An Enigmatic Encounter
There was something wrong in the air. There was always something wrong. The metallic smell of rain without snow, the way even rust resistant kunai succumbed to the brown crawl of decomposition. There was the way the streets were a permanent red.
War did not pause with the death of Yahiko.
It just wasn't important to remember the better days so much, more important to think about where the next sweeping kunai would fall, where the next hit would be coming from.
There was just the fighting, and when Yahiko died, the intensity and cruelty placed into it only increased tenfold.
Hanzo of the Salamander.
Each sharp sound, each curving oily letters even tasted bad in her mouth. The murderer of Yahiko and the one who lied about the peace talk, ambushed them… and didn't kill her.
She could forgive him for each transgression made and each life he ended unfairly. She could even forgive him for the innocents who suffered under his tyrannical reign. Perhaps she really could. But Konan could not forgive him for not ending her life. If he was quicker, if he were smarter he could have killed her, and Yahiko would not be dead.
Dreams of peace were for the noble. Yahiko. Nagato. They were the ones who would bring peace. Konan was there to fulfil their dream. Peace to her was not as important as love and friendship that all three shared.
Surrounded by two geniuses, two geniuses with great ambitions, she felt worthless. But being worthless for their sake only made it worthwhile.
Konan did not take pleasure in killing. She did not even want to be a ninja, her occupation only spurred on by need of survival, an animalistic urge that allowed her to slaughter for friendship. But, Hanzo was someone she could dream over.
Those exciting dreams when she was all covered in blood, pants of exhilaration as she leaned over her object of obsession, and Konan's eyes would gleam with the wicked delight of how a death can make the world a better place.
And then she woke up, calm and serene once more, ready to begin the day as a vessel free of sin and corruption.
That was the kind of normal dreams everybody had right? When people wake up wet from sweat, harsh breathing as they relive that moment of ecstasy again and again with just that one kill? Those dreams were normal of teenage years, weren't they?
Of course Konan had heard of carnal pleasure, but when all energy is given to fighting, surely there were some other dreams out there that took the place of the more hormone driven teenage fantasies of clumsy gropes and saliva filled nights.
She remembered the night when those dreams started well.
There was Nagato, in the rain trembling, kunai clenched in both fists. Yahiko leaned over him, splattering blood across his face as the kunai embedded itself in Yahiko's abdomen. He had rushed forward, to save Konan because Hanzo had not been fast enough with the killing blow. Nagato just stood there, shock and horror etched into his face, rain rolling down his cheeks like tears.
Deep down within her calm pool of a mind, her mind of paper, unfeeling and efficient lay this ball of hate and lust for blood that bayed for Hanzo's name to be dragged in the sand.
But as soon as that urge arose, it would sink down again. Each time though, her paper mind would slowly peel, the perfect white marble of it corroding in repressed feelings.
Burning paper, white creases giving way to black outlines until only the skeleton of thought exists.
What had she done when Yahiko died? There was crying, soft sobbing at night, curled up into a ball. But the hate wasn't there and she found out that sometimes you could be emotionless enough on the outside that your insides began to boil with frustration.
It didn't help that the civil war was slow paced, ineffective with miles of red tapped politics far more complicated than the savagery and joy of the battle.
The current situation with Hanzo however, remained a stalemate. It wasn't so easy as simply barging in with Nagato and the Rinnegan's unsurpassed power. Politics, skirmishes… with the defeat of Hanzo, there would still be millions of warring clans and smashing them one by one is a completely inefficient and stupid way to waste time.
Paper in the mind unfolds, refolds and cuts as memories filter forth once the fighting dulls and the night is alone. There was a time when Konan did not think about war, strategy and the animal desire to cling to life. Once, it had all to do with paper cranes and laughter.
But everyone starts out like that, she thinks to herself with a smile. It wasn't terrible to start thinking about war, just that growing up really does expand the mind, and in more ways than one.
Her feet tread softly among the creaking stairs of the Amegakure hideout. Hanzo's troops were getting closer, and this safe house was one of the few left standing.
Konan was tired, the day had been long and filled with too much shouting and while her paper was certainly re-usable, watching blood stained pages of white filter back into her skin one time to many was not enjoyable. Not all kills are enjoyable, or at least she was pacifistic and calm enough as a ninja that none were.
A wince as she remembers the vivid dream of last night. Night was the path to the unconscious, where you got to see yourself. Awake though, it was another matter and her dreams have disgusted and disturbed her.
