.

Author's Note-

For my best friend who indulges my dark and psychotic tendancies with love and understanding.

-o-

Black and White

Chapter 1 - Black

"All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream." -Edgar Allen Poe

.

..

...

Home.

Well... maybe not home exactly. 'The place I live' would be better suited for what he felt toward it. The actual word 'home' had never been more than just another term for this; 'The place I live'. Home is somewhere you belonged, somewhere you were always happy to return to. Not some emotionally barren stack of various construction materials overrun with all manner of deformities that infest a house far past it's prime.

Not to complain, really. It was just a fact. If you asked him where else he might call home he'd give you just as cynical an answer, or none at all. As far as affection goes, whether places, things, or people... one could say he'd run short awhile ago and never bothered to develop any more.

He sighed very deeply, his breath fogging out in a momentary plume against the chilly early-morning air, and continued stareing at the tiny dwelling before him. After a few moments, an impatient beep signaled behind him, and he whirled to see the cab-driver scowling at him, leaned over across the seat so as to make sure the man noticed him.

With a roll of his eyes, he dug into his pockets, ripping out his last crumpled ten dollar bill and tossing it flippantly into the open window.

"Trash." He spat lowly before snatching up his suitcase and striding finally toward the front door of 'The place I live'. The asshole didn't deserve any damn money for that shoddy ride. Hadn't even tried to be a good host, even if it was an un-godly hour and the trip had only been a whopping 12 blocks from the bus-stop...

The cab let out a loud whirr and finally veered slowly away. He took the extra second to twist and give the driver a half-glare, and resumed treading the last few feet of his excruciatingly long journey.

Home. Well... maybe this garbage bin had earned that title. He couldn't deny that he was happy to be standing just outside the building. Anything was better than that gigantic block of tile and cement he'd been trapped in previously for a month, though honestly the time had stretched on to the point where memories from the outside world seemed more like some dream he'd had long ago... Really, for the kind of variable that place catered too, they had not spared one single thought or penny to making it seem even the least bit comfortable.

With a click of his tongue, he shifted his battered suitcase to his other hand and pulled open the door, greeted immediatly by the dank smell of an uninhabited residence that this hunk of shit smelled of even when it hadn't been empty for an entire 30 days. He only scrunched up his nose and continued inside. The smell of sheer emptyness was more than welcome when opposed to heavy cleaning agents and mental debilitation.

"Home..." He muttered to himself, looking around at the stained paint of the walls and his cheap and well-worn furniture. The thoroughly scuffed up wooden floors, chipping off hunks of leftover glue or linoleum in places where past owners had made a vain attempt to upgrade it. The ceilings, with rippling circles of brown spread like raindrops in a puddle over it's 'popcorn' surface, bowing downward in some places juuust barely enough to be noticeable, yet not enough to bring forth any sort of anxiety in him. If it ever should decide to collapse he simply hoped he might be underneath it. Not a death wish really, just a morbid and dark part of his personality. As was the fact that he had chosen this house to be his 'The place I live' despite the fact that most normal people would deem it as uninhabitable. He often found it eerily comforting. Wonderfully silent despite the increasing rate of decomposure going on around him, of the mice and the spiders and various other creepy crawlies that likley called 'The place I live' their home. So much time to just sit and think, be at peace. There were no worries in his world, worry was a disease he didn't feel the pull to bother with as most humans seemed to do. If the house collapsed, it collapsed. He didn't now, nor would he ever, have the money or desire to repair it. And the poor goaning, whining thing, it was likley it wished for death anyway. If walls could talk, the screams of this building would likley keep the neighbors up through the night.

Despite himself he felt a grin stretch across his face.

Yes. He supposed the dingy hole had upgraded itself at least that much in his own opinion.

...

"Sasori..." He said into the small piece of technologically advanced plastic he had against the side of his face. The phone had rang near 7 times, not half a second away from going straight to voicemail when finally a loud shuffling and scratching had clacked it's way onto the speaker, followed by the sleepy croak of a greeting that honestly couldn't even be called an actual word.

"I'd like a word with Mary." He continued, half a smirk pulling his lips back just far enough to let peek a few teeth, yellowed from the lack of care given to them.

There was a groan on the other end of the line, a moment of silence, then a growl. "It's 4 in the fucking morning!? Who is this and how would you like to be killed?" More crackling, a few swears, obnoxious coughing, and then more ranting. "I swear you people have a damned bug on me. Every time I finally manage to fall asleep, every time!"

"I thought you could make an exception for an old friend. You do still remember me don't you? Or have you been over-doing it with my girl again?"

Another moment of silence passed. He could practically imagine his red-headed friend squinting into the fabric of his pillow, trying to match a name to the voice he was hearing.

"...Zettie? Kuro Zettie?"

"Who else would be desperate enough to risk waking you up?"

"Shit." Sasori replied in a very unimpressed tone. "So you're back. Good deal, I was getting bloody tired of hanging out with this lot of idiots without you."

"It's good to know my absence was noted by someone."

"Oh they all noticed when I finally stopped answering their constant streams of calls and you seemed to have inexplicabley vanished and taken your cashe along with." Sasori grumbled, more animated now, but only slightly so. The man's emotions were more of a thing to be sensed by those around him enough than anything to be witnessed. Simply speaking, the man was more of a puppet with a painted face than anything alive.

'Zettie' let out a breath of a laugh and combed a hand through his shaggy hair, now faded a disgusting puce color instead of the glossy forest green it had been before his unfortunate admittance to that tower of insanity. Most people died their hair to stand out, to make some sort of statement, or perhaps simply because they liked the style. Zetsu did it because his natural brown mop was the color of shit and he detested seeing what looked as if someone had just dropped a damn deuce on his skull every time he looked in the mirror. Why green? Well, it was the color commonly associated with unsavory things like mold and rot, when not being swooned over by nature lovers... What better way to make his appearance reflect his personality than to have himself be diseased-looking?

The very roots were a rich chocolatey brown, however, and if the color had stayed, he thought maybe he would have rather liked the effect. As it was now though it just looked like he'd broken off the end of a mouldy broom and stuck it on his head. Not that it bothered him much, the effect was more desireable than the original dye-job had been.

"And whats this 'my girl' rubbish? I'll have you know, Zettie, that it was I who introduced you two."

"But you know she likes me more."

"Hardly. Making yourself out to look like some diseased twig doesn't bring you any closer to her class." The was another pause, some deep sighing, what distinctly sounded like a lighter flaring up, and a whoosh of breath. "Unfortunatly for you Mary is out of town until next Tuesday-"

"Son of a fuck." He growled with less emotion than one would think for such a phrase.

