A/N: This chapter is broken into parts for flow and pacing.
In hindsight, I don't know why I decided to write out all the events in Amegakue instead of just skipping to the dramatic ones. Did I mention this story was a slow burn? Like, tediously slow. And not even a burn, really. It's pretty tepid, tbh.
It sucks that I don't plan everything in advance, because I would love to reorganize the order of certain events but going back and rewriting everything is waaaayyyy too much work.
Yonkoma is the Japanese word for a four-panel comic strip.
This fic is now primarily hosted on Archive of Our Own. My username is MajesticFlyingWalrus. Please head over there for the most current updates and improved versions of previous chapters.
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Part I - In a Distant Land
Sanmyaku Isamu had stayed late after work. Reviewing documents, approving budgets and declining proposals, responding to written correspondence. Tedious administrative functions that his father had no time for. He had considered wrapping up for the night, but an unexpected, heavy rain kept him inside.
The wooden door to his office creaked open. "Who is it?" he did not bother to look up. A wooden cane tapped the floorboards. Isamu could recognize that particular sound anywhere.
"It is I," Madame Fukurou announced herself.
"Wonderful, just who I wanted to see," he opened a drawer and pulled out a cigarette.
"Those things killed one of my late sons, you know."
He grabbed a lighter and flicked it on. "I know," he said after lighting the cigarette. He didn't smoke much anymore, just the occasional when he was particularly agitated. "Just cut to the chase. What do you want?" Like he didn't already know.
"What did you do with Asaya this time?"
"What makes you think-"
"Don't play innocent. I saw you take her away just before she disappeared again. Unusually sloppy of you." She hopped into the stiff chair in front of his desk.
"She was assigned a top-secret mission and she died. Tragic, but it happens all the time. My condolences."
"Do you remember where you hid the body?"
Isamu leaned on a forearm and flicked the ash from his cigarette. "With all due respect, Madame Fukurou, you come into my office after hours without notice and make baseless accusations at me? You don't actually care, anyway."
"How dare you! She was like a granddaughter to me. I can't believe you would throw away such a talented kunoichi just to spite me. I never thought Oonoki would stoop so low, Madame Fukurou tilted her nose up and turned her head to the side in an exaggerated display of offence.
Hypocritical witch, Isamu rolled his eyes. As if she hadn't done worse. "As I recall, you didn't even show up to her memorial service." If it were anyone other than Fukurou, he would have thrown them out of his office. "She died on mission. Go read the report if you want the details."
"I have and I know it's just as full of lies as the last one because your agents wrote it. Now, what did you do with her corpse? She had an invaluable item on her and it is in Iwa's interest to get it back," Madame Fukurou rested both palms atop her cane.
"What are you talking about?" he squinted.
"The sealing beads, you dolt."
Asaya had had them on her person when he'd handed her over to the Akatsuki. He remembered because they were a part of the deal.
"There are only three in existence: mine, my other apprentice's, and Asaya's. They are irreplaceable artifacts," Madame Fukurou explained.
"That's unfortunate," Isamu exhaled a puff of smoke.
The old woman's already-wrinkled face wrinkled even more when she glowered at him. "I want them back, Isamu," she said and stood up from her seat to walk out of the office. "Find them, or I will."
After the door shut, Isamu put out the cigarette by rubbing it on a ceramic pencil holder. He'd clean up the ashy smudge later.
Fuck, Tsuta thought when a sudden rain landed on his head and shoulders. He didn't have an umbrella. He was on the way to the Tsuchikage tower to fetch his oldest sister at the request of his wonderful mother. Maybe he could quickly run back and get one, but he'd probably get scolded for wasting time or being lazy or not caring enough.
Therefore, Tsuta arrived at the Tsuchikage tower soaking wet. He rand his hands over his hair and twisted his shirt to wring out the water. At least it was warm, summer rain. Luckily, the droplets and wet footprints stopped by the time he was about halfway up the stairs. By the time he reached the floor where his family's offices were, he was only very damp.
Ahead of him coming down the hallway was, unexpectedly, Madame Fukurou. She looked irritated, but then again she was always at least mildly upset. It was more unsettling when she wasn't mad.