Though it would take a lot more than simple delusions to make her lose grip on the world. It wouldn't be too bad to lose grip on something, just to see what it was like. Wasn't she the only one who remained level headed when hysteria seemed to dominate everything else.
It would probably take another death to make her go insane, and even then she was willing to admit her heart was hardened enough that it would barely feel a twinge. Being innocent during wartime was impossible. But being calm and composed during wartime was merely immoral, treating war like a game.
But that was the job of angels.
Do people believe in angels? Do the enemies feel divine fear as they see her rise up towards the sky, paper wings unfolding?
Retribution.
Before she made it to her room however, voices murmured across the hallway. Nagato was still up doing negotiations. No rest for justice, and no rest for her.
Konan stepped back from her room and headed for God.
Curiosity really did get the better of her, along with the sense of duty that she so proudly carried. Who was she? She was God's Angel and also the deliverer of retribution to any that dared defy him.
Ludicrous title, but grand and self important. There was romanticism still to be had out in the rain.
She paused before opening the door to the meeting room, taking time to sweep back her hair, readjust her bun and straighten her flower. With slim white hands, she smoothed down her robe and caught her tired breath back.
Poised and dignified again from her other tired haggard self, she pushed the door to the side and swept in the room.
Minor Genjutsu easily dealt with the crow's feet under her eyes.
"Your loyalties are still suspect, we need not even talk about alliances. I can tell, you're the sort of backstabber we have no use of. Furthermore, I would like to talk to your… accomplice alone."
With the opening of the door, the conversations immediately snapped to a close. Pein glanced up irritably at first before recognizing Konan, the Rinnegan visibly softening.
He nodded at her before leading one of the men he was talking to out of the room. If that thing could really be considered a man… he had two Venus fly trap like appendages and his skin was an odd dichromatic colour.
Pein placed his hand on her shoulder as he moved past her, his way of saying that he'll return as soon as business was complete.
She felt the strange plant man cast an ambiguous glance at her before Nagato, with what seemed to be sudden annoyance, hurriedly ushered him out of the room.
Konan went to take a seat in the meeting room, content to wait with the steady tapping of the rain.
The metal walls of the room were covered in silken screens. It softened the military tone that so took these hideouts, and gave a place to relax in. Relaxing in war is dangerous, but the aesthetics, creamy colour and greys that hint of shadows at least alluded to the desire for mystery that couldn't be found in straight forward fighting.
A kunai, an enemy.
Just another kill.
Hold the kunai at the blunt end… draw blood…
It was all so mechanized.
But even despite her quietness and general skills in observation, she still nearly missed the other man sitting at the table.
He sat quietly, unobtrusively as he stared mildly at her. She supposed his expression would be calm and curious, but of course it was only an assumption.
That man wore a mask of orange, carved stylized black flames curled across the smooth surface.
There was only one eye hole.
"You're really pretty sempai!" A shrill voice squealed at her.
If she was standing up, she'd have taken a step back out of sheer shock. Instead, sitting down, she allowed her head to jerk a tiny bit in surprise.
The man's long wild hair, serene pose did not give her a hint that he could also be… strange in the mind. His body language was no longer relaxed though. It was tense, buzzing with hectic energy. Not hectic chakra, but the energy of a civilian child.
Konan had pegged that man to be the calm business sort, but was only met with what seemed to be a strange childish personality, with a voice to match.
And that comment about her… attractiveness. That was quite a disconcerting comment to be heard coming from what seemed to be a full grown adult male.
A blink and he turned up sitting on the table near her.
She had not seen him move.
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she realized a child-like persona could only be hiding something sinister.
She had felt chakra, here. And she no longer felt it, only gaining a lick of understanding before it withdrew. Not many people could reign in chakra so well… So well that she was quite sure she did not feel any in the first place.
And at that speed he moved…
Of course Nagato would not stoop to hire a complete moron. Unless it was the plant man who was the true superior and she was merely talking to a probably thick-witted underling.
"I'm sorry, but please keep your distance. Don't act so friendly towards me," her voice was cold.
Her hand pushed his hand off her shoulder where it had been lightly resting.
"Kheheh… Konan-sempai is being so cold to me," his voice said petulantly, mask leaning closer as he tilted it again in what she assumed to be his way of smiling.
"I haven't told you my name, you don't have a right to refer to me by it," she stood up, pushing her chair backwards, ignoring the squealing of it against what was once a scratch free laminated wooden floor.
