Chapter One: Genesis
"You can't keep calling me when I'm at work and you know it."
Konan twirled her short, lilac locks in-between her fingers as she watched the door to her office anxiously. Every time he called, someone would walk in and ask her what she was up to, as if it was any of their damn business. They could see each other after work, after all, he promised that he'd come down as soon as his day was over.
"I know," the man flatly answered her, heaving a heavy sigh. "I know. It's just hard, having this kind of relationsh–"
"Don't even say it," Konan's words came out hotly, as she quickly lowered her voice and spoke quietly into the phone. "What if they're taping my conversations? We don't want this to go public, Pain…"
A tight silence caused the woman to hold her breath briefly, but the man answered sternly back: "I told you to call me Yahiko. It'll make it harder for them to tell you're talking to me, after all. Besides, why would you want to call me by my public alias rather than my actual name?"
Pain.
A word often taken for granted, and hardly ever used unless there was tragedy involved.
Now, it stood for the most popular name in the piercing world – Yahiko, or as the news outlets and magazines dubbed him, "Pain". The tough exterior is what was depicted on such magazines; how he is known to pierce you with not only his eyes, but his equipment. Though, Konan knew something that the media did not; how soft he truly was. There wasn't a day she could remember since they had officially become an "item" that he didn't tell her how much he missed her.
"…Konan?"
There it was. That deep, alluring, gentle tone. That same one that he only used with her – the same one that she had grown to adore.
"Yes, Yahiko?"
"Is it okay–"
Konan immediately hit the "end call" button as a familiar face walked in after one single knock. His red hair never seemed to dull after all of these years as her personal assistant, and his quiet demeanor almost startled her today.
"I'm sorry for interrupting your important phone call, but there's a call waiting on line two for you. The caller gave his name as… what was it… ah, Tobi. He wishes to speak about 'private matters', whatever those may be."
Konan grimaced and her shoulders tightened; it'd been months since she and Tobi last spoke. And the last time we did, he wasn't in a particularly happy mood.
"Thank you, Nagato."
Nagato smiled, though Konan quickly determined it to be an empty one. Nagato remained one of her closest friends throughout the rise of her family business, devoting himself to her goals and ultimately working beside her. However, since she had gotten involved with Yahiko…
"While I'm here, I have something to ask of you." Nagato took a seat in the uncomfortably rickety wooden chair that sat in front of her desk. "Are you and… Pain still getting along?"
The question itself was a front, Konan could easily see straight through his ruse. Her defense went up as soon as his eyebrows rose in a silent question – as if to egg her onto what he knew she was going to say.
"Yes, of course." The reply was tight and tart, despite who she was talking to. After all, Nagato was the only one who knew about them being official. How could he not, knocking once and entering without waiting for an answer like he always did? It had been difficult to keep such a pressing, happy thing from him anyway; after having the information bottled up, she finally confided in her close friend. "Why do you ask?"
Nagato continued to be silent; his royal purple gaze dropping to his pale hands, before he replied so quietly that Konan almost had to lean in to catch what he said:
"I just wanted to remind you that your parents would never approve of your choice, that's all. I know you've heard it from me before, but I want you to think long and hard about what you're doing. Are you sure he won't get in the way of you running this–?"
"Of course not, and I don't know why you're suddenly so interested," the woman mumbled, huffing impatiently. "My parents didn't approve of me declining to go to college, my parents didn't approve of me running this business for them, hell, I don't think my parents even approved of me being born."
The snappish reply was her first instinct, and Nagato flinched away from it.
"Yahiko and I haven't even seen each other in two weeks, Nagato. We've both been busy with work; him with piercing and I with this god damn paper company."
Nagato heaved a sigh, standing before her with that quiet confidence that she so respected him for, even though she couldn't help but notice the sour taste in her mouth at his next words: "I figured you'd say as much. Forget I said anything." He began to walk toward the door, but laid his hand on the handle and turned back briefly. "I just wanted to remind you that there will always be another option, Konan… one that your parents approve of, and one that won't use you like he will."
The door closed, and angrily took a fist to her desk. How dare he say such a thing! How dare he even suggest that Yahiko was using her! How dare he bring her parents into this!
