"I'm a shapeshifter.

What else should I be?

Please don't take off my mask,

Revealing dark."

-Beneath the Mask, Persona 5

Naga carefully lowered a handful of small, square planks of wood on the table. Next, he pulled two folded slips of Konan's paper from his pocket. One was covered in half-dry red paint, the other in silver baby slime.

I pulled a plank closer, running a finger over the grooves. "What's this for?"

Naga hesitated. "Don't you want to draw something for Osamu? Kota?"

Did I?

I looked at the paint, the silver slowly dribbling off the paper and down the table. The planks were all around the size of Mamoru's plank outside, but slightly off. The wood was either too dark, too light, or too rough.

I wanted to practice Headhunter more. I wanted to play with Kota. I didn't want to sit around and draw. I shook my head, "No thanks, but you can draw if you want."

Naga stared at me. Then he smiled softly, a little sad. He knelt and unwrapped the scarf around his neck. I leaned forward so he could loop it around mine.

"You're really growing up, Oka," he said, patting my head.

"I—" I was always grown. It was supposed to come out as a grumble, accompanied by a half-hearted pout and maybe a glare if he laughed, but...

But it wasn't true, was it?

I was a little kid when Tsunade left. I was still a little kid when I thought I could fight Usagi on my own. I didn't feel much like a 'little kid' anymore. I was faster than before, stronger, and I knew better.

I let Naga pat my head for three seconds, and then I growled softly in warning.

He retracted his hand, shaking his head. "Wolf," he murmured.

"So, you still can't sense Kota?" Yahiko asked. He crouched in the middle of the room, rubbing his chin and squinting at Kota, who sat in a corner with her legs tucked up, staring at the floor. Her nose was red, the only evidence it was broken after Naga healed it.

Konan paced in front of him. "I can't," she said. "And it's driving me crazy! I can see she's there, but I don't feel anything."

Yahiko nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe you're broken?"

"I-I'm not!" she sputtered, stopping in place. "Nagato can't sense her either."

Yahiko turned, hand still on his chin. "Is this true?"

"It is," Naga confirmed, standing.

"Huh," Yahiko said. "Then it's a real problem."

"It wasn't a real problem before?" Konan fumed.

Naga quietly walked to the kitchen (about two feet) and inspected the ingredients on the counter. Half a day-old fish, an only slightly dangerous piece of lettuce we found at the bottom of the merchant's sack, and a half-expired potato.

"You make up so many stories," Yahiko said lightly. "Who knows if anything you say is real anymore."

"You're the one who exaggerates all the time," Konan protested.

Yahiko mock gasped. "Take that back."

Naga stabbed the lettuce with a kunai, stepped closer to Yahiko, and shook it off over him. It fluttered down and landed on his shoulder.

Yahiko looked at it and collapsed. "Get it off me," he wheezed.

"It could be chakra suppression," Naga suggested, making no move to help him.

"But this much?" Konan asked, looking doubtfully at Kota.

"I'm going to die of some plague and none of my friends will care," Yahiko choked out.

Konan rolled her eyes. "Oh, you've eaten worse."

"Something on it moved!"

Seeing as no one would help him, I stood up, took Naga's kunai from him, and carefully maneuvered the lettuce onto the tip.

"You're my hero, Oka," Yahiko said.

Konan squinted at Naga. "Suppress your chakra more. As much as you can."

Naga smiled a little. "It wouldn't disappear. This is as much as I can suppress it."

Konan blinked. "That's you suppressing it as much as you can?"

"It is," Naga insisted.

Konan turned a flat stare onto Yahiko. "You're hopeless."

Yahiko waved his arm. "Wounding me while I'm down," he lamented.

The door opened and Mamoru-sensei ducked into the hideout. Namekuji peeked up from the back of his head, pressing against his hair.

"You're annoying," Mamoru grunted, taking off his shoes.

"Thank you," Namekuji said.

Yahiko rolled over. "Password?"

"Don't have one," Mamoru-sensei said idly, arranging his shoes neatly by the door.

"You're just in time, sensei," Konan chirped.