Konan walked over to the other side of the table, her hands trailing against the cool wood, unconcerned if annoyed by him.
"Did your superior never tell you to respect other people's personal space, kid?"
A kid… his voice was one of a child and she did not feel that height was any indication of age – he loomed over her, even with her wearing heels as well.
"Zetsu-sempai knows Tobi is a good boy!" the masked man put his hands behind his back. "Tobi knows invading personal space is a bad thing!"
Was that a hint of a snarky tone? The emphasis on the word of "boy"? There was also that insolent tone, and a mixture of consternation and heavy amusement. Someone wasn't happy with being referred to as a kid, but still gained some pleasure from it.
"Oh? Well, then you'd know to keep away from me, or I'll kill you."
"Sempai wouldn't kill Tobi right?" his body language was shocked. "Or more like, Tobi doesn't think she can!"
Did he honestly just speak in exclamation marks? And… there seemed to some kind of dark humour in his innocent words.
Konan would be stupid to trust him, and of course she hardly did. She ignored his previous statement. There were plenty of sadistic ninja around, willing to torment their victims by pretending to be stupid, speaking in saccharine tones. She didn't have time for all that crap.
"And what kind of business does Zetsu-sempai have with God?"
The masked man… Tobi if what he called himself was true skipped up to her , not put off by her obvious purposeful distancing between him and her.
"Zetsu-sempai's business is always his own, Tobi doesn't question!" A quick zipping motion over where his mouth would be looked ridiculous and child-like.
Konan found that same gloved hand cup her cheek as her face was tilted up to meet the mask.
"But Tobi's just here because he'd like to bring Konan-sempai home with him!"
And just then, Konan saw what that single eye hole held. She shoved him back the same time a cold voice called out.
"Get out."
Turning her head, she saw Nagato with Zetsu.
Tobi… or more accurately, that Uchiha, walked towards the exit, his movements suddenly becoming far more panther-like, in vast contrast to his previous skipping.
"Pein, we were just having a bit of harmless fun. No need to worry boy, about me touching your woman."
Konan started as she heard his high pitched boyish squealing evolve into the laziness of a gentleman's drawl.
"No need to get so worked up," the Uchiha then had the nerve to pat Nagato on the shoulder. "Zetsu, we're leaving… it appears our services aren't needed here. Not even needed by that poor deprived girl… you should do something about useless filth… Nagato."
Chauvinistic bastard.
"If you don't get out, I'll kill you," Nagato intoned again in his flat voice.
Silently, she saw the pla- Zetsu, sink into a wall as the Uchiha walked out through the door, his chakra signature suddenly vanishing almost as if it was abruptly wiped off the face of the earth.
"Time-space jutsu," Nagato said sighing turning to her.
"You could have killed him."
Nagato's eyes narrowed.
"That man is Uchiha Madara… a conflict I'd like to avoid."
"W-what? Nagato… that is impossible… Madara?"
Konan widened her eyes as if on a second thought. Sometimes, you had to remember to show surprise, especially when the emotions were so deadened you barely felt anything anymore.
There was a surreal feel in the atmosphere. That a few minutes ago she had said she would kill him… a few moments ago when she was in the same room alone with a legend such as him.
Her surprise ebbed away quickly. Emotions never lasted long during waking hours, taking their leave and only to reappear at night. She'll be having dreams tonight, she knew it.
But why be so surprised that Madara still lived, or to be so awed to be in his presence when she was constantly at the side of a god?
"I wrote a whole report on how he was dead and how the victory of the Senju eventually established the modern Konoha," Konan said amusedly, shock really left behind. "As part of a history paper never turned in."
"And yet here he is, still among the living."
"Maybe we should have kept him, if he truly is Madara, our fighting strength would greatly rise."
"His goals do not align with ours Konan."
"Nagato, if this is about the way he treated me, it really is of no importance. What do his goals matter so long as the results are acceptable? If he can help, let him help."
All tones were calm, emotionless and deadpan. But that is no indication of emotion or the attachment Konan and Nagato felt to each other. There were things that go deeper than words. And because of this, Konan knew his answer: We cannot risk another betrayal.
"To think that the great Uchiha Madara is still with the living…" Konan murmured, seating herself at the table.
"Barely living," her childhood friend corrected. "A shell of his former self, withered and decayed… his pointless pursuits of power completely out of order in my vision of peace."
"What can he be but another pawn?"
