"It was odd how she understood,
my words without a single mind,
Could it be that you're just like me,
someone born of all the stars combined?"
-Letters to Andromeda, Kuraiinu
Nagato shaded his eyes as he left the hideout and stepped out into a wave of heat.
Amegakure being closest to Wind and River country meant that the weather was most influenced by the weather they had, because whatever natural weather the village had, if it ever did, had been disrupted by the rain.
The wind currents that came up from River weren't strong enough to be windy here, but it lessened the heat and pushed it back west. But when the currents were weaker, there wasn't much to stop the heat that came from Wind.
At least the swamps in Rain country had enough trees to absorb some of it.
Nagato spotted Mamoru-sensei first, standing to Itsuki's left—
He stopped and looked back.
"Lord Taiyokage," Itsuki greeted. He didn't bow, but Nagato would've stopped him if he tried.
He had scars around the right side of his mouth that resembled scratches, like he'd tried to hold an ally or an enemy down and paid for it. He didn't have the weapons pouch or pack he'd left with, his dark hair was hastily tied, and he looked exhausted.
A dozen questions bounced around in Nagato's head, what happened, why haven't you sent a message, what did Iron say about—
"He has a message," Mamoru-sensei said, glancing at Itsuki. "And is used to not speaking until given permission to."
Itsuki looked briefly surprised, and chuckled. "Right," he said. "Sukehito Miyashita of Watamura came back with me, and he brought some of his attendants with him. He was waiting in his carriage when I left, south of here."
Nagato went still, and it took him an extra second to process what he'd said. Here?
"He's a samurai?" Mamoru-sensei asked.
"He is," Itsuki said.
"Sukehito Miyashita?" Nagato repeated. He wasn't one of the aristocrats Joji-sensei taught him about, the samurai directly under the shogun, or what he remembered of Emperor Ohta's family.
"He bring any with him?"
"One I know of. Hangaku. She goes everywhere he does."
"Why south?" Nagato finally asked. Iron was to the northeast.
"His carriage had no trouble coming down from the mountains but had to be turned around a quarter of the way through the Land of Rain," Itsuki answered. "If we hadn't gone the long way around through the Land of Rivers he'd still be stuck in the swamps."
Nagato paused. Someone he hadn't wrote to and didn't know. Someone who came all the way here because of his message.
"Tell me what happened, as short as possible," Nagato said absently.
"The quickest answer is that I'm not made for politics. I played courier, as asked. They stopped me at the border, took me in for interrogation, all the expected stuff," Itsuki told him, and sighed. "What wasn't expected was them making me wait for so long. I expected to leave empty-handed after the first two weeks of silence, but instead I had visitors. Nobility-types, mostly. I didn't have any answers for them about what you said, but that didn't stop them from asking."
Nagato almost winced. "I didn't mean to throw you into the middle of that."
Itsuki stared at him, and then he half-scoffed, half-laughed. "You and Lord Yahiko are like no leaders I've ever served or reported to," he said. "It's one thing to talk so casually around others, but it's completely different when no one's watching."
Nagato considered that, "You're one of my shinobi, aren't you? I don't feel like I have to pretend to be someone I'm not around the people here."
Itsuki's eyes widened, and then he started to laugh. "Just like that, huh?" he asked. He shook his head and glanced at Mamoru-sensei. "You've really changed, eh, Mamoru?"
"Your first mistake was thinking that my being here meant anything," Mamoru-sensei said.
"As short as possible," Nagato repeated, and Itsuki laughed outright.
"Sure, sure, where was I?" he asked, then continued before Nagato could think to answer, "I was kept in a border town and told little to nothing. Least they gave me sake when I complained enough. Miyashita was a visitor, didn't tell me where he came from until later, and was persistent. I wasn't there for an escort, and told him so, but I came to realize after a while that I didn't want to come back empty-handed, and he was the best I could do."
Sukehito Miyashita of Watamura.
"Did you learn anything else about him?" Nagato asked.
Itsuki frowned. "Not as much as I'd like, no. He didn't stop talking after we left samurai territory, but he never let anything of importance slip after he told me where he was from."