Mamoru paused, glancing at the door like he thought about going back out into the rain. Namekuji slithered down his back, his leg, and onto a clothing trail on the floor.

"Nagato and I can't sense Kota," Konan explained, unfazed. "We thought she might be suppressing her chakra, but we would still be able to sense her at least a little—"

"Not necessarily," Mamoru-sensei interrupted.

Naga returned to the kitchen, using a fresh kunai to cut the fish into pieces.

"You're thinking of Kota like you'd think of yourselves," Mamoru admonished. "But she's not you. Her total chakra pool is probably around low civilian level, if that. No one taught her to fight or defend herself. Being alone out there, she did the next best thing. She hid. Clearly it wasn't enough to hide physically, so she began to unconsciously hide her chakra until no one could find her."

Mamoru eyed Kota. "It's a survival mechanism. She doesn't even realize she's doing it. And she's been doing it for so long that trying to undo it will only do more harm than good. Just leave her be. Being invisible to sensory-types gives her an advantage no one else here has."

Konan frowned. Kota turned her head further away. "So, we can't teach her anything?"

Mamoru sat heavily against the wall. "Taijutsu should be fine."

Konan paused. "Mamoru-sensei—" she began sweetly.

"No new genjutsu for a month," Mamoru cut her off.

I crouched, offering the lettuce-laden kunai to Namekuji. He swallowed it without hesitation.

"That's not a fair trade," she protested.

"Too bad," Mamoru-sensei said, stretching his legs. "Want me to take on another potential headache? I'll have to make time for her. Your time."

Konan sagged. "Fine. But you have to teach me something at least B-rank once we start again."

Mamoru sighed deeply.

"Where's Osamu?" I asked.

"Outside," Mamoru said wearily. "Keeping watch."

"Konan gets another new genjutsu," Yahiko grumbled to Naga, leaning on the counter next to him. "And what do I get?"

"A fire jutsu," Naga deadpanned as he herded cut potato slices and fish pieces into a pot.

Yahiko slowly shook his head, "You're supposed to say 'nothing'."

I walked closer to them. "Can I help?"

"Can I help?" Yahiko asked.

"No, and no," Naga said, slightly amused. "We can have burned stew next time, Oka. And..." he trailed off, shooting Yahiko an apologetic look.

"I can burn stew just as well as she can," Yahiko protested.

"I expect Oka to burn the stew because she'll be learning," Naga said gently.

Yahiko's look was flat. "Why does everyone hurt me?"

"I don't," I chirped.

Yahiko glanced at me, then back at Naga. "Why does almost everyone hurt me?" he amended.

Naga smiled, putting the pot on the counter. "Can you fill this with water?"

Yahiko looked at it. "Is that all I'm good for?"

I left them to it, pausing when I turned around. Kota was at the table. She was on her knees, hunched over a plank, elbows a barrier to prevent anyone from seeing what she was doing. But her thumbs were smeared red, and the paper with the silver goo tucked out of sight.

I smiled.

スターレス

"Get ready to be impressed—"

"Boo!" Konan shouted; hands cupped around her mouth.

She sat northeast of me, just barely under the protection of the cliff. Naga was on my left, legs crossed, leaning back against the rock wall. He was smiling softly. Kota was further back, legs tucked up, nearly hidden in the darkness of the mini cave.

Yahiko shot Konan a flat look. "Like I was saying before—"

"Boo!"

I stood, carefully brushed sand off my shorts, and tackled Konan.

She yelped as my arms went around her but was laughing as she fell.

I rearranged myself so I sat on her stomach and leaned down, letting her see the disapproval in my eyes.

She snorted and looked away, shoving a hand over her mouth in a desperate attempt to contain her giggles.

I would not smile. I dug my knee into her side.

"Okay—ow. Okay, I'm done," Konan promised, grinning. She held her hands up in surrender, sand in her hair.

To ensure her silence, I twisted to face Yahiko and continued using her as a chair.

"I said I was done!" Konan protested.

I hummed in acknowledgement but didn't move.

"I had a whole speech prepared," Yahiko said thoughtfully. "And now it's ruined."

