Kakuzu wasn't sure how long he had been looking up at the sky. The stars must have changed position again. Two of them were especially bright, and he admired the brilliant suspended glow. The more he stared, the more intense the light seemed. Kakuzu's eyes narrowed as he watched the heavens.

The golden stars didn't twinkle; instead, they seemed to blink in and out of existence. The light wasn't coming through the cracked split in the trunk he realized, but rather from within the tree itself. Those weren't stars-they're eyes! Kakuzu's hearts began to hammer painfully.

"Don't panic." A voice soothed.

Threads slithered out of seams to rustle along the rotting floor, preparing for a last-ditch effort at self-defense. Charka starved and sluggish, the threads slowly stood on end like the needles of a porcupine.

"Knock it off." A deeper voice threatened.

Tendrils paused and drooped.

"Zetsu?" Kakuzu asked quietly, recognizing the dual voices.

"Naturally."

The pair of eyes descended like liquid down the inside of the tree. Toothed jaws jutted into view and Zetsu came to a stop above him, seeming to grow out of the interior of the dead red cedar. The rubbery teeth of the Venus flytrap brushed Kauzu's shoulder as it unfurled—wider than he had ever seen—to adhere to the decaying wood. As though the plant's mouth was a portal to another world, Zetsu's bicolored body leaned over him. Green peeled back to his divided torso, allowing the spy to bend uncomfortably close.

Kakuzu stared back into yellow, miss-matching eyes. Zetsu titled his head, as though listening intently. In the dimness, a smile curled the end of white lips, revealing sharp teeth.

"Never thought I would see you like this." Zetsu's soft voice mused before darkening. "Just get it over with."

"Why are you here?" Kakuzu asked, skin crawling as the golden eyes gazed down at him relentlessly.

The spy had once mentioned how meticulously he recorded the Akatsuki's activity, and Kakuzu assumed he did so now. The watchful eyes scanned over him, too brilliant in the dark to not notice their rapid movements. He could feel the spy catalog every sloppy seam and pained breath. Kakuzu grimaced. This was not how he had intended to be remembered: exhausted, filthy, and wrapped in a stolen medical coat.

"Curious. I was interested to see how you managed to live," Zetsu said lightly.

An unlikely statement, the spy never arrived without cause.

"Someone made a mistake," he answered nevertheless.

Kakuzu rolled onto his back to face the spy above him. His grimace deepened, not realizing how stiff his body had become while he slept.

"A lucky one for you, it seems," The spy grinned, bending closer. Bicolored head tilted to the side once more, the white ear almost came to rest on his chest. "Though, that luck seems to be running out."

Kakuzu tried to lean away, but Zetsu's lingering nearness made it impossible, and his back ached as he pressed into the rot beneath him. Tendrils squirmed threateningly, coming flick against the flytrap's spiked mouth. Zetsu pulled away, giving a lopsided smile. Despite the darkness, Kakuzu could see serrated teeth reflect what little light there was.

"Why are you really here?" he pressed.

Zetsu snickered, "Impatient as ever, thought you'd be more thankful really. It's not every day one manages to escape Konoha's Intelligence Division, much less their morgue."

What Zetsu said made sense; he had not woken in a civilian mortuary. Obviously a village of Konoha's size and strength needed a morgue dedicated to processing the bodies of deceased enemies. No doubt Konoha was collecting all the information they could on the Akatsuki, and his dead body had offered them a banquet.

Still, the building was far more than just a house for the dead. The Intelligence Division was famous for their interrogations and well-hidden archive. As one of the largest and longest-lived villages, their records must extend for decades. It was unfortunate he'd had no time to investigate. The wealth of information such a place could house would be worth a fortune; a few choice secrets alone about select bloodlines would have fetched a high price of the black market. Pity. The chance was gone now. The Intelligence Division probably had formidable security, but today there had been a disturbance in the village. It was doubtful such a well-timed distraction would ever arise again.

"So, it was you at the gate then," Kakuzu deduced. "You risked capture to distract them?"

"I risked nothing, I never left the trees." Then tone shifted from high to low, "Losing one of your own makes people on edge, they jump at shadows now."

"Why bother?"

"Why bother to what?" Zetsu questioned. "To help you, you mean?"

"Yes, and why come at all?"

"Sent for your ring, of course," Zetsu answered before his inflection changed again and lashed out. "Then I sensed you were alive. At first, I thought you might be of use still, but now I see the ring is worth more than you!"

Kakuzu scowled. The spy rarely spoke to him with disrespect. He believed he'd formed a working relationship with Jōzetsu, the pale, talkative half of the man. Dokuzetsu, the more serious and crafty half, remained unreachable.

The spy had often lingered after battles, staying until Hidan finished his rituals to clean up the sordid mess. Prior to the immortal, a line of deceased partners had been feed to the living disposal. During those moments together, Kakuzu had come to understand some truths about the spy. For one, Zetsu had a ravenous appetite, and his chatty half liked company while dining.