Nagato paused, thinking. Was Miyashita sent by Emperor Ohta? Or could important people leave on their own if they wanted?
"I'll go and meet him," he sighed. He looked at Mamoru-sensei. "Sensei—"
"You don't have to ask," Mamoru-sensei said. "I'm coming with you."
Nagato felt warm. "Show me where he is."
.
.
.
Nagato had only seen a closed carriage in books before. The closest to them he could think of were the supply wagons in Fire, and those were pulled by people, not horses.
Both were a dark shade of brown and didn't seem to like the sand, if the way they fidgeted told him anything. An older man in plated armor whistled to himself as he patted one.
Nagato caught the sharp stare of a woman leaning against the side of the carriage. The sheathe at her side looked longer than Yahiko's, and made of old wood, personal in a way sheathes carried by ninja never were.
If he was either Joji-sensei or Yahiko, he might've been able to tell what it held.
Her kimono was the color of the sky, and she had the same armor plates over her shoulders and around her waist as another man with his hair in a top knot.
Nagato stopped on the sand as he opened the carriage door. Mamoru-sensei stayed behind him on his right, and Itsuki stood to his left.
He could tell, before Miyashita stepped out, that he had more chakra than the others. It didn't pool in his middle, like every ninja he ever met, but was concentrated in his arms and legs. It flowed down to his core instead of up from it, and Nagato tried not to be distracted by it.
"You came a long way from Iron to see me, Miyashita of Watamura," Nagato said, more confident than he felt, and he added it to the mental pile of favors he owed Ren.
The other potential samurai or servant closed the door and dipped his head as Miyashita passed him and walked leisurely down the sand like he was from somewhere with a coastline. His smile was slight and his dark hair was unbound.
"Why, of course I did. You left me with little choice. I had to meet the ninja who not only addressed the Son of Heaven properly, but was audacious enough to write directly to him in the first place," Miyashita told him, eyes flicking down to the Akatsuki robe tied around his waist, the sleeves tucked in to look less casual.
Hangaku wordlessly moved away from the carriage and followed a step behind and to his left. Pins kept her hair tied in a bun.
Nagato didn't freeze outwardly, but suddenly felt like he'd crossed some social line he hadn't known about. He quickly went back over what Itsuki told him about all the attention he'd gotten in Iron, and it made a lot more sense if his letter was a bigger deal than he realized.
Nagato kept eye contact and didn't look at the two blades as Miyashita's side, one longer than the other, with more decorated sheathes. Both were dark gold.
"I wanted to make an impression, and show that I meant what I said about an alliance," Nagato finally said.
It felt a little like Joji-sensei had tossed him unexpectedly into the sea and told him to swim without using his arms and legs. But, he realized, this was exactly why Joji-sensei hadn't told him he had other options.
If he hadn't been so 'audacious', what were the chances he would've gotten any attention at all?
"So you did," Miyashita said, half-amused.
"I don't have anything prepared to host you. Forgive me," Nagato told him.
"I wanted my arrival to be a surprise," Miyashita dismissed. "But while we're speaking of surprises, I'd like you to write on this, if you'd humor me." He reached into his collar and pulled out a square of browned paper and an odd-looking brush.
Nagato took them, and it only took him a second to realize why.
"If you wanted to make sure I was who I said I was, you could've just asked," Nagato said, handling the 'brush' awkwardly and hoping Miyashita didn't notice. The ink that came out of the tip when he pressed down on the paper confused him, but he didn't let it show as he signed, Nagato of the Akatsuki.
Miyashita looked over the page as Nagato handed it back. "I was warned by many that this whole charade was an elaborate ploy, or a deliberate and misleading trick," he said. "And I suppose it still could be. But you have my curiosity, Nagato of the Akatsuki."
"I'd like to know what they call you in Iron first, if you don't mind," Nagato said.
Miyashita tucked the page away. "To ninja, I suppose you'd name me a Daimyo of the region of Watamura. Is it that important? It doesn't matter here, does it?"
"It does," Nagato disagreed. "I want to call you by your proper title in Iron, and not what you'd placate ninja with."