"You could still say it," Naga offered.

Yahiko tapped his chin. "Nah, the mood isn't right anymore."

"I bet he never had a speech," Konan whispered.

I grabbed a handful of sand and waved it menacingly at her.

Konan looked like she was trying not to laugh again.

"I'm scary," I said, voice low and intimidating.

Konan shoved both hands over her mouth and stared up, away from me, stifling a sound that was half-hiccup, half-snort.

Yahiko ignored us both. "I'll just show you," he said. He faced the pond, his back to us. He inhaled sharply and leapt straight up, using both hands as he sped through hand-signs. Rat. Dog. Tiger.

His chest puffed up. Half a second passed.

A small ball of fire shot from his mouth. It flew straight down, hissing and steaming in the rain. On impact with the pond it burst outward in every direction, growing bigger and brighter even as the rain fought to put it out.

Yellow light danced in my eyes as I watched it, awed by the flames licking at the sky. The heat of it chased away the cold, and for the first time since Shikkotsu, I felt a taste of warmth. Steam rose up in thick clouds, obscuring the fire.

Yahiko landed on the charred sand and stumbled back.

Naga was shading his eyes. Kota leaned forward, on her hands and knees, mouth hanging open. I watched the fire through the steam, watching it sizzle and finally shrink as it lost its battle against the rain.

When it was completely doused, the pond was several feet lower than it was before.

Naga clapped. Konan looked away, refusing to give Yahiko the satisfaction of seeing her impressed. But I did.

Yahiko sat heavily, breathing hard. Then he flopped back, lacing his hands behind his head. "Show's over," he announced. "I'm all outta chakra."

"Still have enough to keep talking," Konan chimed, wedging out from under me.

Yahiko closed his eyes. "I hope Namekuji eats all your paper. Even the roses."

"Now that's too far."

I crossed my legs, glancing at Naga. "Why didn't Namekuji come?"

Naga's smile was fond as he watched them bicker, but it turned amused when he looked at me. "He said he didn't want to listen to them more than he had to," he explained. "And Mamoru-sensei lets him take naps on his lap."

It sounded like a lie. I shook my head in denial.

"He does," Naga insisted. "Mamoru-sensei would never admit it, but Namekuji told me."

I still felt skeptical.

"Think about it. Mamoru-sensei spends all day in the rain. Namekuji is choosing to spend all day in the rain when he could be here or at the hideout," Naga reasoned.

It was a good point. Namekuji complained all the time about being wet. "He could've slept in my lap," I pointed out.

"Maybe," Naga agreed. "But you wake him up a lot by accident."

"Not a lot," I said, then paused. "I don't mean to."

Konan left the cave and knelt beside Yahiko. "You know exactly how much chakra you have. You didn't have to push yourself this far for us," she admonished, flicking his arm.

"I did," Yahiko murmured.

"You didn't—"

"I was happy," Yahiko interrupted, eyes slowly opening. "I knew what it would do to me, but I wanted to show you guys because I mastered it, and I only did that because I knew how much everyone believed in me." His eyes slid to hers. "Is that so bad?"

Konan's breath caught. I could see the red tinting her cheeks from here.

"Someone's got a crush," Naga said quietly.

Konan pressed a hand against his forehead and Yahiko blinked at her.

"You could have a fever," she said quickly, before he could speak. "Chakra exhaustion isn't usually bad enough to make someone sick, but it's you, so I should check. Just in case."

Yahiko stared up at her. Instead of responding, his smile grew, and he closed his eyes again.

空

When Mamoru-sensei and Osamu came back, they brought a man with them.

He hobbled between them, half-hunched over, a hand clutching his own throat. His other hand curled around the hilt of a sword with a long, red handle.

I watched Osamu sneak worried glances at him through the window, a hand half-outstretched, whether to help him walk or to catch him if he fell, I didn't know.

Naga stood suddenly, abandoning the card game he was playing with Yahiko. A quarter of the deck was missing, another quarter faded and smeared by water-damage.

Before I could do more than blink at him, he'd already opened the door and stepped out.

Konan watched him, sitting on a counter, and then dispersed into paper butterflies.

