Chapter 5

When Sasori eventually returned, Shizuku couldn't figure out how he was feeling towards her or their troublesome situation. He didn't look annoyed about fighting for her, or upset for almost having to kill a comrade, didn't look happy at her survival. His mask was flawless, almost too smooth, and it once more reminded her of Deidara's sarcastic retort.

"You're not even a living person."

It certainly explained why he was seemingly so unshakeable, not to mention the inhuman strength and speed. No ordinary human was able to use such a power – or could they? Was she abnormal back in her own world like she was there? Were the humans as strong as the men before her, or were they considerably weaker? Could they use chakra?

So far, she had six facts to go off.

Her name was Shizuku.

She was a Titan.

She was sent from a different world for unknown, though certainly sinister, reasons.

One of her captors wasn't a living person and wanted to make her an addition to whatever kind of collection he had (also certainly sinister).

She was also now indebted to said captor due to him saving her life from Uchiha. How she would repay that debt, Shizuku wasn't sure, but she most definitely wasn't going to do it by offering herself up to him for his collection.

The final fact she had to go off was Deidara not making a move against her anytime soon. To do so meant he would be getting in the way of Sasori's art – whatever the hell that meant.

Everything else were guesses that she couldn't rely on in the slightest, because the world she'd found herself in was just so… Well, Shizuku supposed she had nothing to really compare it to, but it felt so unnatural to her, like even without her memory, it was nothing like what she was used to. Instincts screamed at her that she was way outclassed by them all and needed to find some way of securing her survival – thankfully, that was where one of her facts came into play.

Sasori wanted her and due to it being for his art collection, Deidara was willing to protect her too (albeit, for his partner's sake and not hers, which hardly made him loyal to her).

Could she play on their shared love of art? Was there any way to use it to her advantage?

Deidara said that Sasori wanted to research her huge ass self for a while longer – no doubt that was so he could find out how to use the form without putting himself at risk during battle. There was potential there to draw out whatever he had planned for her, Shizuku noted, leaning back against the wall her futon was pushed up against, watching curiously as the redhead set to assessing the damage of his–

What in the holy hell was that?

Definitely not a living person, Shizuku reminded herself with a delicate shudder. The sight of the weapon hidden beneath what she'd assumed to be skin was horrific to say the least, but to then witness it dripping a purple liquid sent her mind back to when Sasori had tried to capture her. Although in the heat of the moment and desperate to save herself, she could still recall his surprise to find she was somehow immune to his poison. That had to be what the purple liquid was, and Shizuku assumed each weapon hidden beneath his strange body was also laced with the stuff.

How would he even research her other form? Uchiha made it clear that they didn't have Titans in their world, making her one of a kind and a complete mystery to them all. Even she didn't know what she was or what she was capable of. That meant she would need some kind of emergency button to press should Sasori lose his patience and decide to end her life, since she was essentially a dead end. But what? What could she possibly use to make him reconsider?

"Oi."

Shizuku flinched as a container was thrust before her, followed by an odd paper package that landed onto the strange lid with a surprising clunk. She'd expected it to be weightless, meaning soundless too.

"Eat."

Eat? From… that?

A sigh of irritation had the blond who'd presented her with the alleged food crouch beside her futon, hands quick to tear the lid off the container, but just as he moved to toss it aside, she frowned and reached out, gesturing to his hand with an uncertain point.

"What?" he asked gruffly, clearly still annoyed about her existence. "Not raw enough for you?"

She ignored the jab, pointing more insistently at the strange marking she'd spotted for a fraction of a second on his palm.

Deidara paused at that and she noticed Sasori sparing them a glance over his shoulder before resuming work on his arm, making bile rise in Shizuku's throat with how effortlessly he removed his own goddamn arm.

What were they?

"What? This?"

He turned his palm upwards and she was certain the bile was actually about to turn into full blown projectile vomiting when a tongue swiped across the rest of his palm, the small mouth grinning up at her.

What the hell were they?!

The scent of the food he'd brought to her was unappetising, turning her stomach almost as harshly as the strange men before her.

"Why are you looking at me like that when you turn into a repugnant monster that tries eating people?" he asked her snappishly, looking down his nose at Shizuku. "At least my hands have a use – you're useless in both forms."

Well, she'd definitely hit a nerve. Trying to steer the conversation away from her disgust, she pointed over at Sasori with a frown, hoping Deidara understood what she was trying to ask.