Miyashita's eyes widened, just slightly. "Baron Miyashita of Watamura," he said after a second. "Hangaku—" he nodded at her, then turned to the carriage. "Eito is my long-time driver, and Waraine is his apprentice. What do the people of Rain refer to you as, then?"
"Taiyokage," Nagato answered honestly. "Mamoru-sensei taught me almost everything I know, and you know Itsuki."
"Taiyokage, you say?" Hangaku asked softly, staring intensely at him.
Miyashita didn't speak, but Nagato saw the same question in his eyes.
"It's not widely recognized. At least, not yet," Nagato admitted.
And Miyashita looked fascinated.
"Since you've read my missive, Baron Miyashita, I have to question your intent," Nagato said carefully.
"Oh?"
"I intend to ally with all of the Land of Iron, but—" he paused. "Can I assume that, since you've come alone and without any samurai from any other region, my missive wasn't well received?"
Miyashita didn't answer for a long second. "I'll tell you this," he said, more seriously. "In Iron, ninja are either not well-liked or ignored as if they don't exist. Our isolationism has lasted for so long because of this. We do not need ninja, and the only reason ninja have ever wanted us is for war. It's only added to the disdain."
"You didn't know that, and I know you didn't, because what you wrote bordered on disbelief. You wrote directly to the Son of Heaven at a time when ninja had recently found peace, and all you wanted was our metals and ore. You didn't want to study samurai for our chakra, or use us for your own power. What an odd ninja, I thought," Miyashita told him. "I expected to find someone here twice, or three times my age, or you would be dishonest. Kita refusing to speak on you only made the entire thing more mysterious."
Nagato didn't look at Itsuki, but he was suddenly hyperaware of how little he knew about what happened in Iron.
Miyashita shook his head. "And yet, defying all expectations, a young man stands before me, sounding both like what I'd expect of a ninja and not."
Nagato didn't respond, surprised. Joji-sensei told him to be direct, and he was trying to be, but he'd also been trying not to let Miyashita lead their conversation, too.
Nagato shook his head at himself. "I'm only doing my best," he admitted. "I'm not a politician like others in my position are."
Miyashita stared at him again and Hangaku scrutinized him, but he'd told the truth.
"Your strangeness knows no bounds," Miyashita said, and he sounded half-confused. "I only said what I did to tell you that if you truly want to be allied with all of my homeland, I'm the foot you need in that door, as ninja say. But only If you can convince me why Watamura would need your funds when your currency is worth far less than ours."
Nagato stilled. Because Amegakure has nothing else to offer, he thought. Because Iron doesn't need our clothes or tools or anything else, like you said.
But he could already see Miyashita turning to leave if he said that, and this was the only chance they had.
He tried not to let the silence linger, tried to think fast about what Joji-sensei told him about Iron, about what they could give—
He remembered that, when Joji-sensei told them about Hoshigakure, he'd said that ninja had a different version of what happened to them than samurai.
"You don't need our funds," Nagato agreed. "But I can offer you information."
Miyashita paused. "What convinces you that knowledge is enough for me to agree to an alliance with Rain?"
"With Amegakure," he corrected. "Just as you only represent Watamura, I represent Amegakure. Nowhere else."
Miyashita didn't say a word, but his gaze was suddenly more careful.
Nagato didn't look away from his appraising glance, because if Lord Yodogiri did find out, there was no risk to Miyashita.
What was the worst a Daimyo could do to Watamura, being in an isolated land that disliked ninja?
"You reminded me that the Land of Iron is an isolationist country," Nagato said carefully. "The information you'd have on ninja would only be from what smugglers brought in, and it would only tell you so much. Or someone the Son of Heaven sent to do it, but they wouldn't know what to look for. I can give you up-to-date information on what ninja are doing and help Iron stay ahead of them."
Miyashita's smile was thin. "How does that help the people of my region?"
"That's not what you asked," Nagato said. "You asked why what I offered is enough, and I answered. It's enough for you because you didn't tell me the whole truth."
"The whole truth?" Miyashita repeated, amused again.
