Chapter Six: (Never) Forever

I am going to kill Kakuzu.

Exactly when or how, I don't know for sure. There are things we have to do still, things we need to say and do and have done with in this life, because when I kill him I want it to be perfect. I want him to understand it, when I've made the final move and he's close to slipping forever away; I want him to know what a gift I've given him.

Jashinism is not a religion like the plethora of others practiced in the world. We don't celebrate many holidays, we rarely congregate in large groups to pray together. Jashinism is not a religion based on forgiveness of individual sins or attaining holy recognition; it's focused more on cleansing and salvation. We don't wait for Jashin to intervene in our lives, we take action for ourselves. We provide our own absolution and reward.

Sacrifice in Jashinism serves both parties involved. It cleanses the souls of the killer and the victim.

When I kill Kakuzu, I will grant him salvation. Whether he likes it or not, I'll save him from damnation.

Of course, the task I hope to accomplish is not going to be easy. My partner is not only strong but old: he knows enough about fighting to make any battle difficult for his opponent. And he knows too much about my style. So even when everything between us is right, actually killing him will be a struggle.

I can't delude myself into thinking that he will accept my offer willing. He will put up a fight; I expect no less of him.

I won't pretend that it doesn't in some way hurt to think of him dead. He's a heathen bastard but even I can't lie and act as if he hasn't grown on me. I feel naked when he isn't around. And no one could ever do the things he does to me.

There is no greater gift than Heaven, however. When the time comes, he'll know that my actions are out of mercy and caring, however queer that sounds.

Watching him sleep I sometimes wonder if it wouldn't be easier on us both if I just did it in such a moment. But I know that I would only hate myself for doing that, and Kakuzu wouldn't forgive me. In a morbid way, I look forward to the fight we'll have, and I believe he deserves to end his life fighting, as I'm sure he would want.

Perhaps killing Kakuzu will be enough to release me from this life so I can finally reach the next. Maybe serving his soul to Jashin is enough to repent whatever it is I've done to be forsaken so long to earth.

He is always such an early riser; I doubt I'd be able to kill him before he woke up anyway. It would be such a pain if he was to wake up in the middle of it… or, he might think I was being kinky. I never really know with him, he always manages to shock me.

He doesn't talk in his sleep, as I've been told I sometimes do, but he makes faces and sometimes laughs or growls. I like watching him on the rare occasion that I'm awake when he isn't. Before he used to sleep with his mask on, now I guess he doesn't see a point. Or maybe he was actually listening when I told him how stupid it was. I wonder why he bothers wearing it at all… I mean, Kisame's face is ten times uglier and he doesn't bother hiding it.

I guess it's kind of laughable to think of Kakuzu as being conscious of his looks. It's unlikely that he cares at all what anyone thinks about his face or any other part of his body. Perhaps he's looking to preserve the element of surprise.

Whatever the case is, I maintain the thing is stupid. Personally, I like looking at his face; he's much more expressive than I ever thought he would be. His eyes are so strange it's hard to read emotions in them, but with his whole face bare I can read him easily. It helps that I actually find the stitching to be rather attractive. Honestly, it's such a unique look- no one has a body like his; his bloodline is as dead as the Uchiha's. The trailing scars across his body highlight his features, accentuating the power of his body and drawing attention to the sculpted muscle. His skin is otherwise without fault.

That could be because he takes a decade in the shower.

Honestly, even when we've spent a week on the road with no breaks in real shelter (by which I mean man-made with a roof and running water) I am finished with my shower after fifteen minutes. Twenty, tops. Kakuzu, on the other hand, is in there for at least half an hour. This is the guy who bitches about how long I take in a fight, whose favorite phrase is either 'your -insert needed organ here- is mine' or 'time is money'. He takes forever.

Apparently he really likes being clean too, because he'll shower, like, twice a day. For instance, he had taken a shower last night when we got the room, and now he's taking another one because we had sex. Now, my way of doing things is smarter- I waited to shower until we'd finished. One shower, I'm good, time is saved, everybody's happy. Not him though.