I can't be bothered with this shit right now! I know what I'm doing is wrong in the eyes of my parents, I get it, but I think everyone is disregarding the fact that I'm twenty-nine years old! I can choose who I'm seeing and how to run a business that was handed to me! That's bullshit!
Konan jumped as the phone rang suddenly; the phone's jingle was noisy, but today it seemed to pick at her patience until…
"What is it?"
The venom had come out as her contempt began to show, and she immediately felt cold as the voice on the other end laughed sinisterly.
"Ah, Konan. Still haven't lost that indignant tone, I see."
"Oh, Tobi, how have you been?" Konan pushed whatever was going on between her and Nagato to the back of her mind; she'd forgotten in one split moment that Tobi was on the phone, waiting for her. "What did you need?"
A dark chuckle that seemed to crawl up her skin signaled Tobi's unusually nonchalant attitude – something that was known to be a bad sign.
I wonder what he wants with me now… it's been forever since we've met up in person, and I don't think any of our mutual friends have birthdays anytime soon…
"Oh, nothing much. I just had a brilliant idea and I thought it best be shared with one of the most intelligent people that I have the pleasure of knowing personally."
Uh oh.
"What does it entail?"
Yahiko stared at his cellphone indignantly as he saw he and Konan's call time popup: only two minutes and three seconds. That was a new record; usually it took at least five for her to hurriedly hang up on him because of someone interrupting their conversation.
Throwing down the iPhone upon the front desk, he rested his chin upon his hand.
I only have one appointment today, and my customer is late. Typical.
It didn't help that on occasion, people would come in wanting a picture with him or wanting a walk-in appointment (both of which he loathed) and disturbed his thoughts of his new girlfriend. They'd only been dating for a month now, and it was hard for them to even have a conversation these days. They were both enraptured with work, and when they weren't, they couldn't risk being seen in fear of the paparazzi. That would mean word would spread to Konan's parents, and Yahiko shivered at that; Ryuto and Ayane were known for their influence in the business world, given that their paper company, Altri, was the most successful paper company in the world.
From what Konan had mentioned, they seemed to have a somewhat strained relationship; no matter what it was that Konan seemed to do, they would express disapproval. Dating him, Pain, the famous man who donned magazines left and right because of his unique skill and ownership of the ever-famous piercing shop, The Wounded Voodoo Doll, would only hurt her case.
I don't want to be the reason why Konan loses her business back to her parents. It took her years to become the leader that they wanted her to be, and to lose it because of me…
The iPhone buzzed on the counter, and Yahiko smiled gently when Konan's name and picture popped up.
"Hey, is everything alright?" He answered, blurting out words before he even knew what he was saying to her. "You hung up all of a sudden, and–"
"Yahiko, it's Tobi."
"That bastard?" Yahiko couldn't even hold in his contempt. The man always struck him wrong, though they were associates that went way back. "Well, what'd he want? It's been ages since we've heard from him. Thought he died."
Konan was silent on her end, and Yahiko froze when she whispered softly: "He wants to meet up with all of us in two days at the usual place."
"All of us?" Yahiko couldn't even contain his surprise; by 'all of us', Tobi meant the whole gang. "What's his plan? Last time he met with all of us, he tried to tell us how to run our businesses, and that didn't end well."
"Yeah, I know. He told me to spread the news, but I don't seem to have the time to talk to everybody today… and I'll talk to you after work, okay? I think I hear someone coming."
Figures.
Yahiko's heart dropped down to his stomach; he hated to have her go. "Okay, I'll tell the guys. It's been awhile since we've seen them, too. I'll come by and pick you up at 6:30, alright?"
"Alright. Goodbye, Yahiko."
The call cut out, and Yahiko immediately searched the first name that popped into his head and formulated the text that he would be copy-pasting to all eight of them:
Tobi wants a reunion in two days at the usual.
"So, you're telling me I sold fifteen coffins today, treated twelve patients, and even showed a new nurse the ropes, but I'm only seeing fifteen-hundred of the seventy-hundred and fifty thousand euro that I'm owed today?"
