A/N - And...here's the third chapter. A shout out to Update Zombie, for being my first reviewer ever! Thanks SO much for your support, it means a lot to me. :)

Chapter Three – Fleeting Remorse

Deidara had never been to an actual coffee shop in his life. It was warm like the bar, though not in the same way. This was the comforting warmth of sun steaming through plaid curtains, coffee smoke rising from small plastic cups, and smooth chocolate woodwork decorating the booths and counter. The bar was warm in the sense of too much alcohol, lemon and lime spotlights, and the sweaty bodies of those around you.

Deidara much preferred the coffee shop.

His bag was lying next to him on the floor, crusted over with dried paint; like his shirt, scratching against his bare skin. Over it, he wore a grey hoodie – one that he had recognized immediately. It belonged to Tora, the leader of Katsu, and it had just been lying there; across the street from the burned down convenience store. He had taken it as more of a tribute than anything else…the murderer had killed his sister, and until he killed him in return, he would not stop wearing the cursed thing. Plus, the winter night had been cold. After he had kneeled in the dust and ash for what felt like an eternity, he had stood up and just…walked. He had circled around the now non-existent building, for no good reason really. Then he had gone across the street, found the hoodie and stopped. That was where the first and last and only tear had fallen, right onto the soft grey material. He had picked it up and put it on, retrieved his bag, and kept right on walking.

He hadn't stopped until he reached the border between the upper class neighborhoods and the downtown district and found a little twenty-four hour coffee shop. Ino had liked coffee, though they could never afford it.

Now Deidara sat passed out in a booth near the back as the sun came up, lighting his golden hair on fire. His head lay across his arms, hiding his closed eyes and pale face. A drained cup that had previously contained cinnamon latte (the cheapest he could afford; old habits were hard to break) sat on the table in front of him, looking as empty as he felt.

When he had sunken into the booth a few hours ago, his mind was completely full of cause and effect questions. It was Katsu, it must have been. Damn it! I knew they were after me, if I had just faced up to it…I should have known they would go for Ino, but I never dreamed they would hurt my sister, MY kid sister, the one they met, the one they LIKED. Why, WHY would they do this? It's all my fault…maybe if I had stayed with her instead of going out to a bar and breaking the law…twice…

Then the sweet, sandy-haired girl had come over and asked if he wanted anything to drink, because he hadn't come up to the counter to order anything. As if in a daze, he had ordered the cinnamon latte before huddling into his new coat, away from the invisible, lurking eyes that he felt sure were watching him. Three hours and a cup of steaming coffee later, his mind had forced him into sleep – and he slept, for what felt like an eternity.

Eventually, he felt someone shaking him awake, and numbly raised his arms from his head, gazing at the girl with bleary eyes. It was the same attendant that he had seen earlier, and she was smiling gently and offering him a pot of thick, creamy coffee. "Seconds?" She asked cheerfully.

Deidara attempted to wave her away. "Can't afford it," He mumbled, glancing at the rising steam with longing.

"Nonsense!" The girl insisted, pouring it into the cup despite his protests. "It's on the house, okay?"

"Sure," Deidara murmured, giving in grudgingly. He didn't often accept charity due to his normally monstrous pride, but hey, it had been a rough night. He took the cup in his cold hand and sipped. Warm, frothy liquid flooded his mouth, bringing with it the rich taste of cinnamon and cream. Then his eyes revolved upward as he found the girl looking at him expectantly. "Err…it's good, un. Really good."

She smiled brightly at him, until he was sure the flash of her teeth would blind him as they reflected the sunlight. Sunlight. Oh, crap. "Anyway, my shift is over, but Konan will look after you, I'm sure. I told her to just leave you be, maybe pop in with a bagel or something in a few – hey, are you all right?"