I'm supposed to be painting my nails now. Hands and feet, of course; we'll be making our appearance in Komukagure today and we're supposed to look 'professional'. I hate this pansy-ass shit, though. My nails do not need to be painted for me to kick ass and steal shit, least of all my toenails. The situation is not helped by the fact that I suck at this particular task. I always end up with paint all over my fingers and up parts of my feet no where near the toe. My hands just weren't made for this girly grooming thing.

Why this color, anyway? It's uglier than all hell; like dried blood mixed with shit. What kind of color-blind queer is our leader to have made this part of our official uniform? More importantly, is he really going to know if I don't paint my fucking nails? Unless Kakuzu tells him in our report, I don't see how he could.

Glaring at the little bottle, I consider tossing it out the window. That's how much I hate this stupid task. Of course, Kakuzu would be pissed because he needs to redo his own paint- for whatever reason my blood seems to strip the polish off and he's always digging his nails into my arms or my back. Not that I mind his doing that; it's just annoying later when he gets on my case about the nail thing because he has to do his own.

Supposedly, I should be able to finish painting my nails, all twenty of them, in ten minutes. That's thirty seconds a nail for the slow students. I believe this to be impossible- some of the nails are fucking tiny, and the ones on my little toes are harder than all fuck to reach without making a mess.

So far I haven't done much but glare at the bottle in my hand since he rolled out of bed and headed for the shower, tossing it to me with an off-handed order to get myself ready. I'm now considering the repercussions of leaving them untouched. Kakuzu will probably be annoyed at the very least, which isn't necessarily a bad thing these days.

After another few minutes of wondering, I hear the water finally shut off. It's really too late to start now; I'll wait until after he's finished. Maybe if I'm lucky he'll decide we're running late and I won't have to do it at all.

He steps out of the bathroom still toweling his hair, wearing his pants low on his hips and his shirt not at all. Sometimes I wonder if he is trying to be sexy or if it just happens. He's really amazingly attractive, especially when he's not focused on being pissed or making money. Like now, he's just… Kakuzu. Relaxed, or as relaxed as a shinobi ever gets.

I can never look at him anymore without him knowing. He looks at me slowly, raising his head and leveling his inverted eyes with my own. The stitching on his mouth makes it hard to tell if I'm imagining the smirk playing there or not, but I somehow doubt I am. I get the distinct impression that he smirks at me a lot when he's got that mask on.

On some levels it annoys and even angers me, the way he looks at my body. It's a possessive look, as if he thinks he owns me. And at the same time, that's exactly what I like about that look; that's what turns me on. I'm willing to bet he knows that.

Too quickly, he notices that I have yet to even open the bottle, and that the only change in my nail coloring is how much of it I've flicked off during his eon-long shower. He surprises me though, only perking a brow and tossing his towel into the crappy hamper across the room. Without pause, he joins me on the bed.

"You didn't paint your nails."

Holding the little bottle out to him, I nod. The truth being obvious, there is no opposing argument. Sometimes I also wonder if he means to state the obvious, or if he says that sort of thing as a means of asking 'why'. "Apparently not."

A short little sigh leaves his lips and he makes no move to take the nail polish from me. "You're never going to do it right if you never try."

"Please don't talk to me like you're my mother. All things considered, it's fucking creepy."

Eyes rolling, he finally takes the bottle and shakes it. I lean against the wall and close my eyes, content to wait while he goes about doing his own nails. Sometimes I like watching him do it, but right now I think the motivation behind my staring might be too obvious.

It takes me by surprise to feel his hand take hold of mine, pulling my arm out strait and holding it at a slightly awkward angle. I can feel the cold of the paint just before I manage to ask what he's doing, and then the question feels stupid. He doesn't grace me with an answer (he so rarely bothers answering my questions anyway), only raises both eyebrows without looking up from my hand.

This is the first time he's ever made an effort to help me with something he doesn't have to do while I'm in a state to appreciate what he's doing. While I'd love to know the motivation behind this sudden assistance, I know better than to ask. It would leave my lips sounding like a complaint, and even though that wouldn't be what I meant, that's how he would take it. There is a sort of graceless pleasant feeling to this, and I think it's better to stay silent.