"You, Sanmyaku boy," she stopped when she passed him. "You were Asaya's friend, were you not?"
"Yeah," Tsuta wasn't fazed when she raised an eye at his wet clothing. Though he wasn't happy that she brought up Asaya.
"When did you see her last?" Madame Fukurou asked with no regard or consideration to propriety.
"The fifteenth of that month. About a week before," his voice trailed off before he could finish the sentence.
"Did she ever say anything to you about her previous disappearance?" Asaya had said nothing to Fukurou. Either because she did not want to or she was silenced.
"No," Tsuta said sharply and sneered. "What do you care, anyway?" Tsuta didn't know why she was asking. Wouldn't she know? She was high enough on the totem poll to read whatever top-secret reports she wanted to.
Clearly, the boy was not smart enough to put two and two together and make an inference. "The last person to see her before she disappeared the first time was your uncle Isamu. The last person to see her alive this time was also your uncle after he personally escorted her out of my office late on the night of the fifteenth." Fukurou watched the boy's eyes dart back and forth as the wheels slowly turned in his mind.
"Akatsuki," Tsuta said. "She said she was kidnapped by a criminal organization called the Akatsuki." As soon as he said it, he could practically see her blood pressure rise in the spidery veins on the hand gripping the head of her cane.
Damnit, Oonoki, Madame Fukurou nearly cursed aloud. "Follow me to my office. You're going to tell me everything you know."
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Part II – Precarity
Itachi massaged his scalp under the hot, running water of the metal showerhead. The more time he spent in Amegakure, it seemed, the less he could control his own thoughts. Memories flooded his mind whenever he was alone for long: of her face half cast in firelight on a moonless night, of her body pressed into a bed of pine needles beneath him, of her smile when she'd tried so earnestly to explain topology (math was never his forte), of snowflakes in her hair when he'd told her of his younger brother, and of her lips when she'd repeated Shisui's name. He could not remember the last time he'd heard it spoken aloud. The sound of her voice echoed like a hymn of sin.
He no longer tried to contain his impulses. It was too difficult when they spent days sitting across from one another, just out of reach in a persistent, dull ache.
He focused on the sensation of the warm water pelting his back and shoulders while he spread his palm wide and ran his hand down his abdomen.
The Demonic Statue stared down at Asaya the way she would stare at an ant: disgusted at an inferior pest that did not belong it it's presence. Although, the Demonic Statue didn't actually look down and its eyes were blindfolded. It just felt that way.
Recently, she felt unease whenever she looked at it or studied it, which was most days of the week. What she was learning-
What she discovered was-
What her research showed was that-
Everything about it made sense. All of it. Every character and arrangement was constructed perfectly. Different from anything she'd seen before, but it all worked cohesively.
At first, she thought the statue was a clever fake, an elaborate forgery. It couldn't possibly be the ten-tails of myth. But after having spent so much time studying and examining it, searching for any indication that it was phony only to see nothing erroneous… The implications made her gut wrench.
Asaya finished scribbling a note and walked back towards her desk.
Kisame was watching her today. It was a secret to no one that they hated each other. He yawned loudly, not bothering to cover his mouth.
"Something funny?" Kisame did not like the wrinkle in her brow when she glanced at him.
She shook her head.
"How about repulsive?"
"Not at all," Asaya said in a light, soft, polite tone.
"Tch," Kisame clicked his tongue. She spoke with an air of sophistication that sounded like a lady- like she were better than him.
Asaya grabbed a book and made to walk over to the statue again to put some distance between them. She really wished they wouldn't leave her with him.
"What are you doing?"
"Just going to look at something," she said in the same feminine tone while imagining crushing him under a boulder. She was an Iwa kunoichi and they were in an underground cave, after all.
"Say, you're not tryin' to blow this place up like you did that fortress, are you?"
Asaya knew that there was nothing she could say or do that would appease him. At least nothing that her dignity would allow.
"Well?"
Asaya took a deep breath and flexed her fingers-
"Hello, Miss Asaya! I'm back with the books you wanted!" exclaimed Tobi standing by Asaya's desk, having suddenly and seemingly materialized out of thin air.
