Title: Impermeable
Summary: Because it is raining and Konan dreams of birds that fly.
A/N: The relationship between Pein and Konan is truly interesting to me and this is my first time testing the waters of that relationship. Blame my Classics/Mythology class and lack of wanting to do things in college.
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Nimble fingers try vainly to fold paper into intricate shapes. But it is raining and the paper turns into mush and nothingness in her hands. The woman is undeterred, unmoved, as she produces more paper and tries again. Even if it is the rainstorm of the century, even if her meticulously cared for cloak is getting covered in mud, she is sitting on the ground folding cranes. Her blue hair is getting plastered to her young face.
"Konan" comes the collected voice behind her, firm above the din of the rain. She pays no heed to the voice trying once again at her paper. "What are you doing?"
Konan closes her eyes feeling her newest sheet of paper disintegrates into fibers and water between her fingers and thinks of a smiling boy and another who whispers that he will not let anyone hurt her. She remembers a man who smiled when she made him a paper flower.
"Enough Konan" the voice commands. But it is not enough because that voice and face don't match and if this is what it means to protect someone than Konan will need a thousand cranes to wish away the bad of what they've done; she will need a thousand flowers for luck. Because a single paper flower had made the man smile but it did not make him stay for good.
An annoyed sigh and the sound of cloth rustling and Konan along with her grime covered fingers are suddenly being somewhat sheltered from the rain. She angles her head to stare at the person holding the cloak over her. Now it is his auburn hair that is getting matted down, the various barbells dripping rain down his face as if he's crying.
But Pein doesn't cry- he protects Konan. The crumbled flower in her hair drips down as her face dries.
"Enough." Pein repeats as more rain pelts down, and for the first time in ages his voice is the tinniest bit tired. She finally nods as the only creation that has survived the rain, a lopsided crane, begins to droop in her cupped hands its wings heavy with moisture.
"Yes" she responds quietly her answer lost in the rain as she drops her only crane into his outstretched hand.
(And they are still children. For all her stoic logic Konan will always try to make cranes and flowers in the rain, and Pein, with all his ideals of grandeur, will always shelter her creations from the elements. They are still children; Konan believes her paper birds will fly and Pein has yet to find a reason why he shouldn't humor her.)
Fin.