For whatever reason, he's as good at this as I am bad. He makes these neat little strokes, covering the whole nail without coating the skin around them, and he's quick. It's hard to imagine Kakuzu as being particularly gentle or delicate, but he manages that too. Neither of us says a word; I unfold my legs from beneath me and let him continue his painting in silence. It is without a doubt the oddest set of minutes in my life, sitting silently while the giant man that is my partner paints my toenails.

When he finishes he releases my ankle and warns me not to move too much. I only nod, watching to see exactly what he'll do next. Predictably, he silently turns the brush on his own nails.

Nearly fifteen minutes later, after both of us are dry of nail and ready to get moving, he grabs his mask and starts to pull it on. I want to tell him to leave it off, but I know there's no point. In the past few days, since the first time we had sex (which might as well have been the first time I had sex at all, as long as it had been between that and the last), I have thought about telling him how much more I like his face without the mask. I am well aware of the stupidity and sentimentality behind that sentiment, but it's true. Its part of the reason that I know I'm going to have to kill him.

Instead of saying anything, I hook an arm around his shoulders, catching him off guard and stealing a quick but fierce kiss. The best part about doing that with him is that he never fails to respond, however briefly. I like kissing him, especially when he doesn't expect it. It preserves at least some of my dominance in this.

Of course, it's a brief gesture. He pushes me away after only a few seconds, looking undeniably smug as he pulls his mask the rest of the way on.

We leave the inn and step immediately into freezing air. It's cold enough to have put a frost on the grass, and knowing my luck with weather it won't get any warmer throughout the day. I hate being cold and I say so. Saying anything only earns me a brief glance and more of Kakuzu's wit.

"If you're so cold, close your cloak the rest of the way."

Jack ass. Like he doesn't love the way I wear this stupid thing. Instead of dignifying such stupidity with a response, I wrap my arms around myself and pretend I hadn't said anything to begin with.

As always, neither of us are really concerned about the mission at this point. There are few things that really stand as a challenge to us, and fewer things that manage to catch us off guard. This is routine find-and-retrieve work; the only reason it could even possibly be considered dangerous is the amount of protection lying around the object we want to steal. Of course, it's another book- there is little in the world of shinobi more valuable than information. This book apparently has some very useful information about three of the bijuu known to have been incarnated around and in Lightning country. More importantly, it has information that, in the hands of opposition, could give a clue to what it is our Leader has planned.

This all sounds amazingly boring to me, but it's long been obvious that my tastes do not coincide with Rei's.

Unlike the book we want, the entrance to Kumogakure is rather poorly guarded. Kakuzu is a very efficient shinobi, but he's really not a terribly talented one. His idea of stealth is killing the observant people before they can call attention to us. So our entrance to the village is very obvious, as it always has and always will be. The streets of this place are narrow and winding, making the whole village maze-like; I suppose the purpose is to confuse outsiders. This might just work, if we hadn't been given a map to study.

Wherever our Leader gets his information from, it's good, and always accurate. You have to respect that, even if there's nothing else about him to respect.

With me close behind Kakuzu, we make our way through quiet side streets, moving around enough corners to make me glad that at least one of us took the time to memorize the path we're supposed to be taking. It's early enough in the morning for the light to still be dim and the streets to be empty, leaving our footsteps and the soft flutter of these stupid cloaks as the only sound. Our hope is that, having arrived so early in the morning, we'll catch the night shift of guards just before they're relived by the morning crew. While they're too tired to make much trouble, in other words. We both want to be out of here as soon as possible.

The building we arrive at is one of those structures that is somehow intimidating, not in architecture but just in sheer size. It seems to loom over the rest of the nearby buildings, a deep gray leviathan swarmed with early shadows. We are diagonally across the street from the building, at the perfect vantage to see the scattered ninja around the structure. These are the first we've seen inside the village's gates, and we can safely assume that they haven't been informed of our arrival.