Their interests had complemented each other. After all, decomposing bodies were a cumbersome burden. Usually, bounties required only a head to claim. Where Kakuzu saw convenience, Zetsu saw meat. The spy had been more than willing—pleased even—to help dismember a corpse for cash, happy to devour unneeded parts. The cannibal would comment on the exotic flavor of his bounties, often times accurately guessing where they had hailed from by taste alone. Some of the members used to cast lots on Zetus's talent, and Kakuzu had quickly learned to never bet against the cannibal's tastebuds.

"Clearly, I'm alive," Kakuzu said tersely. "The ring still belongs to me."

"Yes, barely," The deep voice hissed, "I can hear your stolen hearts struggling as we speak."

A tongue licked dual colored lips and Kakuzu felt his stomach knot. All those times he had passively watched those lips and saw-like teeth rip flesh from bone, he'd felt nothing save morbid curiosity. Now, they seemed far more intimidating.

The bicolored face moved toward him and Kakuzu instinctively tried to crawl away, but the tree truck allowed no room for retreat. Threads skittered in warning though he was in no condition to attack the spy. Irregular hearts meant irregular chakra control; Zetsu could crush him, even without the use of his dreaded Mokuton. Kakuzu didn't delude himself. He stood no chance in his current condition.

"No, no. Don't fight, I'm here to help," Jōzetsu soothed and leaned down. Noses brushed, golden eyes bore into red-green. "You've always fed me so I'll make this easy. It's not nice to bite the hand that feeds, right?"

Before Kakuzu could move, hands gripped his face in a vise as ying-yang lips pressed against his own. The dead tree surrounding them creaked to life. Thrashing threads and limbs were captured, knotted among winding vines that erupted forth from decaying wood. The tendrils tried to untangle, but the shoots of wood were too quick for their weakened state. Every time threads snaked free, more wood wound around them until they were snared in a writhing ball at the base of the tree. Growing disparate, the thread attacked, burrowing their needle ends harmlessly into unfeeling fiber.

Panic surged through Kakuzu as he was captured. Wood wrapped in thick cords around his body, clamping his arms to his sides and binding his legs together. His chest ached at his ribcage was squeezed. Hearts pounded wildly, fingertips tingled.

Threads shot past Kakuzu's lips, attempting to skewer the spy through the mouth. Perhaps two needlepoints managed to prick Zetsu—the spy whined lowly—but as the strings came into contact with the thick saliva in the cannibal's mouth, they numbed and were rendered useless.

Lips burned as the slimy tongue worked its way into Kakuzu's mouth. He tried to clamp his teeth together, attempting to bite off the disgustingly slick muscle. He was stopped as the spy's fingers dug through the sutures threading his cheeks, into the wetness of his mouth and wedged between closing molars. He clamped down on the digits, but to no avail. The slimy appendage easily slipped by his teeth and came to lap against his unwilling tongue.

There was no desire in the cannibal's kiss. No, the numbness that began to tingle across Kakuzu's palate spoke of Zetsu's intent. The sweet mucilage tasted like honeysuckle as it oozed past his parted lips. Kakuzu refused to swallow the honeyed saliva, but the spy had anticipated this too.

Lips pulled away and a black hand pressed over his mouth, a thumb clamped his nostrils shut. Unable to breath, Kakuzu felt spit damp fingers stroke along his trachea, forcing him to gulp. Gagging, the sweet mucus went down. Only then did Zetsu release him, allowing Kakuzu to sag in defeat against the wooden Mokuton created restraints. He was reminded of his early capture decades before by this technique-damn this jutsu!

"I hate you," he spat in contempt, warmth beginning to bubble in the pit of his stomach.

The Dionaea man gave a jig-saw smile in return, "You're too stubborn."

He'd witnessed the cannibal's kiss twice before. A rarity, it was usually bestowed on the dying. Perhaps the infrequency was due to the fact that both he and Hidan tended to kill their targets.

The first time had been shortly after Hidan was assigned to him. The immortal was greener then, even more prone to distraction and single-mindless. Hidan had been so enraptured with torturing his victim he'd stopped the fight to prolong the bizarre ritual. Due to the immortal's obsession, they failed to eliminate the entire enemy squad.

Aside from Hidan's target, another shinobi had not expired by the time Zetsu arrived. It had been a girl, barely in her twenties, whom the three-head scythe had irreversibly mangled. Her chest had been sliced open to the bone. One arm had been removed, the other hung brokenly at her side. They had overlooked her in favor of more aggressive targets.