"-But depending on how desperate you really are I might be able to point you in the direction of someone who might be of assistance."

He stopped for a moment, staring at the warped panneled walls of his bedroom and chewing his lip in deep thought. "You're talking about Hidan aren't you?" No one else he associated with had the balls to carry the substance on their body, dismissing himself and Sasori, of course. In a small town like this one, centered in the near-direct middle of the States where there was nothing but flat land and wheat, the only people who ever moved here were either too fucking stupid to carry illegal substances and get away with it, or were trying to recover from using it. No one moved to places like this just for the hell of it, at least no one with an ounce of intelligence.

"Naturally." Sasori replied, his tone matching his response.

"Is he even going to be up at this hour?"

"Are you kidding? He's a damn vampire Zetsu, you know as well as any other living soul that that git only sleeps when the sun is up."

Again he clicked his tongue, partnered with an eyeroll that he was almost certain Sasori would simply feel without any sight neccessary. "Well, desperation was never a kind bitch. I had to sell my last token of love just to manage a ride back from that abomination. That place was lackluster as they come but they sure as hell didn't let you get away with anything. I'm fucking wasting away here." He picked absently at the dirt under his nails as he spoke, lacking any sort of emotion to back his claims. It wasn't so much an act of desperation or addiction, or maybe it even was, to fuck if he cared enough to care... Merely it was more like the only thing that brought vauge interest. Again to address the location, there was simply nothing else to do that could keep him entertained, and sleep didn't yet call out to him.

"Well give him a damn ring then and quit your whining. I'll be over when I'm over."

Zetsu's brows shot up at this, the corner of his mouth crooking slightly further than it already had been through out the entire conversation. "I'm not home for ten minutes and you're inviting yourself over?"

"You're not home for ten minutes and you're already a pain in my arse! I'm already awake, I won't be going back to sleep anytime soon and now you've put the want in my head. "

An actual chuckle this time from 'Zettie' before the man on the other end continued. "And it's not as if you mysteriously dropped off the face of the planet without a bloody word, Zetsu." Said a single decible lower and quite a few softer, before he switched back to his usual nearly-bored sounding voice. "I want to see what comes of this reunion with that loud-mouthed baboon. You know he's apt to be out of his mind around this time. Some of the tangents he goes off on are good enough for a chuckle."

"But mainly for Mary." Zetsu corrected, not quite smiling but certianly not emotionless.

A snort. "Of course for Mary, Twit."

"Your friendship still knows no bounds, Sasori."

"You're the one who made this a business call." The man replied, as bored as ever. A soft click followed right after it, no 'goodbye' or 'see you later' offered.

...

Foregoing the phonecall to the other member of his socially inept friend circle under the knowledge that it would likley shift inevitabley into either a one-sided shouting match or a gruesomely long conversation about whatever the man's drug-heavy mind came up with, Zetsu instead used the time to shower. Hidan San was a loud, obnoxious idiot, but he was far from a threat. Showing up unannounced wouldn't deign any more consequence than a vocal beating, and judging by exactly which narcotic the albino man was currently using he may or may not be over-emotional at this 'reunion', as Sasori called it. Though honestly it wasn't that big a deal to Zetsu himself. He had never really felt exceptionally close to him or really any of the group. But fortunatly for him, friendship wasn't always a matter of fluffy feelings and shared interest among these folk, as far as he was concerned it was all just a matter of acceptance. That and the general moodset of those he graced his presence with.

And if there were any more unlikley group if individuals that somehow managed to ignore the common laws of humanity and remain friends despite the fact that each and every one if them had extremely little in common with any given other, aside from the fact that they all deeply detested each other so much at times that it occasionally bordered on obsession, Zetsu had never heard of them. That being the case, acceptance among this group was not all that hard to come by. If you had any sort of quirk entertaining enough to repeatedly make fun of, you were in. His own being a tendancy to be slightly eccentric about anything within the definition range of 'creepy' and 'macabre'. Sasori's would be his devotion to marijuana that nearly bordered on the erotic, hence his tendancy to treat the drug as an actual lady, and on few occasions not even in a humorous context.

Hidan was similar to Sasori, but at the same time on a whole other level. Sasori was a one-drug kind of man, who seemed to think his singular use of it sat him at an intelligence level far beyond the other's despite the fact that the man was completley ignorant to any subject that required any sort of in-depth knowledge. Hidan has at one point or another experimented with every drug under the sun, and additionally, liked to boast himself to be immortal due to his insane amount of survived near-death experiences. The man was only 22, but had been hospitalized most likely somewhere near the same number. One could also argue the point that he's easily the dumbest person Zetsu had ever met, a side effect of his lifestyle but also just a normal part of his personality.

Personal feelings aside though, except from being outrageously annoying, which in all honesty each member of this misfits club had achieved at least once, he'd never done anything to earn ill-will.

Which is why they'd be making the trip without so much as a heads-up or even moderate consideration as for whatever means of insanity the man might currently be up to. Respect and common curteousy had no place among the degenerates he deemed his 'friends' for lack of any other word that was easily accepted by others. All in all they really were nothing more than a group of cynical, small-town folk that destested everything and anything about the real world so strongly that they were content to keep living in their miserable state, each of them thinking, though never to agree with anyone else's diagnonsis of the fact, that life simply would not be any better anywhere else, as life in general is just a dirty, rotten thing.

Where would anyone as negative as them find solace anyway? In the eyes of humanity, there is always something to complain about. In the eyes of a cynical asshole, there is always everything to complain about.

Sasori arrived about ten minutes after Zetsu re-dressed himself, as usual looking like the drug dealer he was -with his curly head of unbrushed hair, black hoodie, black skinny jeans and giant cargo boots that had to be at least two sizes too big- and blatantly ignoring the fact.

The puce-haired man only tsk'd at him before slipping his cell in his pocket and leaving 'The place I live' that had just graduated to 'home' not two hours after returning from a month long involuntary vacation.

...

"I can't believe you think you can just fucking walk in here like you're king shit and expect some fucking grand gesture from me." Hidan slurred out, sprawled half-naked on what Zetsu could only assume used to be a coffee table.