Ringed eyes shifted to look at her. "Yes, sacrificial pawn, a concept that our naïve younger selves were unable to grasp. While we can definitely overthrow Hanzo now, that attempt will be suicidal… weakened other clans can easily overtake us. Hence our need for the sacrificial goats… but Madara knows this too and now that I've rejected his offer for help, he'll no longer heed to our needs."
There never were moments of silence in Amegakure. Even now when Konan and Nagato were quiet, the constant drumming of the rain resounded richly in the metal architecture of the village.
"I'd die for you Nagato," Konan reminded him.
"The angel of God can't die," he replied. "Otherwise, what good are angels then?"
Besides, Konan knew her abilities were mainly for support. She wasn't a front end fighter.
"Get some sleep Konan, we'll have to leave tomorrow before we're discovered in the village."
"It was never the safest place anyway," she remarked drily before heading to her room, yellow eyes adjusting to the sudden darkness.
Walking down the hallway, she studiously ignored the dark figure that lay leaning against the walls. His orange mask tiresomely recognizable even with the murky lighting.
"Hm, ignoring me now are you? I'm quite hurt," she heard that deep voice say sarcastically. "Little girls should know to pay respect to their elders."
She continued ignoring him until he placed his hand on her shoulder, effectively gaining her attention.
"This is probably a Genjutsu," she said, bored. "The Rinnegan would have been able to detect your presence if you stayed. I don't have to bother with you."
"Wonderful analysis, I'm sure it is genius to come up with such sleek deduction. It's really quite good for a female. There weren't many kunoichis of high reputation in my days… indeed both of us know about seduction missions, I've been on the other side of them many times in fact kheheh… quite enjoyable to be honest. But pity there really weren't more females like you in my days. It would have been very amusing."
"I'm flattered," she said acidly before mentally slapping herself. Oh she knew what to do during a Genjutsu. But illusion or not, she was talking to Uchiha Madara and there were some things she'd like to know. "But there is nothing I have to say to you if you are unwilling to help our cause."
He laughed. "Unwilling? I'm only all too willing to help, but you heard that master of yours. And frankly, he just reminded me I have more important things to do. He's quite pathetic," Madara cast her a one eyed knowing gaze. "Just like his woman."
"Careful," she warned. There was that fury within her now. God is always on a higher ethereal realm unreachable to mortals. And as powerful as Uchiha Madara was, he was still a mortal. What kind of name to give that cold fury she felt? That built up so easily with mere words?
This was similar to how she felt against Hanzo. Disdain. Anger.
Feelings stirred up by the languid spins of three tomoes…. She glanced away, aware that her feelings were being played with a mixture of Genjutsu. Konan turned away too quickly however, Madara noticed her unease, and smiled slowly with pleasure behind his mask.
She felt anger towards him.
Except that Hanzo earned it by murdering her friend and it seemed this bastard earned it simply by goading her. Oh it was dangerous, the exhilaration of balancing on a knife, the feel of Genjutsu curling around the mind.
"Careful? Or what? You'd set your God on me? One word from me to Hanzo… that your precious Rinnegan user is still alive will spell death for you. This is Genjutsu, you can't do anything but walk away."
He eyed her.
"And I see you aren't walking away? Fascinating isn't it? To be in my presence?"
"Do you know the fascination of holding a magnifying glass in hot weather above a parade of ants? That is the fascination of God." How do you think I view you? Uchiha Madara… still living dead man…
"Of course I know it, and it's how I view you now," he retorted. "You still view Nagato as God? A dead man is a dead man and all such men are the same in that state. See his rotting corpse, not that it isn't already rotting and notice how even your God has not achieved the same immortality as I have. And you'll notice his ringed eyes will no longer have you or peace reflected in them, but the agony of mortality. He can die."
What Konan would have done was not clear because Madara suddenly gave a jaunty wave before crying out in a childish high pitched voice, "Oh well, see you!"
Then the illusion dispelled.
There was no way to get used to the sudden swings of mood, mania to deadpan monotonous. Awkward shifts that left her mind in two.
There wasn't much to do. What could she do? Scream out at nothing?
Konan wandered back into her room, laying her suddenly aching forehead against the cool glass of the floor length mirror. Her own eyes stared back at her before she slid them shut, relishing in the soothing if hard feel of the mirror against her feverish forehead.
Too many nights, too little sleep… and now the appearance of Madara.
He was right that there was a certain fascination he held for her. The fact that he was still alive… and the fact that Yahiko wasn't.
Hanzo was the wrong person to release hatred upon. When you are faced with someone who is truly immortal to someone who you know you will kill… there is a difference.
