A/N: One more chapter after this, I believe. Sorry for the slow updates, I was getting settled into college. Now that I'm all set up, I'll probably update more, and start a few more stories that I will *hopefully* finish like I will this one and the other few that aren't done yet. I will finish all of them if it kills me, dammit! So, that means… I have 5 stories to finish?


"If you're going to be a God, what'll that make me?"

That was what she asked him a long time ago, while fiddling with a piece of paper. She meant it as a joke, because she was starting to get a sneaking suspicion that he was serious about becoming a God. She joked with him like that a lot, hoping he'd realize how ridiculous he was being. She told herself it was a phase, since it had only been a few days since Yahiko's death.

He thought about it for a few minutes after she asked. She didn't actually know if he had heard her, because he didn't even move when she asked. Eventually, he looked up at the top of the tent and gave her an answer.

"I guess that'd make you an angel."

She smiled and flattened the paper out.

"What makes you say that?" She asked.

"Angels are messengers, aren't they? And protectors. They guide people."

"Gods do that, too," she said.

"As if I could do all that by myself."

She paused for a minute, a bit confused by the statement.

"You've done all that," she pointed out, beginning to fold the paper again.

"It's different."

Finally, he had gotten tired of holding his head up. Being unable lay down on his back, they had put a large stack of pillows in front of him to lean on. As he began to put his head down, she heard him wince. She looked over to see him trying to untangle a knot in his hair that happened to be wrapped around one of the rods. She reached over and pulled it apart herself.

"I think we should get someone to cut your hair, Nagato. It's going to keep getting caught like that."

"I'd rather leave it than have one of them try to cut it."

"The longer it gets, the more it'll snag."

He thought about that, but he wasn't sure what was worse. At least he could stop the pain immediately if it was just his hair. An outside force couldn't be stopped so quickly.

"I don't want anyone else touching me," he finally said.

"Will you let me do it, then? I'll be careful."

He doubted she'd be as rough as the medics. They did their job, but seemed to value their time more than comfort. That didn't mean she wasn't going to hurt him at some point, if only by accident.

"You'll stop if I ask you to, right?"

"Of course."

He reluctantly agreed, and hoped he wouldn't regret it. She got up, putting the paper down on the arm of the chair. It fluttered to the floor as she got up, though he was the only one who noticed. He watched her dig through some of their bags in the back of the tent to find something to cut with. She only found a kunai.

"Where are you going?" He asked her when she left the tent.

"I don't think I want to cut your hair with a kunai unless I have to. I just think it might be harder. I don't want to slip."

Thankful for her consideration, he waited patiently for her to come back. She had cut his hair with a kunai before, but that was quite a while ago. Scissors took a lot less work.

She came back with a rather small pair, with a blunt tip. He seemed a bit confused about why she had chosen such a pair, but didn't ask. She came and sat next to him on the bed, and realized that she couldn't sit behind him and do it as it was usually done.

"This might look horrible when I'm done," She said.

"So?"

It really didn't matter, and she knew that. She thought maybe he cared, but was relieved when he didn't. She thought she should've known that already, but better to tell him then surprise him.

She pulled the chair she had been sitting in right up against the bed, climbing into the seat. Standing on her knees, she rose above him, giving her a much better view. She ran her hand through his hair, and snagged it immediately. She flinched at pulled her hand away, afraid that she had hurt him.

"What?" He asked when he noticed that she had stopped.

"You didn't feel that?"

He almost smiled. Almost.

"You really thought that would've hurt?"

"I don't know."

She started to do it again, with the same result. She stopped trying to straighten it out, and instead turned her attention to cutting it. Perhaps cutting it would remove some of the knots she kept snagging.

"How short should I cut it?" She asked him.

He said he didn't care. Selfishly, she decided she'd only cut it short enough to avoid clinging to the rods. Perhaps she would've cut it shorter if he hadn't looked so different. His hair seemed to be the only thing that looked the same, and she didn't want to lose that.

She went slowly, cutting a just a few inches across every time. She'd stop for a few seconds, and then work on the next few inches. The silence became uncomfortable.

"Can I ask you something?" She asked.

"Hm?"

"All that stuff you mentioned before, about the angels. You said you couldn't do it."

"And?"

"I've seen you do it, Nagato. You do that a lot."