"I'm pretty sure I didn't expect anything like that." He said calmly, assessing the situation with little attention paid to the man himself. his home was in better shape foundationally, but the blatant and possibley intentional disregard to the building and lack of even basic upkeep had it looking to be in far worse condition. His house was decrepit merely from age, the one Hidan kept residence in was tortured on a daily basis. Holes spattered over the walls as if someone had spilled a vat of acid. Trash, clothing, really any manner of things were littered among the floor so thickly that the carpet beneath (as least he thought maybe there was carpet) hadn't been spotted for years. There was also the distinct smell of something dead and decomposed floating out from one of the back rooms, thought that could be anything from rotten food to a dead animal... If walls, indeed, could talk, this one would likley beg to be set aflame and cleansed from ever having existed in such an abysmal state. Zetsu locked all that was dark and strange and disturbing, but this was just... pitiful.

"What? So you think I'm gonna fucking smoke you out for free after you just disappear for nearly a year?! Friends don't do that shit to each other man!"

"...It's been a month you bludgering idiot." Sasori sighed, uncrossing his arms to turn and wonder into the kitchen. "And you didn't know he was gone until last week after insulting him for two hours and not getting any response."

"No, It's been a fucking year, Fire-crotch. I haven't seen Kuro in a motherfucking year."

Sasori returned only gave him a blank stare, Hidan returned it for a few heartbeats before the red-head turned stiffly to Zetsu. "His mental condition hasn't improved much in your or anyone's absence." Then returned to the wrecked Kitchen.

Zetsu snorted, the smallest bit of teeth flashing from the semi-creepy grin he attempted to give his poor, confused acquaintance." Stupidity is not technically referred to as a 'condition'. Though it would make far more sense in society if it were."

"YOU'RE DEAD TO ME YOU FUCKING BROCCOLI! Get out of my house before I feed you to a fucking gerbil!" Hidan shouted up to the ceiling, waving his hands around as he tried in futility to rock himself off his back, making Zetsu think for a moment of a drunken turtle.

He felt the small crook of his lips again as he turned in boredom to glance around the building. It looked slightly more full of trash than he remembered it usually being, but hell if he even remembered correctly, as half-lucid as he'd been for the past month, but aside from that it was all the same.

Everything was the same. Sasori and his bland but pleasant disinterest in anything at all that didn't involve weed, his beat-up station wagon that was years past being on it's last leg, Hidan's erratic and rebellious attitude toward any living thing in the immediate area... Even his own house was the same emotionless void he'd left it in. The same, always, whether he left for a week or month or year or eternity. He could return to this little niche, forgotten from the general progression of humanity, and here would be his 'friends' and their houses and possessions, safeguarded somehow against time though everything within touch seemed to be on the very verge of failure or death.

It wasn't dissapointing really, men who lived useless and moderatly depressing lives like they did rarely ever changed until they either were forced to or died. So it was basically nothing more than an observation. Logic that his mind produced that he'd never bothered to argue with. Seems legit, other's would say, with a shrug of disregard. Ignorance at it's finest. Or perhaps more truthfully, denial. Why dig down into the core of any issue at all when one could simply stay on the surface and be spared the mind-altering truths. 'I simply do not care to care.' Zetsu says so often. So much zest for life he harbored within that twig of a body, he did...

"Do you have anything to eat that's not intended for a bloody toddler?!" Sasori snapped from the kitchen, slamming cabinet doors in quick succession as if he might starve in the next five seconds. Re-emerging and coming to repeat his previous stance in his previous spot holding a can of some off-brand instant ravioli. "Honestly... I'm assuming that pimp of yours hasn't checked in on you recently."

"Kuzu is not my pimp... You shit... eater." Hidan un-entergetically and somewhat breathlessly corrected.

"You have sex with people for money and give it to him, you nob. That constitutes him as a pimp, and you as his prostitute." Sasori explained to him in what sounded like a rehearsed pattern, examining the can in his hands as he did so before looking up at Zetsu with an eye-roll. "We go through this every time, I don't know why he insists on defending his dignity as if he's even got any left."

"Oooh my God who left the door opennn..." Hidan groaned, suddenly falling still with an arm draped over his eyes.

Sasori and Zetsu exchanged emotionless glances.

"There's way too much air in here. I can't fucking breathe..."

The redhead let out a long sigh and started moving again, going to stand beside the broken table where Hidan was seconds from becoming unconcious, drawing back his arm and laying a slap across the pale face that made Zetsu flinch away and hiss in a breath in a show of faux sympathy. It wasn't brutality, not in the least. The things Hidan put into his body made physical pain so much of a joke that at any random point the man might even find it pleasureable. That abuse had likley felt like nothing more than a fly landing for a fleeting second and taking off again. "Wake up you twit. Our friend has returned after all this time and wants to have a go with Mary. Show some damn loyalty." Sasori calmly stated afterward.

The assaulted body was on his feet in two seconds and before anyone could comprehend the situation he had snatched Zetsu by the shirt and shoved him back against the wall, stepping forward until their chests pressed together and they were practically sharing breath.

"Fuck you and your loyalty." Hidan growled, assumingly to Sasori but glaring darkly into Zetsu's almond-brown eyes. "All of us are fucking crazy here, what gives you the right to go on a fucking vacation?"

Behind them, Sasori rolled his eyes. Zetsu felt much like doing the same, despite the very small part of him that was amused by the fact that he almost appreciated the random normality of the situation. Indeed, when locked in a place so void of any emotion at all, witnessing it with the intensity that Hidan radiated after escaping was like a 'welcome home' party.

"Every fucking day trapped in this goddamn hell hole and you think you're special for some fucking reason..." Hidan went on, his voice dark and thick but his eyes focused, fiery with anger that was both envious and understanding. "You just can't let it fucking go can you? Beg for death or insanity, whichever comes first. Then you fucking get it, and you just can't let it go."

"Hidan..." Sasori interrupted as the two had their eyes locked, Hidan seeming as if searching, waiting for some realization. Zetsu only stareing back in controlled, calm, amusement. For the very briefest of moments, it sounded almost as if there were a warning floating around in the air, but the puce-haired man's desire to pay attention was so lacking that in the next instant it was already gone and forgotten.

Zetsu sighed finally and extended his leg slowly, wrapped it around Hidan's ankle, and then shoved him. He landed hard on his ass with the usual protests, but the 'broccoli' only looked down at him as if he were fondly watching a puppy chase it's tail. Sasori's ugly frown indicated he was resisting laughter, as any forced form of emotion usually meant he was feeling the opposite and over-compensating.

Hidan blinked a few times, looked up at the man who'd just dropped him as if he'd only now realized he was here, and grinned. "Fuck it. Kuro... Let's light this bitch up!"