Yahiko dropped the three cards in his hand onto a pile in front of him, grinning. "It's about time."

I looked back out the window, watching Naga tie his hair back.

The man was proof that our first mission was a success.

Yahiko's voice was deeper than before, but only sometimes. Konan never missed the chance to tease him when it cracked.

Kota knelt at the table, blowing on a cup of boiled water. She didn't look up. It wasn't tea or had anything in it, but I knew it being warm was enough.

I walked to the door and stepped out, barefoot. I mostly fit into the shirt Mamoru-sensei gave me. It was still a little big though.

Naga stopped, and I saw that the man's eyes were narrowed, his grip tight around his weapon. Each breath he took sounded like it rattled around in his chest before coming out.

Mamoru-sensei was looking at him with cool eyes, but I didn't miss the kunai in his hand.

The man's eyes darted up, and I knew without turning that Konan was on the roof.

"This is Nagato, our medic-nin," Osamu introduced, oblivious to the tension in the air. "He can try and heal you, if you let him."

The man tried to speak, but only dry, croaking sounds came out.

Naga smiled. He held up his hands, and they glowed a soft green.

The man's eyes widened.

"You came all this way, so I'll do my best to help," Naga told him.

He looked at my brother's hands like they were otherworldly. He made a wet, wheezing sound, then dropped the sword in the dirt, making a strange gesture with his hands.

Naga knelt. "I need you to lie down so I can see what's wrong."

The man obeyed, stumbling forward, dropping to the ground in front of him. He laid back in the rain and mud without hesitation. His hand fell away from his neck.

A ring of puffy, swollen scar tissue circled it, yellow and bruised. Naga gently prodded the area, muttering. He looked up, a wordless ask for help, and Namekuji slithered off Mamoru-sensei's back and down his front.

"What's wrong with him?" Osamu asked, hovering, unsure of what to do or how to help.

"An old wound that never healed properly," Naga murmured distractedly. "A growth formed on the inside, and it's infected."

I crouched opposite of Naga as Namekuji crawled onto the man's stomach, who stiffened, making odd hand-signs at Mamoru-sensei.

"The slug will numb the area," Mamoru answered. His hand was in his pocket and the kunai was gone. "It'll help with the pain, but not by much."

"How long will it take?" Osamu asked.

Naga didn't answer, but Namekuji looked up. "Why don't you go and see if Kota needs training in... something?" he suggested. "Or the orange-haired one."

Osamu, hurt but taking the hint, backed off.

I watched him go. "He doesn't know better," I told Namekuji.

"Well, now he does."

"You'll have to numb as I cut," Naga murmured. "It's partially blocking his airway, so if you numb the entire area now, he might stop breathing."

Namekuji shifted closer to his neck, ignoring the wariness in the man's eyes.

Naga prodded the mass again. "I'll have to drain it first."

"The human body is disgusting," Namekuji noted, following Naga's fingers.

Naga smiled a little but didn't respond. "Ready?"

"No, but you're going to do it anyway."

.

.

.

Later, Yahiko gently shook me awake.

He smiled when I blinked up at him. "I can't believe our sweet Konan left you out here," he admonished, shaking his head.

I pushed myself up, noticing the empty spot next to me where Naga, Namekuji, and the man were. Only bloody puddles were left. "Where did—"

"Mamoru-sensei took Nagato inside," he explained, leaning back. "Konan's looking after him. He could barely keep his eyes open when I came out. Namekuji went to sleep on the table. We tried to stop him but—" he scratched the back of his head, lifting a shoulder in a half-shrug. "—he's Namekuji."

"Joji's inside too. He passed out right after you fell asleep," Yahiko added.

He was talking to me, but he wasn't looking at me. I twisted, following his gaze to the sword, abandoned in the grass. There was a fire in his eyes.

It was the same fire that convinced Jiraiya to teach us, Mamoru-sensei to believe in us.

I knew, without a doubt, that Joji would teach him to use it.

That fire would conquer the world one day.

スターレス - Starless, 空 - Sky

I adore Yahiko, but I also hate him. He's always the hardest to write.