I'm supposed to be in COURT right now! "Oh, uh, I'm fine! Just peachy!" Deidara stuttered, drawing his bag closer to him. It was definitely a serious crime not to show up in court, but there was no way he could go there and make a solid defense after last night. Someone (Katsu, no doubt) had blown up his house, or burned it, or whatever – but clearly, that group either wanted him dead or warned. Showing his face in public right now was equivalent to blowing up Main Street – it would just scream, "Here I am, doing something stupid, come and get me!"

The girl gave him a tilted grin, and it was clear that by the look in her eyes that she was genuinely concerned. "All right, well listen, if you need any help…" Quickly, she wrote her number on a napkin and handed it to him. "Don't hesitate to give me a call. You know, if you just want to talk…?"

"Uh, sure. Thanks. I'll do that, un." Frankly, Deidara was amazed that she gave her phone number to random strangers off the street. Still, he supposed she seemed pretty capable, so it probably wouldn't be a good idea to get on her bad side.

The girl grinned. Deidara noticed that her dusty blonde hair (recently split into four separate frizzy buns) was now down, and her green eyes sparkled like cut gems. She wasn't exactly beautiful, but she had a sharp look about her that Deidara admired – it reminded him of his sister. "My name's Temari, by the way." She held out her hand.

He shook it. "Deidara." He explained, pointing to himself.

Temari nodded. "Nice to meet you. Now, like I said, I had the night shift, so it's time for me to leave. Konan's already working the counter, just go to her if you have any problems."

Deidara tried not to snort. Any problems. If this girl only knew… "I will. Thanks, un." He added as she turned away.

"No problem." She looked at the coffee pot in her hand before placing it carefully on the table beside him. "I'll just leave this here for you, shall I?"

"That would be nice, hm." As soon as she left, Deidara tore the curtains back from the window and scanned the street up and down, looking for flashing red-and-blue lights or maybe a suspicious hooded fellow across the street. Hell, he was even expecting to find Tora staring back at him, just outside with a loaded shotgun. The blonde gave himself a shake, trying to snap out of it. No one had (hopefully) seen him make his way to the coffee shop in the dark, and the last place they would expect to find him was here. However, if he wanted to stay alive while Katsu was after him, he would have to keep moving – they would blow up the whole of Chicago to catch their target. The only problem left was…he had nowhere else to go.

"Excuse me." Deidara jumped about ten feet into the air as a voice emanated from behind him. He whipped around, only to spot an attractive, slim girl carrying a tray laden with bagels and biscuits. She had a slight frown on her face, and compared to Temari, she looked decidedly suspicious and weary. Her skin was pale (like, vampire pale) her shoulder length hair had been dyed a dark blue color, and she wore pale orange contacts that looked unearthly beautiful. The simple dress-and-apron combo accented her curves nicely, and her figure was tall and graceful. A paper machete flower was tucked behind her ear.

Figures I happen to stumble upon the one coffee shop in Chicago with all the hot chicks. Deidara thought, attempting a weak smile. "Sorry, I thought you were…someone else, hm." He said, by ways of explanation. She didn't relax at all.

"Deidara Aozora?" Her voice was cold. Honestly, she was practically the definition of "avenging angel".

Deidara frowned. How did she know my name? He supposed Temari could have told her on her way out…but he had only told Temari his first name. Something is wrong here…

"You need to come with me."

And everything went black before Deidara had time to make a move. The strange thing was, it appeared the girl had just stood motionless, watching him…like she hadn't even done anything at all.

Deidara had woken up chained to a wall before, but all the other times, he had expected it. This was…different. The room was dim, purposefully grey and dull to confuse the senses. It was all metal and sharp edges, gleaming in harsh florescent lights. The perimeter was small and narrow, but the walls were plain – undecorated. There was nothing remarkable at all about the room whatsoever, which in a way made it even more unnatural.