.

This is the general reaction he was greeted with throughout the rest of the day, though all of the following had been much more controlled and included far less physical or even vocal violence. Not a single one of his 'friends' made much effort to seem pleased that he was back, aside from a 'Welcome back' here and a 'Hn.' there, which was a good thing. He hadn't expected them to miss him, and he hadn't missed any of them. But... it was comforting to be back, warm welcome or not. Perhaps he had issues, but anyone even a quarter within their right mind would be somehwat grateful to escape that aweful place he'd been.

It was just the three of them for hours, saying very little to one another, light conversation at it's very lightest. At one point Zetsu finally noticed the underlying density in the air that fluxed when Hidan had brief moments of clarity and exchanged words with Sasori. The two had always had this sort of mutual disdain for each other that at some points even went as far as to resemble sexual tension. They seemed to peg themselves as so very opposite that occasionally it was as if they were each studying each other, interested in how the other person could possibly feel and think the way they did.

With quite a bit of confidence though, Zetsu knew that this was possibley just his strange mind making something out of nothing for the sake of entertainment. Hidan quite boldly stated that he'd fuck anything with a pulse, but in his own insane way everyone who'd ever seen the two together knew that he had an unhealthy obsession with Kakuzu, who in return was either smart enough or heartless enough not to ever let even so much as a sliver of a hint leak that they were involved when around anyone else. And perhaps they weren't even, any outcome or theory was belivable with a Hidan thrown into the equasion.

Finally the clock read just after two in the afternoon, at which point a blonde came strolling through the door, tailed by black-haired teen that looked as if he might actually be a vampire. Deidara Iwa and Itachi Uchiha, he recalled, having joined the group only just recently after joining Kakuzu Hoku's 'enterprise' as 'employee's'. Two boys with the same lack of zeal for life that were reeled in by Kakuzu's promises; company and connections, drugs and the bare necessesities provided for them all for the mere price of their bodies, with a possible side affect of plummeting mental health. Then again, a person couldn't be all that stable to begin with if they were interested enough in someone with Kakuzu's appearance and aura to actually risk speaking with him...

Sasori's phone began buzzing almost constantly with his 'clients' no more than half an hour after that, and with a swear,he excused himself to go 'deal with them'. And then a few hours were spent slowly as the newcomer Deidara- who's quirk was his unfathomable passion for anything and everything that included fire- explained his morning of trying desperatly to resist setting this particularly dry-looking building ablaze with the flint-lighter he pickpocketed, and then burning whatever random bits of trash were within his reach in one of Hidan's glass ash-trays, which was actually quite a bit of miscellaneous, flammable objects, and such meant this might go on for hours.

Itachi remained mainly silent, as he usually did, but not once until he left did he let the pipe, casually passed around the room between the three of them (Hidan had retired to bed about two hours after sunrise.) leave his sight. Itachi's quirk... well, Zetsu supposed in all fairness it was actually rather tragic and shouldn't be brushed off as some tweak in the boy's personality... Itachi's situation fell into the familial abuse category. As far as Itachi as a person went, Zetsu wasn't all that familiar with him, as he rarely spoke and when he did it was in such a way that it could quite literally be interpereted into just about anything you wanted it to be. In fact the group had often had discussions (Loud and obnoxious arguements) about the raven-haired teen vampire and the inner-workings of his mind, and even while he was sitting right next to them, no less. He still hadn't uttered a word in either defense or support. Despite it all Zetsu thought him very interesting, and the dark, twisted part of him sparked for a heartbeat when he'd walked in at the fact that the teen was still around, though he was confused for a moment as to why he'd think he wouldn't be. It was quickly pushed from his mind though, as with dissapointment he realized that the man didn't speak and therefore it was very close to impossible to get any sort of read on him as a person aside from everyone else's judgements and deductions unless he went out of his way to become personal friends with the younger man. Zetsu had a very strict policy against putting effort into making friends, seeing as he ran so short of affection these days...

Deidara, on the other hand, rarely stopped talking. It was rather easy to get a read on him, just from a mere glance, no less. It had absoloutly nothing to do with the piercing blonde of his hair or the dark and dull glint in his blue eyes. Deidara was a kindred spirit to all of them, with a morbidity and darkness to him that he embraced and enjoyed without reluctance or restraint, which set him apart from the normal, healthy humans that opposed and rejected things deemed 'inappropriate'. Though he was still a teenager and still in the teenager mindset, which offered the irrational sense that he and his thoughts and desires alone were the single most important and interesting thing on the planet. There simply was no time for him to sit and listen to someone elses's opinions, even if he should sit there for hours and remain silent. 'In one ear and out the other,' as they say.

"Would you just l-look at it? I can't understand how the hell you p-people can't fathom the sheer beauty of this fucking element!" He said, staring at the soda bottle burning away in front of him with giant eyes and a demented grin. Another quirk was his stutter, made worse when he was excited or angry, which was 75 percent of the time. "I swear, Satan has no idea what he's in for when he t-takes me."

Zetsu regarded him with only the barest of smirks on an otherwise expressionless face. "It's often stated that the lowest levels of hell are more similar to an arctic wasteland than an inferno. You, Deidara, would probably be placed on the 7th level, reserved for those who regularly partake in acts of violence."

"Hah. Don't start with that religious b-bullshit. You'll have Hidan come racing out here, Fuck knows I c-can't stand his company half the time."

Because you are so terribley similar. His smirk didn't falter at the thought. There were, in his opinion, two broad divisions of people. Every being possessed the ability to be intelligent, also in his opinion. The seperation existed, in his own hypothesis, in the knowing or even unknowing ability to know this and indulge in it. And from there on there were hundreds and hundreds of sub-divisions to further organize each and every type of person. For example, he and Sasori would be in the original category where the ability to be intelligent is embraced. Deidara and Hidan, while still fully capable of deep thought, would be in the second; Able to do so, but much more apt to act purely of emotion than intelligence. 'Ignorance is bliss' they also say. Zetsu finds this to be quite true.

"You are burning his property currently." He replied with no amount of emotion for the fact that he was only pointing out the obvious.

Deidara, acting true to Zetsu's judgement of him, somehow found the nonexistant emotion of this and adjusted accordingly with defensive sarcasm. "Oh please. I'm disposing of his t-trash. It's a damn f-favor if anything."