Kakuzu gripped his simple work phone in his hand. The goddamn Blackberry was garbage, sure, but it got the job done. Plus, he wouldn't pay out the ass when he broke it in bullshit situations such as this. He ran a frustrated hand through his slick, jet-black hair as the woman answered him feverishly in Spanish, sensing just how unhappy he was with this newfound information.
Being the owner of the luxury coffin provider located in Spain, Body Basket, and a part-time cardiologist was almost ingenious: he treated his patients to the best of his ability, but if they were to die, he would interest them in his luxury coffins, expensively made from rare minerals as to give the impression of wealth in life. It had been easy at the beginning, but now he was tired of insurance providers calling him and telling him that he would get his payout "soon", whatever that meant.
Without even listening to the woman on the opposite end of the line, he pressed the red button on the keypad, ending the call. Just as he'd ended it, a message popped up.
Kakuzu sighed heavily, clicking the impossible buttons to get to this message, and when he'd clicked on it, he couldn't resist a small chuckle at the lone message from his distant associate, Pain.
It'd been forever since he'd seen the others, and now Tobi was bringing them all together again. Though being rich and running a business never truly got boring, it was a change of pace to talk to someone who wasn't only speaking to him for the nature of his businesses.
"Well, at least there's something to look forward to now."
"Get me another round, doc!"
A drunken man hiccupped angrily; the last round of shots hadn't been enough for him, even though the expensive liquor was beginning to add up on his tab. His magenta eyes glittered dangerously underneath the low lighting of the high-end bar.
"Hidan, you're much too drunk to have any more," a woman on his left suggested. "This is your third day in a row getting almost blackout drunk in here–"
"Hitomi, sh-shut the fuck… up!" Hidan slurred, trying to think and speak at the same time was beginning to become impossible.
He faintly remembered why he was here in the first place: he'd been telling fortunes and communicating with people's lost loved ones in Japan for the last couple of years, but he never thought people would actually be into that kind of thing. His popularity blew up two years ago; people came to him so often that he opened up a business to profit off of the attention, and he did so successfully, making Unfortunate Souls a popular place to visit in Tokyo. Just today, he'd made one-hundred thousand Yen by doing what he did best – talking to spirits. Now, he was about to begin talking to a different kind of spirit; one he could drink.
"Sir," a man dressed to the nines approached the silvery-haired man cautiously. "We can't serve you any more alcohol due to our policies. You're much too drunk to handle any more."
"I… obviously haven't been here e-enough for all of y-you people to know that-that I can handle my lick-her. I'll pay up for one more r-round. You know I'm loaded."
Hidan laughed when the man scurried away, muttering something about how money really does speak for itself. The woman beside him, Hitomi, shook her head unhappily. Her glasses slipped down her nose, but she pushed them back up hastily.
"Hidan! I know I'm your assistant and apprentice, so I probably don't have much of a place to say this, but you shouldn't be bribing people into doing what you want!"
"Ah, Hitomi," Hidan slung an arm around her shoulders in a lax fashion as the skittish man brought over a cheap bottle of José Cuervo and a couple of shot glasses. "If… if you're gonna work for me, you gotta get used to me gettin' my way! Now, have a drink with me, your ole buddy, Hidan!"
Hitomi shook her head adamantly, looking tired and angry now. "I'm your ride home! I can't be drinking!"
"Oh come on!" Hidan exclaimed loudly, unaware of how loud he yelled. Several heads turned, but many people looked away when they realized just who was the cause of the angry outburst. "H-Hitomi! You're my… my assistant for a reason!"
"I'm basically here to make sure you don't die!"
The woman shook her head disapprovingly at the rich man; she'd become somewhat of an intern to him when she found him this same way three weeks ago – drinking himself to hell and arguing with a bartender. Ever since she drove him safely home and mentioned her interest in his business in a quick sticky note that she had left on his door, he'd trusted her enough to let her in… but he would still take some getting used to on her end.
"But Hitomi-! Fuck!"
The man swore suddenly as his pants vibrated suddenly, and he pulled out his Android to see a message, but Hitomi quickly grabbed the phone away from his uncoordinated hands. Her short, brown hair swished in front of her face for a moment, and she wiped it away.
