A/N: The title says it all. Happy reading!

(To be completely honest, I do know what the difference is between blond and blonde. I also refuse to acknowledge it because I disagree. Therefore, I will use those two words interchangeably because I don't think there should be a difference. That's exactly the same approach I take to canon. Hee hee.)

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In the backyard

The trees lining the backyard that night were filled with owls. Owls could fly silently and had excellent hearing, both of which were good characteristics to have. In the form of a flock of owls, the demon would easily be able to monitor the whole meeting, shuffling around as necessary without disturbing the proceedings. Owls were also cool and he hadn't been one in a long time.

The big person arrived very late, after everyone else had already eaten and the blonde guy had talked about video games. Almost everybody agreed with the nice person: they already knew they weren't living by their own rules, so what was there to worry about? The shark guy just grunted. His soul was a mix of all kinds of different things. He didn't know how to react.

"But what kind of game is it?" the blond guy asked. "It could be a violent one where we don't get any respawns, for all we know."

"That's how life is," the stony guy replied, in the tone a disappointed teacher might use.

"Yeah, but… I mean…" The blond guy wasn't saying what he meant. He was trying to, but he couldn't find the right packaging for his ideas. "Some games are just better than others. Easier, I mean. I mean, not as much bad stuff happens in them."

"Better to be a character in?" asked the ring-eyed guy.

"Yeah." But that wasn't quite what the blonde guy meant.

Several more minutes passed before the quiet guy had an epiphany. "Ah. I believe I know what Deidara's talking about. You want to know if the game is friendly to us or cruel, is that right?"

The blonde guy's eyes lit up. "Yeah! Is this the sort of game that hates us?"

"No way," said the nice person. "That's not true." His entire soul was certain of it.

"There is nothing to indicate that's true. We've had difficult encounters, but always managed to come out of them with no serious injuries and better for it," added the ring-eyed guy. "If the universe hated us, someone would be dead or crippled by now."

The blonde guy was reassured. They looked around for the big person. He wasn't there yet, so quiet conversations started between neighbors. Quiet conversations were the best to overhear. Somehow, they were the most interesting. A few owls crept lower to listen.

"Come over at lunchtime tomorrow," the ring-eyed guy told the nice person. "There's a golden retriever who's just like you."

"How'd you figure that out?" the stony person asked the quiet guy.

The quiet guy replied, "I like to think of the universe in terms of how it relates to me."

"How do you think it does?"

"I believe the universe is distant but cordial."

"Hm."

"What do you believe?"

"It's a meritocracy. Do something useful with yourself or get out."

"I wonder how our views were shaped by our early life experiences…"

The shark guy whispered to the puppet person, "I have no fucking clue what to think. That's exactly what I used to fear, but… I don't know anything anymore."

"I'm not wasting my time thinking about it," the puppet person said. "I have more pressing concerns."

"Like what?"

"Figuring out where to keep those trinkets the bicycles have been bringing. I'm not close enough to being able to sell them, and the cabinets in my area only have so much space."

"Sorry about that. I don't know how the plan's progressing either. Haven't heard anything. It's probably tangled up in bureaucratic bullshit."

"Perhaps I can make a store on Ebay."

The nice person said, "It would be cool to hang out, the three of us, at the dog shelter tomorrow. I'd really like that." He moved past his friend so he could put a hand on the awesome lady's shoulder. "Don't worry. He'll be here. I'm sure he's just nervous."

She watched the forest apprehensively. "I dread whatever can make him nervous."

The owls fidgeted. Where was he? Some of them flew out into the forest to find him. It didn't take long; he was less than a minute away from the backyard, trying to get his thoughts in order. The demon called back enough owls to assume his usual form and said, "C'mon!"

"I'm just a little confused," the big person said. "Give me a minute."

"You already got a lot of minutes!"

The big person rubbed the top blade of his scythe. "I know, but… I feel like something's happening right now. In here." He rubbed his chest just below his heart.

The demon boy took a look. The part of his soul in the indicated spot was different from the rest. It was more orderly and calmer. It pulsed outward, as if trying to influence the rest of his soul. The boy's eyes widened. Was that where the secret backdoor linkage was located? He couldn't directly see anything divine, so this was the closest he was ever going to get to seeing what influence the other guy had on this person. He would have to keep a close watch on this part.

He looked up at the big person and nodded once, solemnly and seriously. "I know what that is. It's a sign that everything's gonna be okay. Just go."

The big person blinked. "What the fuck did you just say to me?" The demon did not bother to respond to that, so he shrugged off his confusion and muttered, "Okay, if you say so."

