"Scattering petals down the road without an end,

left on the battleground for one I call my friend,

maybe he loved me as he took me by the hand

and tried to understand."

-EmpathP, Secret Garden

Yahiko sucked in hard, chest rising, cheeks filling with air. He was making the tiger seal. He paused, leaned forward, and blew it all out in one big rush. Nothing happened.

Mamoru turned a deadpan stare onto Osamu. "You showed him a fire jutsu." It wasn't a question, but an acknowledgement of a fact.

Osamu stood just in front of us—in the rain only because he couldn't fit under the roof without crouching. The makeshift bandage around his eye was tinged brown-yellow, pieces of thread hanging off the ends. I saw him take it off only once, and that was to test if he could see out of it.

He couldn't.

The middle of his left eye was a milky brown, the white parts around it filled with red. Naga had healed it a little, but the damage had already been done when he came to us.

"He told me it was for ninjutsu practice," Osamu defended.

"Believing him was your first mistake," Konan chirped, laying on her stomach, folding paper into miniature cicadas.

"His chakra isn't fire-natured?" Osamu asked, brows furrowed.

"He wishes," Konan scoffed.

"It's water," I provided. I gently prodded the wings of one of the paper cicadas Konan placed in a loose circle around Mamoru and me. It felt rough and scratchy.

Rat. Dog. Tiger. Yahiko inhaled, exhaled, and failed again.

Osamu looked alarmed, eyes darting to Yahiko's back. "Then he shouldn't be trying to mimic me. He could seriously hurt himself—" he stopped when he saw that no one else shared his concern.

"He knows the risks," Mamoru dismissed. "If he hurts himself, that's on him."

"That's cold, Mamoru-sensei," Konan said, but her happy tone didn't change. She waved a half-folded cicada at him in mock admonishment.

Mamoru eyed it. "He's a freak of nature," he amended. "He'll be fine."

"Better."

"Can you teach me a fire jutsu too?" I asked Osamu.

Osamu gaze shot to Mamoru's, more alarmed than before.

Mamoru ignored him and raised an eyebrow at me, "Last I checked, you were still learning how to do Headhunter."

I pouted. "I can do both."

"And you still need two hands to make an Earth Clone," he added.

"I can do all three," I said.

"Speaking of being taught new things, when are you gonna teach me a new genjutsu, Mamoru-sensei?" Konan asked, smiling, feet curled in the air.

Mamoru-sensei tilted his head back against the wall.

"You haven't taught us anything new since, well..." she glanced up at Osamu, who blinked at her. "Osamu's healed enough, so we should get back to learning, right?"

I offered one of the cicadas to Osamu.

Mamoru-sensei closed his eyes.

Osamu took it, looking bewildered, his cupped hands dwarfing the paper creation.

Konan's smile widened, "You haven't been acting like a proper sensei, sensei."

"A proper sensei would've disappeared on you as soon as he had the chance," Mamoru told her.

"Are you calling yourself a bad sensei?" Konan asked innocently.

Mamoru shook his head, "Can't you let an old man have a day off?"

"You've had many days off."

Osamu considered Yahiko, looked back at us, then wandered over to Yahiko.

I watched him for a moment. "Is he okay?" I asked Mamoru.

Mamoru opened his eyes. "It's an adjustment for him," he answered. "He'll have to get used to it until he decides to stay or leave the village."

Leave the village.

I waited to feel something. The urge to convince Osamu to stay and teach us, the wish to help him get better the same way we helped Mamoru-sensei. But when I looked at Osamu, I didn't feel anything at all.

I heard ripping paper behind me.

Konan shot to her feet. "Namekuji—no ," she said, eyes wide, looking past me. "Please, not again."

Namekuji, only half of his body outside, was in the middle of eating a paper cicada.

"Namekuji," Konan pleaded, dropping to her knees. "Those take so long to make."

Namekuji stopped for a second, then sucked the other half into his mouth.