"No! I will not allow you to drunk text after what happened last night!"
"No, that ain't what I was lookin' at, bi-bitch!" Hidan snagged the phone back and squinted his eyes; reading was difficult after he'd had this many shots. "Read this for me!"
Hitomi took a glance at his phone and sighed: "It says 'Tobi wants a reunion in two days at the usual', but that doesn't make any–"
"Ah, shit." Hidan's liquor suddenly made a sudden movement in his gut, and he realized that he had finally hit his limit at the mention of Tobi. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
Hitomi had no time to react before all of his hard-earned alcohol ended up all over her favorite pink sweater.
Thank you for visiting SeaWorld – come back soon!
The sign greeted the tall man as he closed the gates. It was nighttime and he was finally able to leave his work, though it almost pained him to do so. SeaWorld, located in Orlando, Florida, was his home. He loved the business that he'd built so much that he was always sad to leave it when closing time came around.
"See ya tomorrow, boss Kisame! I-I mean, Mr. Hoshigaki!"
Kisame couldn't help but laugh at the new meat, Chris Schmidt. Chris had started out at SeaWorld yesterday after receiving his marine biology bachelor's degree, and he too shared Kisame's affliction for animals… especially sharks. The twenty–four-year-old wanted to become a caretaker of the sharks, and Kisame made sure that his dream came true because of their shared ideals pertaining marine life.
"Yeah, see you tomorrow, Chris."
The shy kid gave a hesitant smile and headed off in the direction of his beat-up Volkswagen, whilst Kisame smiled at his custom electric blue paintjob on his limited edition Lamborghini Centenario. The beautiful car flashed its lights as Kisame pulled out his key, and he placed all of his work equipment in the backseat. Sitting down on his plush seats, he finally pulled out his iPhone and checked out the news for today: being in close proximity to water all day, he didn't want to risk losing his phone and resigned to putting it away until he sat down in his comfortable Lamborghini at closing time.
When he unlocked his phone, a couple of text messages showed up, and Kisame smiled at the first three from his loving wife, Kate:
"What time are you coming home? I've made steak, your favorite!"
"Oh, also Thomas said his first word today! Can you believe that it was puppy? Not mommy or daddy… puppy! Curse you, Reginald!"
"Lacey invited me out, but I couldn't find a sitter for Reginald and Thomas, so we stayed in and watched Mean Girls… I hope that's alright! Hope you come home soon!"
Between Thomas, his one-and-a-half-year-old son, Reginald, his chocolate Labradoodle mix, along with his blonde beauty, Kate, Kisame had made it big in America. The money he had from running SeaWorld's Orlando location was nothing compared to the family that he had created for himself. A small smile crept up his face, but it faded when he noticed one other text that went unread… from Pain.
After reading the small sentence over and over again in disbelief, Kisame shrugged, tossed his phone to the passenger seat, and shook his head before sticking his key into the ignition and tearing ass out of the empty parking lot.
The last time he had seen Tobi in person, the man had threatened his family over miniscule matters concerning how he run his own business… never again would he allow that man to come between him and what he built for himself.
"I'm here to specially order a pair of Ray-Bans with my prescription with the help of a Mr. Itachi Uchiha."
A well-dressed man stood uncomfortably before a man with black hair pulled into an innocent ponytail and peach-colored Maui Jim's blocking the stranger's view of his eyes.
"That is I, sir. Take a seat right over there and fill out this form, which asks what pair and prescription you would like, as well as insurance information," Itachi easily lifted up a sheet of paper and handed it to the man, picking up a clipboard and a pen with fluid, graceful movement. "When you're finished, bring it up here and I will assess your prescription and write you an approximate price."
"Thank you."
The exchange was standard – being the owner of Visionworks and residing in the bustling city of San Antonio, Texas, it almost got old saying the same things to every customer that walked in the door. Even though he could easily have been a figurehead for his business and gotten someone else to do the heavy-lifting, Itachi refused and worked a couple of hours each day just to rid himself of the guilt; how come he could decide not to work and make twenty times more than what he was paying his workers for?