"The only way the Son of Heaven would let you come here was if he personally gave you permission," Nagato pushed on. "If anyone could leave Iron when they wanted, more people would, even if it's only to see what ninja are like for themselves."
Miyashita looked at him, but he didn't speak or smile.
Never mind that he only knew that because they'd labeled Joji-sensei a betrayer for leaving—
"It doesn't matter to me who you really are, Baron Miyashita," Nagato sighed. "But to ninja, intel is more valuable than lives. If what I tell you could keep Iron as an isolationist nation, I think samurai would see it the same way."
"You truly are the most intriguing ninja I've ever met, Nagato of the Akatsuki," Miyashita said, shaking his head slightly. "But I never lied to you about my identity. I am Sukehito Miyashita, Baron of Watamura, and it would be dishonorable to claim a name that isn't mine, even under pure intent."
"But that's not all of it," Nagato pointed out.
"So be it," Miyashita sighed. "He's not my father, if that's what you were thinking. To ninja, our relation is much more simply put. My uncle, you'd say, in this land where the social status of a parent affects a child far less. Though I supposed you'd also call my being here a form of favoritism."
"I see," Nagato said, but didn't. He only had a vague, basic idea of how the social hierarchy of samurai worked. "Did I convince you, Baron Miyashita?"
Miyashita paused. "Never in the present or future would I have expected to be impressed by a ninja, but I think you've managed it—"
"Not yet," Hangaku spoke softly. "Agree to a duel with me, Nagato of the Akatsuki. You can think of it as your final test."
"That wasn't the deal," Itsuki spoke, but Nagato glanced at her.
"I have to win?" he asked.
Hangaku glanced at Itsuki, but Nagato only waited for her answer. "No. It's not about winning or losing. Your words are pretty, but the best way to gauge the true nature of a person is by crossing blades with them."
Nagato thought it over. The true nature of a person?
"I see you still lack any and all manners, Kita," Miyashita said mildly, with an undertone of begrudging familiarity.
"And yet here you are, responding to me," Itsuki said back.
"I accept," Nagato said, practiced in ignoring bickering. "I'll come back tomorrow at the same time. You've been traveling for a while from what I've heard."
Hangaku looked briefly surprised, and it felt like even Mamoru-sensei was looking at him.
"If I offered you my support now, would you take it?" Miyashita asked, watching him cautiously. "Kita, unfortunately, spoke the truth. You will earn no more than you already have by going through with this."
"I won't," Nagato said, and Miyashita looked stunned. "I might've convinced you, Baron Miyashita, but that doesn't mean you trust me. And she wouldn't have asked if you weren't friends."
How many ninja refused because she spoke out of place, would've sided with Itsuki that it wasn't what they agreed on, or wouldn't have thought it important to earn the favor of Miyashita's comrades, too?
"And what if we are?" Miyashita asked.
Nagato met his eyes. "I meant what I said before. I want to be allied with all of Iron, and if I treat the comrades of someone I want to impress badly, what does that say about how I treat my own?"
Miyashita's eyes widened.
.
.
.
"You kids scare the hell out of me sometimes," Mamoru-sensei said, a little later, eyes closed as they walked back across the water.
Though he sounded more fond than resigned, and Nagato smiled.
Itsuki clapped him suddenly on the back, right between his shoulders, and Nagato couldn't help wincing.
"I don't think I've ever been so impressed and terrified by a kid so young in my life," Itsuki told him, then paused. "Using words, anyway. Good job."
"That terror doesn't seem to be stopping you," Nagato said darkly.
Itsuki laughed and clapped him again, harder.
太陽
"I've always wanted to duel with a shinobi," Hangaku said softly, stopping on the sand across from him.
He'd see Miyashita if he looked to the right, leaning against the side of the carriage, watching them. Waraine sat on the steps next to him.
Eito and the horses were twenty meters from him, probably around a more reliably clean water source than the sea.
"Five bottles of Shochu on the Taiyokage," Itsuki offered, feet away from Miyashita.
Nagato didn't know where they came from and he paused, wondering how much more there was.
"I'm neither a gambling man, or a drinking one," Miyashita said, almost scornfully.
"Piece of the ciba cake you have stashed then."