Zetsu had been the first to notice her lingering. The cannibal's head had snapped in the fallen shinobi's direction, before ghosting over the ground and settling by the girl's side. Kakuzu thought his eyes deceived him at first, but the bicolored face was hard-pressed against the blood-pale girl's in a kiss. After the cannibal had released her, she lolled back and laughed drunkenly. She'd spoken too softly for him to hear, but Zetsu seemed to understand her, or perhaps he'd just been angling his head for the perfect bite. She'd giggled even as sharp teeth dug into her throat.

Kakuzu could understand the feeling now. The urge to laugh—a rare sensation in itself—was irresistible. Warmth tingled through his frame followed by the cooling sensation of numbness, as though he had been in a hot bath and then dumped into freezing snow. The pain in his back and chest evaporated, and he could barely tell if the hearts pumped at all.

"See, not so bad," Jōzetsu murmured into his ear. Pupiless eyes swiveling, the split color face wavered into view. The dividing line between black and white seemed to ripple. White lips gave a lopsided smile. Zetsu laughed and the sound resounded like wooden chimes. "You won't even feel a thing."

Teeth loomed closer in the darkness.

The second time he'd seen Zetsu give his narcotic kiss had been after the sealing of Shukaku. While most of the others had been allowed to go their separate ways to rest—the sealing ritual was a tiresome affair—Kakuzu's work had just begun. The Bijuu had not been obtained without casualties.

Aside from Kakuzu's increasing number of previous partners, the rest of the Akatsuki pairs were fairly stable. The last two years had brought little change to their ranks, the addition of Hidan being the cause. The oddball Tobi was an annoying presence, but he had not been given a true assignment then and remained ringless.

Sasori's death was a loss, but a replaceable one.

He'd recognized it as the passing of a business partner; the puppet master had understood the value of things. Sasori's fancy taxidermy tricks hadn't been cheap and he intimately understood the price of his craft. From skilled assassin to weapon of mass destruction, Sasori was a man-made force of nature. Kakuzu respected that. They had been able to strike a few deals, but he had rarely dwelled on the puppet master's partner before that day.

He remembered how Hidan and Zetsu nearly dragged Deidara past the mouth of the cave. The bomber had finally succumbed to blood loss scrounging through the rubble for his ring. He'd been transported immediately to their location by the cannibal. Jōzetsu had snickered and recounted how the hotheaded artist had passed out, legs still in a stranglehold around Tobi's neck. What foolhardy antics.

Prolonged concentration did not allow movement, which meant the artist had been unable to take any supplements during the lengthy sealing ritual. Already wounded, Deidara had exerted himself further by attempting to catch the Kyuubi, only fleeing when grossly outnumbered.

Yes, another Bijuu—Kurama the powerful Kyuubi—would have been highly valuable. However, the artistic duo had allowed themselves to be split-up. Their pride and reliance on their crafts alone hadn't saved them, especially not Sasori. It had been reckless to continue to pursue the Kyuubi as long as Deidara had, at the cost of his other arm.

Once Deidara had been hoisted onto the stolen wooden carving table, Hidan—under Kakuzu's instruction—began to force blood pills down the boy's gagging throat. The Akatsuki had never acquired a long-lived medical shinobi in their ranks. Kakuzu's medical knowledge—gained through voracious reading and experimentation, but by no means via formal education—was the next best.

The makeshift surgery had been a bloody fair. Rarely did Kakuzu have to mend a double amputee capable of death anymore. He'd taken the detached arms Zetsu had given him. Flesh not yet putrid, sandpaper tongues had wagged limply out of the palm-mouths as Kakuzu inspected them. Hidan had given a low whistle, eyeing the carnage over his shoulder.

"Looks like they clipped your wings pretty good there Blondie," Hidan had said sneering.

Accurate. The Kazekage had crushed the right arm, grinding through flesh and bone with sand until the appendage was milled off. The elbow was gone, lost to the sand. Grit had laced the jagged stub, hiding the beginnings gangrene underneath.

"All part of the plan, un." Deidara had assured.

The boy's bloodless lips had smiled, arrogant even as he lay on the operation table. The other limb had been severed clean, momentarily warped into another plane of existence by Hatake. That Konoha shinobi was troublesome.

"And this was part of your plan too?" Kakuzu had asked, raising the arm lost to Hatake's jutsu.

Deidara had shrugged and rolled his eye. Clearly, the boy was pleased with himself; having outmaneuvered two squads of Konoha shinobi, a Jinchuuriki and his superior's killers, all on top of capturing the Kazekage. Deidara's worth was secure for now and the boy knew that. However, that security was just as fleeting as his art. If the first Bijuu had not been captured and the boy returned in this state, his recklessness would have cost him. Their leader would not have been so willing to order the suicidal brat mended then.

He'd realized Sasori had been too soft or neglectful of the boy. Pride and recklessness were a dangerous combination. The puppet master clearly had not stamped it out of the young man. If this continued, Deidara would not be a good long-term investment. Sasori was supposed to temper the boy, but the puppet master had died before he could completely rein in the flighty bomber. This failure had led to their duo being destroyed; one valuable member dead while the other's career hung in the balance.