Itachi removed his glasses; he only wore them indoors for the nature of his business – to advertise. Maui Jim had given him these glasses free of charge, but only for advertisement purposes… meaning he had to wear them anytime he was in his workplace.
Wearing sunglasses indoors probably makes me look like the biggest tool in Texas.
Heavily sighing, he glanced at the background of his desktop; his little brother when he was very young stood out to him. A smile plastered over his face at the thought of the grown man now; he was probably off abroad as he spoke, shooting for the next movie he was to appear in. The kid was famous, even more famous than Itachi himself, but he didn't mind. After all, he cared about Sasuke more than anything in the world.
Itachi's android vibrated in his pocket, and the man took a quick glance at the lone man who continued to fill out the form to make sure he wouldn't come up while he was answering the text that he knew he'd received. Instead, the text was only that of a disappointment; having to go meet Tobi once again.
A loud sigh involuntarily puffed out from his mouth, disturbing the man who had been filling out that damned form so quietly, but Itachi couldn't bring himself to care about professionalism this time:
That man Tobi had threatened Sasuke's career, and that had been Itachi's last straw. Ever since then, he'd stayed clear of Tobi, but now it appeared he'd had no choice but to attend this 'meeting'.
What a nasty turn of events.
"Wha– ouch! That hurts, Sasori!"
The redhead grimaced at the young woman's pitiful growls of pain, gritting his teeth in frustration. "I'm almost done. Sit still for about one more minute."
And how dare she use my name as if she's so familiar with me? Damn this nametag!
"This had better be worth it!" The woman snarled in return.
Her gold locks splayed across his chair, he shook his head as he continued to drive the needle into her skin. Everyone said the same thing when they asked him to tattoo them; very rarely did he ever encounter someone with a pain tolerance that wasn't weak as hell. This woman had asked for a rose on her back, and then complained when it hurt.
Jesus fucking Christ. It's like punching a wall and getting mad at the wall for hurting your hand. Ridiculous.
Regardless of the constant whines of pain that he'd been forced to listen to, tattooing was Sasori's passion. The permanence of ink inside of the skin intrigued him, and to know that his mark was on the bodies of others was a blissful feeling like that of no other. Though it was a hobby that he only did on the side at his small, local shop in Paris named "Le Sable Rouge", it totally overshadowed what his main source of income was… which was a blessing.
"There. You're finished. Take a look in the mirror."
"Oh… oh! Wow, Sasori, this is amazing! Thank you so much! It was just what I asked for!" The blonde woman, he faintly remembered her name was Julie, gushed over the artwork on her back.
Sasori himself sat back and inspected the ink, and nodded approvingly at himself; it was near-perfect, just what he loved about this art. It wasn't his favorite masterpiece, no, but he smiled at the accomplishment regardless.
"Alright, here's your after-tattoo care pamphlet. Let's go up to the register and I'll let you be on your way. We agreed on 220 euro, correct?"
"That's right!"
Without any issue, Julie fished for her credit card in her black purse, and Sasori sat back and faked inspecting his nails. She hadn't recognized him, and if he made as little eye-contact as possible, maybe she'd walk out the door without knowing who he was in the business world.
Thank god.
Julie laughed heartily and began to swipe her card at his register, but it was then when she double-took on him.
Shit.
"Wait… oh! I remember now! You're the guy who owns the Barbie franchise, right? I forgot you did tattoo work on the side!"
So close. So goddamn close.
Sasori hated being associated with such a household company.
It wasn't the craft that he hated, no; he loved being responsible for bringing a small, miniature human to life for a young child. He needed that same thing when he was young and he wanted to help provide that for other children who may be lonely or in need of a 'friend'.
What he hated was what came with that package: children and annoying women.
"Yeah," Sasori tapped his index finger on the counter; he was getting nervous as Julie stopped entering her credentials into the card machine. The constant talk about the Barbie franchise was bad enough, but he came to his shop to tattoo and get away from that stigma that he carried elsewhere. "It's my favorite hobby."
"Wow! I saw that the Barbie line came out with dolls that depict women in different sizes… I just thought that was so–"
It's time for her to go before I lose my patience.