Itachi suddenly sat forward, studying Zetsu with an intensity that made it very hard to hold the mans gaze with feigned nonchalance. Here, in the moments when the boy spoke, it seemed to him that perhaps Itachi Uchiha was not lumped in the intelligent quota, but perhaps more a slave to the emotional. "There are three inner levels to the seventh level of hell..." He said quietly. "The middle one being violence against oneself. Suicide." The blank look that smothered every inch of his face except for his eyes, which were alight with a mixture of some emotion Zetsu couldn't quite name, had his heart beating just slightly faster. Or perhaps... he was very well within his own category, able to switch back and forth on a whim. So intelligent and so aware that he could intentionally choose not to be.

A long silence filled the room as the unspoken accusation floated between the two. Zetsu absently searched his mind, fogged with the influence of Marijuana, for some sort of retort. Unable to find anything mainly for a lack of energy and simply not much careing for the Uchiha's opinion, despite his interest. Zetsu's emotions, he often rationalized to himself, were more like artifacts in a museum. 'Oh, look, there's anger. That one is ugly. Let's look at this one. Affection. Oh, looks at if it requires so much energy. On to the next...' This, he supposed, was probably more due to disassociation, for lack of a better word. For those who don't understand from that, he could dumb it down to simply say his 'insanity', as he's been deemed several time. Perhaps, socio-path, but without the malice. He did not choose not to feel emotion the way other's did, he simply did not know how on 99.9999 percent of occasions.

"Psh, It-tachi, we're all fucking going to hell. Don't start getting f-fucking presumputous like that after never f-fucking saying anything, ever."

Itachi finally broke his stare to lean back in his seat, looking over to Deidara as if nothing on interest had just occurred as the blonde continued. "And besides, you'd go to the s-same damn place. Cutting is a sub-category of suicide, and it's the very f-fucking definition of self-harm."

Attacking the emotions. Zetsu thought, by stating facts... interesting. Whether it be the effects of the drugs or just his own personality changing with his mood, he didn't know. He felt himself still stuck in that half-smirk though, not sure of why.

Itachi replied with nothing more than his usual 'hn' and lifted the pipe to his lips again, flicking the lighter and mentally distancing himself once again from the conversation. One moment he acts on emotion, the next he disregards. Uchiha's are so very interesting...

He blinked himself from that thought, genuineley confused for a moment at that specific thought, then confused as to why he was confused. For a millionth of a second he felt a clarity that caused a glorious pain to tingle in his darkest parts, as if he had just stumbled across some unimaginable secret that he had unknowingly been searching for, before he was distracted completley, and even the memory of the memory was wiped from history, never to have existed.

"So anyway, K-Kuro." Deidara went on, waving his hands. "Have you gone to see the Ame's yet? Some crazy shit's happened between those three since you been g-gone."

"I haven't." He replied simply, reaching to receive the pipe from Itachi when it was extended to him. "Do tell, though."

The Ame's were all siblings, each of which had the tendancy to come and go from the haphazard little group as they pleased in order to adventure with different social circles or just to do nothing at all. They always ended up coming back though, for the drug connection if nothing else. The oldest of them was Konan, the only woman who regularly associated with the group. Aside from being a major tom-boy with the habit of transforming into a raging bitch, her quirk had yet to be figured out just yet by Zetsu. She was kind of a slut, or at least made herself out to be, despite the fact that she continually shot down Kakuzu's efforts to induct her into his ring of sex-trafficing.

Her two brothers, Yahiko and Nagato, fraternal twins, were sexual deviants who rejected any sort of prolonged friendship with anyone besides each other. They had a superiority complex that was completley unbased, in most of the groups opinion, and despite their rediculous amount of sexual encounters with just about every soul in town willing to experiment with them, had yet to say a kind word about anyone aside from each other. Before being admitted to the mental facility he'd been trapped in for so long, there had been a bet going to see how long the brothers would keep denying their incestual relationship with each other. 'Antisocial personality disorder', they were unprofessionally diagnosed with. It wasn't so uncommon in identical twins, who understood each other on a far deeper level than any other human being could. No one else could ever live up to the standards that the twin held. Though, it was far more unusual for them to develop a sexual relations, at least as far as recorded data went...

"Well, you know how Konan and K-Kisame were having that f-fling that they thought no one else fucking knew ab-bout? Well somewhere in there I g-guess he started beating on her. The twins j-joined up to try and knock the s-shit out of him, but of c-course you know he fucking owned both of them. They were in the ho-hospital for awhile which of course got the whole f-fucking situation out on the town. " He paused in his story long enough to grab the pipe from Zetsu, inhaling from it and holding his breath for nearly a full minute before exhaling a large puff of smoke.

"Anyway, K-Konan's a fucking meth-head now, or heroine, or fucking c-crack I don't fucking know. Some k-kind of hard-core fucking drug, s-so g-goes the rumor. That religious nutjob could probably f-fucking tell you. Though p-personally I think she's been doing it ever since she f-found out her brother's were f-fucking. I mean, you know she had to fucking suspect, that bitch is a l-lot of things but stupid isn't one of them. "

"Kisame is not a brute..." Itachi suddenly said, so softly that it almost sounded like more of a sigh.

The two both jerked at this, Deidara to give him incredulous look, and Zetsu to twitch up a questioning brow for a moment, then gave each other the same look, before again turning back to the vampiristic teen. "Are you f-fucking blind Uchiha? He's fucking worse than K-Kakuzu!"

"I don't believe you..." He said back, unwavering, though just as meek as the last statement. "That's not who he really is. He's just afraid to show it..."

Again the eldest of the three found himself staring in interest at the suddenly uncomposed teen. Perhaps it didn't come to a matter of being able to choose between emotion and logic. He still remained in a category all to himself, a slave to both. Two demons holding strings that both attached to him, fighting for control. Understanding that things simply are the way they are, strong and satisfied with the acceptance that the world is dirty and rotten, but also slave to the idea that there is also still hope for the clean.

Perhaps that, or even more masochistic than the lot of them combined, unknowingly aware and still striving to cause himself pain, perhaps only to assure himself that he could...

Puzzles, puzzles. Zetsu thought to himself, amused for the fact that this amused him so. The Uchiha would crumble, as the rest of them had, as he already was. But here, still in the process, they all got to watch. The gray and the bleak would smother him too, he would grow to accept it, and just as sthe rest would, could, did, and will repeatedly, he would stop careing to care.

Deidara rolled his eyes before reaching across the small space to give Zetsu a nudge and tip his head toward the now sullen Uchiha. "He c-came out of the closet finally, He's got that bastard in his sights. I'm guessing it's the daddy-issues. Thinks he can change him or some s-shit."