The blonde slowly came to, with cold steel pressing against his wrists and ankles, so tight that it cut off circulation. His right eye was swelling, he had several cuts dripping blood down his chin, and his hair was matted with dirt; it was as if someone had been beating him while he was unconscious, which didn't make any sense. Immediately, he spat thick mucus onto the floor and blinked, carefully testing the limits of his chains. They were taunt, and barely stretched at all.

"Un…" He muttered, drawling his head up slightly so that he could blink into the cold lighting. "Where the hell…?"

"Aozora, Deidara."

Deidara froze when he heard his own name, then whipped around to peer at the black outline in the shadows. It was funny – there had been no clicking of shoes, no scuffling, no door slamming; nothing at all to suggest the person's presence. They had just…appeared. Normally, Deidara would be able to tell someone's gender based on their voice tones – the result of many people thinking he was a girl until he spoke up. But this person was using some kind of voice scrambler – and old gadget that had gone out of style months ago in the local Fringes. Now, gang members simply used a different voice completely, which was a lot sneakier, considering no one ever knew if they were themselves or the next-door neighbor.

There was something…daunting, about the way the person spoke. It was so calm, collected, and matter-of-fact – a dangerous attitude for a predator to take. "So," The thing (for lack of a better word) said as it moved closer. It didn't step, it just…moved. It was there one moment, and then suddenly it had moved about two inches forward. Deidara half expected it to spout out some random Hollywood line, like "glad you decided to join us," or something. He was disappointed.

"You're him."

"Un, what?" Deidara questioned, shaking his head to clear it of the cobwebs. "Listen buddy, it's way too early for this…"

"It is exactly 4:18 p.m. Eastern Time, Deidara. Please, do not open your mouth again or we shall have a disagreement on our hands – one, I assure you, that can easily be resolved."

Deidara shivered. The way it said his name – so naturally, as if it had known him all his life. He shut up fairly quickly.

"Nice to see you can be compliant when your life is on the line. It is always useful to know how much one's associates fear death." The thing said in the same toneless voice. "Now, then…" It moved forward a couple more inches and leaned towards him, but did not come into the light. "Deidara Aozora, age nineteen on your record but…seventeen, by birth I believe." Deidara looked up, stunned, as the thing continued. "You've been in jail multiple times for minor offenses, most having to do with vandalism; when all the while they should have been fining you for drinking under age. Your sister Inoshima, nicknamed Ino, was your only remaining family apart from your mother who supposedly committed suicide according to police files, when in reality she was pushed off the building against her will. Then, of course, there was a father – classic story of you never knowing him and your mother leaving out the details – but he walked out, not because of financial issues and responsibility defects, but because of some problems with the Board of Directors, something he didn't want to get you involved with. Your house recently burned down; you think it was Katsu, your old Fringe who was out for revenge after you left. Your sister perished in the fire, leaving you homeless and without a family. Does that about sum it up so far?"

"Who…" Deidara licked his dry lips and flung a loose strand of hair from his eye, "Who the hell are you, hm?"

"I'm not from hell, at least you can be certain of that. But be sure that I am on my way."

"Are you going to tell me why you brought me here, un? Or just keep making abstract references to your equivalence with the devil, hm?"

The thing paused before crouching, going into a grotesque shape that looked eerie in the shadows. Then suddenly, it moved; and yet, it didn't move at all. Deidara yelped (a rather unmanly sound) as he suddenly came face-to-face with a man. He was of average build, with vibrant orange hair that was clearly dyed (you could see the brownish roots close to the skull), sticking up in wicked points that appeared sharp as spikes. His pale face was littered with multiple piercings – in his eyebrows, on his forehead, his cheeks, his chin…and his ears were practically made of the stuff. The man's eyes were also "artificial"; his lavender contacts were proof of that, with darker rings spiraling out from the pupil. They had a certain mesmerizing effect. Sure enough, a microphone was attached to the man's earbuds with thin black cords, masking the tone of his voice effectively – not that it made any difference, now that he had decided to reveal himself.