"I told you, that's different."

"How is that different? It's the exact same thing."

"It's such a small group when I do. It's different if you have to do it for the whole world. As God of the world, I'll have to rule over so many people."

"You've thought this out, haven't you?"

By then, she had gotten to the middle of his hair, and couldn't see the other side. She dragged the chair around the opposite side of the bed, and continued. He never answered her question.

Every chunk that fell landed on the sheets of the bed, or caught between the rods. She started to wonder how she'd remove those without hurting him. She wondered how much it took to hurt him in the first place. If that snag hadn't hurt, how rough had the medics been?

After a few more minutes, she had finished her first task.

"Can I brush it?" She asked.

"Yes."

Since he had been saying yes to all of her requests, she started to get a bit bolder with her questions.

"Can I wash it?"

He hesitated.

"Why?"

"It'll be easier to brush if all the junk comes out of it first."

When he didn't reply immediately, she wondered if she should've told him that. Perhaps now he was going to take back his permission to brush it in the first place.

"Fine."

She got her way with everything after he agreed to that. She told him he'd feel better; that was always her argument. He kept saying yes. He would've done anything to feel just a little bit better.

Not only did she wash his hair, but the rest of him, too, after a bit of convincing. She managed to remove all of the lose hair from the rods without hurting him too much. She got him to brush his teeth, which he actually jumped on as soon as she suggested it.

When she was done, she took a minute to try and even out his clean, but now uneven hair. She didn't do such a good job, but it looked decent enough. However, the bed was now a mess after getting soaked.

"I think maybe we should get you a different bed."

He agreed, but realized he would have to get up for that. He knew he could, as he had done it quite often to relieve himself. That didn't mean he liked standing. It hurt more than just sitting.

She reached her hand out to him, and supported him as he rose from the bed. He moved ever so slowly to the other side of the tent, and stood motionless.

"I'm going to get someone to bring another bed and take that one out," she told him. He didn't want her to, but she promised they wouldn't touch him. And they didn't.


She has gotten a lot better at cutting His hair. She does it with a kunai now. Today, however, she seems to be having trouble with it.

"How much longer?" He asks impatiently.

She doesn't reply to Him. She can't. She has sheets of paper over her face, covering her mouth and nose.

"Did you undercook something?" He asks her.

She shakes her head.

"Then you're sick."

She shakes her head again.

"Take that thing off your mouth."

She shakes her head. He glares at her for disobeying him

"Why do you keep running for the bathroom, then?"

Unable to speak, she doesn't need to give him an excuse; she drops the kunai and yet again heads for the bathroom. She hears Him sigh as she goes.

As she closes the door, she begins to cough. It doesn't stop for half a minute. When it does, the paper comes off her face, and fuses with her wrist. She drinks from the faucet, trying to rid herself of the scratchy feeling in her throat.

She has lied. She knows she's sick. He had told her to avoid this situation, and she tried. She doesn't know where she got it. She just knows that she's had it for a day and a half, and she's scared. She doesn't want to get Him sick. She can handle it, but she worries that he can't.

After she's scrubbed her hands raw, the paper comes off her arm again. She makes herself another mask, and goes back in.

"I know you're lying to me," He says as she walks in. "You are sick."

Standing on the other side of the room, she thinks it's safe to take the mask off. It floats off in different directions, and she tells him:

"I thought you wouldn't want me here if I was."

"Just because you're sick doesn't mean you have to leave," He says. The mask forms over her face again.

"Take that off," He hisses.

She does, but only to say something.

"I don't want to get you sick."

"Leave it off. It's your immune system that's shot, not mine. If whatever you have isn't making you suffer, it can't be anything strong."

"But—"

"Don't argue with me."

She doesn't want to. She knows it'll make him angry, and she hates making him angry. She's learned the signs that indicate that she shouldn't fight him, and this is one of them. The paper fuses with her wrist again.

"Come here and finish this, now."

"Can you do it yourself? Get Deva to do it?" She asks.

He doesn't reply. He just stares. She knows what that means.

She reluctantly listens to Him. He's right. He told her that if she got sick, it'd be worse than usual. This seemed to be a simple cough. It couldn't be anything more than a cold.


A/N: Meh… I don't really like this chapter, but… I can't fix it too much. Last chapter soon, guys.