But how much of her feelings were influenced by her foolishly staring into a Sharingan?
Staring at someone eye to eye is a sign of disobedience.
Staring into a Sharingan was another matter.
Everybody agreed that that kind of staring can only be attributed to utter compliance to the dojutsu user's will.
Though he probably knew her purpose for glaring right into his eye was not one related to submission, though he certainly humoured himself, and irritated her by taking it that way.
There was something beneath her paper cool exterior, expression not changing involuntarily because of how often she kept herself in her paper stoic mode. But now, there was a slight crawling of distaste. The feeling of being toyed with and she realized that even though she had fought in bloody battles, Nagato had tried to keep her from the worst of it, and that was why she felt so violated with Madara's attempts at playing tricks with her mind.
Mulling over how the Uchiha's appearance could affect their situation, she replayed simulations in her head as her eyes slid over to piles of paper on her desk.
Technically, she had never passed the Jonin exam. Rank did not matter when you were already constantly fighting battles every minute of the day. But there was always that need for self-satisfaction.
Takers of the Jonin exam typically completed a kind of thesis before being recommended for the exam. Her thesis examined the very battle that Madara took part in that in many ways, truly marked the beginning of the village known as Konoha. Her paper was focused on Hashirama Senju, and his victory.
Nothing much on the Uchiha. She outlined his behaviour of recklessness, passion and actions that were spurred by love for his clan and bravery. From what she had seen of him, this "revived" Madara was more jaded, cynical and sardonic. He still held on to his traditional views on women, which funnily enough was some sort of relief that the world had not gone completely bat shit crazy.
Vaguely, she wondered whether she should change her facts that Uchiha Madara was not in fact killed…
Konan pulled her face away from the mirror laughing at the absurdity of it.
And it turns out that the Uchiha founder did not in fact die at the Battle of the End as popularly thought. This can be proven by his sudden reappearance in Amegakure, and his refusal to aid in building a world of peace…
Jumbled thoughts piled on top of each other as Konan managed to slide into her bed and fall asleep.
X.X.X
In the morning, Konan did not tell Nagato about her encounter with Madara. She felt he suspected something anyway, but all in all it didn't really matter.
"We're still falling in section 10, if we don't take immediate action, we could lose a strategically important point in the war."
"I am still wondering about your decision to reject the Uchiha," she replied. "We've put our trust in so many of these shinobi; wouldn't it be more efficient to ask for him?"
"That possibility is now closed to us, there was a slight impromptu meeting with him last night, soon after you went to bed."
He ignored her incredulous gaze at the inconsistencies of his meetings.
"He has informed me that there are other duties he has to see to that while not against our ideals, he will be unable to come to an alliance with us."
Konan tightened her grip on the table. Their conversation last night. Their physical proximity. Oh yes, he had said the exact same thing to her. And perhaps his help was really unnecessary, but she wondered, if she had not entered that room, had not had an unexpected rendezvous with what had been the world's most feared ninja, would he still have decided not to help?
"And there's that way he stared at you," Nagato mentioned casually. There was no need to be angry, just a calm observation on why his help was not needed. "He wants something from you that I doubt either of us is willing or able to give. Perhaps it's fascination. Does he know who you are? What are you abilities? Maybe it's nothing more than common interest. Either way, he can't help us."
She felt a slight drop in her stomach, the emptiness accented by her neglecting breakfast. A slight wave of her head showed her lack of sleep for the past days.
Of course her symptoms were mirrored in every other member of Nagato's group… continuing the Akatsuki even when Yahiko had died.
And to her, her body really was not as important. She was not a front-end fighter. Slower reflexes and dimmed vision would not entirely jeopardize her.
But even so, scouting throughout the entire day for a suitable place to set up another camp was exhausting. Her chakra levels were low enough to be considered for risky levels. Flying in the rain was not a piece of cake either though she was used to her natural environment's pitfalls.
Soaked, she walked back indoors with a list of sites she gave to Nagato. And when her God ordered her to at least get some sleep, she acquiesced quietly. If Nagato was exhausted she would have stayed with him. But there was no fighting for today. A low profile to keep Hanzo out of their way while they regrouped yet again.
Her mind was war torn, the country was war torn, and it seemed fate still had the gall to add on more unexpected obstacles – the appearance of Madara.
Nagato was worried, she could tell.
If the Uchiha sided with Hanzo, any fool could tell which way the stalemated battle of attrition would swing.