For a few minutes we remain still, shrouded in the shadow of early morning, watching the two ninja at the front of the building shoot the shit with each other. Then Kakuzu gives me a brief glance, and in that look there is nothing to read. I nod nonetheless, because that's what he expects, and we make our move.

Tired and with no clue that anyone was approaching, the two door guards are dead before we even reach the entrance, thanks to Kakuzu's threads. Following his lead, I step carefully over the door frame, and notice the slimmest of trip-wires hidden in the gloom. Maybe these people aren't as stupid as I first thought. Then again, traps aren't all that reliable when set against a reasonably observant person.

Following Kakuzu, we dart through the halls and into a dimly lit stairwell. There is no sound but the low buzz of fluorescent lighting; I assume our arrival still hasn't been noticed. There is a smell to the place, a musty mildew stench that makes my lip curl back in disgust. It's the stench of untended death, coming from the vents at the wall. We linger in the stairwell for only a moment, but it's long enough for my stomach to take a lazy turn. Then we're running up the stairs, Kakuzu taking them two and three at a time in his haste. I think he's got the movement of the guards timed in his head, but I can't be too sure until we get close enough to the fourth floor, where I finally hear their soft footsteps.

No hesitation, just eagerness, exists between us. His hand hits the door and it flies open, loudly hitting some poor fuck and then the wall. The door ricochets back toward closing, but we've already slunk through and into the open hallway. Scythe in hand; I'm ready for anyone Kakuzu doesn't catch.

Because he's so thorough and observant, I doubt I'll have to do much but keep up until after we've got the book or scroll or whatever it is we're after. Which is just fine with me; I like these moments when I can watch him work.

I know that we're nothing even approaching normal by the standards of conventional partners. We aren't kind to each other, and we don't know anything more about each other than we absolutely have to. There's too much animosity between us to be really close, but there is still a level of intimacy between us, one that seems to grow and trap us together more and more as time goes by. I'm not talking about sex (or not just about sex), I'm talking about something that means a lot more to both of us.

People think intimacy comes only through closeness of the body, through physical contact or shared words.

Following a man, watching him literally come apart at the seams, close enough that his lust for destruction is something real and hot; close enough that the blood splashing from wounds he inflicts flies onto your cheek; feeling him move though you are not touching him- this is intimacy. I know more about Kakuzu through this proximity than I have known anyone else; I'm willing to say I know him better for it than any other living person.

Built to confuse, just as with the streets below, the hallways of this building are narrow, and most of the doors lining the walls are false. We don't try any of them, Kakuzu knows where he's going and I know I can follow him. After the first group of guards, there has not been another attack, and until someone finds their bodies, I doubt there will be.

It's at a narrow wooden door that we finally stop, and again I get a nasty impression just from the look of this thing. There's something wrong with the way it's been hung, so that though it's closed it looks like the door shouldn't fit the frame, and while that's not really something to be disturbed by, I am nonetheless. It doesn't help that some of the wood is so old it's crumbling off, or that the smell of corruption is even stronger here. Combined, all these factors give this door enough 'get the hell away' signals to indicate to me that it's exactly where we should be. Kakuzu doesn't touch the door, but instead sends a mass of threads at it, and seeing him do so gives me exactly enough time to raise my hands to shield my face before the whole nasty construct explodes.

"Thanks for the warning, jackass," I spit as he slips carefully through the hole, his broad shoulders still scrapping the raw plaster. Fucking assholes, putting exploding tags on a locked door.

As I step in after him, he raises a hand to signify that I should move ahead of him. I roll my eyes and skirt around him, quickly enough see what he needs me to do- the book we want is of course surrounded by such a web of traps that you could never snatch it without pulling one, and if you managed to pick your way past a few of them, you'd have wasted enough time that the guards would have caught up to you. That is, of course, if you have to worry about them killing you. Studying the traps for a moment, I give my weapon to Kakuzu and start to pick through them, avoiding the ones that would leave me injured enough to have trouble getting out of here and ignoring the senbon, shuriken, and kunai that the other traps send at me. Since I can take that sort of abuse with a smile on my face, my hand is on the book only about a minute later, and even quicker I'm handing it to Kakuzu and picking the needles out of my arms. I can already hear the thud of anxious, soon-to-be-dead ninja rushing toward the door, and can't help but smile a little as I secure my grip on the scythe. This is the fun part.

