Mercury’s Manifestation

In the end, the three of you ended up returning home. Deidara, still visibly upset, didn't utter a single word to you and went straight to his chambers without a second glance.

So, here you are walking with Tobi towards your floor. You glance at man-child as the two of you walk in comfortable silence. The thought lingers in your mind before curiosity gets the better of you.

"Tobi," you start, tilting your head, "Why is your room on a completely different floor from everyone else?"

Tobi turns his head slightly, but with that mask, it's impossible to gauge his expression. "Ehhh? (Y/N)-chan is so curious!" he sing-songs, dodging the question entirely.

"That doesn't answer my question."

Tobi stops walking, tapping a finger against his mask. "Hmm... maybe it's because Tobi is special?"

You cross your arms, unimpressed. "Or maybe because you're hiding something?"

Tobi suddenly leans closer, his masked face inches from yours. "Ooooh? (Y/N)-chan is suspicious of Tobi?" His voice is still playful, but there's an undertone of something else—something you can't quite place.

You stare at him, holding your ground. "Should I be?"

For a moment, there's silence. Then, as if a switch flips, Tobi bursts into laughter, clapping his hands. "Ahahahaha! (Y/N)-chan is so funny!" He straightens up, placing his hands behind his back. "No need to worry! Tobi is just Tobi."

You squint at him, unconvinced. But before you can pry further, he suddenly waves. "Goodnight, (Y/N)-chan! Sleep well!" And with that, he skips off towards his room, humming to himself.

You watch him go, frowning. Just Tobi, huh?

Morning arrives, but you still haven't gotten enough rest from that short sleep cycle. Rather than waiting for Tobi outside your room—an interaction that would only feel awkward—you decide to wander the mansion freely. Eventually, you stumble into the dining room. Thank goodness.

You pause at the entrance, blinking at the sight before you. Pain looks like he's questioning his life choices, reluctantly scooping cereal into his mouth like it's some kind of punishment. Sasori, on the other hand, is sipping what you assume to be coffee, his face as unreadable as ever.

You decide to approach them, pulling out a chair. "Morning," you greet, your voice groggy from sleep.

Pain barely acknowledges you, offering a small nod before shoving another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. Sasori, however, spares you a glance. "You look like hell."

"Thanks," you deadpan. "Good to know I'm thriving."

Sasori takes another sip of his drink, unimpressed. "If you're that tired, why are you up?"

"Starvation," you reply dramatically before scanning the table. There's a box of cereal and some milk, but not much else. "Is this all that's available?"

Pain sighs, finally speaking. "There's more in the kitchen. But the others will probably wake up soon and take everything."

You hum in thought before standing up. "Guess I better get something before the hungry vultures show up."

As you waltz inside the kitchen, you let out a pathetic laugh remembering how you have no idea how to Human Food. There really isn't a choice other than that stale pathetic of a cereal. You laugh pathetically.

Before you could dramatically exit the kitchen. Another person shows up and it's none other than The Itachi Uchiha. You don't really know how to approach this specimen so you don't, opting to just observe him from afar— until he acknowledges your presence.

"Morning," he says nonchalantly "Looking for something to eat?"

You pause, caught in the act of being a starved, pathetic excuse of an alien. You nod slowly, eyes shifting between Itachi and the sad cereal box on the counter. "Yeah... but I have no idea how to Food, so my options are limited."

Itachi raises an eyebrow, seemingly amused. "You don't know how to make food?"

"Not the kind you guys eat," you admit, crossing your arms. "I could whip up a high-caloric plasma ration that lasts for days, but something as basic as toast? Yeah, no clue."

He hums thoughtfully before stepping past you towards the cabinets. Somehow he doesn't question what you even mean. Wow, what a gentleman "I see." He grabs a loaf of bread and some eggs before looking at you. "Do you at least know how to fry an egg?"

You tilt your head. "Define fry."

Itachi sighs. "Sit down. I'll make something."

Your eyes widen. Did you just unlock a secret side quest where Itachi Uchiha personally cooks for you?

You don't argue. Instead, you stand nearby to watch the legendary shinobi prepare what you assume will be your first-ever home cooked meal. "May I watch?" you ask, with stars sparkling on your empty ghostly eyes.

Itachi doesn't look up as he cracks an egg with precision, letting it slide into the pan without a single shell fragment. "Do as you like."

You lean forward, resting your chin on your hands as you observe him like he's performing some kind of sacred ritual. "Fascinating... you make it look so effortless," you murmur.

He side-eyes you. "That's because it is effortless."

"Not to me," you say dramatically, as if recounting a tragic tale. "I have never touched an egg in my life. If you gave me one, I'd probably try to throw it like a grenade."

