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Kakuzu is a near deity to the tent villagers. They’re a nomadic bunch, almost all chakra users, even if only a handful of them are actual fighters. Most are practically civilians, who just happen to access their chakra in day-to-day life. Shinobi use their talents for fighting. Tent villagers use them for everything.
They have a good rapport with missing nin, because they’re collectively against hidden village values, and any nin who breaks away is welcomed for their courage. It’s also a good way to introduce new blood into their clans. That’s how Kakuzu ends up with a kid he doesn’t really want, but the woman who bears the brat doesn’t demand anything from him, something about how he’s already gifted her with a child, so she’ll not ask for anything else. She’s a strange one for certain.
Still, Kakuzu comes around now and then, because they offer shelter and food without asking for money, so he watches his son grow up in snippets. He’s a strong kid. Not as strong as Kakuzu, but no one is, so far.
The years pass, and Kakuzu’s son grows older as he himself stays much the same. His son charges one of his daughters to never turn Kakuzu away, and she promises that her gift as a cultivator will never be withheld from her grandfather.
A cultivator is what they call the ones who grow things with chakra. It’s different from Mokuton, apparently, although Kakuzu doesn’t learn the specifics of why. As long as it’s not that damn justu, he’s got no issue with it.
Kakuzu’s granddaughter marries into the Hidaka clan. They’re a humorous bunch that hides behind a façade of stoicism. The strict mask might be a better sell if their eyes didn’t dance with mirth, like they always know something you don’t, something that makes them ready to smile at a moment’s notice.
They’ve got some Uchiha mixed in their ancestry somewhere, since a few of them end up with red eyes, but it’s not a grievous burden to them. Kakuzu’s grandson-in-law uses his Sharingan to tell his kids bedtime stories, complete with visuals provided by those dangerous eyes.
“You spoil them,” Kakuzu admonishes, eyeing the newest, most restless baby as it squirms in its father’s arms.
The Hidaka only shrugs, adjusting his hold seamlessly as he joins the older man outside the tent for some fresh air. “I have the right. They’ll need to grow up quickly.”
It’s a harsh truth. Hidden villages are becoming more common and more dangerous. Perhaps they’d not be so opposed to the tent villagers’ existence if they were ignorant of chakra manipulation, but since they’re not, they pose a threat. Anything that offers a life outside of hidden village propaganda is a threat.
As with all his granddaughter’s children, he gives this one a single gold coin. The engraved seal on this currency is useless and outdated, something that fell out of circulation a little before Konoha was founded. That’s how Kakuzu keeps track of the brats, in case they need to buy his services one day. He doesn’t care about them. It’s an investment, something to keep this long-term relationship mutually beneficial.
“Thank you for your generosity, Kakuzu-sama,” the Hidaka says, amusement in his tone, hell if Kakuzu know why.
The baby wastes no time using the coin as a teether.
“Perfect way to test the coin,” Kakuzu praises.
It coos at him and holds out its hand for another. What a greedy little thing. Must run in the blood.
“Looks like you,” Kakuzu remarks.
The Hidaka smiles. “He does, but I think he’ll take after his mother. The seeds she plants grow faster when she carries him.”
Kakuzu hums in disinterest and points at the kid. “Grow strong.”
It giggles, gums still chomping on the coin. If he cared enough to have a favorite, it might be this one. This last child was a surprise too, which is amusing, because so was the one before that, ten years ago. They’re a fertile bunch, this branch more than most. Must be a cultivator thing.
“Are you staying the night, Jiji?” his granddaughter asks.
She never offers him any deference. It’s another reason why he is less indifferent to her than her siblings. He shakes his head, already feeling himself grow restless.
It’s unnerving to be with them too long. She looks older than him too now. Maybe there are twenty years left in her life, if she’s lucky. If he were a better man, it would make him sad.
“Safe travels, Jiji,” she says gently, like she can hear his thoughts. “We’ll be in Fire Country for the next few months, just across the way from Wave.”
He thinks she loves him, and it truly is a damn shame for her. At least it works in his favor. He hopes it will do so for generations to come.
Kakuzu is in Tea Country when he hears about it.
A massacre, they say.
A camp of violent criminals along the coast of Fire, they claim.
Thank the kami for all the shinobi who took care of such a danger for us regular people, they simper.
He’ll never tell anyone, but he goes to see if there are any survivors. It’s not sentiment that drives him. It’s practicality, protecting his investment.
Kakuzu walks among a slaughter of men, women, and children. All of them hail from different tent clans. He recognizes a good deal of them, knows the names of few. Checks them off like they’re mission objectives.
HarunoHidakaKaizaKamiyaKitaKurokiMiyataMorimotoNakaiOnoSanoShiratoriTakedaUminoThe Unknowns, who accept all
He finds his granddaughter among a group of Morimoto, her father’s clan. Her eyes are open. There’s a scythe in her hand, covered in blood. It’s fitting, he decides. No descendant of his should ever go down without a fight.
Her Hidaka husband is also dead, his arms reaching out towards one of his older daughters. That one is, was getting married in a few weeks, one of the reasons they've came back to these campgrounds, this one and her chosen preparing to jump off the cliffs together in a leap of faith. They all know where the rocks are, so there isn’t any true danger to the act, just useless symbolism.
He finds every single one of them, collecting their coins as he finds their bodies. It won’t do, letting the money go to waste. Might become valuable, vintage keepsakes for some collector in the future.
One day he will have an annoying partner who asks about the clinking pouch Kakuzu carries everywhere. Kakuzu will skewer the man, not that it does much to make him stay dead. No one will ask again.
Today, he finds all except two coins, the ones belonging to his two youngest great-grandchildren. He assumes they are in the ocean, because there are already corpses washing up in Wave and near the bottom of the campground’s cliffs. Kakuzu won’t look for them. Every practical man knows when to cut his losses. Although, if he ever finds the thieves who stole what these coins bought, he will saw off their hands, make them beg for mercy, and then take their heads.
With that decided, he leaves the camp, not bothering to bury the dead. It's not like the bodies will know the difference, and he has to find new hearts as fast as he can. There’s something wrong with his chest.