Hanzo still did not know Nagato and her were still active ninjas. He knew they weren't dead, but either way, the remaining Ame Orphans were not willing to drop their advantage of surprise. A sudden attack Hanzo wouldn't expect, and throw in the complication of a Rinnegan user he thought long forgotten.
If Madara revealed just that information…
One word from me to Hanzo… that your precious Rinnegan user is still alive will spell death for you.
He was right.
She bit her lip hard enough to break the flesh, salty blood pouring into her mouth that just proved even angels can bleed.
He had a space-time jutsu. Madara could easily have told Hanzo where their temporary hideout was. Hanzo's troops could easily just barge in through here, taking them while they were at their weakest.
Konan shut her eyes, but couldn't sleep.
It was just too distracting, the dark explosions that went on behind her eyelids.
Slowly opening them again, she imagined the cracks on the ceiling on her room making pictures, the white peeling plaster perfect for it.
They formed some of her favoured origami shapes… flowers… birds… though the plaster did grotesquely resemble her face in paper form in many more ways than one. The way it peeled, and they way the white was tinged with yellow, a dying ceiling from too much mould and damp.
Probably what Konan would eventually look like, her only salvation to be the peace that Nagato promised, and the faith she so blindly put to him.
She shut her eyes once more and forced herself to dress when the cracks began to look too much like her. Being able to turn into paper had its disadvantages.
No point trying to sleep.
Konan wore the heavy black of Akatsuki, high collared cloak and wandered outside. Patrolling didn't need to be done. There were many ninjas out there already fulfilling their duty, doing the patrolling.
Adding herself in to the group wouldn't help much either. But sometimes, being dry when the rain was so promisingly pounding loudly on the outside seemed inappropriate.
It was said, often as a dirty joke in bars, that Kunoichi from Amegakure were always wet. There would be a chuckle or two, then a sombre silence as the regular bar patrons contemplated walking home in the soaking rain to the arms of very angry wives wanting to know why they were trekking water all over the floor.
There really was no place like standing on top of the many metal constructions of Amegakure, watching even taller lightning rods take the fearsome bolts from the sky and harmlessly ground them. No place like watching how close to destruction you always were, and the nakedness you feel in the rain.
Grotesque humanistic buildings, pierced tongues hanging out and crazed pipes that littered the sky were part of the regular Amegakure scenery.
And it all just looked so right.
When Nagato took over, of course the architecture would be the same.
The streets would be the same.
And the statues would remain as frightening as ever.
But even so, the weather might change, and the conflict will change to the ideal peace that all of them had so dreamt of.
Her eyes squinted onwards when she saw a familiar mask stare back at her from the darkness.
With no hesitation, she bounded towards it.
It was said that curiosity killed the cat, but it was also said that satisfaction brought it back.
"You shouldn't be here. Leave."
Ah, if she couldn't fulfil her curiosity by asking him questions, she could at least stop her annoyance by being sharp and rude.
"At least your Genjutsu skills aren't as bad as your pathetic army, little girl."
"Don't call me that."
"I've heard it said there is a new movement going on… is it called feminism? Doesn't seem to be much use to be honest…"
"You don't belong here."
"Yes, of course I know that. I should be dead right? Of another time?" he said mockingly.
"You know that is not what I meant. Get out of here, this is not your war as you have already said, therefore there is no business for you here." There never was much anger in her voice. It seemed her capacity for expressions died along with Yahiko. But she was angry.
For years the smaller villages like Amegakure had suffered when all the larger villages got the missions, got the money. And they lay at the mercy of places like Konoha, while such ninjas from the more popular villages stared down at Amegakure with disdain. And even then, they had the nerve to interfere with their affairs.
Madara was a personification of that in many ways. Didn't he create the larger villages? And here he was at a smaller one, and while not directly ordering her inappropriately, he still stood there as a bystander. A bystander to their sufferings.
She smiled humourlessly. To think that the only person that could get her worked up, thinking deep thoughts better left to her younger days was a complete stranger. A stranger that everyone in the shinobi world knew.
"So what can I do for you?"
She blinked.
"Excuse me?"
There was another infuriating tilt of his mask.
"You were the one who came chasing after me. Here I am minding my own business. Either you want something from me… or…" a soft sound of amusement came from him. "Maybe my personality is simply irresistible."
Konan raised an eyebrow. And realized she had nothing to say to him. There wasn't anything she had planned to say… just assumed he wanted to see her and now she stood here like an idiot.