Konan made a noise of despair and threw herself at him. He split into pieces before she landed, narrowly avoiding a full body tackle.

Konan landed on her stomach, still for a moment, then she pounded her fists against the grass.

"Make him stop eating my paper," she wailed, facedown.

I decided to intervene then. I stood and scooped Namekuji up, taking him inside. "Why are you always so mean to Konan?" I asked. He didn't feel so heavy anymore.

"I'm not," Namekuji answered. "I'm mean to everyone. Equally."

Naga sat in the middle of the room, flipping through his old medical textbook. He carefully closed it as I approached, arms full of a slimy slug, and nudged it behind him.

"Why do you have to eat her paper?" I asked, plopping down.

"Because it's tasty."

I tried to put him on the ground next to me, but he squirmed his way into my lap instead. "You could eat other things that are tasty and not Konan's paper," I informed him.

"No."

I blinked down at him.

"Because I don't want to," he added.

"She makes slugs for you sometimes," I told him. "You could be nicer."

Namekuji curled up into a ball. "I'm going to sleep."

"I won't let you sleep on me anymore if you keep being mean," I threatened.

Namekuji snorted and didn't respond.

I stared at him, trying to make it clear how serious I was, but he only relaxed more.

"I think he likes you more than me," Naga said, smiling softly.

I paused, looking up. "When are you going back, Naga?"

His smile slipped. He sighed. "You should've told me how you felt about me being gone before, Oka."

"I didn't know how," I said quietly.

He frowned. "You were with me in Shikkotsu. You should've said—"

"Telling you to come back wouldn't make you feel better," I interrupted.

His eyes widened.

I looked away, "I couldn't, anyway. Your eyes were so sad when you looked at me, Naga."

Shock, then a flash of regret.

"You always look at me like that now," I said.

Naga pressed his hands against his face. "I didn't think—It's not your fault."

"You said you 'failed me', and I keep hearing it over and over in my head," I whispered.

Naga dropped his hands. "That's because I wanted you to grow up differently, Oka. I wanted you to be better than me, better than this dumb war. It—it just affected you a lot more than I thought it did," he said tiredly.

"What's wrong with the way I grew up now?"

Naga leaned back until he was laying on the ground, staring up at the roof. "I keep saying the wrong thing," he said softly. "Remember those story books Mama used to read to us?"

I remembered the story Naga used to read to me about the princess from an island on the sea. When I tried to think of Mama's voice, I heard his instead. But I didn't stop him.

"Remember the monk who carved the moon and the merchant who made an island from the stars?" he continued. "Those stories are way different, but neither is wrong or bad for not being the same. I just wanted your story to be a different one, Oka."

I followed his gaze to the ceiling, and I tried hard to imagine it. Mama, her hair red and flowing, her eyes...

What color were her eyes?

What did her nose look like?

I tried to conjure the image of the monk, or the merchant, but they wouldn't come. Maybe I did know those stories when I was little, but I didn't now.

"Tell me the words to make you forget about Usagi," I said.

Naga's eyes snapped to mine.

"You remembered her again when Osamu talked about Danzo," I told him. "It made you want to leave."

Naga stared straight up. "I don't want to forget," he said quietly.

"Why?"

"Because I don't think I'll like the person I'll be if I do," he whispered.

I frowned. What did he mean by that?

"Next time, if I'm making you feel bad, tell me right away," Naga told me.

Next time...?

He looked sad, but it wasn't for me this time. It was for himself.

"How?" I asked.

Naga looked at me.

"I don't always have the words to tell you how I feel," I explained. "I'm not Yahiko or Konan or you. It's harder for me."

Naga's eyes widened a fraction. He sat up, inching closer until our knees were touching. "Then punch me," he said.

I stared at him.

"That's how you tried to tell me how you felt before, right?"

I shook my head, "I never really wanted to punch you."