"Thank you so much, Julie, but I've got a busy schedule today." The smooth reply was easy on the blonde's ears. She smiled a toothy grin and continued to fill out the card machine's questions. "Oh, you're so welcome! Who knows, I might come in and get another tattoo!"
"That would be stellar." Please don't.
Julie finally meandered out of the shop, leaving Sasori to slowly sigh and sit down in his own parlor. Come to think of it, Julie reminded Sasori faintly of an old friend he hadn't seen in quite a while, with her long blonde hair.
I hope Deidara's doing alright. I know he's just as busy as I've been, but it feels odd not seeing each other… especially because we both live here, in Paris.
As if on cue, Sasori's iPhone rang, the sparkly jingle jolting Sasori upright. There were two messages there, one from this morning:
"Danna, you should come by later on! Today's supposed to be boring!"
Ah, there it was. He and Deidara had been best friends for years – ever since they were young. They hardly had any time to talk to each other due to the nature of their work, but on occasion, Deidara would ring him.
Sometimes, when we're texting, it feels like we're talking face-to-face. I guess that's what real friendship is like, huh.
Sasori quickly texted a rushed "yeah, sure" reply; it was only 3pm – Julie was his last customer for the day and Deidara's work was open until 9pm. However, what the other message could have been was a mystery to him.
Upon opening it, seeing that it was from Pain of all people, Sasori immediately stifled a sigh; whenever that man contacted him, it was important.
Just when life was starting to settle down.
The message itself was just enough to send the redhead over the edge. Upon standing up, his foot swung out to kick the chair he was sitting in and he hurriedly went to the back to grab his car keys and wallet and set out to Deidara's; they'd have a serious talk about Tobi and the bullshit he'd tried to pull in the past.
"Uh, sir… the Parmesan… it's gone bad!"
"What the fuck do you mean the Parm went bad? We just got that shipment, did we not? The only way it could have gone bad is if it was stored incorrectly!"
"Sir… I…"
Deidara violated cardinal rule number one by grabbing his sous-chef by his jacket, embroidered with Restaurant le Meurice's beautiful logo that Deidara himself had come up with.
"Lucas, I am this close to feeding you to our customers instead of the damn cheese!"
"Isn't that workplace harassment? We can get you fired, sir." A woman casually mused from behind the blonde wreck, and he turned in an instant.
"Hey, Pauline, I kind of didn't ask you. Besides, fire me from my own damn establishment? You're outta your mind."
Deidara humph'd as he let go of Lucas, who cowered at the sink before his boss. The short, cowardly man's curly hair was a mess today, though it was difficult to tell if it was from laziness or the stress of his demanding boss.
Deidara insisted on absolute perfection. The smallest inconvenience would send him into a rage only quelled by excellence. Today, on top of the mishap about the Parmesan cheese, the shipment of Pule, the most exquisite and expensive cheese in the world, was late and that was reason enough to send him into a rage. It'd been a successful business day and it was closing in on the dinner rush, though there were only a few tables of customers present, and he still could manage to blow up at such a trivial-sounding mishap.
Pauline rolled her chocolate-brown eyes and tucked a stray chestnut hair behind her ear as she rolled up her sleeves, her hairnet beginning to slip down toward her brow; being one of Deidara's finest prep-cooks as well as his personal lackey, pulled her nose out of his business and began to wash dishes while their famous Lobster Ravioli cooked slowly in one of the ovens. Its potent scent filled the room every minute it cooked, though its pleasantness went unnoticed by the present staff.
"Deidara, must you always lose your temper?" Pauline gently suggested, hand-drying a large knife as gently as possible. "Lucas does not mean disrespect when he tells you our inventory needs to be replenished."
The blonde man seemed to calm down, cracking his neck and knuckles just the same. "It's because of how harsh and strict I am that this place has become the finest restaurant in Paris. I'm not going to let that go to shit because of some cheese."
Deidara himself was noted to be a prodigy in an art form that went largely underappreciated; the art of fine cuisine. Like his best friend Sasori, he too had a passion for art, though his preference was art that is fleeting; only lasting a few moments. This certain perfection he found in food, where three years ago he opened up his restaurant. Now, Restaurant Le Meurice was the most luxurious, high-end place to dine in all of Paris; just a meal from the lunch menu was 300 euro alone. Only the rich and famous as well as those with money to blow were seen within their walls and underneath their brilliant chandeliers.