"I am Pein." He hissed, and Deidara was surprised that he had turned the decoder off. His real voice was harsh and cold, with a raspy underlying current.

The blonde's eyes widened when he heard the name. Pein. No, it couldn't be…

'Pein' had once been a title that struck fear in the heart of every Chicago resident, as Sasori's did now. The infamous leader of Night, a small assassination Fringe that had risen quickly through the ranks, catching the Board's attention through their quick strikes and their ability to disappear into the shadows after a kill. In an abstract way, they were like Katsu – they just didn't broadcast themselves to the Board for attention. The thing about Night was – they had never once been publically named as the instigator of a crime. Never once been caught holding the cards. Obviously, they reported all murders to the Board, who had made quite a statement about them. Eventually, their trademark symbol became the black feather of a raven, left at the crime scene.

When it came down to the heart of the matter, there was only one thing Deidara really knew about them: they sure as hell were good at what they did.

Then one day they had just vanished for good. Not a trace of them left on earth. The Board had tried to hush up the incident as much as they could, which told Deidara that they were as perturbed as everyone else regarding the sudden disappearance.

And now here he was, his minty breath clogging up Deidara's senses, his glare boring into him as if burning a hole into his skin. Pein. Staring into the eyes of a cold-blooded killer, the blonde could only think one thing. I really should have written a will.

Pein leaned back, observing Deidara with a fiery gaze that burned through the thin curtain of darkness covering the slim space between them. "Deidara," Again, with that terrifying tone suggesting that this man – this murderer – knew him well enough to address him in so familiar a way. "Have you ever thought of yourself as special?" He slowly walked to the other side of the room as the blonde's attentive eyes followed his every move. The latter blinked once; just once, not willing to lose sight of his possible attacker. It was an odd question, coming from one such as Pein.

"Un? Well, considering I've never done anything remarkable…" He remembered spray paints coming to life on a brick wall. It seemed so long ago. "…as far as others are concerned. I –"

"Answer the question." Pein's voice was so toneless and superficial that it practically sounded non-existent. Which definitely made it dangerous.

Curiously enough, Deidara didn't have that trapped prey feeling he usually obtained within the first few minutes of a trip to the Quad C. There was a strange calm about him that even he himself didn't understand. It was almost as if nothing mattered anymore, that even if he died he wouldn't care in the slightest. There had to be a cause to this odd new reaction… of course. The answer was so obvious that Deidara was sure he would have face palmed himself if he could.

Ino. Ever since his sister perished in the fire, he had done what he always did – his body's way of dealing with shock, and fear, and horrified guilt. He had shut down. You couldn't tell from the outside – no, not one bit; because the one emotion Deidara Aozora would never show was anguish. He would pretend like nothing bothered him for long, because every aspect of life was meant to be fleeting, never remaining for more than a moment. Yet, somehow, Deidara knew that the feelings he would allow himself to feel in this moment would always be there – they would last forever, and in that way, true art was not eternal. Only the bitter things lasted for all eternity. So, he didn't allow himself to feel them; he pretended as if they never existed, and never would. But at the same time…he knew that nothing in his life would matter anymore until he admitted what he was experiencing.

"Deidara," Pein said again, moving closer by a half-step. "Do not evoke my impatience. Answer the question. Have you ever done anything to get you…noticed, in Chicago?"

Deidara frowned, then smirked. "Listen, I might havea participation trophy or two from forced gym classes, and I might have a few art awards. That's it, okay? Not exactly what you're looking for, un."

Pein eyed him, and for the first time a speck of emotion crossed his face. It was contemplative, like he was trying to dissect Deidara's insides with his stare and discover how truthful he was. Finally, he appeared back into the thin slice of light coming from the somewhere above them. "Then how exactly do you explain this?" He held up a thin gray tablet, with an image blaring on the screen. It was a picture of Deidara, in perfect likeness. The blonde felt his stomach flip over, because in the digital photo...he was sitting in a coffee shop. Pein continued, "This image was burning on every screen of the Underworld until 4:30 Eastern Time this morning."