"You don't have to be Yahiko or Konan or me," Naga said firmly. "You don't need to make a speech to tell me how you feel. Tell me I'm making you sad and I'll understand. You don't have to say anything else."

Was it really that easy?

"You're making me sad, Naga," I murmured.

Naga took part of my scarf between his fingers. "Give this to me the next time I go," he said. "That way I have to come back fast to return it to you."

I smiled a little, carefully shifting around so I could lean on him. "Only if you don't get any baby slime goo on it."

Naga smiled right back at me, "Promise."

.

.

.

When I woke up a little later and went back outside Yahiko was panting, hands on his knees, each breath coming out as a cloud of ashy smoke. His lips were black.

Osamu looked incredulous.

"Believe me yet?" Yahiko asked between gasps.

絆

"No one out there believed Hanzo exiled Osamu. They think he's dead," Yahiko said, hooking a thumb at the front door behind him. "We need to show them that he's alive. People will wonder how he survived, start asking questions, and then—"

"People that are hurt or sick might think there's a medic-nin hiding in Amegakure somewhere," Konan realized. "And they'll search all over looking for him."

Yahiko shook his head. "Did you have to interrupt me? I make this huge master plan for our first step towards taking over the world just so you can steal it from me in the end."

Konan raised an eyebrow at him. "'First step?'"

Yahiko rubbed his chin. "Twenty-eighth step doesn't have the same ring to it."

"If he goes, Hanzo will be alerted immediately," Mamoru said, steering the conversation back on track. "How can you be sure the Salamander won't show?"

"Well," Yahiko drawled, pointing at him. "If what you and Osamu said about him is true, Hanzo will be too paranoid to face Osamu himself in case it's a trap set by the people who knew him best. It'll take way too long for him to call together a group of shinobi he trusts to go with him, so the success of our first mission depends on if you were right or wrong about Hanzo."

Osamu's brows furrowed, all concern and worry.

"And if it fails?" Konan asked in a deadpan.

Yahiko waved her off. "Konan, the adults are talking."

She responded by chucking Naga's medical book at him.

After Yahiko hastily ducked and it bounced into a corner, I went to retrieve it.

"Promise me you won't grow up to be like her, Oka," Yahiko pleaded.

Konan eyed Naga's textbook as I sat back down, and I hugged it to my chest. She looked at Namekuji next.

Namekuji snorted, "Keep your hands away from me, Blue."

Yahiko turned to face her. "It won't fail," he said, the confidence in his eyes like a beacon, drawing us all in. He broke into a smile. "Come on. Have some faith in me."

Konan stared at him like he was a completely different person, like she wasn't throwing books at him a second before.

"See?" Mamoru stressed, shaking his head. "This kid."

Osamu looked a little like he was finally starting to understand why we followed Yahiko.

Yahiko held out his fist. "But then again," he began. "We should all have a say in this. Put your hand on top of mine if you think we should do this."

I inched forward first, still wearily cradling Naga's book, and put my hand on his fist.

Konan, avoiding his gaze, put hers on top of mine.

Mamoru eyed our hands. "I agree to the plan, but I'm not doing that."

Osamu hesitated, but slowly joined his hand on top of ours. "This is a bad idea. But I think it'll work and I'm not sure why," he said honestly.

"It's 'cause Yahiko made you believe we could," I explained happily.

Osamu stared at me.

"Namekuji?" Yahiko asked.

"Nagato's busy," Namekuji said back. "Do your weird arm thing without him."

Yahiko shook his head. "I wasn't asking for him. You're part of this too."

Namekuji looked up at him.

"You're asking the slug to vote on this?" Osamu asked.

"Coming from the human that smells like cheese," Namekuji shot back, inching closer.

Osamu blinked.

Yahiko lowered his hand, forcing all of ours lower too. Konan and Osamu both retracted theirs before Namekuji could touch them, but I didn't move as his slimy head brushed against my hand. Yahiko grinned, "Operation: Recruit More Members is a go."