Just as we step out the door, the first crowd of guards turns the corner and sees us; and a crowd they are, not in any sort of visible formation and all bunched together in the narrow corridor. It's very easy to tell that they were in no way prepared for an actual threat to make it this far. Again, Kakuzu makes the first move, rushing forward and grabbing two of the men with his threads, smashing them together with enough force that they're almost instantly dead. Several kunai fly at him, which he easily knocks away with the threads, using still more the rip through their ranks.

All the attention is on him, giving me the perfect advantage; they stare at the threads coming out of his arms, or at their dead comrades, as I dart down the hall, and all the sudden I'm right there among them, scythe whistling through the air and connecting solidly with the face of some idiot, then into some other one's gut. Their blood splashes hotly around me, and I feel some of Kakuzu's threads narrowly passing me as they rip through the enemies pressing on either side of me.

Even as these assholes get a clue that they can't possibly win here, the reinforcements they no doubt called for before even heading our way are arriving, pressing them toward us as they try to run. And through them, Kakuzu and I are making some progress back down the hall; I hear several loud thuds, and once the unmistakable crumble of plaster as Kakuzu gets impatient and starts throwing people out of his way and into the walls. Still, our progress is slowing down- more and more of them are coming. When I glance over my shoulder, the relentless wave has finally made it to the point where some of them are actually hand-to-hand with Kakuzu, which is never pleasant, and when I look forward there's a sword half an inch from my eye. Instinctively I jerk my head back, and the blade slices down my cheek before I rip a kunai from my arm and jam it into the bitch's throat.

I hear a growl of aggravation from behind me, and know how pissed my partner is by now; we had both hoped that either the task-force would be small enough to be dispatched relatively quickly, or that the reinforcements would see the demolition of their comrades and run without us having to deal with them. Of course, while they're not as tenacious as some others we've fought, these bastards can't seem to get it through their heads that we're not going to die. Then I hear him yell for me to get down, and before I can think about it, one of his hands, disconnected from his body by the threads, is forcing me to the ground, right next to the guy who tried to shove a sword into my eye. Beyond the pressure of the hand, I can feel heat, and hear the screaming before the stench of burning flesh and cloth fills the room.

Much as I really do prefer not being burnt, I still manage to find it annoying to have had him push me out of the way like that. I know I would be much angrier if he hadn't warned me at all, but the way he at random decides to… whatever, to try and keep me safe; it's annoying. Like when he shoves me out of the way so some asshole's attack doesn't hit, or when he pushes in front of me to keep me from getting hit by some stupid weapon, when he knows damn well none of it's going to do me any real damage. Hell, when he knows he'll hurt me ten times as bad later in the day when he gets pissed off.

But, annoying as it is, it's another of those things about him that make me so certain that I have to kill him. And I suppose that, the way he does it, tells me that in some twisted way, we're feeling the same thing.

Sufficiently distracted, those not killed outright by his fire-jutsu are easily picked off as Kakuzu pulls me back to my feet and we return to running for the exit. In the confusion, we're quickly able to make it back outside, with only a little trouble finding our selves back in the maze-like streets. Close behind Kakuzu, I don't bother trying to remember what turns we're supposed to make, instead focusing on his back and keeping pace with his long stride. It's only as we're running toward the planned exit that I feel the sting of air on the raw flesh of my face, and feel the skin peeling back on itself. Better than a lost eye, but it stings like a motherfucker.

It seems their borders are even less attended now, which I assume means they directed most of their attention on the building we attacked. In any case, we slip out and make for the high grass. It'll be a few hours at least before they organize any sort of group to head after us, and since the only ones who got a clear look at us are either awaiting burial or a complete cremation, I doubt they'll really even know where to begin.