"What…" Deidara swallowed thickly to clear his dry throat, "What's that writing above it, un?"

"It's a code that all Fringe members know."

Now the blonde felt panic growing within him. Fringe members. "What does it mean?"

Pein looked him dead in the eye. "Get Deidara."

A shadow under the hood of a cloak the color of night. That was all you would have seen if you had looked in his direction – the tall, lean figure outlined by the muddy brown wall behind him. He was hunched over, hiding his face from numerous people staggering by (drunk or drugged, no doubt). He ducked away from the blaring lights of casinos and night clubs, moving silently into the deeper darkness of an alleyway. His black eyes scanned the area around him at a ten foot radius. You could never be too careful with your money and – more often – your life, in a place such as this.

This was the Underworld, the "lower level" of Chicago. Built in 2200 by the government for "correctional behavior purposes", it had been hollowed into a large cavern under the city. The only way civilians could access it was through tube-elevators that required a special pass and signed form stating you were not a minor – on pain of death. The purpose of the Underworld was obvious at first glance. They had piled it high with bars, casinos, night clubs, and cigarette stores – anything that would attract the scum of the city, so that the Board of Chicago had somewhere to dump them. The true purpose of the Underworld was harder to find. It was swarming with Fringe gangs; they gathered everywhere, making nests like rats in abandoned theatres and apartment complexes. Every man you passed on the street here could be one, and you'd never know it – until a knife went cleanly through your back.

The man in the cloak crouched low to the ground, his movements swift and fluid; he was barely noticed in the alley, just another patch of darkness.

You will find him outside the Moon Dance Casino.

Now out again, into the blaring lemon-and-peach lights flashing from the nearest drug den. Slipping between sweaty bodies, cutting through smoke-filled air. All part of the routine, the thrill of the chase already flowing through his veins. He could feel the adrenaline level beginning to rise, but forced it down – he needed to save that burst of energy for the right moment. Finally, the Moon Dance Casino came into view, its glow of lavender and silver emanating a strangely calming effect.

Bring him to me.

The man slipped in his contacts, with practiced hands. Suddenly, the colors became brighter, crisper, and he squinted into the thick crowd of people laughing too loudly. Bending his head only slightly, he peered around, a frown forming on his lips. He needed to make this quick…knowing who could come out in the deeper hours of the night. Where was his prey? Surely, Pein hadn't mistaken his location. Pein didn't make mistakes.

A few moments later, the man found his hypothesis proved correct once again. There was his target, leaning casually against the brick wall of the Moon Dance, his arms crossed against his chest. Smirking slightly, the man moved toward him. However, as soon as his target saw him, he started upright and stared like a deer in headlights. Then he bolted.

Alive.

Instantly, the man gave chase, darting after him quickly so as not to lose sight of him. Shoving his way through the wild crowd, he made sure to keep the target in his line of sight. However, the lights, the flashing color spectrum – it cut into his concentration, and frankly, it gave him a headache. Then his target made a fatal mistake, one that caused a smile to ghost momentarily over the man's lips. He ran into an alley. He ran into darkness.

In another instant, the man had his target pressed again the wall roughly, a knife to his throat. The man couldn't help but grin under the black cloth covering his mouth. Of course, it quickly faded when a cut-glass voice echoed from his target's mouth.

"Oi, ya damn Uchiha, it's me!"

The man dubbed "Uchiha" blinked, then sighed quietly. "Hidan." It was a statement, one of resigned disappointment.

"No duh, asshole! I mean, what the…"

The Uchiha released him abruptly, and he fell onto the cold dirt, his head cracking against the wall. It certainly silenced him. "Explain your actions, then. Why were you running from me if Pein hired you? Surely you knew that you would come to no harm."