Irritated by the artist's attitude, he'd stuck Deidara across the face with his own severed arm. Anger and revulsion had flashed through the blue eye, but the boy was smart enough to hold his tongue.

"If it were up to me, you would be left like this," Kakuzu had said glowering, holding the detached limb inches from the artist's nose. "You deserve to have your career ended for your recklessness, allowing not only your arms but your kinjutsu to be ripped from you. If it happens again, you die."

Deidara had glared up at him but gave no reply. He was not the boy's Danna. He would not tolerate backtalk, not from the likes the blonde. Moreover, Kakuzu wouldn't hesitate to kill him, and Deidara's silence proved he knew that also. This operation wasn't being performed out of goodwill, rather because Kakuzu had been explicitly ordered to do so. Once the surgery had begun, the artist had been too consumed maintaining composure to speak at length anyway.

Stumps had to be cut back, the rot pruned from them and scrubbed clean. The jagged bones of the right arm had to be sliced flat. Deidara had endured the cleaning better than anticipated. The boy was rash but stubborn. He bore the pain grim-faced and barely uttered a sound until the encrusted, scabby sand had to be scrubbed off.

Delirious with pain, Deidara had almost managed to remain calm in hissing dignity, as Hidan encouraged him to enjoy his suffering. The immortal's goading was annoying; he didn't fault the boy for lashing out eventually, much to Hidan's glee. To his credit, the priest didn't need to be guided in a time of crisis: he boiled water, sterilized equipment, and gave Deidara's grinding teeth wooden pegs to bite.

There had been nothing to numb the pain. His normal patient didn't require it. Zetsu—rising into being from the floor at the mouth of the cave—returned again prior to the start of the operation. He arrived with an assortment of scrolls and a dark wooden box that contained rows of vials; medical equipment given by their leader to supplement his Spartan supply. The box had belonged to Sasori. It was a prized and painstakingly gathered collection of liquids from specimen around the world.

Spidery script had laced each vial label, but none of them could understand the coded text. With the puppet master dead, the code held no meaning. It had died with him. Unable to tell anesthetic from poison, Deidara had pushed to pursue the surgery as far as possible anyway. Kakuzu understood. Deidara's career—his life, and art—would be severely hampered otherwise. The vials he ordered Hidan to take and seal in a scroll, later they were sold on the black market for a hefty price, buyer beware.

Halfway through, with one arm reattached—when Zetsu had been sent out again to fetch a solution for the absent elbow—Deidara passed out. The artist's young face had been ashen, exhausted from suffering through the torment meant to fix him. A pale contrast to the red trigram—inverted triangle within a circle—Hidan had quickly etched in blood on the unconscious artist's forehead.

The immortal had grown serious in that moment. Believing the boy stood at chance at dying, Hidan had prayed over Deidara in a tongue Kakuzu did not understand. Pressing kisses to his rosary, the priest had pleaded for his god to watch the suffering unfolding.

It was then Zetsu returned with their request, a taxidermy arm. The shingled skin had shone waxy in the firelight. Kakuzu had not asked where, or from whom, the puppet arm had come from. He had simply taken it and went to measure the length of the incisions, calculating so that the boy's arms would hang even once connected. The substitution would be efficient but not flawless.

The strange, secret methods of Sasori's art would save his partner's arm. Kakuzu's idea, Hidan had agreed with a smirk. The artists' constant bickering about art had been something of a legend in the organization; the irony of the solution was not lost on the priest. Networks of dead vessels and charka channels had been preserved in the human puppet arm. His tendrils could work with that. Through patience and pain, Kakuzu could reconnect all the vital networks in Deidara's arm, allowing the bomber full control over his stolen kinjutsu again. Sasori's art style had subsequently saved his young partner's as well.

Returning to consciousness, Deidara had moaned lowly when the alien part rested against his stump. White lips frowning, Zetsu had pushed Kakuzu away then to lean over his patient. Golden eyes had taken in the pale face and wide eye. Deidara feverishly begged not to be eaten, insisting he wasn't dead yet.

Deidara was beautiful, of that there was no denying. Things often appeared the most stunning when they started to break apart, as Deidara was well aware. Still, the artist's beauty was mostly due to his androgyny. Deidara was not unlike the spirit Ariel. With his mutable gender and almost mythically fast attack speed, the boy was an elemental force of fire and air, captured and bound in service to the Akatsuki. Yet, the comparison went no further. There was no mercy in the boy's heart, and his taste for destruction and vengeance—especially in the face of Itachi Uchiha—was palatable.