We keep running through the grass until it gives way to the course gravel and rocks on flat stone. The wind blowing off the sea, which is only a few miles away, carries with it a heavy scent of salt, and stings my face all the more. When Kakuzu slows to a stop I take the momentary pause to bring my hand to my face, cautiously exploring the wound. The edges are ripped, like the sword wasn't sharp enough and only cut through sheer pressure alone, and the flesh underneath is tender to the touch, moist and almost sticky. It's much longer than I thought at first, running from just beneath my right eye and over the cheek bone, ending just a hair above my jaw line. A long portion of skin is peeling back toward my ear, slowly opening the wound more to the air.

"Let me see it."

I instinctively clap my hand further over the wound, darting my eyes up to his. I hadn't even noticed he was watching me, I thought he was focused on getting the book hidden away. Of course, I was fairly absorbed with my examination of this nasty slice on my face. When I don't lower the hand immediately he narrows his eyes and steps closer, not bothering to make the demand a second time before gripping my wrist and pulling my hand away.

"Shit, fine, look, don't get all grabby."

He doesn't say anything to the snarky tone, only holds my wrist tightly and peers down at my face, eyes seeming to trace the curve of the wound. It's not bleeding any more, but blood is of course dried down that side of my face, obscuring it and making it harder to see the damage. After a long moment, he raises his other hand and lightly runs his finger over the edge. Then his eyes meet mine, laughing at me with his own at the glare I give him. "When we get to some water, you need to wash this out. I'll stitch it closed so it'll heal faster."

There is really no point in arguing, so I only roll my eyes as I pull away. "No shit, I'm going to wash it. It's fucking nasty; Jashin knows what kind of crap was on that asshole's sword before it was in my face." He snorts, shaking his head and looking around the area. Clouds have already rolled in, and the air is frigid. I'm fairly sure that before long it'll be snowing. "And like hell are you going to put those fucking things in this, it'll heal just fine on its own."

Giving me one of those slow looks that are so cold and openly menacing that they can only be funny anymore, he turns his attention back on me. "If I have to sew your mouth shut and nail your hands together again, I will. I really don't want to listen to you bitch for the next few days about how your face hurts unless I just hit you."

Completely ignoring the scowl I aim at him, he turns away and starts head for the cliffs that eventually give way to the ocean. Our plan was to stay at a tiny village somewhere near the water, still ridiculously close to Komukagure with the idea that it'll be overlooked or passed through quickly. Which means we'll probably spend the night in some seedy shit-hole place that no normal person would choose, or else in some abandoned fishing shack. If the fishing shack is available, I'm willing to bet that'll be Kakuzu's first choice.

As I trudge after him, the first light snow flakes begin to fall. It's too cold to even bother complaining, but I really hate this weather. True, it'll cover the tracks we've made so far and make it harder for us to be followed, but it's a pain in the ass to have to walk through. Hopefully though it will be enough to get the cheap bastard to pay for a room with heat.

We enter the town in silence. The buildings all look very old, as if no one's built anything new here since it was established. There are children playing in the newly fallen snow, but upon seeing us, they hush. Some of the older ones usher the younger kids back toward houses, and I can't say I blame them. What a pair we make just now, Kakuzu such an imposing figure even when he hasn't been in a fight, and me with half my face peeling back.

Again I find myself simply following Kakuzu; if I was told where exactly we'd go after collecting the book, I don't remember it. I just know that Kakuzu somehow always seems to know exactly where he's going. Without the children playing, the streets seem very quiet. It's a little after noon now, but I see no people traveling through the town from home or a job after lunch. I suppose in a fishing community they take their food out on the water with them. The few kids left outside are all older, nearing or in their teens, and they stare boldly at us as we pass, expressions stiff and challenging. Rather than get Kakuzu all pissy by giving them a reason to stare, I bring my hand back up to my face and lower my head. If I'm a good boy, maybe we can get somewhere warm soon.

The building we enter is just as old as the rest, constructed of wood that has turned black from exposure to the wet for so long. But stepping inside is heavenly- it's perfectly heated, as if the weather outside isn't leaning toward a blizzard. Kakuzu doesn't pause to enjoy this change, but I do, letting him head to the desk behind which an old woman is reading a book. She's either deaf or used to people entering at random hours; she doesn't look up until Kakuzu addresses her. He starts to speak in his low, 'I'm-dealing-with-people-who-are-going-to-take-my-money' voice, and she stares up at him until he gestures toward me. Her wrinkled face doesn't hide any of her shock, and I can only smile.