Only alive admist misery. Careing is his quirk. Destroying himself by invitation. Zetsu decided suddenly, shrugging and leaning back in his seat before lifting his hands into a stretch. Perhaps not as interesting as he'd thought. It was only a new kind of darkness, camouflaged in light. Interesting, but then again, he couldn't care any further. Everything was black. He'd almost forgotten.

Kisame's quirk was, as might be assumed, he was an angry, violent, testosterone-heavy bastard. In secrecy, he thought maybe Itachi's declarations might be somewhere near the truth. Someone that ruthless was obviously making up for something, but as for means of providing proof of such a statement, there was none. The feelings on the subject were pretty well equally devided among all of them. He's simply mean, mean is his quirk. He has reason to be mean, no, he's damaged. he likes the anger, sadistic, evil, he's mean to feel, he's mean to test you. All number of reasons, as much of a mystery as any of the others. Excruciatingly clear to Zetsu and yet, he didn't care too much. The man was mean, it didn't cause fear or dislike in him. He was mean like Zetsu was uncareing, like Deidara was selfish, like Kakuzu was greedy and Hidan was unstable.

The man has a vascular medical condition in which, as Zetsu understands it, (which isn't an easy thing to do because the man doesn't possess enough intelligence to explain it thoroughly) his arteries are half the size they should be, which results in terrible circulation and bloodflow. In response to this problem the man's non-pulmonary veins have become engorged, which, along with lack of proper oxygenation, has given his skin the tendancy to turn a shade of grayish-blue from time to time. This of course got the man noticed quite often, so it would make sense that he would have to become aggressive and strong to secure a place in the world when in all instances the man really should be humbled and frail from such a burdon. It made sense, and yet could be argued at any point. Zetsu was not one for philosophy, as that required a passion and zest that had already been established as practically nonexistant. The others could argue, he could make his own thoughts, but the interest had left long ago, held for even less of an instant that had been possessed by Itachi.

All in all, when he was actually calm, he wasn't such a bad guy. The entire problem was just getting the man to remain calm. He had this near infuriating tendancy to take everything as an insult to his person, even things that in no way or shape even remotely resembled an insult. The theory of steroid use by the man had long been generally accepted into the group, no more proof neccessary than his behavior, even though it made no medical sense for the man to survive using any kind of narcotic having the illness that he did.

Zetsu Kuru's associates were of course not the brightest crayons in the box, as hard as some of them tried to pretend. A terrible side effect of being human, he liked to believe, as inhuman, or perhaps, sub-human as they all were. Still doomed to rationlize when the rationality was gone, though they knew it to be gone. It was just how things were, dark and dreary, sense making or no. Perhaps Zetsu was a lone soul in his ability to accept the fact, perhaps he was far more insane than the rest. He liked it, because it made sense; nothing made sense, even when it did.

"He's a gentle soul at heart..." Itachi persisted, wringing his hands. "His family brought him up to think that kindness makes you weak, and he was bullied in school for his condition. He told me... He hates himself for acting the way he does... he just doesn't know what else to do now that it's become who he is."

Zetsu raised a brow to feign interest. Dissatisfied, suddenly, with the Uchiha. Puzzleing indeed, because the puzzle was so bland. Expectations built up with paintings of a masterpiece, only for it to be put together with the drawing of a kindergartener. Idiotically simple in it's unco-ordinated complexity. Chaotic rationality. He was used to this, he was bored with this. His own mind was so similarly seperate. Oceans and oceans of untapped thoughts swelling and crashing like tides in such a jumbled mess that any sort of correlation could be made between. Like looking at an ink blot, one person saw a bat, the other saw a butterfly, both unmistakeabley so.

"Don't be f-fucking stupid Itachi!" Deidara all but shouted. "God, I could really beat the shit out of you just for believing all that crap. You really must be blind to b-be so fucking enamored with s-someone like him."

The puce-haired man officially dismissed himself from the conversation at this. Normally he never felt much adversity toward listening to his 'friends' bicker back and forth, or scream, depending on who's company he was keeping... But in this circumstance, fatique was starting to catch up to him, made him less patient, unable to hold the interest, the disassociation to watch reality. He felt... sane... with lack of sleep. Human. And quite frankly it didn't suit him. He'd only been up for 48 hours straight, after all. Insomnia was more Sasori's thing, he didn't enjoy it, and thusly didn't normally encourage or embrace it.

A quick glance to his phone showed it to be just after 6, and he smiled to himself. There was one more person he needed to see, pretty well the only person he actually considered a friend, if not a close friend at that. only single entity that could make him care just enough to care just enough. Affection, incomprehensible to him, that flowed so slightly on it's own, the slight movement of a still portrait, look away, swear something moved, look again and it's the same, but new, because it just might have changed.

So he stretched again, took one more hit from the pipe as it passed his way, and then pushed from his seat. "So... Where would Tobi likley be at this hour?"

For a moment the two teens only stared up at him as if he were speaking nonsense. Then Deidara's eyes shrunk to a normal size and he turned to look at Itachi, who shrugged. For whatever reason anyone would find this curious, Zetsu did not. The unexpected was expected, even when not. Because life was gray and bleak, always the same, even when not, and he just didn't care to care.

"No Id-dea, Kuru..." The blonde finally answered in a way that was almost as if it was more of a question than a reply.

Zetsu clicked his tongue and popped his knuckles. "That Idiot needs to get a damn phone. It's the twenty-first century after all..." He muttered before turning around with no more of a goodbye than a brief wave, and left the destroyed dwelling.

...

Indeed it didn't seem as though much had changed at all, despite Deidara's belief that they had. Those two hadn't gotten far past intruductions by the time he'd been incarcerated in a prison far worse than jail. This was all new to them, therefore they considered 'change' as anything even slightly different than it used to be, whereas the veteran members, such as himself, considered change to be nothing less than someone dying, moving away, or 'turning over a new leaf', in that specific order.

Like he'd said, people like them really didn't change until they were forced to or died. Always the same, even if not. Because that was life, that was the world, the way things were. Everything was black. Grey, dreary, dull, chaotic, and shifting, but black.

Despite the lack of interesting surroundings, Zetsu Kuru was glad to be back, even if he'd never admit it aloud. After all, anything at all was preferrable to the monotonous hell of a psyche ward.

