Every city he ever comes to, he gets a lot of stares. Kakuzu stares back at them all and watches his watchers look away. In a pack of dogs, that would make him boss; humans are a little more complicated, or they pretend to be, at least.
He does a good job sewing himself up in a human skin. It isn't completely seamless, he's covered in seams, in fact, on his face, even, but he can walk and he can talk and he can work and the form works, he's recognized as a human, as something terrible too. He buys a hot roll stuffed with meet and walks barefoot, ignoring whatever squishes nastily between his toes. Odds are he's walked through (and maybe eaten) worse in his already-long life. There's no point in starting to fuss now.
Cart wheels rumble over the cobbles. A young girl offers him peacock feathers, for sale, the blue-flaming centers the same shade as his eyes. Kakuzu presses forward, ignoring her, until she shifts out of the way.
People scream at each other. People scream at him, trying to sell whatever they think he wants. Painted women enveloped in thin silks and sweet scents call down to him from little balconies. "Buying, sir? You buying?"
Kakuzu finds his contact in a rumbled little shack selling kebabs. An man with a hard jaw and eyes spinning red, pulling gobs of meat off the charred sticks. Kakuzu slides into the seat next to him and holds up a finger for the woman to bring him food. His new companion grunts.
"I'll buy you lunch," Uchiha Madara rasps. "It's the least I can do for a new employee."
The woman comes back and Kakuzu puts his finger down with a nod. "It's appreciated," he murmurs.
He's not buying, but he is selling; and Kakuzu's loyalty is, as always, the best commodity he has.