The way golden eyes had scanned over the boy, Zetsu seemed almost enraptured. Clearly, the cannibal was hungry, but what exactly he was starved for Kakuzu hadn't been able to tell and didn't care. Distrust flickered in the artist's blue eye when the cannibal leaned low over him. Jōzetsu's voice had whispered softly to Deidara as white fingers smoothed disheveled, sweaty hair behind his ear. There was a lull in the conversation and the artist nodded, silently agreeing to the cannibal's terms, whatever they had been.

Deidara had not resisted the cannibal's kiss; even dared to press back after a moment, back arching off the table. Before Zetsu could pull away, the artist brutally bit his lower lip. Zetsu balked and shoved him off with a snarl—not appreciating when others bit him back apparently—and the boy collapsed in a fit of laugher. Blue eye rolling in its socket, Deidara exclaimed he had tasted ambrosia in-between fits of laughter.

"I couldn't help myself," The artist had cried after Zetsu as the spy fled from the cave, saw-teeth bared in anger. "You taste so sweet, it's a surprise no one's tried to eat you!"

Kakuzu slapped sense into the boy again though he seemed not to feel it this time, and the operation began anew. Deidara had giggled throughout the remainder of the surgery; never even flinching as threads deftly reconnected his arm. Dreamily, he laid back and began to chatter relentlessly. Spilling secret after secret, much to Hidan's snide encouragement.

The boy had prattled on: recounting his village, his deep-seeded hatred for Itachi, and finally his respect for his recently deceased partner. Hidan had been amused and encouraged the artist, laughing as Deidara divulged information about the puppet master that would have surely gotten him poisoned had Sasori still been living. Apparently, the boy's Danna hadn't been terribly unkind to him. Sasori had a soft spot for beauty after all.

Kakuzu wasn't amused though, he knew better. That kiss was a weapon. Saliva that performed as both an anesthetic and a hallucinogenic could be used to capture prey or other elusive things. The cannibal had lingered outside the cave, still as one of the trees, waiting to be called on to assist or clean up.

Is this what you do?-He had thought-Collect people's secrets before swallowing them whole?

Not for the first time, Kakuzu had felt unnerved by the cannibal. Not because of his strange nature, but because those talents were perfect for far loftier goals. Disposal, informant, and network; Zetsu could play whatever role was needed for the Akatsuki, almost too conveniently.

He respected but did not trust the Dionaea man. Zetsu was a divided man to begin with and was difficult to predict.

"First you hate me, now you don't trust me," Jōzetsu mocked above him. "Still, I never knew you thought so much the other members, me especially."

Kakuzu jaw clicked shut, remembering how Deidara dreamily spilled his guts—How much did I say? The wide grin was answer enough.

"You've had your fun. End this," Dokuzetsu growled before Jōzetsu chimed. "Come on, he's not even near death yet—Do your duty!" As the halves argued among themselves. Kakuzu gave a low, drugged laugh. In heated disagreements, Zetsu's eyes tended to cross. "Shut up! You're nothing more than stringy meat now," The deep voice snarled at him before snapping at his other half. "An order was given—I was told to fetch the rings and nothing more." Jōzetsu shot back mid-sentence, and Kakuzu figured the man possessed more than one set of vocal cords because the tone switched so quickly between the two.

The ring is more valuable than I am-he thought, remembering the dark words. It was a dismissal. Zetsu had been sent to collect and consume his remains, as the cannibal always did when there was a death in their ranks. Since he had lived, Zetsu had taken advantage of the situation; Kakuzu had all but delivered himself to the cannibal with his assistance. The realization was sickening-but Jōzetsu seems unwilling to end this.

"You're waiting for me to expire," Kakuzu said, laughing despite himself as the bi-colored head inclined in confirmation. "So my failure on this mission with Hidan negates everything I've done for the organization? You'll help me escape, but nothing more."

"I'd say it's a miracle you're even alive at this moment. What? Do you really think it would be worth the organizations time to feed your organs? Your hearts are so out of time, it's like listening to a clock winding down. And besides, we are well aware you've added more to the Akatsuki treasury in life that anyone else." Lowly, the darker half finished. "And your death added even more."

Kakuzu eyes widened. It was tradition that all organization members' assets belonged to the Akatsuki upon their death. As missing shinobi, there was no reason to create a detailed will. There were no friends, no family to inherit their earnings. No, there was only the Akatsuki.-No!

"I'm alive," he repeated, uncontrollable laughter shaking his frame. He could feel his breath quickening.

"Yes, but you did die."

"That was a technicality, I came back!" The desperation in his voice was audible, even over the awful, forced laughter.

"I thought you would have enjoyed the irony. In the end, you're just like your bounties, worth more dead than alive," Dokuzetsu quipped before the lighter half added. "Yes, you'll be hard to replace, but think of it this way; you've provided a beneficial service. The Akatsuki can now peruse bigger goals, thanks to our biggest patron. Just waiting until it's final, that's all."

