "They make it much too hard to move freely and they don't deserve to be here in the first place. With them around, there's no hope of getting Rain back."
"But they'll tell their superiors," Yahiko points out. "And then we'll really have trouble."
They all fall into silence for a moment, attempting to figure out this conundrum. Nagato is the only one who dares to say the obvious; "We could just kill them."
She's never killed a person before. Injured? Sure. Killed? No.
Konan spins a paper blade between her fingers. It's soft right now but when she feeds her chakra into it it will turn sharp as one made of metal. Nagato isn't wrong; killing the police would be a quick way to get rid of them and they could also steal their supplies after. There didn't seem to be many disadvantages.
"Let's just clean out the rivers first," Yahiko decides. "We'll figure out police later."
The look in Nagato's eyes says clearly that he isn't very happy with the idea, but agrees anyway.
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The rain pours over a dilapidated S, its white paint scorched and dotted with holes. Flurries of pointed paper blades swirl through the air, a deadly dance holding their attackers back.
"Load them up!" Nagato is saying. His eyes flash, bright purple with black rings in the irises. "Quick, let's go!"
"Get back here, you thieves!"
"You stole first!" Kyosuke yells back. "This is what we're owed!"
"We're the ones who made them!" Emiko hollers. "You're just thugs!"
Konan pulls her knives back and slams down five smoke bombs. She runs for Nagato as she does and he grabs her hand, yanking her into the portal as they go off, boom boom boom boom boom, in quick succession.
"How's Yahiko's group going?" she asks, tossing back her hood.
"He says he's succeeded," Nagato says. His eyes shine like the stars. "I can't believe we're doing this, Konan. I can't believe this is actually happening."
Konan laughs. She shakes out her hair; it's long, now, falling to the small of her back, and she's pinned her bangs back with a simple heart, ready to be unfolded and used as a knife if need be. "We're going to do so much more, Nagato. Just you wait."
"If we get seeds, we can regrow the forests," Emiko says. "My grandma was a gardener. I picked up some tricks."
"We have enough numbers to kick out the police," Kyosuke says.
"If only Yahiko would give us the all-clear," Nagato sighs, but his voice is teasing and mild. "I'm sure he will eventually, though. For now - get some rest. We did well!"
Akatsuki is everything Konan dreamed of, as a child. They are a community, first and foremost; all are welcome, all will be offered kindness. They fix up dilapidated buildings into homes, they repair generators. They construct chakra seals to keep the rivers pure, they lead strikes against the factory bosses until it's agreed that the workers will be treated better, they establish their own patrols to keep watch on the police.
But inevitably there comes a time where you must ask yourself; why do we continue to live under them, when we have the forces to take control again? Why are you trying to negotiate? Nagato demands, violet eyes flashing. The rings in them whirl clockwise. They don't give a damn about us, Yahiko!
I don't want to have to lose anyone! Yahiko snaps back. If we can do something peacefully, we should!
Personally, Konan has to agree more with Nagato. It wasn't as if the Leaf would care how peacefully they went about it; either way, they wouldn't take very kindly to their little rebellion. But out of respect for Yahiko, she keeps her thoughts to herself.
But, for a bit, it seems like everything will be okay.
Then suddenly they receive a group of refugees fleeing from Sound - former experiments, test subjects, lab rats - and suddenly she and Nagato are working through plans to evacuate people from the district of Sound because they can't possibly allow this, not in good conscience, and suddenly news is making its rounds through their entire country of a new group called the Akatsuki, who are working against the Leaf, who might even defeat one of the Sannin the legendary snake Orochimaru himself -
and it all falls apart.
His name is Jiraiya. Her name is Tsunade. He has a mane of white hair and majestic toad summons, proud and slick. She has green eyes and her slug summons loom behind her, striped with blue and white and violet. They bring with them a small army and - oddly enough - a news crew.
"We would like to negotiate your surrender," Jiraiya booms. His voice echoes through the streets of Rain, now fixed. Out the corner of her eye, Konan can see children peeking out from the buildings, stone intertwined with thick vines. An old woman sits by one of the canals they hollowed out and watches the fish swimming. "Disband your terrorist group the Akatsuki and allow the reintegration of the Leaf into Rain."
"The Akatsuki is not a terrorist group," Yahiko says, level. Nagato's teeth are grit, she can tell it by the tension in his jawline, but he doesn't react. "We are open to negotiation; however, we would prefer not to disband our group."
The new crew is gone, having been ushered away. Jiraiya sighs and Konan draws back, curling her fingers into her sleeves. They are made of paper; if she has to fight, she will. Their lives are more important than some semblance of peace or diplomacy.
"We tried," he says, voice heavy.
"Sorry," Tsunade speaks up. "Orders are orders."
Then she slams a fist into the street and the world starts to crumple.
The buildings are burning. The gardens have been set ablaze. Who knows if the scorched earth will produce life again?
The houses are destroyed from missed punches - Konan whirls and weaves between a flurry of fists, paper snapping between her fingers in hails of knives and bugs. The canals are polluted by balls of oil and smoke - Nagato tries to push it all back, eyes spinning wildly as he shoves through space itself. No one is spared; anyone they cannot evacuate in time is killed with a brutality that makes Konan sick. She has to fight - she can't let her home be taken a second time. Not after they worked so hard to bring it back. Not after everything they did to rebuild Rain.
Bit by bit, they're forced back until they're in the library - they were trying to refurbish it, bringing in tables and chairs and whatever scrolls or books they could find. She throws a table in front of her and it's caught on fire. Yahiko shoves her aside, intending for the bookshelf to take the punch - except it doesn't.
Because Tsunade's fists find a different target altogether.
In the background, she thinks Nagato is screaming. But she can only hear the ringing in her ears as she tries desperately to rationalize what had just happened - what couldn't have happened, what shouldn't have happened -
no no no Yahiko why
then the ceiling caves in the walls crumble and for the second time Konan watches her home break around her as she can do nothing.
On the radio, they broadcast success in Rain; the terrorist group the Akatsuki successfully defeated, brought down by two of the Sannin themselves. On the television, they march Jiraiya and Tsunade past banners and crowds of citizens cheering their names as if praying. They talk about it as though some great tragedy; what a shame that they couldn't see the light, we tried to extend peace but unfortunately it wasn't successful, they spew sympathies and make a mockery of truth. Jiraiya and Tsunade express their regret for having to kill the leaders of the Akatsuki; my duty, Jiraiya claims, one I wish could have been avoided Tsunade says. Orochimaru publicly thanks them and the media whip up a storm about their friendship, their close bond forged from years of fighting.
In Rain, a girl with purple hair crawls out from the ruins of her home, more paper than person. She's clutching onto two bodies: one with the skull caved in, hair soaked rusty from its former orange; the other crumpled and seemingly lifeless.
Perhaps she's crying, perhaps it is not raindrops but tears that run over her cheeks; but there is no one around to tell.