Hangaku slowly, carefully drew her blade from its sheathe, and he realized it wasn't one. It was more like a spear with a curved blade.
"Are you sure there should be no restrictions?" Nagato couldn't help but ask.
"Only if you offer your pouch of weapons in turn," Miyashita said in the background.
"For a piece smaller than my hand?" Itsuki asked back, laughter in his voice.
"I'm sure," Hangaku told him, and bent her knees, spear swinging behind her.
Nagato brought his hands together. Bird—
She was in front of him in an instant, staring intensely up at him, her spear cutting up toward his hands.
Nagato yanked them apart and the blade sliced the air where his fingers had been. Chakra extended from the tip like a second blade as it neared his face, surprising him, and he jerked back, turning his head as far away as he could, hissing as he felt the burn of a cut up his neck.
The blade missed his chin and face, but the area around the cut burned too—
Superficial, he thought as he pulled a kunai from his pouch with his right hand. Ignore it.
Nagato flicked his wrist and the kunai spun up between them. She tracked it for a second as he grabbed a second kunai with his left hand. He was already moving when she looked down, bringing the point down between her shoulder and neck—
Below the external jugular vein, but with enough force to hit the clavicle bone—
She twisted the spear even as her eyes widened, wedging the handle in the space between her skin and his blade.
The kunai he'd thrown hit the sand.
Nagato pressed harder, but the pole didn't give, so he made one-handed signs instead.
Dragon—
Her eyes flitted to his hand and she tightened her grip on on the pole.
Tiger—
Chakra flared around the blade.
Hare.
Nagato took a quick breath and spewed waves at her.
She aimed her face away as water splashed off her armor, but stayed in place until the sand became too wet and unstable to stick to. It was only right before she was finally thrown backwards that he saw her squeeze her eyes shut.
Nagato moved a little as water darkened the sand around the carriage, putting his back to Miyashita and Itsuki. He sensed Hangaku's chakra offshore, closer than he thought she'd be. He'd underestimate how much momentum his waves would lose hitting the sea.
He paused when he spotted her spear sticking out of the water, the blade anchoring her on top of it as she planted an arm on the surface and dragged herself up.
Nagato hadn't stopped making the Hare sign. He adjusted, and spat a more concentrated stream at her.
Hangaku bent her knees and thrust her spear in front of her, deflecting water off the blade and splitting it around her.
Nagato didn't move, and she seemed to realize he wouldn't stop, because she pressed a hand against the water after a few seconds and shoved off it, dodging the stream as she darted in a half-circle towards him.
Water sprayed up behind her as he followed her, but realized quickly how much the sand had been slowing her down. She twisted into a spin as she stepped onto the shore, keeping her momentum even when she shouldn't have, and threw the spear at him. The chakra around the blade disappeared the second it left her hand.
Nagato stopped and dropped down and Hangaku was in front of him as the spear spun over his head, fist raised.
He threw up his arm instinctively, knowing the instant he did that he shouldn't have. She'd focused the chakra in her arm into a glowing outline around her fist.
It felt like she'd hit him with steel.
Ulna break, Nagato diagnosed the moment after his arm bent unnaturally and the force of it tossed him on his back. Radial fracture. Median nerve and extensor damage. I can still use the arm.
It didn't hurt, but he knew he was in shock.
Hangaku pulled the point of her spear out of the sand and stared hard at him. "Pick up your blade and face me on your feet, Nagato of the Akatsuki," she said, dripping, catching her breath.
Nagato sat up but didn't try to stand. "I give up," he said, covering the swollen, rapidly bruising skin below his wrist with a glowing hand to confirm what he suspected. "You win."
Hangaku didn't move. "I don't accept it," she said back. "If I did, I'd be insulting myself. Why have you been holding back?"
Nagato stopped, surprised, and then smiled at himself. Had he really been that obvious?
Hangaku pointed her weapon at him. "Stand," she demanded.
Nagato didn't respond right away. He ran his thumb down the middle of his arm, the chakra around his finger as thin as a scalpel as he made a long cut for the excess blood and bone fragments to drain out of. His arm felt numb, and he'd take advantage of it while he still could.