The flock of owls reformed just in time to watch as the big person joined the party. "There you are!" said the nice person, getting up to take his arm and pull him to a reserved spot between the ring-eyed guy and the awesome lady. "I was getting worried."

The big person sat down and immediately raised his hand. "Alright, I'm cutting to the fucking chase here. Our originals were fictional characters and I'm almost entirely sure we are too."

There was no immediate response to this. It was so close, yet so far, from everything everyone had already thought about themselves and their world. It was different enough that they could tell it was a new idea, but similar enough that it was hard to figure out what was different about it. How confusing. By the looks on their faces, it was an entirely novel kind of confusion. Is it new? Interesting? The demon boy looked with greater intensity and tried to copy the way their souls were acting, to make himself feel the way they were feeling. It was possible to almost - not quite, but almost - become them when he did this.

"Um…" Nagato was especially bewildered. He stalled for time. "How do you know this?"

"I was talking with Itachi earlier about stuff that happened in his past," Hidan said. "And I realized it perfectly matched a bad writing trope I talked about with Ruta once."

Sasori rubbed his head. He was having the most difficulty figuring out how this idea was different from what he already thought. "What trope is that?"

"We were talking about characters that are bad guys for most of the series but then all of a sudden revealed to have secretly been good guys the whole time, and vice versa. If it's not planned and the writers came up with that hack bullshit just because they needed some new twist to keep the story interesting, you can tell because events that happened early in the story don't make any fucking sense. Like, yeah, okay, he needed to maintain his cover the whole time. But how does that justify burning down the orphanage back in episode two when there was no other bad guy watching?" Hidan snorted and shook his head. "Lazy writing!"

Itachi's arms went slack. "You think that's why my history with my family doesn't make sense?"

"It's the only thing I can think of that explains why you would act like a totally different person. Maybe you were a totally different person."

Konan coughed. Finally, she had figured out what was so special about Hidan's idea. "Excuse me. Are you asserting that my entire world and all the events in it are under deliberate control?"

"Yeah."

"I'm still confused," Yahiko said. "Didn't we already know this?"

"No," Konan said. Her voice was a flat monotone. "We already knew that there was a level of control. Hidan is saying that it operates with intention. Planning. Purpose."

Ah. That was what was new. Kisame clenched his fists. "Are you saying that I'm not having anxiety attacks just because that's how it happened, but rather because someone wants me to be having fucking anxiety attacks?" He bared his teeth. He looked ready to tear whoever that might be to pieces.

"Oh. Oh god," Yahiko said. "Someone decided that my original had to die and it had to happen in a super traumatizing way?"

"Someone came up with the idea of using your dead body as a meat puppet and thought, 'I should definitely have his best friend do this'?" Nagato's cheeks were slightly green.

"What kind of fucking psychopath are we talking about?" Kakuzu snarled.

"That is so not cool, yeah!"

"Wait a second," Sasori called out. "By definition, whatever the author does, the characters agree with. If they decide that Nagato's going to use his best friend's body as a meat puppet, then Nagato's going to be fine with using his best friend's body as a meat puppet. This wasn't objectionable in its proper context."

"Don't try that cultural relativism shit on me," Kakuzu snapped. "I will find whatever the hell I want to be objectionable and I don't give a damn what context it happened in."

"Um…" Hidan looked at Konan. "I was just scared that we're going to be fucked up like Itachi was."

Konan's eyes were narrowed to glowing amber slits. "That day was the worst possible conjunction of circumstances. It was horrible. No good thing could have come out of it. And someone wanted it to be that way?"

"What have I done?" Hidan asked nobody. "Shit."

Despite Sasori's best efforts, the meeting devolved into a recounting of every bad thing anyone could remember happening in their originals' world, and repeated exclamations of disgust, horror and increasingly intense anger toward whatever person could be responsible for that. Sasori resorted to sipping from his water bottle. "If we were actually in our originals' world right now, under this author's control, we wouldn't mind," he muttered. "And since we do mind, we're clearly not, so what is there to worry about? But everybody wants to worry. Nobody wants to listen to the voice of reason."

Only Deidara heard him. "That's not true," he replied. "We're affected by how our originals lived, yeah. This thing that Hidan was talking about must have been something Original Itachi did, but our Itachi has to live with it. Isn't that scary to you, yeah?"

"It's the past," Sasori said. "Why be scared of what happened in the past, especially when you know it's not going to happen again?"