"Is now a good time, Deidara?"
A familiar voice caused the blonde to whip around, noting Sasori in his token black leather jacket and dull gray jeans. Just how the red-haired man had gotten through tight security was something Deidara didn't want to know. How he'd gotten back to the kitchen was even more surprising, considering the ruckus that those men made if someone tried to enter the restaurant without a reservation. Throughout the time they'd known each other, Sasori hadn't much cared for authority figures.
"Danna!" The blonde exclaimed, all quarreling subsiding in the recesses. "Thank goodness you're here! I was about to explode!"
"Really now?" Sasori nodded silent greetings to both Pauline and Lucas, though Deidara paused briefly in his glee from seeing his best friend in the flesh. The man seemed tired and a bit off. "Do you mind if we have a seat and talk somewhere?"
Deidara nodded, leaving the capable Pauline and Lucas in their element with their counterparts and escorting Sasori from the kitchen. The sight was always new in his eyes; the spotless chandeliers that hung from the adorned ceiling and the embroidered rims of the establishment almost looked like a grand chapel.
"How did you manage to get past security–?"
Sasori cracked a simple half-smile, though the emptiness in his eyes was obvious to his best friend.
"You don't have to ask. I carry around enough cash for the occasional bribe, but that's beside the point," the tiredness in his eyes increased and the smile disappeared from his features, replaced only by a concerned grimace. "You haven't happened to check your phone in the last hour, have you?"
Sasori had stopped beside an empty table beside a window that overlooked the busy street.
"No, I never do at work," Deidara sat across from the tired man and tilted his head. "Why, is something the matter?"
Every second of silence warranted a worry to fly through Deidara's mind. Had Sasori tried to contact him many a time in the last hour? Was there an emergency? Did someone they knew die while he was yelling about something as petty as spoiled cheese?
"It's Tobi. Apparently he wants to have all of us meet in two days' time at 'the usual'. I figured I'd tell you before you–"
"Tobi? Tobi wants to meet here in two days? Fucking inconsiderate piece of shit!" Deidara's temper flared and Sasori couldn't help but smirk his way. While used to his explosive meltdowns, it was always entertaining to see him get so worked up. "And he didn't reserve anything for jack shit! What the hell am I gonna do, Danna? Tell my customers 'sorry, your reservations aren't valid for the 13th because some wealthy fucker decided to invite all of his rich friends to my restaurant unannounced and we have to have security shut down the block to prevent the media from interrupting us', right? Hell no!"
Sasori fiddled with an embellished fork, the smirk finally dropping from his features. "Wait, that's what you're worked up about? Aren't you forgetting something? This is Tobi, the man who threatened to burn down your restaurant if you didn't comply with his wishes. Don't you think this meeting is a little suspicious? The last time we saw him, he got pissed because nobody wanted to do what he'd asked. This might be the beginning of something big."
The memory was ripe – though it'd been months since the threat, Deidara hadn't heard from Tobi since. Now, all of a sudden, to have all ten of them assembled with such short notice…
"Oh no, I remember. It's just that it's been a long day and its only four. I'm almost too tired to get pissy anymore."
Sasori cracked a smile, running a hand through his hair before looking Deidara in the eyes. "I'm going to have to agree with you there. Someone recognized me today and I'd be lying if I said I played it cool."
Deidara snorted, but rose quickly from his seat. "Tell me in detail when I get back. I'm going to get us a drink like any good host would; any preference?"
A light-hearted grin played on both of their faces as they answered in unison: "Anything alcoholic."
"Yeah, I had a feeling you'd say that, Danna." Deidara gently allowed his grin to fade as he turned away, hurrying to the winery and picking up two glasses before surveying their finest wine.
It was always so relaxing when Sasori could finally visit him on a slow day, but that only made it worse. It was so difficult to hide, especially now in adulthood. His fingers began to quake as he carefully read through the reds, knowing that was Sasori's favorite. Settling on an expensive bottle of Petrus, Deidara reached out to it as the thought set in:
Ever since they'd met, he had loved Sasori. It was so agonizingly obvious and he'd done everything he could to make sure that that was the correct terminology to use, and he couldn't seem to convince his heart otherwise.