Rage fueled the uncontainable laughter. Despite his numbed senses, Kakuzu could feel pressure on his chest as if someone was gradually laying rocks on his rib cage one by one.

"You can't do this!"

"But we already did, down to the last cent. My brothers were very thorough," Zetsu assured, referring to his many selves.

"Impossible," Kakuzu spat, hating the confidence in the other's tone.

"You really think so? There's always somebody watching," Zetsu smirked, voice lowering. "Obviously you've been cooking the books for ages, you thought our superiors didn't know? After you died, it was easy to break into all of those separate bank accounts. You may have changed your name, but never your infamous demeanor. At the mere mention of you, every bounty collector, accountant and teller gave you up—no honor among thieves." Jōzetsu added before continuing. "Also, did you actually think you were clever hiding all that extra gold away in caverns like the old dragon you are?"

"You-!" Kakuzu roared but couldn't continue as he choked on rage and laughter.

He wheezed. Lungs constricted. The pressure grew worse. He looked down, watching his chest convulse before his breathing hitched. The trembling stopped. He panted tiredly in the stillness. Though the cannibal's kiss spared him the horrible pain, Kakuzu knew there had been a death inside of him.

"You got yourself too worked up—About time," Zetsu's voices announced, tongue licking his lips. "One down, three to go."

Golden eyes now watched the rise and fall of his chest, as if seeing through the skin to the dead heart that lay beneath. In less than a day, he had strained the organ to the point of exhaustion. Zetsu was right; he really was reaching his limit. Four hearts were enough to jumpstart a man from death, but not prolong life. A raspy, unintentional laugh left him.

"Why don't you just kill me?" Kakuzu muttered, laughs still leaking from his lips.

If what Zetsu said was true, he had nothing now. All of his life's work was gone. The millions of ryō he had toiled and fought for was gone. It was difficult to believe. One account must remain. Zetsu couldn't possibly have emptied all of them, but it was doubtful he'd live to investigate the extent of his financial damage.

"I wasn't ordered to, yet." Zetsu's dual voices said. "I was sent to collect your rings."

"Rings. Plural again," Kakuzu summed. "You must mean Hidan too."

Zetsu nodded.

The celestial rings were the most valuable piece of the Akatsuki uniform and signified a person's complete admittance. Once they were bestowed to a member, the ring solely belonged to that individual. The initiation ceremony sealed the ring to that person, and no other could remove it save the wearer. The seal could only be broken by death, or if the individual took back their vow of loyalty to the Akatsuki. Hidan couldn't possibly be dead. If Zetsu was after the immortal's ring, something else must have occurred.

"So you aren't aware?" Zetsu asked and Kakuzu shook his head that he wasn't. "Hidan was defeated."

"Doubtful," Kakuzu muttered with an uncontrolled chuckle, "he can't be killed."

"True, but he isn't unstoppable." Zetsu said with a hinting smirk.

This was a fact Kakuzu had attempted to teach on the priest many times. Immorality did not mean invincibility. Hidan's everlasting body was a shock to most opponents. Often, the priest's victims were too surprised to think rationally once they discovered he was undying and faltered, becoming easy prey. However, not everyone was so easily disarmed. Hidan was a one-trick pony and the Nara boy was of a different caliber. He'd seen the determination in the boy's eyes.

"What happened, where is the idiot?"

"The Nara boy is clever," Zetsu confessed. "He dug a grave for Hidan in the Nara Clan forest. The boy buried him, but not before wrapping Hidan in explosive tags and detonating them. He intends for his clan to watch over the grave forever. "

"That is clever," Kakuzu admitted with a laugh. This time, it didn't sound so forced. He had considered similar plans before, but rarely acted on them. He'd also never left Hidan incapacitated for long, as he was always ordered to fix the immortal once again. Damn the Akatsuki's stipulation for team collaboration. "Why not go fetch him then? It should be easy with your talents."

"It's been decided that Hidan will remain where he is for now," Zetsu answered simply.

"Why?" Kakuzu questioned, eyes narrowing. "Since he's deathless, you can't simply take his ring. Another position will remain vacant if you don't."

Another finger would remain empty on the Gedou Mazou. The unfilled position would increase the burden of the sealing ritual. There had been a noticeable difference in the charka expenditure after Orochimaru's betrayal. The ritual wasn't impossible to complete, but it had taken longer. Now, with three vacate positions the ritual might take as long a week to finish. That was a long time to remain in near-total concentration.

"An acceptable loss," Zetsu answered darkly before his inflection switched again. "Of course, I could unearth him easily, but picking up all those little pieces…I doubt the large chakra expenditure would go unnoticed. Besides, my talent lies in disposing of bodies, not putting them back together. And why even bother in the first place." Bicolored shoulders shrugged. "Without you, Hidan is considered too volatile to work toward the Akatsuki's goals. A waste."