"I don't want to hurt you," he finally admitted.
Hangaku stepped closer and didn't look at his arm. She held the blade under his chin, but he still didn't move. "Do you think me so weak? Or do you think all samurai as less than yourself?"
He could've tried laughing it off like Yahiko, or defused the situation like Ren, but Nagato was neither of them. He was only himself, and so he told her the truth.
"I don't want to hurt anyone, samurai or ninja," he said, and she faltered. "Even if it's only a spar, I don't want to seriously injure someone I want to consider an ally."
He wouldn't have aimed for her clavicle if he wanted a quick end to this. There were deadlier places to stab in the neck than the bones around it, especially when he would've saved her after.
Hangaku slowly lowered her weapon, looking at him in confusion. "But you're a shinobi."
"I don't like what I do, even when I kill others so I'm not killed," he said, and couldn't suppress a wince as he pulled pieces of his ulna back together. "It's only during spars like this that I have the luxury to hold back, and I take advantage of it as much as I can."
Hangaku took a small step back, then turned to look at Miyashita.
"I continued to be astounded," Miyashita said, shaking his head.
"So, Baron Miyashita, about that cake—"
"Your Taiyokage didn't win."
"He didn't lose either."
Hangaku looked back at him, then sheathed her weapon. "I lose," she said softly.
Nagato opened his mouth to disagree, but Hangaku only turned and went to the carriage.
"You were saying, Baron Miyashita?" Itsuki asked.
Nagato stood, holding his arm close to his chest as he temporarily pinched blood vessels shut while he pushed damaged muscles to regrow. "How long do you plan to stay, Baron Miyashita?"
"Another day, I suspect, as we discuss the details of our arraignment," Miyashita said as Waraine climbed into the carriage and came back with a small, wrapped box. "Then I'll look to the Land of Fire, or Grass, for a proper inn. It would benefit us both if my presence in Rain is brief and quiet."
Waraine looked exasperated as Itsuki took the box from him, and Nagato tried not to watch.
"Suisai in Fire will host you if you tell them I sent you," Nagato offered. "They'll hide you, and they won't ask anything for it."
The least he owed Ren was the chance to make an impression.
"And why would they be so generous to me on your behalf? The Land of Fire isn't allied with Rain, or has peace between ninja really changed so much?" Miyashita asked curiously.
Nagato half-smiled. "It's in Suisai's best interest if no one knows they allied with us."
"I understand," Miyashita said, amused. "Very well, but you'll need to give me a map."
食
Nagato looked over wall of stone and steel, taller than he was.
Only the first floor was finished, and only in the barest sense of the word. There were holes for windows, a door, and space for things he was told were in hospitals. A desk. Chairs. A staircase.
He couldn't believe sometimes that Yahiko had done what he'd promised. Not because he didn't think he'd do it, but because it was a promise made before Yahiko stopped making promises. He couldn't believe he somehow convinced Baron Miyashita to give them the materials to finish it.
There was no electricity, if only because it'd take more than a few wires and wishful thinking to make the water wheel work here, and Nagato would be the first to admit to knowing nothing about how it functioned beyond what Maho and Oka told him.
Debris covered the floor, what was left of the melted down steel and bricks were piled all over, but it looked like something.
It wasn't a crater filled with weapons and bodies, the rubble of a collapsed building, or a shelter scraped together out of anything sturdy and earth-style.
It looked like it would be something, and it motivated others to find Mamoru-sensei, or even Sae, and ask if they could help, too.
He laughed freely, just because of how happy he was.
"The fuck?" Hidan mumbled, disturbed. The Jashinist sat on a corner of the wall behind him, but Nagato had kept his questions to himself, hadn't acknowledged him at all, and Hidan hadn't offered to tell him why he'd come.
Nagato still couldn't help his smile.
It was the first time he'd seen Hidan without his scythe, but he politely hadn't asked about that either. Hidan had a tan weapons pouch strapped to his side that hadn't been there a few days ago, and a quick glance told Nagato that it looked too empty to have anything other than a kunai or two.
Or a storage scroll.