Asaya never imagined that she'd be so happy to see the orange-masked buffoon.
"Oh, is that you, Kisame? When did you get back? I see you've met Miss Asaya. Isn't she super nice?" Tobi said.
Confused and annoyed, Kisame asked, "What are you doing here, Tobi?"
"I have returned from a quest!" Tobi proudly exclaimed like a toddler that had poured their own glass of milk. "A quest to bring Miss Asaya items from exotic lands so she can release the Demonic Statue." He gestured emphatically at a bag full of books and other documents now sitting on Asaya's desk.
"Oh," Kisame was unimpressed.
"Welcome back, Tobi, I've been worried about you," Asaya approached Tobi to inspect the new items. "These are wonderful. Thank you so much. You must have gone through a lot of trouble for them."
"Oh, it's nothing. I'm sorry I took so long." A puppy-like blush almost materialized through his mask.
"Not at all. I'm just glad you're safe and unharmed." She tried to rest her hand on his shoulder, but he shied away before she could touch him.
"Can I please see what you are working on, Miss Asaya?"
"Certainly. I'd be happy to show you," she grabbed her clip board. "Here is a sequence of characters I've copied from the statue. They are written in a unique form of character script that died out long ago. What I'm trying to do is decipher them by comparing them with other extinct forms of character script. Once I've done that, I then have to…"
Kisame tilted his head like a dog hearing a peculiar sound for the first time. She spoke to Tobi like she was explaining a project to an executive: with enough information to sound impressive while also simplifying it enough to be understood by an arrogant moron. Kisame scoffed at the artificially sweet way she spoke to him. Tobi was a fool who needed coddling, but he was not worth impressing.
After many minutes of lengthy explanations, Tobi clasped both hands on the sides of his head and said, "Aw, man, this is too complicated for me." He slumped forward just a bit.
"It's a lot to learn," Asaya said, "Don't be too hard on yourself." She reached out to place her hand on the back of his shoulder to console him.
"Look at the time!" Tobi abruptly straightened and pointed to the analog clock on the desk. "I'm supposed to be somewhere. Sorry Miss Asaya, this is super cool, but I have to go."
Asaya recoiled her hand at his sudden change in posture. "You should get going, then. We can always talk some other time." She felt both relieved and disappointed.
"Definitely. See you again next time, miss Asaya!" He waived before jogging out the door.
"Bye, Tobi," she waived back.
"Awful nice of you to make him feel special," Kisame mocked her.
Asaya only hummed in response, then sat back down in her chair and flipped to a page in a book.
Since their outing to the waterfront, Konan and Asaya began a routine of going out for coffee and a pastry on weekends. They enjoyed getting out into the city even if they didn't say much to one another. They mostly read newspapers and magazines for an hour or two. Sometimes the caffe played the radio if there was a big news event or a popular drama was airing a highly-anticipated episode. Asaya never tried to flee, but she still wore the same bright yellow raincoat every time.
"How has the project been going?" Konan hadn't seen Asaya recently.
"Good. Well. Especially now that Tobi brought some more materials," Asaya flipped a page of the Asahi Shimbun. She found it interesting that an isolationist country would carry an international newspaper.
WHISTLEBLOWER ALLEGES FIRE COUNTRY ESPIONAGE INTO LIGHTNING'S FORIGN TRADE BEAUREAU
A shocking report from an anonymous whistleblower alleges Fire Country infiltrated Lightning's Foreign Trade Bureau using a decades-long strategic plan to place undercover operatives in the employment of the bureau. Exactly what classified information may have been leaked has yet to be determined. The agents in question, if still active, have yet to be discovered. If investigation reveals the presence of and interference from spies, Fire Country will have violated article 13 of the Kaibun Treaty, which was signed by all five great nations after the Third Great Ninja War. While the two countries have historically been allied, tensions have risen over the past few years in the wake of multiple scandals, all of which involve international trade. Experts speculate that… Asaya used to want to be informed. It was something she felt passionate about. Now she just couldn't sustain interest.
"Excellent. We hope to see results soon," Konan said kindly enough.