Knowing what she was thinking, another sound of amusement came from Madara.
"Tell me child, how are your powers compared to the abilities of an Uchiha?"
A bit thrown off, she managed to stammer out a confused, "What? What does that have to do with anything?"
"You are alone; your pathetic patrols not as loyal as you thought… where are they now that you are next to the most powerful ninja in the world? I can do anything to you, and you can't stop me," a gloved hand reached up to his mask in a thoughtful gesture. "And we have the whole night ahead of us."
She half heartedly threw a punch at him. He wanted her to get worked up, so why not at least try to get worked up if it would make him happy?
"Oh," he sighed. "So that's what you do to stop me?"
He quickly side stepped, not bothering to meet her blow head on.
"Tell me girl, do you believe in fate?"
She gave him a cool gaze, not very unlike her unemotional punches, no passion behind reasoned out actions.
If that was what he wanted, her to listen, then why not?
If he wanted her to try to hurt him, then why not?
There are worse things in the world then the destruction of dignity, and not playing along would just be so… troublesome.
"Well, I can tell you that I do," he said conversationally. "But if I want something, I'm not about to wait around for fate to hand it to me."
He walked closer to her.
"I'd take it for myself then wait forever," Madara continued.
"And what do you want?"
He shook his head. "The question is how far are you willing to go to get what you want from me. Face it, you're looking for something, just like me. I'm sure your "God" is looking for something too, but unlike Nagato, you are willing to ask me to get it."
Madara bent down so that his mask was at her eye level. Konan kept her eyes closed. A simple precaution against the Sharingan, even if the sudden lack of sight could still be considered a terrible vulnerability, especially when an enemy was in front of you.
"And how would you know what I am looking for then?" she said, tone tight with annoyance and the sudden tension of the situation. Her eyes were still closed.
"Well," he said to her. "It's been fun, but… Tobi doesn't feel like playing anymore!"
His deep tone shifted again to his lighter one.
Konan scowled.
"Don't you like me being Tobi?" He still said in a higher pitched voice. "Come on! I saw your face when you were talking to me! You like me being Tobi… or… maybe you like me being darling Yahiko… always so happy? So stern but so stupid wasn't he? That idiotic little boy?"
"Shut up!"
Her eyes opened.
Madara was gone, but not without the whispered reminder that at any time, he could go to Hanzo, and ruin Konan's and Nagato's shared dream forever. There was an even quieter reminder that she had not seen the last of him.
Space time technique? Genjutsu?
His mention of Genjutsu earlier did nothing to assuage her suspicions that he really was in Amegakure and Pein did not notice. Uchiha's were never the trustworthy types anyway.
"Konan-sama, is everything alright?"
She heard a worried voice behind her.
Just one of the people who actually were assigned patrolling.
"Nothing is wrong," she found herself saying. "All's well."
X.X.X
If Madara really were trespassing, it was her duty to let Nagato know.
But if Nagato knew, he would only do the sensible thing, and prevent him from trespassing.
That was something she did not feel was the best thing to do.
Especially now, as she glanced over the fatality report from the last battle.
Five thousand more dead, deaths that could have been prevented if they had perhaps one more top-class ninja with them. Most of their troops were hopeful, but inexperienced and that led to heroic deaths.
Which meant nothing.
They would all be remembered.
Which meant nothing.
Madara was still alive and he was still remembered.
And she was sure that meant nothing either, but it seemed he was cheating the game called life. The point was to die and be remembered, not to be alive and still be venerated. That was like not paying a necessary toll. Everything has a price.
The price of being remembered was death.
Everything has a price.
Just like how there would be a price to having him join their side.
Forget a stalemate with Hanzo, Konan could see they were slowly losing. It wouldn't be a sudden death of Akatsuki.
A painful one, where their world would not die with a bang, but with the whimper of a fallen boy.
And she was not willing to let that happen yet.
She remembered swearing to be the support that holds Yahiko's bridge of peace up.
And she would do that even if it meant to go begging to Madara.
Selling her soul to him? Selling her soul to the devil? She would do it.
She joined Akatsuki for love, and she would be willing to go any lengths to complete her almost stygian vow of bringing peace with the price of death.
Even if it was without Nagato's express permission, Konan was willing to work alone. He respected her decisions, and even now as she saw him scan through yet another fatalities list, that he would not reject Madara's help. After all, he did not know where to find him.
And maybe probably couldn't find him.
Konan however, was quite sure she could.