Kanna was outside, on the other side of the wall, along with twenty-three civilian volunteers. He could hear her, measuring a window with a long strip of paper that'd been marked into increments, and if he looked, he'd see burn scars that warped her skin down her shoulder and puckered around her left hand.
It was a war wound that had been left to heal on its own and did badly enough that it meant she'd kept using the arm to fight without resting for a long time.
Nagato sensed the sluggish, sputtering flow of chakra up her left arm, but like Ren, if she wanted his help she would've asked.
"Are you really going to pretend laughing to yourself in a corner isn't weird as shit?" Hidan asked.
Kanna pulled the paper down, thumbs marking measurements as she counted, and Nagato heard Oka as he considered a safe answer.
Says you.
"I'm happy," he said, shrugging.
Hidan stared at him for a few seconds. "Just shut the hell up."
Nagato weighed what might happen if he did channel his sister and point out that he was the one who'd asked—
"I brought the booze," Itsuki announced, lowering an old crate full of clear bottles to the ground.
Kanna immediately abandoned her measurements to take a closer look, and Nagato was left amused as others did the same, dropping what they were doing with mutters of, feeling a little thirsty, now that I think about it, and might as well take a break.
Kanna held up a bottle full of clear liquid. "Who'd you have to rob to find this much sake?"
"Shochu—"
"Whatever."
"You know what, I don't think you deserve to know," Itsuki said.
Kanna twisted the cap off with her right hand and showed him her middle finger as she took a generous drink.
Nagato realized then that he was being stared at. Volunteers were standing around or behind Itsuki and Kanna, unsure and hesitant, looking between them and him.
A dark-haired man shifted down to one knee. "If it's not too much to ask—" he stopped awkwardly and tried again. "Do I—we—have your permission to—"
"You don't need it," Kanna dismissed, shoving a second bottle into the hands of the nearest woman, who made a started sound but didn't drop it.
No one would meet his eyes. If they knew how uncomfortable it made him to be kneeled at, would they still treat him like he was above them? If they knew part of the reason he came here was to seem less godly, what would they think?
"I brought this to celebrate what we're doing here," Itsuki told them. "It's old stuff, and not as good as ciba cake—"
"Stop telling everyone about your ciba cake," Kanna cut him off, taking another drink.
Even if Konohagakure found out Itsuki came from Iron, why would they think he succeeded when even they failed?
"You don't," Nagato agreed, but a few still hesitated while others crowded around the crate and pulled bottles free.
He watched as they were passed around, or quickly opened, and caught a few side glances. Even when they laughed and clinked bottles and two women argued over who touched the last bottle first, it sounded off, like they weren't sure they should be so casual around him.
He didn't know many of the rumors around himself, but he knew they all made him bigger than he was, and more confident than he'd ever been. When he made it rain for Yahiko's birthday, they said he'd done it by calling out to the sky.
If Mamoru-sensei told him all of the rumors, Nagato might think himself a god, too.
It would've made him feel insecure, once upon a time. Instead he felt gratitude, because when he tried to think of becoming what they thought he was, he remembered his sister teasing him. If he even suggested it, Yahiko would look at him weird. Then probably put him in a headlock.
Nagato pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, because he was trying not to laugh again and doing a bad job of holding it in.
Hidan turned his incredulous stare on Kanna and Itsuki, wordlessly asking if they saw what he did, and it made Nagato laugh outright.
"It's been so long since I felt like this," Kanna murmured into her bottle.
An older man drained a cupped handful of shochu directly into his mouth, but Nagato still went unacknowledged, and no one seemed to want to acknowledge Kanna or Itsuki, either.
Nagato still didn't know how to fix the hard line Hanzo had drawn between civilian and shinobi.
"Where did you find this?" Nagato finally asked Itsuki.
There were two bottles left untouched out of respect.
"Not from anyone, that's for sure. The crates around here are always emptied within the hour," Itsuki told him, picking up a bottle. "But if you know where to look, you can find plenty of surprises buried here. Usually done to keep the enemy from getting to them, and then whoever did it didn't live long enough to dig them out."
"You're killing the mood," Kanna told him.