This was true enough. At the start of their partnership, he'd had to physically restrain Hidan with his Jiongu to keep the priest from pursuing valuable targets. Not all of their missions were purely based around slaughter though that had been their specialty as a duo. Missions varied. All the partnerships had to collect information, raise money, interrogate enemies, and capture Jinchuuriki alive. If he had let Hidan go unchecked, the immortal would have ruined countless missions, not to mention bounties. Also, someone had to mend the priest when he misjudged a powerful opponent.

Their partnership had worked because he'd been able to control the immortal and focus that zealous fury. Without guidance or a brain, Hidan was little more than a common thug. Kakuzu had also tried to teach this to the priest by allowing Hidan's arrogance to get him in over his head during battles. Despite Hidan's thoughtlessness though, he wasn't an awful shinobi. Terribly predictable, once one understood the nature of his powers, but oddly efficient when guided. Still, a strong hand needed to lead Hidan.

If Hidan were paired with another, the priest would try to murder them. That was a given. The immortal had a temper too. It only took a few religious desecrations to make Hidan fly into a murderous rage.

Most Akatsuki members could probably stop Hidan, but once again the team dynamic was more of a hindrance than a help. The immortal was an idiot, but Hidan had time on his side. Partners traveled everywhere together, slept and ate in the same vicinity. It was nearly impossible to be on guard constantly, even for missing shinobi.

All it took was a drop of blood, and the tables turned in Hidan's favor. Years of experience, combined with the Doton: Domu jutsu and Kakuzu's deeply ingrained mistrust, had made all of Hidan's attempts on his life futile. While Hidan's immortality had rendered all of Kakuzu's murderous rages null in return. That was their partnership had started and subsequently remained, locked in mutual hatred with neither able to officially gain the upper hand.

"If you were intent on leaving him, why even mention him then?" Kakuzu asked, stifling his laughter. The uncontrollable urge was lessening.

"You're right about the sealing ritual, that is a concern with three missing. I was told that if I could fetch both rings, without expending a lot of time and effort on my part, I should. " Saw-like teeth smiled. "When I found that you were alive, I thought that maybe you could be of some assistance…"

"You want me to dig him up and put him back together," Kakuzu finished for him.

"Initially, yes. But I only need one ring to finish my mission—and you're too weak to do shit, so hurry up a die. I won't wait any longer—orders are orders—accidents happen." The voices clipped back and forth between each other rapidly.

Kakuzu scowled, hating both his present weakness and the ease with which Zetsu disregarded him. A day ago, and his reality had been so much different. Now, no matter how much rage filled his frame, he was powerless, merely a meal for the cannibal. Directly above him came a gurgling growl. Red-green eyes glanced from Zetsu's stomach to his unblinking gold eyes.

"Hungry?"

"Starving."

He considered the situation. Until now, Jōzetsu hadn't been willing to speed along his demise, but the spy hadn't been visibly hungry before either. To his knowledge, the cannibal did not eat off duty and feasted only when provide with a meal, usually deceased enemies and the rare fallen member. Some days, Zetsu and his many clones had a whole village to sink their teeth into. Others, he went without a morsel for days, while the rest of the teams traveled to their next destination.

"Since I don't want to die, and you're growing impatient, why don't we strike a deal?" Kakuzu ask. A chorus of laughter greeted him, coming out of one throat. Red-green eyes glowered. "I'm serious."

"I know, what's why it's funny," Zetsu scuffed. "But go on, make your deal. I want to hear this."

He glared but continued, "I'll give my ring to you, and you'll have what you need to complete your mission. In return, you leave me, in peace and alive."

"Interesting. You're aware that giving your ring to me would make you my subordinate then, right?" The cannibal asked, leaning down to stare into his face. "For however long you have left."

"I'm aware."

A wide grin broke out across Zetsu's face. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen, you're willing to lower yourself. What, afraid the next kiss will have more bite to it?"

"I grow tired of your presence," Kakuzu defended firmly.

"You'd better get used to it, subordinate," Zetsu's voice said, teeth glinting. "Still, sweeten the deal."

'What else do you want?" Kakuzu asked. Golden eyes looked fixedly at his chest for a moment, before staring back hungrily into his eyes. Understanding passed between them. "Ah, I see."

Silently, he willed the suture knitting down his sternum to open. Lethargic threads heeded his commands. The Y-incision loosened, unraveling in long loops. If this was what the cannibal hungered for, so be it. It wasn't a loss. The dead flesh couldn't stay inside of him long, less it began to rot.

The incision eased open and thread slipped out listlessly, pushing back the folds of his skin and bursting the top buttons of his medical coat. The coils of wood wrapped around his body retreated to expose his upper chest but did not let him go. As soon as the seam opened, a dark hand darted forward to sink into black insides.

"Don't!" Kakuzu snapped with such authority the hand stilled, hovering over the parted seam. Saw-teeth gritted together, staring down at him unflinchingly.