Deidara looked at Nagato, Yahiko, Hidan and Konan. Konan gave off an aura that suggested the next person to speak to her would be disemboweled for it, not because they did anything wrong but just because she was really in the mood for disemboweling. Nagato and Yahiko looked traumatized. Hidan, for once, visibly had no clue how to handle the situation. Deidara's eyes lit up. It was his job as the counterweight to go against whatever they were doing, and he knew exactly how to do it. Nothing had ever felt so right. He stood up. "Hey! Shut the fuck up and listen, yeah!"

"Dei, what are you doing?" Sasori asked.

"I'm telling everybody exactly what you just said, yeah. Because it's my fucking job." Deidara looked all around the fire. "This author, whoever fucked up our originals' lives, is in the past. Because our originals are in the past. This is all in the fucking past, yeah. It's not going to happen again and it's not going to happen to us or anyone we know. So shut the fuck up already, yeah!"

The main grumblers, Kisame and Kakuzu, looked at him with increased respect. "I think I'm allowed to be upset about someone making me live a life where I can't trust anybody," Kisame retorted.

"Yeah, but you already live that life. You have to move on and deal with it, yeah. The first few complaints were justified, but now you're just whining."

That was true. Kakuzu looked into the fire and said nothing, because Deidara had a point. Kisame looked away. Nagato swallowed back the urge to gag. And plants rustled as Samehada came out of hiding. The flock of owls started in unison. They hadn't even noticed the shark whimpering and creeping away from the meeting to hide in the forest. One owl slapped another with its wing. That was the demon boy's way of rebuking himself for failing to have noticed such a crucial detail.

The shark licked the air and whined. It still tasted bad. But, optimistic as always, he crept closer. He nuzzled Kisame's leg and chirped. Kisame patted him on the head softly. Not a word was said.

Sasori smiled and gave Deidara a friendly elbow in the ribs as the blond sat back down. "Are you pansies finally ready to talk about the important things?" he asked.

Nagato took a deep breath. "Which are?"

"What this means for us in the future." Sasori shrugged. "As far as I can see, this means absolutely nothing. As I said, we're going to agree with whatever our author decides. It's not going to seem morally bad. Even if it did, we couldn't do anything about it. If we really are in a fictional world, then whatever is going to happen is going to happen. There's no need to stress yourself out."

Nobody replied to him. They just took deep breaths and tried to think. Wasn't that true? Really, this was just another version of Kisame's freakout about Hidan possibly controlling his actions. If they could accept Hidan, they could accept this.

"Jesus, what have we gotten used to?" Kisame muttered.

Kakuzu sighed. "I don't even fucking know."

Then there was silence.

In the quiet and the shadows, the demon began to think. He'd been so busy watching what was happening that he hadn't developed his own opinion. The exciting part was over, so he formed back into a boy and crept down from the trees. He snuck directly behind the ring-eyed guy and whispered, "Hi hi."

As expected, the ring-eyed guy jumped. The demon boy giggled. He pushed himself in between the guy and the big person so he could lean against the big person's side. The big person put an arm around him. Initially, the demon boy wanted to bristle because that was an affront to his pride. But it really did feel nice, so he let the arm stay. He looked up at the big person. "What does it mean?"

"Hmm…" The big person rubbed his chin. "I dunno. You're fictional too, so you're also controlled. But I don't know what that means."

"They seem to be friendly."

"Huh? Our author, you mean?"

"Yeah. They seem to like us. I watch from the outside, so I would know. It looks nice, not mean."

The big person smiled. "Yeah, but aren't you worried about getting fucked up?"

"I don't think plot twists happen here. I haven't seen any."

"If our originals were fictional, that makes this a fanfiction," the ring-eyed guy said. "So there's no deadlines, no ratings, no directors. No pressure to use those sorts of techniques to keep readers coming back." He relaxed. "Now that I think about it, we don't have a plot I would call exciting. I think this is nice and casual. Yeah, hopefully there won't be any twists."

"So we're not going to be fucked up? Everything's gonna make sense? I won't have to feel like Itachi did?" The big person punched his arm into the air. "Woohoo! Alright! Now that's something I can get behind!"

"You were just afraid of having to feel the way I did?" asked the quiet person.

"Of course. I like to know myself. I like to be on my own side, one hundred percent, no questions asked. My instincts, my muscles, my thoughts, everything working together. That's how I have to be." The big person started to purr. "Good to hear I can."

"Ooh, ooh," the demon boy said. "Might not be any ratings, but it does mean something interesting has to happen. Nobody would ever create anything boring. Yay!"

"And since you're a character here, you'll agree that it's interesting," Sasori said. "Congratulations."