In the background, I heard Osamu quietly asking Mamoru if he really smelled like cheese.

.

.

.

Konan dropped a silver-green fish onto the counter of a food stand. It was a bigger fish from the lake, its body almost completely moss green.

The counter creaked, tilting heavily to one side as soon as she let go. It was a rushed patchwork of wood, steel, and screws scavenged from rubble and cobbled together. The sharp ends of screws poked out of the front.

The merchant held the fish in place. "Thanks kid," he said gruffly. "At least someone's trying to keep us all alive out here." His eyes flicked up and away from Osamu. He was a pale man, his skin tinted yellow. He was missing his thumb and pinky on his left hand.

He gathered up the fish and shuffled over to a crate on the ground behind him, using his body as a shield to the rain as he pushed it open. I watched him wiggle the fish into an empty black bag, shove it in the crate, and secure the lid back over the top.

He grabbed a sack hidden behind the stand on the way back. It made a wet, squishy sound when he put it on the counter, the outside stained brown with juice. It smelled like fruit and rot.

"Don't expect me to be able to pay you again if you bring another one," he warned. "People are even begging to eat rotten food these days, 'an the last shipment of the fresh stuff we were supposed to get from Kusagakure was raided. On top of that, they're gonna start sending stuff to the bigger villages over us soon and..." he trailed off, shaking his head.

How was it any different from the way things had always been?

"Just... thanks," he grunted.

Konan pulled the sack off the counter, all smiles. "We don't do this to be paid, so no worries," she chirped. "We're just happy to help. This—" she gestured at the sack. "—is a bonus."

The sack was filled with food that had arrived spoiled, rotten enough to make most people sick eating them. The merchant separated all the rotten ones he found from the rest and put them in a separate sack for us. Fortunately, we'd been eating half-expired food for years.

The merchant stared at Konan for a moment, then looked down. "Amazing that a place like this produced any kind kids at all."

Konan shook her head. "'Course it did. You just have to know where to look for them." She turned away. "I'll bring a bigger one next time."

There were makeshift stands and tents everywhere I looked, some tarps propped up by twisted beams of metal, others made from parts of rotting chairs and tables. A group of adults stood on a pile of rubble, creating the skeleton of a building out of mud and rocks and pieces of whatever they could find.

Most outright turned their backs to Osamu, but I saw a few of them recognize him, flashes of surprise and fear before they avoided his eyes.

Three days from now, Osamu would wait on a bridge for people to find him. Mamoru-sensei would be there too, hidden, concealing Osamu from view in case Root, Hanzo, or someone who wasn't hurt showed. Every day after that Osamu would wait at a different bridge.

Konan opened the sack, humming happily as she inspected what was inside. The smell grew into something sourer and Osamu wrinkled his nose, stopping his nervous inspection of the few rooftops around us to eye the bag.

"Why would he pay you with rotten food?" Osamu asked. He was on Konan's left, and I was on her right.

"So we can eat it," Konan said bluntly. Her hand was smeared with brown juice and fruit clumps when she pulled it back out, holding something green in the vague shape of an apple. "Here, Oka."

I stepped closer, sniffing the 'apple' cautiously. I looked up at her instead of taking it.

Konan shook her head. "Not all apples are red," she teased.

I hesitated but took the so-called apple. It was bitter and soft when I bit into it, but undeniably an apple. I swallowed, turning it around in my hands. "What other color apples are there?"

Konan hummed, "Yellow, I think."

My eyes widened. "Where do the yellow ones grow?"

"If I remember right... Kumogakure."

"Can we go?"

Konan snorted out a laugh, covering her mouth. "One day," she said through her fingers.

I smiled. Looking over, I saw that Osamu was pinching his nose closed. I sniffed, but the sack didn't smell that bad. Our first hideout smelled worse.

"There's too much food in there for you four to be able to eat before it's completely inedible. What'll you do with them then?" Osamu asked, hesitant, still figuring out where he fit between the five of us.