In a way, he did. But not entirely. "No. He can't use my jutsu."

Rolling her eyes felt like a completely natural instinct, one Shizuku didn't fight against much to the surprise of Deidara, who blinked owlishly for a second. While he tried to digest her brief comfortability with somewhat answering back, she copied Sasori's move of detaching his freaking arm, sending him another inquisitive look afterwards.

"H… How?"

Damn it, she really had to work more on her speech.

There was a snort from the other side of the room, and Shizuku looked to the redhead and watched with a turning stomach how he ran his fingers down the detached arm, admiring the handiwork. She noted that there were no marks indicating any pressure, meaning he either didn't apply any, or the surface that was supposed to be skin, was in fact hard.

"Sasori no Danna believes art is something that lasts forever," Deidara explained with a similar snort, rolling his own eyes. Without looking back to her, he tore open the strange paper package he threw down at her, revealing a stick of some sort. Was she supposed to use it? "So, naturally," he said the word with a smirk, like it was greatly amusing to him, "he immortalised himself."

"My body is my grandest work of art thus far," Sasori added blandly. She'd expected him to sound proud, but he sounded more bored than anything.

Wait, immortalised himself?

"How?" she repeated unsurely.

That uncertainty only grew by the moment as Deidara shoved the stick into her hand, leaving her to stare down at it unsurely. What the hell was she supposed to do with it? Stab at whatever the hell was in that container? The strings soaking within some kind of broth looked impossible to eat with a stick.

"It's instant ramen," he groaned with annoyance and once more, Shizuku flinched when he grabbed at her hands, forcing her to break apart the stick and she stared down dumbly as it separated evenly. "We're civilised here, yeah. We don't use our hands to eat. We use chopsticks."

Chopsticks? The word sounded distantly familiar, but–

"No, Shizuku," the woman laughed kindly, her dark eyes creasing with mirth. "You're holding them all wrong!"

What was that? Who was that woman? And why did the short memory fill her with such a heavy weight in her heart?

Shizuku glanced down at the chopsticks once more with a frown, accepting Deidara's hands as they manipulated hers into grabbing the wooden utensil. Like the word, it all felt so distantly familiar, but coupled with the unexplainable memory it felt raw, in a sense. Enough so that her throat ached.

How was she possibly supposed to eat with that strange memory and those two inhuman men in her presence?

The room wasn't big enough for the three of them (hell, she didn't think there was enough space for two of them, yet the two futons said differently), and Shizuku found herself rapidly growing more claustrophobic the longer she felt their eyes on her like they were physically causing the walls to close in around them, all the while waiting for her to take a bite of their instant ramen, pretending they weren't even doing anything.

And that damned leak that was somewhere in the room with her, yet unseen!

No, she couldn't do it. She couldn't. She had to get out of there and go back to her forest before–

No, Shizuku warned herself at their expectant expressions, hand trembling as she tried to piece together the puzzle required for her to be able to eat with chopsticks, if she'd even been able to do it in the first place.

"Do you actually need to eat people?" asked Deidara with a hint of apprehension to his tone before glancing to his partner with a deepening frown. "Oi, Sasori no Danna, I'm a lot of things but even I draw the line at cannibalism, yeah–"

She struggled valiantly to block out Deidara's words and instead focused intently on lifting the container as she did the chopsticks, having noticed several of the strange strings slipping from her grasp.

And then she managed to take a hearty mouthful, the broth splashing across her face when she was forced to slurp to ensure none of the food was dropped.

Deidara looked vaguely impressed, she noted. Sasori didn't.

"Haven't you ever eaten ramen before?" questioned the blond.

Not to her knowledge, no. Honestly, Shizuku wasn't sure what she'd eaten before losing her memories, but since then, it was whatever poor animal she could get her hands on and there were obviously never any utensils. She'd torn into them all with her teeth and hands.

"N-No," she managed to reply.

It was only then that she noticed Deidara also had a meal like hers, and she frowned thoughtfully as he blew across the top, disturbing the steam that surged for release the moment he removed the lid. Her curiosity was officially piqued when he stirred the contents, dipping them several times in the broth she'd been worried about spilling, so had tried to gently shake as much off.

"The noodles taste better when they're soaked, yeah," he told her after realising she was staring.