It took nearly an hour to hike back to his house, he'd had to walk of course, seeing as Sasori had so kindly left him stranded there and he'd be damned if he was going to ask a couple teenagers to give him a lift. He may be deemed mentally unstable by psychologists, disassociation, emotionless and uncareing, but his humanity remained dignified. He didn't care to care, and yet he was unsatisfied with the situation that had just happened between the two. A sense of dislocation, not that of disassociation, rather the opposite. That he was where he was, and it was unsettling. Confused, and confused by the confusion, further confusion from the confused confusion. And that museum, 'the anger looks ugly' was robbed of the ugly and the theif ran rampant, spilling it in splotches everywhere with dots and splashes of red all amongst the black.

Unacceptable.

And so he retreated silently from himself. Close the windows until the theif was caught, he'd visit the museum tomorrow.

Along the way he'd gotten a text from Sasori that read 'Tomorrow, my place. Mary came home early." And had replied with the all clear. No specific time was given, and it wasn't as if Zetsu had a job any longer, though he probably needed to go looking for one, lest he be reduced to the Red head's brand of work again. It was tempting, seeing as being a dealer meant no getting up early, no dealing with annoying co-workers or employers. You get your money instantly and it meant you constantly had your own hook-up. He thought though that the stresses of such a job were probably something he should avoid, as he really didn't want to end up in a mental hospital again with short-term amnesia. And the alternative wasn't all that pretty either...

So, no, he decided there and then that he'd try another road. Men that lead lives like them rarely changed until they were forced too. Surely, no one was holding a gun to his head demanding he make such decisions, but it seemed pretty clear that something had to be changed after all... maybe...

Now was just the fact of actually changing. He supposed it would be made clearer tomorrow. Until then, such thoughts were best left to fend for themselves. Because he didn't care to care. But perhaps he would tomorrow. Black, black, black, when everything was black.

After a second shower to wash off the terrible reek of Hidan's residence that had sunk into his clothes and hair, he searched through a few of his hiding places, hoping desperatley that he could find at least one, or hell, even half of one cigarette, as he'd been so caught up in that touching reunion that he'd completley forgotten to get a few from either Sasori or Hidan. He hadn't had a dose of nicotene since leaving the facility, and that was in the form of that repulsive gum.

Really, the people who swore to the Gods that 'You'll never know the difference!' Were the biggest trash of all society.

He let out a satisfied half-groan when he came across a box of Marlboro* reds, and then gave an actual moan-turned-laugh when he opened it and found it half-full. Shortly following the search for a lighter, he was settled in his recliner in his darkened livingroom (thanks to light-canceling curtians), staring at at television that wasn't turned on, as he currently didn't have power, nor cable after not paying the bills due to his situation, and thinking about nothing and everything in particular.

We live in a mind like this one,
Broken beyond repair.
And the only way to cope and live,
is to forget that we were there.

The dark is not dark in the darkness.

Despite the absolute quiet of the house, he didn't even bat an eye when a hand was suddenly placed on his shoulder. Instead he only grinned, still staring at the blank T.V.

"I wondered if I'd have to track you down..." He said, robbed again of the affection, dripping and leaking across the dull and dreary but in a way much more controlled and suitable to him. A smile and smirk would be foreign at any other point in time with any other person, but he didn't notice now. It was natural, irrational, but he accepted because that's just how it was. This is reality and that's just fine. Not all confusion was confusing.

The hand gave him a slight squeeze before a figure sauntered around the front of the chair and plopped itself down onto the couch. "I heard you were here hours ago, I've been waiting for you to come home."

"I figured, unless you've somehow become the ultimate ninja and can break a window without the slightest hint of sound." He took a particularly deep drag of the cigarette, letting the breath out in a content sigh as he melted down into the seats. "You do realize there are only so many other places I would be when I'm not home. Wouldn't have taken you any time at all to find me."

There was a very small stretch of silence, and Zetsu finally tore his gaze from the black box to look at his closest friend, eyes immediatly alighting on the decorative piece meant to hang on walls(as far as Zettie was concerned) concealing the man's features. "They would be much more inclined to accept you if you'd just show them your face, you know."

Tobi reached up to gently run his fingertips over the orange and black swirls of his mask. "I don't wish them to accept me. I care nothing for their feelings toward me. If I don't absoloutly have to be in their presence, I'd rather not."

Zetsu breathed a laugh. "Anti-socials gotta stick together, don't we?"

"That statement is a contradiction." Tobi said in an almost annoyed tone, then continueing in one far more light-hearted. "Then again, the entire world is a contradiction. Nothing makes sense, does it?"

Black, black, black. Beautiful and black. Tobi understood, Tobi has always understood. He did not care to care, except that he cared when they could feel. It makes sense because it doesn't, there is no logic in this place and that's what makes it so predictable. Always the same, because it never is. He understands, he understands. He is black, and the world is dull and grey and he doesn't care to care because that's just how it is.

"It makes a lot more sense now that I don't have people constantly telling me that it doesn't." He growled, lifting the cigarette to his lips again. "I agree that it doesn't, of course it doesn't. But they argue and argue as if I'm telling them otherwise. Imbeciles and trash... "

"It's certianly good to have you back. It felt like years..."

Dark is dark and light is light.
Black is black and white is white.

Illogical logic. Because dark and black are bad and ugly. It's not, they don't understand. They don't understand, even those who came close to understanding could understand, kindred sprirts with quirks and abnormalities, those that weren't quite human, or less than human. His 'friends' who are friends but only for lack of an easier word to explain, alike but so different, together and yet so terribley fucking alone. Black and dark are not bad, when bad is never more than a word or thought or opinion. Zetsu likes the black, and he likes the dark. Twisted and creepy but this is normal, this is average, because he didn't care to label it otherwise. That was the world, and that is okay.

Tobi does though. Tobi is all that there is to offer. All the acceptance and logic and 'normality' in the world are there. Because who fucking cares? Not Zetsu, and not Tobi. They know, though they don't, though they do.

"I missed you too, Tobi..." He let out the smoke, eyes flicking to the ceiling to stare in thought, squinting as a particular one snaked it's way into his head. "What... happened? Before I went?"

Tobi only stared back at him in silence, the entirety of his face hidden beneath the strange mask, save for one eye, which was a charcoal color anyway, and blended into the darkness. Zetsu wasn't uncomfortable though, Everyone he knew was strange, they all had their quirks. Tobi's was just generally being an ominous wierdo. He was just as harmless as any of the others, excluding Kisame and maybe Kakuzu, of course. Normal and natural and black as sin. But is sin a sin or is the rejection of sin?