"I hope so, too-" she didn't- "but it will still take some time. Normally, I'd be working with a team of specialists. It's difficult to do everything myself."
"We understand," Konan turned back to the glossy pages of Weekly Toyo Keizai.
Asaya flipped back to read the weekend edition's full-color yonkoma.
Everything continued to make perfect sense: every character, every sequence, every pattern and formula. She hadn't figured it all out- not quite yet- but every time she hoped something new might disprove everything else, she was horribly disappointed. It kept her awake at night.
At first, she thought the Demonic Statue was just a particularly skillful forgery. Then, she thought it might be a historical artifact, but one that was constructed symbolically: a monument that did not contain any real power. Now-
Now she was out of alternative explanations.
"Are you feeling ill?" Itachi asked. She had an unusually pale complexion and her brow quivered like she had a fever.
"Itachi," she crossed her arms and sat back, "it's real, isn't it?"
"Yes." He had been waiting for her to realize it for herself. "You wouldn't have believed me."
While slowly shaking her head, Asaya said, "Itachi, I don't like this." She felt like maggots crawled through her flesh. She did not like whatever the Akatsuki had planned for the Demonic Statue.
Itachi spoke like a concrete cinder block was chained to his ankle, "I know." She had never looked at him this way before: helpless. So much like she needed him.
"What does the Akatsuki plan to use this thing for?"
"World domination, obviously," Itachi answered dry as toast.
She laughed despite herself. "No, really, what's the master plan?"
"I don't know," he shrugged. "Your intuition is as good as mine."
"You wouldn't tell me regardless, would you?"
"I probably wouldn't."
She only hummed in response.
"How much longer do you think it will take you to unseal the statue?" Itachi wanted to know how much more time he had.
"It's difficult to say. A couple of months. A year or more, possibly. I don't actually know. And this is all assuming that I can ultimately figure it out." She rested her elbows on the table and clasped her hands together. "Since Tobi has been-"
"You've met Tobi?" Itachi interrupted.
There was something gravely serious in his voice. "Yes. Yes, I have. He's the one who's been bringing me all of these materials."
"Of course," Itachi muttered. "How often do you see him?"
"Sporadically. He was gone for a while, but he recently returned with these," she gestured to the stack of materials to her left.
Itachi's eyes narrowed. He did not like what he heard. "What does he-"
"What do you know about him that I don't?" Asaya interrupted Itachi this time.
"Nothing. Just avoid him. He's nothing more than an obnoxious fool who happens to be useful," Itachi said sharply.
"Please don't lie to me, Itachi. If you can't tell me the truth, I understand, but please don't lie. He's dangerous, isn't he?"
Asaya gave him that look again, and Itachi had to pause to still all the different voices in his head. "Avoid him," he repeated, "And if you can't, be careful." He knew, however, that he was ultimately powerless to protect her from anything Obito might do.
"I will, Itachi."
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Part III – Hourglass
It was early in the morning, just before sunrise. Itachi usually spent an hour or so walking the windowed hallways and stairs in the mornings before he went to collect Asaya. It was a good way to prepare himself for the long hours underground.
"… important… if… will…" muffled words filtered through the vent above him. It sounded like Pain's voice. Curious, Itachi looked up at the vent. The space above him was one of the rooms Pain used for Akatsuki- related business.
A voice Itachi did not recognize responded with something he couldn't quite make out. "… we can… Asaya if…" his ears sharpened at the sound of her name spoken by a stranger.
"…you want… then…" that was Obito's voice.
The stranger said something entirely unintelligible.
"… deal." Obito said, and after that final word, the voices died out.
Itachi waited a few moments in case he might hear something else, but the AC whirred on. He lowered his gaze from the vent and continued his walk.
Konan and Asaya sat in the back corner of their favorite café near the speakers that played generic coffee shop piano jazz. Today was particularly chilly, so they each opted for warm, cozy drinks. Konan ordered a double shot latte instead of her usual plain coffee with a splash of milk. Asaya had a cappuccino with whipped cream and a generous sprinkling of cinnamon.
"Your statue, it won't be fully functional after I've removed the primary seal," Asaya said. No one could hear them over the music. "You'll need to gather all the other tailed beasts to restore it to full power. But you probably already knew that."