Itachi pauses mid-stir, visibly processing your words before deciding to ignore them entirely. Instead, he gestures toward the counter. "Pass me the salt."

You stare at the various items on the counter. There are several identical-looking containers. Hesitantly, you grab one and hand it to him.

Itachi looks down at the container, then at you. "This is sugar."

You blink. "Oh. What's the difference?"

Sasori, who has been silently drinking his black liquid of doom in the corner, lets out the longest, most exhausted sigh of his life. He saunters inside the kitchen, not too close but close enough to insert himself into this conversation.

"Im genuinely concerned at how out-of-touch you are with the world," he pauses to take a sip from his mug "You're really not joking with that whole barn-crap. You're like a," Sasori stops, crafting an appropriate words to describe you "Like a mythical creature. An elf maybe."

You widen your eyes at him, dramatically batting your eyelashes. "You think I'm ethereal?"

Sasori stares at you, unimpressed. "No, I think you're a feral barn animal."

Itachi, ever composed, calmly sets aside the sugar and reaches for the actual salt himself, as if this entire conversation is beneath his concern. "You should learn the difference between basic ingredients," he advises, sprinkling just the right amount into the pan.

You pout. "I do know. Sugar is sweet, salt is salty. Simple."

Sasori rolls his eyes. "And yet you still picked the wrong one."

"That's because there were too many containers!" You cross your arms defensively. "Besides, you guys act like knowing how to cook is a requirement to exist. I was thriving before this."

Sasori raises an eyebrow, sipping his drink. "Thriving? You were about to eat dry cereal out of your hands like a malnourished squirrel."

You scoff. "That's a survival skill!"

Itachi silently plates the food, clearly tuning you both out.

"Here, your breakfast is ready."

You take the plate from his hand, breathing in the smell. "Thankyou, The Itachi Uchiha!"

Itachi flinches at that "Uhm, just Itachi is fine,"

You beam at him. "Alright then, Just Itachi—"

Sasori makes a sound so exasperated it could power an entire village. "Don't be that person."

You giggle before finally settling down with your plate. You poke at the food a little, tilting your head. "So... what do I do with it?"

Sasori nearly drops his mug. Itachi just stares at you, possibly reconsidering all his life choices.

"...You eat it," he says slowly, as if speaking to a very lost child.

You blink, processing this. "Oh. Right. Of course."

You lift the food to your mouth, finally taking a bite—and your eyes widen. It's... it's good. Warm, flavorful, completely unlike food you’re used to. You don't even realize you've let out a small, delighted noise.

Itachi watches, unreadable as always, while Sasori just shakes his head. "She's like a domesticated stray," he mutters into his drink.

Itachi starts to wonder if, despite his tragic and miserable life, he might actually be privileged—like Pain claimed. Because this—this is clearly your first time having homemade toast.

That's... unbelievably sad.

Maybe he is privileged. And maybe it's true— that you live in a barn, possibly consuming the same food as those geese you call family.

As everyone's getting comfortable in their seat, Sasori remembers something from yesterday events. Deidara seemed pissed, even throwing a tantrum here and there. He doesn't know what's it all about but something about that brat suffering, makes his life bearable. So, like any curious person, Sasori leans back in his chair, swirling the remnants of his drink. "So... what exactly did you do to Deidara?"

You pause mid-bite, blinking at him. "Huh?"

He clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes. "Don't play dumb. He came back yesterday, stomping around, muttering something about you and money. I haven't seen him that pissed off since Tobi set his clay stash on fire."

Itachi subtly raises an eyebrow at that last part, but wisely chooses not to ask.

You hum thoughtfully, chewing as you recall the series of events. "Oh. That. Yeah, well, we went out to eat, and I may have made Deidara pay for me."

Sasori snorts. "So you scammed him?"

"I prefer the term 'opportunistic budgeting,'" you correct, pointing your spoon at him.

Itachi exhales through his nose, the closest thing to amusement you've seen from him so far. "I take it that didn't go over well."

"Well," you shrug, "he did threaten violence, but I ran away before he could do anything."

Sasori actually chuckles. "No wonder he was fuming."

"Do you think he's still mad?" you ask, tilting your head.

Sasori smirks. "Oh, absolutely."

You take another bite of your food, unfazed. "Well, not my problem." If you're able to get under Deidara's skin, then Sasori doesn't mind siding with you once in awhile.

"Plus, I didn't know Tobi was going to take us to somewhere expensive. I thought it was common courtesy to pay for the people that you invited for dinner."

Sasori huffs, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, Deidara's never been big on common courtesy. Especially when it involves his wallet."