Hidan scowled forcefully, standing and rubbing his backside. "First of all, Pein didn't 'hire' me. I owe him a damn favor, that's all. And I knew you weren't going to hurt me."

The raven-haired man pulled the cloth from his mouth and frowned. "That does not comply with your recent actions. Why were you running?"

Suddenly, the silver-haired man looked uncomfortable, shuffling his feet and peering around anxiously. "I…kind of got into a bit of trouble, and…let's just say, I thought you were someone else."

"Ah," If there was one thing the Uchiha had learned over his many years of servitude to Fringe gangs, it was this – never ask questions; curiosity often serves no other purpose then getting you killed. And while he would never in his wildest dreams think of breaking that rule in regard to Pein…Hidan was a different story. "So, what did you do this time?"

Hidan glared at him once again, considering shoving him away – then quickly deciding against it. "None of your damn business, Itachi. Just take me to Pein, will you? I'm tired, and he told me I'd have a room when I got here!"

The last part could be considered a whine, and Itachi rubbed his head with another long-suffering sigh. Would these migraines never stop plaguing him?

"ITACHI! Answer me, will you? I swear to Jashin…"

"Shut up, Hidan." Itachi responded, tucking his hand into his pocket. An instant later, he had popped several pills into his mouth.

Hidan raised an eyebrow. "That considered healthy, weasel-boy?"

Normally, Itachi would have slit Hidan's wrists for daring to call him such a name, but tonight he really couldn't be bothered with unnecessary assassinations. And besides – he was feeling generous. He turned, raven-black hair falling loose around him. "Come on, I'll take you to Pein. But you had better keep up, because I will not wait for you."

Scowling once again, Hidan fell into step beside the man as they inched out of the alley and onto the crowded streets. They cut a path through the crowd, the former glancing up at the borderline edges of surrounding clubs and shops. Immediately, he spotted the subtle glint of old fashioned security cameras. The government didn't usually keep a close watch over this place – they never really cared one way or the other what Fringe members did in their free time. It was the outside world that really mattered – the "upstairs". It was the people they killed that mattered – the population rates they lowered. Until then…who cared what they did off the big screen? Who cared how much they fought for drugs and drinks, fought over girlfriends and cigarette packs?

No one gave a damn. And Hidan liked it that way.

"So tell me, Uchiha," He piped up once again, picking up the pace to catch up to his colleague, "How's Night been doing since we got back?"

Itachi barely spared him a sidelong glance. "Isn't that irrelevant to you? You left before we started our murders. Besides, I thought you went off to join a group of…rebels."

"I did, for a while. But," He shrugged, staying surprisingly cool. "I got bored."

Itachi grunted before speeding up, clearly not wanting to talk. Hidan got the point, and wisely slowed down. He hadn't seen Itachi Uchiha for five years now, but he still couldn't forget how he killed – quiet, bloody. Best not to get on his bad side until they got used to each other again.

Itachi led him through numerous twisting passageways and alleys, past abandoned shop fronts and blaring dance theatres. It was as if he had Chicago memorized from top to bottom, through every lonely backstreet and dumpster corner. The city was exactly as Hidan remembered it to be – filthy, wild, out of control. Evil.

"Followed you bastards on the news," Hidan tried again. He didn't want to admit it, but the connection he had felt to Night just wouldn't leave – not even after five years. He…wanted, to be accepted by them again. It was a childish feeling, but then again – Hidan was far from mature. "That TAL talk-show program thingy. Jashin, that woman was annoying. What was her name? Willey? Wanda?"

"Willow Harris."

"She's a bitch."

"Yeah."

Hidan almost laughed. Itachi must have really hated that girl, to talk about her in such a way. "Take it you don't listen to that bullshit anymore, then, do you? Not after…" He abruptly broke off, swallowing a certain tightness in his throat. He threw Itachi (still walking in front of him and apparently not listening) a sidelong glance. "Hey, listen. I heard about…you know, that. I'm…"

"If you are about to apologize, Hidan," Itachi remarked, not breaking stride, "You will be the second person to do so."