Noodles? So… they weren't strings? Somehow, it fit better, Shizuku decided after several moments and nodded in understanding to what the blond was saying, soon copying his example.

"And when you're done with the noodles," Deidara instructed once they were finished with them, "you drink the broth."

He did so loudly, much to her surprise and she looked to Sasori questioningly, only to find he was once more fixated on his arm, so quickly averted her gaze once more.

"So?"

Shizuku met Deidara's expectant stare, trying not to pay any attention to the traces of disdain and condescension because behind it was genuine curiosity. It made her wonder whether the whole tough act was just that – an act. Or maybe he was actually feeling sad, she wondered? They'd fought their comrade, after all and even if he said Uchiha's name with hatred and disgust, he was still a comrade. Maybe he was sad and was trying to make himself feel better?

Swallowing to try and prepare herself for attempting to talk, she nodded slowly, mouth opening before promptly slamming shut. How did she move her mouth for the words 'it's good'?

Blue eyes rolled and he once more looked over to Sasori, muttering, "Looks like you've got your work cut out for you."

"You appear to be getting on well enough – you can teach her."

"Huh?" came his indignant yell and Shizuku ducked her head as he whirled on his partner, glowering ferociously. She hoped he didn't start blowing the place up with his quite obvious anger issues. "I told you I didn't want anything to do with her, yeah! Are you forgetting she tried to eat me?"

"Tried being the keyword," was all he said in return.

"Sasori no Danna, c'mon," he tried.

"I am going to be busy researching her kind."

"I'm busy too, yeah!"

"With?"

"With…"

"Precisely." She looked up in time to see him twisting his arm beneath a lamp, expression blank as he assessed damage she couldn't see. "As you can see, I'm busy and it's not like we will be capturing any jinchūriki as of this moment. What else is there for you to do?"

"Anything except humanising some giant ass cannibal!"

The way she flitted around the small kitchen would remain the most fascinating sight to Shizuku. She was a physically powerful woman – one capable of causing such devastation for whoever dared to oppose her – with such a cool façade that it continuously threw their enemies off. However, in their home, she was a completely different person and the switch in personalities never failed to leave her in a state of awe.

Her impeccable skills on the battlefield revealed themselves in her actions, and Shizuku leaned forward at the table, head in both hands, as she watched her with a smile. Balancing several plates at once, never missing a beat in preparing the meals, tackling washing dishes and pans as she went, Shizuku couldn't help but believe that her mother was a wonder. The kitchen was something she'd conquered with what appeared like great ease, refusing to be taken down by wrong timings or temperature settings or even mess.

"Shizuku," her mother called, scrubbing away at a pan while simultaneously stirring the contents in another. "Call your father and let him know dinner is almost ready."

They were perfect – her mother and father, she meant. Not because they were remarkable scouts who were admired and feared by many, but because they were her parents. They were nothing like their warrior personas. They went all out as they usually did of course, but in a more familial way. Always tucking her in, always ensuring she was happy and comfortable, kissing her forehead and holding her when she was ill or in need of comfort. Those kinds of things. She saw a side to them nobody else was allowed to.

Shizuku grinned when her mother glanced over her shoulder, nodding her understanding. "Yes, Mama!"

The chopstick woman was her mother?

Shizuku rubbed a hand up her clammy face, grimacing at the tight sensation in her chest. Apparently, without her realising it until much later on, Uchiha had done a number on her head and the door that had once kept her memories shut away from her, was cracked open, allowing Shizuku to remember her old life in bits and pieces.

"M-Ma…" The noise felt foreign on her tongue and she swallowed, eyes straining to try and see through the darkness that told her it was still late at night. "M-M-M…"

"You should rest."

Struggling against the weight in her chest, Shizuku leaned up on an elbow and glanced to the figure who suddenly turned on his desk lamp, illuminating his dead brown eyes as well as a small section of the room, showing her Deidara asleep on the other futon. The way the light bounced off his eyes had her inwardly shuddering, because for some odd reason she just couldn't shake, an image of a porcelain doll with glass eyes continuously flooded her mind.

It was surreal to believe Sasori was what he believed to be his ultimate piece of art, and Shizuku questioned what said art was, hoping he would somehow figure out where her thoughts were and answer them for her. He didn't, of course.

Glancing down at the blanket covering her waist, Shizuku lay back and brought it further up her body, attempting to recall the sensation her younger self from the memory experienced when tucked in at night. But there was nothing. Just a deep ache she couldn't understand.