Kakuzu assures her that I'm fine, but need a room to clean up and rest for a while. That we would prefer to be bothered as little as possible, and no, the room doesn't have to be anything special, as long as it has a bed and access to a washroom. She nods at his words, all the time glancing at my face. In truth, by now some of the healing has started, but the dried blood probably doesn't do anything to show that. When Kakuzu suggests a price for a room, she looks at him, baffled, and tells him she can offer us a spare room for one night for even less, if we don't mind sharing a bed. I have to bite my tongue to keep from telling her how little we mind, only just managing not to laugh as she slips out from behind the desk and starts leading us down the hall.

I nod to her when she holds open the door to the room, and head straight for the (of course miniscule) bathroom. Kakuzu declines her offer of bandages, and follows me in, letting the door shut as he moves to sit on the bed. I let the water run hot on my hands for a few minutes before starting to wash my face, doing my best not to make the tear any worse as I scrub all the blood away. When I'm done, it's leaking slightly again and stings even worse, but it's clean and obviously not infected or poisoned.

Sitting on the bed, waiting, Kakuzu watches me through the open door. Since Leader made a point of telling him not to, we haven't gone after a single bounty since we left the base last time, so there is no need for him to try counting his cash. So instead he just watches me, and once I've finished, gestures me to join him.

Only because I'm pretty sure this nice warm room is supposed to be a bribe, I only make a slight face as I sit beside him, turning the wound toward him. This is one of those Kakuzu-kindnesses that I don't quite get… he really doesn't have to do this, but he's intent upon having it done, and he knows I don't need him to do it. But we both know the wounds will heal cleaner and faster if he does, and so there goes that argument.

Getting stitches from him is one of the strangest experiences I've ever dealt with. He tilts his hand back, letting a single thread loose, and it moves to the start of the tear. For a moment it just brushes against it, almost a caress, and then it's inside the skin, sharp enough that it might as well be a needle, weaving through the flesh and reconnecting the two halves. It's painful, and I can feel little rivulets of blood trickling down my face. In a few hours, or maybe in the morning, depending on how quickly it heals, Kakuzu will bring his arm back to my face and the thread, still a living part of him, will pull slowly back out of my face, and return to him. Though it feels no different than stitching from regular medical thread, it's undeniably strange.

When he's finished, he stays close for a moment, as if examining his work. Before I can pull away or ask him what he thinks he's doing, he's lowers his hand to my face, fingers just lightly resting on the skin as his thumb carefully brushes away the blood his stitching caused. It's another of his oddly delicate motions, a display of self control that is very strange. Just as suddenly he pulls away, standing and shrugging his cloak off. There are several large tears in it, and when he sits again, it's with his back to me and the cloak in his lap, already patching it up.

The whole moment leaves me with an odd feeling in my stomach. It's another one of those things- I know that, most people in a situation like this, getting so much pleasure and enjoyment from another person, even if it's confusing and random, would want it to last. They would want it to go on and grow and maybe get better or maybe burn itself out like a fever.

I can't stand that idea. I don't want forever; I want a perfect moment, and I want to see him in that perfect state of grace as his life leaves him. Then, I could die happily. Forever is a curse, a voracious animal that takes and takes, weakening and demolishing things as it goes.

That's why I'm going to kill Kakuzu, why I'll stay by him even when he's being a stupid greedy jackass. Because forever wouldn't make our relationship better, it would make it brittle and weak and easily taken for granted. If I could walk away, I would… but through some stupid twist, I'm stuck with him, and there is nothing I can do. It's Jashin's will, or else we would have been separated by now, long before any of these ridiculously confusing feelings could ever exist.

For Kakuzu and I, who could both live for so long, there is no forever. It's better that way.

END CHAPTER SIX

A/N: Look it got done. Happy Valentine's Day, KakuHida fans.