Nagato

They stayed outside until the fire had nearly died. Then Kisame euthanized it and they picked up everything and went inside. Nagato maneuvered himself to be mostly alone with Hidan. When there was only one other person in the backyard and they were out of earshot, he jabbed Hidan in the ribs and whispered, "Don't ever do that to me again."

Hidan rubbed his ribs. "What'd I do?"

"I asked if I could see you. You said no and hung up on me. I broke a few speed laws on my way home because of that. Yahiko and I thought the world must be ending."

"I'm sorry," Hidan murmured. "I just…" He looked around in confusion. "You know, this is different. I've never felt like this. I don't know what to do with this."

Nagato placed a hand on Hidan's chest. "But you don't have to run away. Let your friends help you when you feel like that."

Hidan's brow wrinkled. "I don't get why I didn't."

"It's probably part of being a cat," Nagato said. "Cats hide and perch on high places when they're scared. I'm not offended. Just try to make seeking comfort a part of your collection of stress management techniques."

Hidan looked at him oddly. There was just enough light coming out the back doors for Nagato to see that it was odd, but not enough for him to see exactly what look it was. He smiled and kept his hand on Hidan's chest. Promise.

Hidan covered his hand, squeezed it. "I got plans to make," he whispered. Reluctantly, he took Nagato's hand off his chest and went inside.

Nagato looked after him, still smiling. He barely noticed Itachi approach. "Hey," he greeted.

Itachi nodded back.

He must have seen some of that. "What are you thinking?"

Itachi turned away. "Nothing it is within my rights to share." He swept ashes off the rocky platform. Nagato took a look at the former flower rock. All the flowers were dead now. But even so, they were probably never going to build a fire on it. He made to go inside. At the last moment, just as he was standing on the porch reaching for the door, Itachi said from out of the darkness, "But I will say… I am happy for you."

Nagato reflexively did not think about what he meant by that. "Thank you." He entered the base and closed the door behind himself. Then he stood there. A part of him was not ready for sleep. He decided to try an audacious experiment.

"Holy crap," he said out loud, to himself, in the privacy of his own room. I can just google "how to make a return to base system" and get results. They're even helpful. What kind of witchcraft is this? Jesus, a few hundred years ago I would already be stoned. He shook his head in disbelief. I use magic every single day and have for my whole life. My gods. I am a certified, bona fide wizard. Or witch. Which one makes transportation spells? I think witches mainly deal in potions. Warlocks make me think of curses and blessings. I'd better go with wizard. Wizards seem the most likely to have magic transportation.

He scrolled through the list of symbols that Google helpfully told him were used in various return to base spells in video games, and found one he liked. It was an upside down triangle with 3 lines jutting out from it, one on each side with the lines not touching the triangle. Next, he needed a lamp. Nagato stole a bedside lamp from one of the two unused rooms on the same side of the hall as Konan's and carried it out to the lobby, placed it on the desk. Now he needed a way of drawing. Crap. Nobody checked to see if we had chakra ink around here.

To his surprise, a quick checkin with himself revealed that he was more than awake enough for this task. Oh. Well, that makes everything easier. So he drove into town to hopefully buy some chakra ink. He first went to an office supply store, because such places typically sold ink. "It sounds like you're looking for an old-fashioned inkwell or something," the kid at one of the desks told him in disbelief. "I don't think we have one of those here."

Nagato sat in his car and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. The kid was right. That eliminated just about everywhere he would normally think to look. Ink just did not come in inkwells anymore. When he thought of ink, it was securely contained inside the case of a pen or hidden away inside an ink cartridge. What use did the modern world have for a bottle that could spill, producing big messy splotches everywhere? Was it possible for such a thing to be found anymore?

Nagato drove partway back to base, his cheeks flushed in shame. But as he passed the dog shelter, he slammed on his brakes and came to a hard stop. He looked at the building and thought of Marsha. No. There are people that cling to the old ways, even in this world. Ink as a free liquid can't have just disappeared. Sure it's messy and blotchy, but there must be a niche market somewhere. With only a second's more thought, he realized the market for it wasn't so niche after all. He facepalmed. I am an idiot. After all the work Yahiko and I put in to painting rocks, too! He drove to the art supply store where they got their paints.

He was just in time; the store was closing for the night. "I only need one thing," Nagato said. "Do you carry chakra ink here?"

"Is that an exotic eastern ink?" The clerk walked away without waiting for an answer. He brought back a small well of ink with a picture of a cherry blossom flower on its side. "This is the best I can do. That'll be $17.99." He was clearly in a hurry to close the store and get on with his life. With visible effort, he stopped his hands from tapping on the side of his desk. "It really works much better with an ink brush," he added.