"What is it?" Sasori enquired despite having ordered her to rest. Surprising Shizuku further, he left his desk and approached her silently, sitting beside her futon at a respectful distance. "Your eyes say you remember something."

They did? Did that mean he could use the same technique Uchiha had? Or was he simply observant?

Could she say what was on her mind?

"M-M-M-Ma…"

Sasori's head dipped ever so slightly, those strange eyes that were intense for all the wrong reasons locking with hers as he tried to understand.

"M-Ma…"

"Ma?" Would he have frowned, once upon a time, she wondered? "Mama?"

Yes.

Yes!

Nodding enthusiastically and sitting up once more, she smiled widely as he slowly repeated it, copying the way his mouth and tongue had moved when he carefully enunciated the word for her.

"M-Mama," she managed to say after several attempts. "Mama!"

"You had a dream of your mother?" She nodded again, though this time without the smile because despite her achievement, the pain returned and weighed her down. "A bad dream." It wasn't a question, but she nodded anyway, then shrugged because was it really a bad dream if she'd been happy in it? "You're not sure."

How could she explain the mess in her heart and mind when she couldn't even begin to understand any of it?

"It was a happy dream, but you're sad."

That. That was exactly it. Again, Shizuku nodded, then flinched at the odd wetness that splashed on her hand, forcing her to glance down at the tight fists that'd scrunched up the blanket.

Once again, she raised it to her chin, only to sob quietly as the weight transformed into full blown torment at the coldness she felt.

Something about her grief appeared to have an affect on Sasori, Shizuku vaguely noticed, because he silently leaned forward and guided her back, his eyes shutting like he couldn't bear to look at her. And as much as she wanted to question what the hell he was doing to her, she couldn't, because even if she could talk, Sasori re-stole the ability by taking the blanket from her grip and tucking her in without a word, the empathy in his next words unmissable even with his quiet, bland voice.

"Goodnight, Shizuku."

Sasori was persuasive. And while Shizuku was well aware of Deidara's particularly vocal reluctance, she was still surprised when she awoke to find him actually prepared for a day of training, without Sasori pushing any further.

Said redhead didn't utter a word to her about the night before and she had no idea how to thank him for his shocking comfort. So, instead, Shizuku also prepared herself for the training, deciding that the best way to thank him was to do as he asked. After all, not only had he saved her life from Uchiha, but he'd also comforted her. She had to repay him somehow for such kindness, didn't she?

She wondered what the training would involve. Was it physical training? Purely humanising training?

As much as Shizuku wanted to reclaim who she'd once been, to simply remember who she'd once been, she wasn't entirely sure it would do her any good. The memory from the night before and her reaction to it was still painstakingly fresh in her mind. Would the rest be that way? Would she eventually remember what happened to her parents – if anything happened to them? There had to have been some kind of reason she was sent to a different universe.

"C'mon," Deidara muttered as he donned his cloak, barely even sparing her a glance. "First thing's first: we're getting you fresh clothes."

"Eh?" The noise came her from effortlessly, though he didn't seem to care all that much. She was forced to rush after him when he left, struggling into her boots along the way.

"There's no telling how long you've been festering in those clothes, yeah. We can't exactly humanise you if you look and smell like an animal, can we?" he demanded with great annoyance, flashing a glare her way from over his shoulder.

She frowned deeply at the harsh words, easily understanding what was happening as her pride was bruised. It wasn't like she hadn't bathed at all – she had. It was partly the reason why she stuck close to rivers or at least followed the sound of water. Had her washing not been good enough, for some reason?

"I'm tired of you stinking out my room, yeah. So we're getting you new clothes."

New…

She fingered the hem of her cloak, eyes drawn to the old fabric. Once upon a time, it would have been vibrant in its green shade, though now it was dull and covered in dirt, with frayed edges and small tears here and there. No matter how bad it looked, however, the thought of throwing it out hurt similarly to the pain the night before, making her wonder if it'd belonged to one of her parents.

If Deidara tried to force her to throw it away, she would protect it fiercely. If it came down to it, then maybe that time she would actually eat him just to teach him a lesson.

The place he took her to wasn't far from where they were staying, though she grumbled to herself the entire way there as she was still forced to leave the building and brave the cold rain. Even with her cloak's hood pulled all the way down it still bit into her skin like shards of glass, the constant wind making it all the more painful.