Konan closed the sack by tying the opening into a knot. "We have to sort them first," she explained. "Separate the ones that are really goners from the ones we can still eat. Then we'll come back and give the good ones to people who need it. Namekuji will eat the bad ones. Yahiko might too."

Osamu paused, slowly shaking his head. "If the four of you met Hanzo before..." he trailed off. "You might've shown him a different path."

I stopped as we walked past an alley, turning to look at a small figure huddled in the dark.

They were shivering, arms wrapped around their knees, fighting for warmth even as each drop of rain felt like ice against their exposed skin.

I cupped my hands, watching rain splatter and pool between my palms.

I knew how they felt, because Naga and I used to be the kids in an alley, cold and alone, ignored until we were pests people wanted to get rid of. I released a long breath. I was moving before I knew what I wanted to do.

Her (?) head jerked up and she scrambled back, pushing and kicking against the concrete, expecting to be hurt.

I thought of the faces I could barely remember, the big hand that grabbed my brother, pulling him away from me. I felt a sudden tidal wave of rage, churning and churning inside me until I almost felt sick.

I wished...

I wished I remembered them better so I could hurt them like I would hurt Tsunade.

The girl pushed wet strands of shaggy black hair out of her eyes, staring up at me. Her lips were pale and chapped, her nose swollen purple-blue, her cheeks sunken.

I held out my hand, offering her my quarter-eaten apple.

I watched her eyes widen, the way she stretched forward—her left hand clamping down around her right wrist before she could grab it, stopping herself. She pushed herself back, further into the dark and the protection of the shadows. Giving her my apple suddenly didn't feel like enough.

She looked at me the same way Naga used to look at Yahiko. Distrust. Suspicion. Expecting a trap or a trick.

"I'm Oka," I chirped, giving her a poor mimicry of Konan's smile.

The girl glanced at the apple again. She crept forward, slowly, and then she snatched it and backed away, still staring at me as she stuffed it in her mouth.

"Oka?" Konan called, shuffling into the alley behind me. "You can't wander off like that—"

The girl tensed, cradling the apple closer to her chest, pieces of fruit stuck to her chin.

"'Is okay," I said. "That's just Konan." I half-turned, tilting my head when I saw that Konan was looking at the girl with wide eyes.

"I didn't sense him at all," she whispered.

I made a thoughtful noise, but I didn't know why it bothered her. The girl stiffened at 'him'.

I watched her lick her fingers clean and I thought of Yahiko. Of him deciding that my brother and I had a place in his quest for peace. He could've given us enough to eat and kicked us out, but he didn't. He let us stay. He brought us out of the rain.

I grabbed the girl's wrist.

She yelped, jerking back, but I didn't let go. She was only a little shorter than me.

Konan took a step forward. "Oka, let him go," she said sternly. "It's rude to grab people like that—"

"She's coming," I decided.

"She...?" Konan blinked. "What?"

I pulled the girl up, but she resisted. "Jus' leave me alone," she hissed. "What d'ya want me for?"

I paused, looking into her blue eyes. "I want to feed you."

The girl's eyes widened. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

Taking that as understanding, I dragged her forward.

"We can't just take anyone back," Konan protested.

"This isn't anyone," I said back. "This is..." I trailed off.

"Kota," the girl mumbled, with something that was almost wonder.

"This is Kota," I said firmly, pulling her past Konan.

"We can leave her food, but we can't bring her."

Kota dug her heels in the dirt once we were out of the alley, and I followed her gaze up to Osamu, who hovered nearby. She looked abruptly afraid.

"That's Osamu," I dismissed.

"Who is this?" Osamu asked, blinking down at us.

"A stray," I answered, looking at Konan.

Konan's cheeks tinted red. She looked away and let it go.

A/N: 絆 - Bonds

Character development is neat.

Kota joins the fight! 98% chance her !canon name wasn't Kota. Meh. But she is an Original Akatsuki member.