"I kept asking them, but no one would say anything. 'Why am I here? How did I get here? What happened to me?' All they would ever give is cryptic, non-commital answers, or treat me like some idiot who didn't know what he was saying. 'Why do you think you're here, Kuro? How do you think you got here, Kuro?' I swear if they wouldn't have just kept me there longer I would have torn out their damn throats. Bunch of incompetent fools." He finished the statement by taking an angry drag of the cigarette and then putting it out in much the same manner.

The damned theif was loose, still loose and spilling the anger and ugly. he didn't like it, it was unacceptable. He stole them. He stole them all, and as they sloshed and splashed they painted the black in a picture and the picture made him feel confused and the confusion was confusing because the world was the way it is and that should be okay but suddenly it was not. Suddenly something was wrong, and not wrong in a manner of speaking, not wrong in the way it might be portrayed by any sub-human, not wrong as perceived by the perceiver but actually and literally wrong.

"You killed yourself." Tobi said. But Zetsu did not take this literally, because it was so obviously figurative. Everything and anything can be left to relitivity, but even the most insane of the insane can tell you that there is real and not real and some things are undeniabley not real. This was reality, he was alive here and Tobi was being funny, hilariously so because he was blatantly making fun of those who did not understand, but Zetsu understood because he understood Tobi just as Tobi understood him.

He smiled at Tobi and with something close to an audible click inside his head, it was all pure black again.

Zetsu remained silent, resenting the humiliation and shame but thinking it silly and humerous at the same time. "I just can't figure why I'd do that. I don't understand. That's what I keep hearing, 'Zettie tried to kill himself'. It's like I can hear what they're thinking..." He paused to run his hands through his still-wet hair, touseling it in an frustrated manner. "I'm not fucking crazy though. Not any moreso than any of them."

"I've always thought you were far more intelligent, if anything." Tobi added.

"So what the fuck happened to me? Do you think I was drugged? Maybe Hidan accidentally gave me PCP or LCD or something instead of weed?"

"Disassociation." Tobi stated, his voice indicating that he was looking at his friend in a mixture of sympathy and amusement. "Sometimes starts to feel like dislocation."

Zetsu only spent a few more moments in silence, thinking it over. Everything was okay again. His house was quiet and soft with age and the smell of emptyness. The very air full of the comfort of wisdom and pain, of seeing and knowing many many things. It was disgusting and collapsing, infesting and rotten, but it was warm and welcoming because that was his quirk. He was creepy and dark and macabe, and there was no 'crazy' in that. It was just him. It was the way things were, and that was acceptable. Then with a grunt he shrugged it away. "S'pose it doesn't matter now. As long as I'm out."

"It's certianly good to have you back." Tobi said again.

There was a very long silence between them again as the two just stared back and forth between each other, enjoying the company without the pesky interferance of words. This is what true friendship was, to the puce-hair. It didn't revolve around how often one 'hung out' with the other, what they did together, number of similarities between them. As he'd said, it was a matter of acceptance. Not just acceptance as a person, acceptance of everything, even the lasting silences. That he could just sit here with Tobi and feel so at ease, enjoy his time together without having to fill it with drugs or conversation. Not feeling the pressure to know what the other was thinking, or feeling. And just being okay.

Yes, 'the group' might be dear acquantiances, even Sasori himself might be closer to him than the others. But Zetsu had a very particular way of seeing things, just as his residence had not become a 'home' until only recently, this masked man before him was the only person worthy of the title 'friend' in its true and actual meaning.

"There is something I've been meaning to tell you, however." Tobi suddenly continued, as if 15 minutes of absolute silence had not occurred. Zetsu only quirked a brow in question, resisting the urge to light another cigarrette. He only had 9 left now, after all.

"Someone has filtched your identity on the web."

It took a moment for this to even register with the still-stoned man slumped in the recliner, basking in the peace of the acceptance of the world again. Understanding that he understood because he didn't. "...What? Who?"

"I do not know who. I haven't been sure what to make of it, I cannot decode as to whether they are trying to mock you or not."

His face twisted momentarily in confusion and thought alike before he impulsivley lit up another smoke, needing something to do with his hands while he pondered this. How could someone be stealing his identity on the internet? He never even went on the internet, the most he had was a damn email account, and that was only because Sasori had set it up for him so he could join the world of social networking, which he'd never done, because who the fuck cares about some random person halfway around the world?

Tobi took the silence as a gesture to continue, as intended. He understands, he always understands. "I have not engaged this person as I haven't decrypted their plans or means. They often claim to be stuck in a mental re-habilitation center, unable to remember why or how they got here."

"Sure sounds like mocking to me." Zetsu all but growled, taking a deep drag. Yes, back in reality, that's where he was. Black is black, thought relitive completley.

"They go by the name Zetsu Shiro, however." Tobi added cautiously.

Another brow quirk. "Well then they're not pretending to be me if they're not using my name." Simple logic. That made sense no matter how you looked at it.

Dark is dark and light is light.
Black is black and white is white.
It is what it is,
it's not what it's not.
But...
We live in a mind like this one,
Broken beyond repair.
And the only way to cope and live,
is to forget that we were there.

The dark is not dark in the darkness.*

Another stretch of silence, as if the masked man were waiting for his friend to come to some conclusion through mere telepathy. "The coincidence is worthy of concern." He finally said, and Zetsu let out a whoosh of breath.

This was true, to an extent. After all, how many people in the world were named Zetsu? And the using of a last name that was a clever opposite of his own? Not to mention the similarity of the situation. Tobi was right, this needed investigated further.

But... not today. Or at least not right now. There was the matter of even finding a computer or means of investigating this, first of all, before anything could even be done. And at the moment, the farthest the exhausted man could see himself putting forth the effort of moving to was the bedroom. He didn't care to care, but Tobi was something else. Tobi understands him like he understands Tobi and Tobi is concerned... Which meant the only rational thing to do was to care. It made sense because it didn't.

He lifted a hand and waved weakly at his friend. "Right. I'm concerned, but we'll check it out later. "

Tobi nodded. "I'll return when you wake."

And suddenly Zetsu found himself in his bedroom, looking out through eyes fuzzy with the lack of strength to focus at his ceiling just before he lost the battle to keep them open. He was swallowed in the black and floating, content, in a manner of seconds and with certianty he thought to himself;

Now I am going to dream.

-o-

A/N-

Marlboro* A real brand of cigarettes. Don't own.

* The poem is not a quote, That is something I did. If it is a quote it will specify there and then.

Don't own Naruto characters either.

Kuro means black, Shiro means white. For those of you who didn't know.