Lines of clothing covered the walls, accompanied by small sections throughout the floor boasting tall stands of shoes. Nothing in particular stood out as they entered, for it was all dark clothing for the most part, with random shades of blue or light grey thrown in from time to time. It was nothing like her once white pants and shirt, or tan jacket and green cloak. The dark brown knee high boots she wore were the closest thing to anything the store had to offer, and even then, it wasn't exactly the same.

"Grab whatever you want," muttered Deidara, barely even sparing the shocked woman behind a counter a nod. "Our leader has a deal with this place."

Did she even want to find out what that meant? Shizuku frowned, glancing to the woman. She looked scared and had from the moment she spotted Deidara's cloak, telling her without words that it wasn't a good deal on her part. Not entirely, anyway.

"Get enough for a few days at least."

She could barely nod while perusing the shelves, guilt blooming in her chest whenever she caught sight of the scared woman. What was she supposed to do, though? Refuse and risk having her limbs blown off again? They'd shown her small bursts of kindness, but there was no forgetting the pain they'd put her through either, especially not when faced with another who was suffering because of them.

What made it worse was that the unwaveringly calm Sasori wasn't around to tame Deidara like he seemingly had before, or to save her if she pissed someone in their inhumanly strong world off (she doubted Deidara had any part to play in saving her from Uchiha, after all). What if she happened across someone who could blow her up like Deidara had?

"Don't just pick anything up, idiot," Deidara snapped suddenly when she grabbed the first pair of pants styled somewhat like her own, making her jump. "Check the size first. I'm not coming back to exchange any of it, yeah."

"C-Can I help?" asked the petite woman behind the counter, and Shizuku inwardly cringed at the thought of having to face her fear directly, rather than through occasional glances in her direction. "I can… I can get you the right sizes?"

"Hurry up and do it then," ordered Deidara without a care, taking himself towards the door. "This is already taking too long."

Wow, he was in such a foul mood, Shizuku thought, ensuring to take note not to piss him off that day. There was no telling what he'd do now that he knew she could regenerate, and she couldn't forget the delight he'd taken in blowing her up either.

The change in the woman's countenance when Deidara stepped outside threw her off balance as she sighed in relief, her hazel eyes double checking the door was shut before approaching Shizuku.

"Come this way," she instructed with a watery smile, gesturing to a space behind her. "This is the men's section."

Nodding, she followed after her, staring up at the clothes in surprise as they undeniably became more feminine the further into the store they went. There were also strange accessories that acted as a divide between the two sections, and curiously, Shizuku reached out, touching the odd white bandages for a moment.

"Are you a shinobi?" she asked quietly, pausing beside a much larger collection of pants than what the men's section had to offer.

She wanted to ask what that meant, but whenever her mouth opened, she was once more plagued with the odd sensation of her tongue being much too big for her mouth. It was unable to form any of the words she needed, every syllable sounding off and feeling wrong.

"You're scared of him," the light haired woman noted empathetically like she'd only just taken note of her appearance, eyes downcast. "I understand."

Did she? Was she also a captive? Was that what Deidara meant by the deal with their leader?

"Don't worry," she went on to assure her with a kind smile. It was nothing like the one she'd received moments before, where she'd been uncertain and forced it. "I'll make sure he has no reason to get mad at you."

Thank you, she wanted to say.

Instead, she caught the woman's hand just as she lifted it, holding it in both of hers, hoping that her gratitude was conveyed properly in their strange world.

Fortunately, it was, and she relaxed a little at the softening of her hazel eyes.

"Here," she said while pointing out a pair of pants. "We'll find you something comfortable."

"Why've you come out in that?" demanded Deidara once she was finished acquiring new clothes. "You should've left it there, yeah."

Rather than antagonising him somehow, Shizuku gestured to her hair and body, having noticed while trying on clothes how filthy she truly was when compared to the other woman. Whereas her light hair was bouncy and neatly trimmed, her own was covered in oils that she previously hadn't cared about, though now couldn't take her mind off. And her body, despite having bathed in rivers, was covered in the crusted blood and dirt from her battle against Deidara and Sasori, frightening the poor woman when she'd seen it all.

"Looks like we're in for an easy day then, yeah," Deidara muttered with a shocking sigh of relief. She followed silently as he began to walk back the way they'd come from, easily navigating the crowds of people who parted for him when they saw who he was. "We've already wasted most of it shopping, of all things."