Although he wouldn't have been able to feel Zetsu digging around his chest cavity, he loathed the idea all the same.

It was difficult to locate the heart. The narcotic kiss still numbed his senses. Kakuzu couldn't detect the organ it by touch. After a moment of commanding the Jiongu to do his bidding, he simply had to trust the thread could perform the task on its own. Slowly, like a clumsy hatchling exiting an egg, the dead heart was pushed out until it lay exposed on top of squirming thread. Tendrils lazily disconnected, wordlessly offering the meal. Zetsu was quick to scoop up the fleshy lump. He turned it over in dual colored hands, inspecting it as one would a piece of fruit at market.

"You know," The cannibal muse, "you always end up feeding me more than anyone else, maybe you won't make such a bad subordinate, if you live." The spy ate in quick, mechanical bites. Serrated teeth easily tore through muscle. Zetsu's purpose was to consume and he was very good at it. The spy wasted nothing, even licked his bloody fingers clean before holding out his hand. "Now, your ring."

He could hear, rather than feel the wooden restraints retreating creaking as they loosened. Shakily, Kakuzu raised his freed hands. Even in the dark, the silver band on his left middle finger gleamed softly. Painstakingly slow, as he could not feel his trembling hands, he began to form the hand signs related to each ring until he came to his symbol. Energy coursed faintly through his body.

"I, Kakuzu, forever relinquish control over the north seal," he said the ritualistic words solemnly. The ring glowed blue. "With these words, I break my oath of loyalty."

Black fingers gripped his ring bearing hand. "Kakuzu, you have broken your oath to the Akatsuki, and you have relinquished your ring. Disloyal servant, I will now sever your ties."

Zetsu opened his mouth wide and lowered his head. The middle finger disappeared into the cannibal's open maw. Bone crunched, cackling between teeth until Kakuzu heard a sharp snap. When Zetsu raised his head again, the digit was gone. The stump oozed blood and threads. Tendrils felt around the new wound, as though confused to find the finger missing.

"I want that back," Kakuzu said, fingers twitching for emphasis.

Zetsu frowned, clearly having every intention of ingesting it, but spat the digit into his hand.

"Is that how you ask your superior?" Zetsu mocked, holding the appendage by a stray cord that had wriggled out of chewed stub.

Removing the ring, Zetsu tossed the finger back at him. It bounced off Kakuzu's chest. Fumbling, he picked the finger up in his left hand. Searching cords cautiously felt for the dismembered part, and the finger was slowly reattached. He inspected digit, the sutures lining his skin were reminiscent to the ring that circled it moments before.

"Our business is concluded."

"Not yet, subordinate," Dokuzetsu growled out, "your life is mine now. I was charged to collect both rings if I could, and you will help me." Golden eyes bore down, blood-stained teeth smiling. "I order you to find Hidan and return his ring to me. After all, it's your fault he's down there."

"That idiot got himse—"

"—No," Zetsu cut him off harshly. "Idiot or not, he was your responsibility. The fault is your own. You will fetch him if you live long enough to do so."

"And if I succeed?" Kakuzu pressed.

"I will reward you, I'm always good to faithful underlings," Zetsu answered. "You've lost a lot, you certainly must want some of it back, right?"

Kakuzu gave a sharp nod. "And if I fail?"

Saw-like teeth glinted as the bi-colored face leaned in, predatory and low.

"Then, I will clean up your mess, as always," Zetsu said before pulling away and fully sitting back into the leaves the surrounded his lower body. "But I'm getting ahead of myself, a deal is a deal, you wanted to be left alone, right?" The great Venus flytrap began to close; toothed jaws interlocked like laces up Zetsu's torso. "Remember, someone is always watching."

The giant leaves closed and like an apparition the spy began to melt into the side the dead tree trunk. Winding shoots of wood retracted, creaking and groaning as they returned to the rot they had been formed from. In moments, Zetsu was gone. No trace remained of the spy, and Kakuzu was left alone.


1) Zetsu's halves are referred to as Dokuzetsu (Wicked Tongue, black half) and Jōzetsu (Chatterbox, white half). I thought the nicknames sounded better than the more factual hyphenated names. I also don't read Zetsu fanfiction and rarely see him make any appearances in the ones I do read. If there is a preferred naming scheme, I don't know it.

2) Mucilage is a thick, gluey substance produced by nearly all plants. In the Droseraceae family, the Sundew—a relative of the Venus Flytrap—produces sweet mucilage to attract prey. I thought it would be fun if Zetsu had a similar ability, but I warped it into a narcotic saliva that acts like sort of nitrous oxide (laughing gas). I wanted to make Zetsu even weirder.

3) Deidara's arm replacement is never explained. I always wondered how Kakuzu reconnected it. Clearly, his bedside manner needs some work.