I'm in love with Danna and I can't tell him. He's straight. He's always been attracted to women. I don't want to make things weird between us; I've kept my secret thus far, right? Since we were ten years old. It's been fifteen years and I haven't been able to shake this feeling that I'm right.
The bottle felt like a bar of soap in his grip as Deidara hesitantly turned back to where Sasori sat; his chin gently rested on the palm of his hand as his slender fingers covered his mouth. Those same, tired eyes were focused on the busy street, and Deidara was suddenly painfully aware of the truth:
Sasori had no idea what kind of turmoil he was going through, and he never would.
"Tobi?"
"Hello, Zetsu. I trust you're doing well."
Zetsu smiled faintly at the sound of his long-time friend's voice on the other side of the line. "Yes, of course. What do you need? I'm sure you have a reason for calling other than checking up on me."
"Ah, you know me much too well." Tobi continued swiftly, as if he was rushed. "I trust you know by now that I'm calling for everyone to go to the usual in two days' time, correct?"
Zetsu hummed in agreement; Pain's text had come only minutes ago, albeit at an awkward moment.
"Well," Tobi paused for a moment and Zetsu leaned in closer to his phone as the man whispered an interesting question. "What do you think I should tell them when we all meet up? I don't want to let on so much."
It was a tough question, Zetsu realized. The man coughed and briefly leaned against the brick wall he'd been standing beside. The pollution in the air in Beijing would never settle well in his asthmatic lungs.
"You've told me most of what your idea is, and I think it'll be relatively well-received this time. You've got everyone's interests in mind."
"I've realized that, but… I can't afford to make such a fatal mistake again. I was much too forward last time, and now they're all suspicious of my intentions, though rightfully so. Before I go ahead and pencil this in for the 13th, do you honestly think what I've come up with will work?"
Zetsu laughed a little bit, kicking himself as a reminder to be aware of his surroundings. The dark alleyway that he was housed in between a brick wall and a windowless factory was perfect, but he'd be damned if he blew his cover because of a brief laugh.
"You've got to stop being so hard on yourself. You're a genius, Tobi! There's no one else fit to have the title 'richest man in the world' and you know it!"
Tobi chuckled on the other end of the line himself. "Good to see you're still on my side, Zetsu. In that case, I'll see you then."
The line went dead, leaving Tobi to drop his Android into his pocket and turn on his heel.
"Well, it looks like today is turning out to be a great day!" The final snicker left both his face and voice as he took a deep breath, walking past an unmoving figure beside his feet. "After all, I always come out on top. Isn't that right, Wěi Jin?"
A pair of broken glasses snapped beneath his leather Oxfords as the man refused to look back, whistling until he reached his lavish limousine. The stench had begun to subside as he directed the clueless limousine driver in the direction of his extravagant condo; forty-five minutes away from the limp body of Wěi Jin.
Getting what you want is easy, Tobi. All you've gotta do is show them you mean business. If they refuse, they obviously don't know who they're talking to.
Author's Notes:
*A bit of a disclaimer: obviously the Akatsuki do not own the companies that I listed. I just thought it would be fun to write it that way. All credit for the stores/businesses does not go to me – it goes to its rightful owner(s). The only original companies are: "Body Basket", "le Sable Rouge" (which means "The Red Sand" in French), "Unfortunate Souls", and "The Wounded Voodoo Doll", which I own the name and idea behind.
I might also mention that Deidara and Sasori are both the same age in this fic; both are 25.
I've been reading some Famous Naruto Character AUs and I've been kind of sad lately, so I kinda went with this. I don't know if this has been done already, and I hope not, because I actually had some fun writing this!
"Tobi's" intentions? I'll let on soon – it isn't what you're thinking and I don't think it's as bad as I made it out to be. Don't be scared. Did you expect the ending? It was kind of something I came up with on the spot to explain Zetsu at a later point.
Let me know if you like this and I'll definitely continue! Thanks for your support!
~Teafully~