She wondered if it was possible to salvage the clothes she was already wearing, and her heart sunk as she repeated Deidara's words of throwing them out. Clearly, he had no intention of helping her save them and was more likely to throw them away without her back needing to be turned. Her only hope was Sasori seemingly understanding why she wanted to keep them, just as he'd understood her anguish the night before.

Once they returned to their room, she set her multiple bags down on what she presumed was now her futon. Unlike when she left, it was freshly made with clean sheets and she wondered if it was Sasori who'd changed them while she was gone, for he'd also disappeared from the room. Shizuku hoped he returned soon.

"You already know where the bathroom is," Deidara pointed out. "There's already body wash and whatever else you'll need in there."

Nodding, she left without a fuss, eyes shutting with a sigh of relief as the door shut behind her. Just as it had the night before, everything looked vaguely familiar to her and she made quick work of figuring out the right settings to fill the bath, fingers lingering on a blade resting on the ledge.

"Long strokes," her mother instructed. The dark eyes that never missed a detail were focused on her legs, waiting just in case she caught herself like she almost had moments before. "Careful around the ankles, Shizuku. You'll cut yourself."

Shizuku eased herself into the hot water after stripping down, leaving her clothes in a pile beside the bath. Steam clung to the entire room, fogging up the mirror above the sink and wetting the tiles surrounding her. Fascination had her reaching out, fingertips grazing the condensation.

The blade was sharp and repeatedly caught the light as it bounced off it, catching her eye.

From the short memories that'd come to her, Shizuku easily understood that she'd been incredibly close with her mother. She'd always admired every side of her, whether it was the strong warrior or the doting mother. It made her wonder when or if she would remember anything about her father, as she still couldn't place a face to the name.

Recalling the memory of how to properly care for herself, Shizuku opened a bottle labelled body wash, smelling the contents though finding herself disappointed at the lack of scent. Although unsure if any products her mother taught her to use smelled, she found herself instinctually upset over it anyway.

It was like a second nature how easily the blade glided over her skin once it was lathered up, and Shizuku found herself relaxing further into the water, deciding to trust her instincts as they guided her through the motions of washing her body and hair.

Up until she encountered the frightened woman in the clothing store, it'd been easy pushing aside what Sasori and Deidara had done to her – no, not pushing aside, but accepting it and her fate, for they were much stronger than herself and the only way out of there, was through them. Sure, Shizuku had planned on going along with their plans until she found some way to escape, but she'd also found herself much too easily accepting their rare kindness too.

Meeting the woman had strengthened her resolve in escaping, reminding Shizuku now whenever she caught sight of the black and red cloaks that they were bad people. Maybe that was how she was supposed to remember their coldness? By looking to the cloaks they were constantly wearing? Was she supposed to associate anyone who wore them as evil and capable of creating harm?

Her two captors had slaughtered an entire village, after all. And that was only moments before they'd blown her limbs off even when she posed no threat to either of them. Yes, Sasori saved her from Uchiha and yes, he comforted her, but did that really outweigh what they'd done?

How many lived in fear like the shop owner did? Did that mean the people she was currently stuck with were the most powerful in their world?

Only once the water cooled did Shizuku reluctantly leave the quiet and relaxing bathroom, ready to face Deidara and his bad mood once more.

"It's about time you got out of there–"

The sudden cutting himself off had her looking to him with a frown, his expression of wide eyed disbelief leaving her frozen for a moment. Had she done something wrong? Pissed him off?

"I know you're naked when you change, but there's nothing to look then!" he snapped, though without much anger that time, she noticed. The strangeness of the moment only increased when he turned his back on her, fists clenched by his sides. "You can't walk around naked when you're a normal person, yeah!"

She couldn't? Frowning and glancing downwards, she tried to spot if there were any major changes besides the size, but she couldn't really spot anything other than having nipples now. Any other part was hidden by the angle of her body, so she could only assume it was the nipples that took him by surprise. Were they really such a big deal? Why were they a big deal? It was just a body part.

"Hurry up and get dressed." Some of the frustration had returned to his voice now, Shizuku realised with a sigh of annoyance. "We've been summoned for a meeting."

A meeting? Wait, we? As in, she was included in that meeting?

"Looks like Zetsu blabbed and so now our leader wants to meet you."

…What?