"Who was the first?"

"Kisame. Who else?"

"I wasn't going to apologize."

Suddenly Itachi stopped and turned, his whole body stiff and his red/black contacts gleaming in the light of a nearby streetlamp. A knife had somehow slipped from his sleeve to his palm in a millisecond. "Good."

Hidan flinched violently as the Uchiha turned away. He could taste the words on the tip of his tongue, so close were they to being said.

I'm sorry, Itachi. I really, really am.

Kakuzu didn't scare easily.

During a whole horror movie marathon, he hadn't flinched once, even when several others sitting around him in the 4-D cinema burst into tears (two teenage boys, a bored looking construction worker and several forty-something males to be exact). He hadn't even blinked when some of the more…mischievous members of Night attempted to push him off the edge of a three story building to settle some old debts. He hadn't so much as twitched when being led to his death in the electric chair for a simple bank robbery.

No, nothing could scare Kakuzu.

Many people were convinced it was some kind of disorder – it seemed scientists and health professionals were finding more of those every day. As far as he himself was concerned, he just had a hard head and nerves of steel. It wasn't like he went around flaunting the fact, but hey – a stocky build and threatening glare were useful to have in the Underworld. Unfortunately, this also meant that guard duty at the front of Night's headquarters was beginning to become his personal position, and these long periods were extremely dull. Leaning against a brick wall, flicking dust from your sleeve, fingering the gun in your holster…a bland existence, and he was slowly discovering for himself. Nothing exciting ever happened, apart from the occasional drunk stumbling into the alley by mistake. However, this particular night was…different.

The first indicator Kakuzu received that things were about to get interesting was the pounding footsteps, coming from just beyond the alley corner. Immediately, his hand shot to the belt around his waist and he was in the process of pulling out his pistol when he heard the yell.

"KUZU!"

He paused, flickering the safety off with his thumb and slowly moving toward the front of the alley he was guarding. "Who's there?" He called out, slightly puzzled about the familiar way this unknown person addressed him.

And suddenly, before he could react, a thickset, well-toned shape came crashing toward him. Kakuzu gasped, trying to aim the barrel in the massive form's general direction. Before he could gather his mind, the man was upon him, tackling him against the wall. Kakuzu could hear insane laughter, and for an instant fear struck him, along with the bewilderment and rage. "What the hell?" His voice sounded muffled against some thick material – no doubt the man's shirt – and his tone conveyed helpless fury.

More laughter. Then a voice he thought he'd never hear again. "It's me, ya damn heathen! Jashin, you lost some brain cells while I've been away, huh?"

And then the fear consumed him. "H-Hidan?" He questioned, trying to keep his attitude neutral.

"Who else?" The man pulled away, and Kakuzu caught the flash of his silver hair and magenta irises. Hidan wrinkled his nose in distaste, then grinned. "You weren't gonna shoot me, were you?"

Kakuzu looked at the gun clutched tightly in his hand. Immediately, he loosened his grip and stuffed it out of sight, scowling. He was annoyed now that he had allowed an amateur – Hidan, no less – to spook him. Stupid really, after Pein himself informed Kakuzu of the man's arrival. "Next time you pull a stunt like that, I won't hesitate." He snarled, crossing his arms and looking his old partner up and down. "I see someone needs to lay off the cookies, eh?"

"What's that supposed to mean? You're fat as a bull, just like the last time I saw you!" He too crossed his arms and turned up his nose in a snobby way.

Kakuzu hated that look. He pounded his chest in one quick motion, "This is all muscle, sugar-boy. Just don't expect any special treatment, now that you're back." He smirked at Hidan's glare. It surprised him how easily he could just fall into this again – their banter, goading each other on to a fight. It was so natural that if felt as if Hidan had simply taken a stroll around the block, instead of leaving Chicago for years…and years…and years. "Admit it. You've gone soft."