Glancing at the casualties list again, a mere statistic and price to pay in the continuing war, she headed out again to find the devil.
A bad night to be going out.
The rain was worse than usual, the same kind of rain when Yahiko died. Not the typical pouring of Amegakure, but rain of a harsher nature that beat a tattoo on her head.
Everything was wrong. Metallic smell without snow, rusting kunais… and the deep silence amidst the roaring. The night was complete here, where even what were supposed to be crystal clear raindrops did not reflect light, instead were deep pits of dark water.
Konan squinted, shielding her eyes from the sharp wind. Her eyelashes were too delicate to truly keep the torrent of horizontal rain out of her eyes. Eyes watered, stinging as they were belted again and again by water.
Acting on lessons hammered into her head by her old sensei, and experience that has taught her to treat her caution with respect, she pulled out a kunai, giving it a quick twirl before gripping it in a wet clammy hand.
Intuition could be a ninja's best and worst trait but for Konan, her intuition was pretty good.
Yellow eyes, red rimmed from lack of sleep, scanned the surroundings.
She had never been much of a sensor ninja.
And honestly, she had never thought much of them.
Ninjas were tools? Sensor ninjas were tools of tools then, many were completely useless in battle.
But now, being a sensor was probably better than physically scanning the area with her eyes.
Most people might think listening was pointless in the rain, the drumming closing off all other sounds.
They would be mistaken.
Rain makes different sounds off different materials, and Konan caught the sound of rain pouring off a soft body. She turned around and found him.
A black figure standing up straight, if in an annoyed fashion in the rain. Looks like she was not the only one upset about the unfortunate weather.
And clearly a sign of annoyance is also a sign of being human.
Carefully, she clutched the kunai in both hands and made a mental note to obtain a new set.
In the rain, it was best to get shark skin as a handle. Now, the kunai was just slippery and she wasn't about to use chakra as a grip.
The night was absolute, late enough that no lantern was lit.
The shades of black seemed almost indistinguishable from each other.
Terrified.
It was not a good night to be out. On the anniversary of Yahiko's death, on the ironic way the weather managed to recreate his entire death scene in her head. The rain was the same, slight taste of blood on it, and it was cold.
There was that way the rain seemed to get everywhere, down her neck, down the crevice between her chest, and as it stuck her pants to her legs uncomfortably, the cold embrace of water.
"You've come to find me again."
And now, she knew that she really was looking for him.
"Yes."
His head tilted then, that idiosyncratic gesture that grated on her nerves, the way he could show his utter disdain for her without resorting to a belittling smile. His body language showed his open amusement and through her terror and annoyance, she marvelled at the way he could express exactly what he was feeling without the use of a face.
"And little girl, what do you want?"
"Help us."
"I've seen the casualty report."
She didn't ask how he had received that information.
"Help us," Konan repeated.
She still held the kunai in her two fists.
Madara glanced at it as if he had not noticed it before.
"Threatening me little girl? With that kunai? Little girl, the only knives women should hold are of the more domestic sort. Let's face it; the life of a ninja is very much for men."
Her grip tightened.
"You can go and die," Konan said. She didn't mind people looking down on her, but right at this moment, he was fucking with her.
Then, the bastard had the nerve to laugh, despite the fact she was practically begging for his assistance.
"As you wish," he chuckled, and speared himself onto her kunai.
Gasping, Konan realized the familiarity of it.
Pounding rain.
Nagato holding a kunai… only this time… it was her.
And there was Yahiko, killing himself as he splattered his friend with his own blood.
Konan sees the kunai slip through his stomach. She swears she does though later recalls she felt no blood.
But now, as the lightning flashes, the lack of blood is not on her mind and all she sees is Yahiko, killing himself, over and over again.
She would have screamed if not for his sudden grip on the back of her neck. Instead, the rate of her breathing increased, her fear enhanced by the feel of his rain soaked body pressing against her.
And the way he leans forward, uncomfortably close despite his mask covering his face. And she could hear his heavy breaths of anticipation.
Her hands still held onto that kunai that seems so impossibly buried in Madara's body.
"You want me to join you?"
In her terror, she nods her head mutely, chin practically resting on his left shoulder, her hair plastered to the side of his covered face.
Beneath his mask, she can imagine a smile on his face.
"Come find me then," he whispers, pressing a piece of soggy paper into her hand.
And with another flash of lightning, he disappears and Konan finds herself standing mutely in the middle of a storm.
X.X.X
A/N
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