"Yes, we anticipated as much," Konan said, dissatisfied but unsurprised. "It's the next part of the plan."
"That's a lot easier said than done. You'd have to capture all nine jinchuriki. They may be outcasts in most places, but they are powerful assets. Their villages won't just let them go. And in one or two cases, no one knows who the current jinchuriki is."
"Don't worry about it. That part of the plan doesn't concern you."
Konan's words pierced Asaya in the chest. She would have served her purpose by then. She'd be unnecessary, useless. Dead weight. She fidgeted with the cardboard sleeve of the coffee cup. It fell loose and hit the table with a small tap.
"Like I said, don't worry," Konan reiterated. "By the way, Itachi and Kisame will be departing for a new assignment soon. To southern Fire Country for a task requiring Kisame's skills. They might be back if you haven't finished, but it's a fairly long assignment so something tells me that's unlikely." She paused then added, "You'll have to remember to say goodbye before then. The life of a shinobi is often short. We should take the opportunities life presents us while we can." She picked up her coffee cup. "But only if you want to."
Two things happened then then: a lens sharply focused, and a an hourglass flipped. "How?" the question came out more air than sound.
"'How,' what? It's just an aphorism, Asaya."
Asaya stared out the window at the infinite raindrops invariably throwing themselves from the clouds down onto the city below. One arm crossed over her waist while the other hand was balled into a fist in front of her mouth.
"Don't," Itachi said, having entered her room after his knocking was met with silence.
Asaya turned her neck to face him, "Don't presume to know what I'm thinking."
"Don't," Itachi repeated.
"I haven't finished breakfast yet. If you'd like, I can pour some tea for you."
Itachi looked at a half -eaten slice of buttered toast on the table. The cup of tea beside it was mostly full and not steaming. "No, thank you. We should be going now."
After a reluctant moment where her feet refused to lift themselves from the floor, Asaya turned, stepped towards him, and followed like she had many times before.
Hours passed, and Itachi observed that Asaya had taken to meditatively writing lines of irrelevant script. Lyrics, poems, quotes, and pangrams. Each character and line a study in penmanship. It was something he had seen her do in their travels before on napkins and other scraps of paper when she was bored or worried or otherwise fixated.
Asaya shifted her seat to tuck one leg under the other and shift her weight onto her forearms. "Don't they have more important things for you to do than babysit me? I'm sure you'd rather be out of this cave, too."
Her question was clearly an effort to distract herself, but he would indulge her anyway. "I'm not here to babysit you so much as I am here in the event you decide to be," he thought for a moment, "recalcitrant." His eyes briefly flashed red.
The corner of her lip turned up, "I seem to recall stripping you of that ability." She opened her left palm and wiggled her fingers at him.
"You're welcome to try again, but you'll be at a significant disadvantage now that I know what you're capable of. I can trap you in an illusion faster than you can draw a seal," Itachi said, raising an intrigued brow.
"True, but the real trick last time wasn't surprising you, it was-" the last words struck her mute- seducing you.
Itachi's face lost all expression, clearly knowing what she was about to say.
Asaya's heart sank sharply at his silent reaction. It was still an elephantine pseudo-secret between them.
"I'd like to apologize for that, by the way," her whole face might as well spontaneously combust. "Sealing your sharingan from you."
"Don't. It was a clever idea," he said, almost gently. "And I would have found a way to remove it eventually."
She shook her head, "No, you really wouldn't have."
Itachi gave her a dubious stare, as if to say she were full of herself.
Undaunted, she said, "Maybe, but not without losing the rest of your eyesight."
His shoulders straightened, 'the rest of your eyesight.'
"Sorry, I- I didn't mean to-" she'd said something wrong again.
"Even so," he said plainly, "you saved my life that night."
Asaya's heart beat so quickly it could spark a fire. That wasn't something to thank her for. She was the reason he'd almost died to begin with. She cast her gaze away from him and her voice diminished to a whisper, "Don't say that." She bit the center of her lower lip, unable to forget the snowy night when his brushed tenderly along hers.
Suddenly eager to focus on anything else, Asaya returned to her work.