Angry, Hidan started forward. "You take that back –"

A few seconds and an almighty shove later, Hidan was spitting dirt out of his mouth and glaring up at Kakuzu from the cold hard ground. They locked gazes for an instant, and the tension in the air was palpable. Hidan could see that the shove had been more than proving a point. His old partner's eyes conveyed all that he wanted to say, to ask – but his pride prevented him from doing so.

Hidan had become accustom to reading the emotional expression of Kakuzu through the miser's actions. However, he was surprised to find that now, in the openness of the older man's face, there was no anger, or bitterness. Only a question.

Why did you leave?

Hidan broke off his gaze and directed it toward the moon-splattered ground. There was no way he could answer that yet. Not even to himself.

A sigh echoed through the alley, and Hidan looked up to find a familiar hand extended toward him. Grinning, he took it. "Don't you even say it, bastard."

Kakuzu smirked. "You're going soft."

"Damn you!"

They both knew the words had no meaning behind them.

"If you two are quite finished…"

Once again, Kakuzu whipped out his gun and pointed it toward the shadows of the alley wall. An instant latter, Itachi Uchiha detached himself from the inky black and raised his hood ever so slightly. "Damn it, Uchiha! You want to end up like this idiot?" He inclined his head toward his younger, naïve partner.

Itachi raised an eyebrow. "In no way whatsoever."

Hidan continued to grin absently for a few seconds, before fully comprehending what Itachi had implied. "Hey!"

"Where's Pein?" Itachi interrupted the clearly unimportant comment Hidan was ready to unleash, directing his question to the senior member.

Kakuzu jolted his head in the direction of the alley. "Down in the Basement. Torturing some guy he found off the streets."

Itachi frowned. "I was under the impression that our recent arrival in Chicago was…unavailable, to outside sources."

"I never said he was a spy, did I? Nah, just some former Fringe member. Maybe Pein's convinced we'll learn something from Katsu through him."

"Pein informed me that he wished to work incognito until we decided to move a major piece on the board. I doubt this is checkmate." The Uchiha glanced toward the boarded up steel door at the far side of the alley. His gaze was not cold, merely…calculating. "Something must have come up." Without another word or glance at his companions, Itachi slipped into the shadows once again and flowed like liquid toward the targeted door. An instant latter, his hand was locked firmly around the knob.

"Hey, hey! Leader made it pretty clear that they were not to be disturbed!" Kakuzu called after him. Itachi disappeared around the other side. "Shit. He's gonna have my head for this."

Hidan nudged him. "That'll be a sight."

The older man threw a half-hearted punch his way, but the albino dodged it easily. "Shut up. And get your sorry ass in there, Leader wants to see you after he's done interrogating the prisoner."

As Hidan sauntered over to the door (waving his hips in that flashy, arrogant way of his) he turned and called back, "So what did this bastard do to get on Pein's bad side?"

Kakuzu shrugged. "No idea. He's kinda strange looking – classy blonde hair, blue eyes look. Oh, and get this…he's a guy, but I've never seen a more feminine frame. It's a bit disturbing, actually."

Hidan froze, his hand clamped around the edge of the door, ready to swing it open. Something about what his old partner had said reminded him of something…or someone. "Feminine, you say?"

"Yeah. Half the guys in Night wanted to ask him out by the time they dragged him down to the Basement." The miser paused, contemplatively starring at the brick wall in front of him.

"What's his name?" Hidan asked, suddenly interested in the blonde, feminine man sitting in the lower level of his old HQ.

"I think they call him Deidara."

A/N - That's it for now. Okay, seriously, this is where I start updating weekly. I don't have ANY of chapter four written up, so you guys will have to be patient with me. Remember...new to all this!

Please continue to rate, review, and come back for more! Reviews are always encouraging.

Sayonara