"An ink brush?" Nagato had never once thought about the use of ink for artistic purposes. Well of course it takes special brushes. It has completely different properties from paint, after all. I am way out of my comfort zone.

The clerk went away again. He came back with a pack of ink brushes. "$24.98," he said.

Mother of mercy, art supplies are expensive. Nagato paid for it and left the store without any parting pleasantries, which was probably the most pleasant thing he could do for that clerk. He placed the precious bottle on the passenger seat next to him, right against the back of the seat where it wouldn't roll. It had a stopper that looked very secure, but there was no reason to go flinging it around just to test it. He buckled himself in and hoped he hadn't just bought some very expensive but useless art supplies. It wouldn't make narrative sense if I did that. It'd be a total anticlimax. Things have enough trouble getting done around here; we don't need to add artificial and unnecessary obstacles on top of it. That's probably why everything is so convenient. If it wasn't, nothing would ever get done. He drove home with a pleasant warmth in his chest. If this worked, and tomorrow he showed it to everyone and explained how he'd come up with the idea and made it happen all by himself…

Nagato fairly bounced in the front door to the lobby. His heart beat like the best kind of drum. "Alright now…" He read the usage instructions on the package of brushes carefully. Following their guidance, he got a small cup of water and placed it on the desk, then opened the package. He selected the smallest brush inside and held it the way the diagram showed. This is kind of awkward. Then he took a deep breath and looked at the lamp. The lampshade was six-sided, so he had six tries. He uncapped the ink bottle, wet the brush just enough to give it a point, dipped it halfway into the ink, and drew the symbol. As soon as he came to the end of the first line, he panicked. Does it make a difference which way I draw? If I lift up the brush or go in the wrong direction, will that break the seal? He didn't want to waste ink, so he continued drawing in the way it instinctively occurred to him to do so: lifting his brush to draw each side of the triangle separately, then drawing each line from inside to out. The result didn't look half bad. If the ink was a dud, maybe he could take up ink drawing as a hobby.

In order to know if it works, I need two drawings. If there really is a problem in my drawing methods, it could take me forever and a whole other bottle before I'll find the right way. Nagato whispered a quick prayer for narrative convenience that he made up on the spot as he drew the symbol again on a piece of paper.

He took a deep breath to calm himself afterwards. It's alright. I'm fine. I am not going to die. I'm just going to wait for the ink to dry, and then… Huh. The lighting isn't that bad in this room. Shouldn't the ink be shining more? He touched it, and felt absolutely nothing. The ink wasn't wet. It wasn't even dry. It felt as if the paper beneath his finger was entirely unchanged, except for being black. Nagato stared down at it, tracing the triangle with his finger. Then he broke out grinning, snatched the paper up and ran to the backyard. With a flourish, he pressed the palm of his hand against the paper and channeled chakra.

Somehow, his body knew to close his eyes. When he opened them, he was standing in the lobby again, right next to the lamp. Nagato looked from the lamp to his paper and back again. Then he consulted his mental map, determined that nobody's room was close enough to the lobby for him to disturb them, jumped into the air and cried, "Yes!" He danced in place for a minute because why not, there was nobody around to see, then cleaned up. He put the cap back on the ink bottle, rinsed the ink off the brush, emptied the used water down the sink in his room, and stowed everything in a dresser drawer. He flopped down into bed with a most satisfied sigh.

I really am amazing, and I can't wait to show everyone. He dropped off to sleep still smiling.

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A/N: This story takes place in America. Thanks to my newfound experience as a cashier, I am aware of the existence of sales tax, which commonly applies to anything that's neither food nor a necessary part of a household, and that in this country (unlike other, more sensible ones) sales tax is added on after the price of the item itself for some insane reason. I don't know how sales tax is calculated and I disagree with this system, so I'm going to act as if it doesn't exist. In this story, sales tax is part of the price. That's why the clerk could give such neat prices. Because things are run sensibly in this fiction world.

On that note, I googled prices for inkwells. The listings on Ebay and Etsy were around ten dollars. Every other listing was a lot higher. I thought the price mentioned in this chapter was a happy medium. I didn't even google how much brushes cost, just made a guesstimate.

And Nagato's completely right. In the real world, where inconvenience exists, I don't get around to doing a whole lot. I can only hope that I would magically develop an interest in cooking if I was on my own, because right now my stomach can be growling, and I can imagine cooking something, and I'll decide I'm not really that hungry after all. Inconvenience is such a hassle...