"Oh, right. I meant I found it under a rainbow along with piles and piles of ryo," Itsuki said.
Kanna only laughed and took another drink, bottle half empty.
"You should drink with us, Lord Nagato," Itsuki said, holding out the bottle. "This whole celebration is because of what you did, after all."
Nagato looked at it, but didn't take it. "I've never had shochu before. Or anything," he admitted.
"First time for everything," Itsuki said. "See if it's for you. If not, I'll drink it. No loss there."
Nagato knew what alcohol did on a practical, medical level, knew it could be used as a disinfectant if the alcohol content was high enough—
"My arm is getting really tired here," Itsuki added. "Don't overthink it. Don't want to? Say so."
Maybe if Yahiko, Oka, or even Namekuji were here, the idea of drinking for the first time by himself wouldn't have made him less happy.
He took the bottle anyway.
"Go easy. Take a small sip first to see if—"
Nagato unscrewed the cap and tilted his head back as he took a swig before he could think more.
Itsuki confiscated it from him when he gagged and stared at him.
His throat burned and his tongue tingled with spicy, vanilla flavored wood. "It tastes awful," Nagato coughed.
"Yeah, when you do it like that. If you want to make yourself sick, you're doing a great job."
"I didn't know it'd be that strong," he managed, barely getting it out.
Itsuki shook his head and took a sip. "I'd say you'd have an easier time with sake, but I can't remember what it tastes like."
Nagato tried to speak and coughed again.
"If this is a celebration, might as well add Lord Jashin into the mix," Kanna said. She lifted the last bottle and shook it at Hidan. "Why not, right?"
Hidan eyed her. "That was some sacrilegious shit you just said," he mentioned, but didn't move to attack her.
"Then come down here and teach me about Jashinism," Kanna said, trying not to let her words slur. "Akatsuki never did. Can you believe that? Mamoru told us to roll with it, with you, but anything else? Yeah, right."
Hidan only gazed at her, searching for something. He paused when he didn't find it. "What the fuck is in the water here? Why the hell do any of you care?"
"I respect the Akatsuki, more than I've respected anything in my entire life, and they want you here. Why is that so hard to understand, you big idiot?" Kanna asked. "Here."
Hidan caught the bottle as she tossed it up. "Big idiot?" he repeated. "What, afraid the scary curse words will bite if you use them?"
Kanna ignored him, "I heard you liked talking about Jashinism. Where's that enthusiasm now?"
"Couldn't drink on the field, and here wasn't any safer," Itsuki muttered to himself. "Was the first drink I had since the war really in Iron?"
Hidan ducked his head and laughed. He held up a finger. "One, what you heard doesn't mean shit to me." He raised a second finger. "Two, if you're asking me that, you'll never understand the bond I have with Lord Jashin. You heathens never listen when I try to teach you—" he lifted a third finger. "—and three, question my enthusiasm for Lord Jashin again and I'll show you just how enthused I can be."
Kanna hesitated, then raised her middle finger as she drank again, a second before Itsuki took her quarter full bottle and shoved it at the closest civilian, a dark-haired man.
"Who gave you the right," Kanna hissed at him.
"Your liver, mainly," Itsuki said mildly.
"You shouldn't be embarrassed," Nagato told him.
Hidan's gaze shot to his, "What the fuck did you just say?"
Nagato considered taking it back, and instead added, "It might not even affect you at all—"
Hidan responded exactly as Nagato thought he would. He threw the cap at him and chugged from the bottle until he choked.
Hidan bent down and tried not to vomit, and Nagato didn't feel alone.
A/N: 太陽 - Solar, 食 - Eclipse
Oculos in Omnium tu - All Eyes on You
ft. a naginata, wakizashi, and a katana, in that order. and a sprinkle of Europe because I wanted a different word than daimyo and Edo Japan gave me none.
Ciba Cake - fried rice paste molded into cubes and dipped in brown sugar and roasted soybean flour.
Yahiko - Left-Handed
Enyo - Left-Handed
Nagato - Ambidextrous
Everyone Else - Right-Handed
this is totally n̶o̶t̶ important information.