Itachi, who has been silently eating, finally speaks up. "You should probably apologize."

You scoff. "Apologize? For what? Survival?"

Sasori smirks at your dramatics, resting his chin in his palm. "Yeah, yeah, you're very oppressed. But if you really want to mess with him, don't apologize. Just act like you did nothing wrong—he'll lose his mind."

You narrow your eyes in consideration. "You're a bad influence."

"I try," Sasori says smoothly.

"hmmm, what about Tobi then?"

Itachi and Sasori exchange a glance.

"What about him?" Itachi asks, his voice as unreadable as ever.

You lean forward, poking at your food with a fork. "He seemed... different, for a moment. When I messed with him yesterday."

Sasori raises an eyebrow. "Different how?"

You pause, thinking back. "Like—he broke character. Just for a second. He got weirdly serious over something so small." But to be honest, your definition of 'small' should not be taken at face value.

Itachi remains quiet, his expression unrelenting. Sasori, however, lets out a short chuckle. "Tobi is weird. But you probably just caught him off guard. He's usually an idiot, but..." he taps his fingers against the table, "...sometimes he's something else entirely."

That piques your curiosity, but before you can press further, Itachi stands up. "If you're done eating, you should go find Deidara. Before he finds you first."

You groan. Right. That.

You turn to Sasori and flash him a smile "Any suggestions on what I should say? Should i just act like nothing happens or try and make peace?"

Sasori snorts, taking another sip of his drink. "Deidara? Holding a grudge? Shocking." His tone is completely dry.

You tilt your head, waiting for actual advice.

He sighs. "Look, if you ignore it, he'll eventually explode about it later. If you try to make peace, he'll probably act like he doesn't care—while still caring."

"Great," you deadpan. "Super helpful."

Sasori shrugs. "Personally, I'd keep messing with him. He's funnier when he's mad."

Itachi lets out a quiet sigh. "Just talk to him. Knowing Deidara, he'll get over it fast—if you handle it the right way."

"And what's the 'right way'?"

Itachi looks at you like the answer is obvious. "...Flatter his art."

Sasori chuckles. "Yeah. Stroke his ego a little. That always works."

You hum in thought. That... actually isn't a bad idea.

You exhale dramatically, like the suggestion is actually grating and you're only doing this so you don't come off as too borderline psychotic "Fine. I'll do it. I'll shower him with praise."

Sasori smirks behind his mug. "Try not to choke on it."

Itachi just nods approvingly, like he knew you'd make the 'right' choice.

You push yourself up from the table, stretching. "Alright, wish me luck. If I don't come back, assume Deidara murdered me in a fit of unresolved emotions."

Sasori waves you off lazily. "Noted."

Itachi merely says, "Good luck."

And with that, you set off to find the sulking artist. Time to butter him up like a perfectly toasted croissant.

Walking towards their corridors, you spot Deidara's room. but before you could get to them, Hidan catches you first.

The cultist swings an arm around your shoulders like you're old drinking buddies. "Oi, where the hell do you think you're going, hmm?" He gives you a wolfish grin, clearly up to no good.

"Nowhere important."

"Bullshit," Hidan scoffs. "You're going to see Blondie, aren't ya?"

You squint at him. "Why do you care?"

"Because watching you piss him off is the highlight of my morning," Hidan admits shamelessly. "You planning to mess with him again? Or are ya finally gonna kiss and make up?" By the look of it, he's probably witnessed Deidara's tantrum last night.

"I'm here to make peace."

Hidan groans, dramatically throwing his head back. "Ugh, booooring. Just tell him his art is shit again—watch him explode. It's funny as hell."

You push his arm off and continue walking. "Maybe next time."

"Yeah, yeah, go on then, cutie."

You don't dignify that with a response and instead sidestep him, making your way to Deidara's door. But Hidan, being Hidan, isn't done messing with you just yet.

"Well, when you're done stroking his ego, come find me. We can do something actually fun."

You shoot him a wary look. "Define fun."

Hidan grins like he's up to no good. "Surprise."

You sigh, deciding to deal with one problem at a time. Right now, that problem is currently brooding in his room. So, without another word, you turn the handle and step inside.

Deidara jolts at the sudden invasion of his privacy given he's shirtless in only a towel. He yelps when he sees you standing in his room.

You blink at him, tilting your head. "Huh. So you do have abs."

Deidara flushes an embarrassing shade of red before scowling, concealing his body with his hands like a maiden. "The hell are you doing in my room, un?! Ever heard of knocking?!"

You cross your arms, unfazed. "I did knock. You just didn't answer fast enough."

He groans, running a hand through his damp hair. "Tch—what do you want?"

You flash him an innocent smile. "I came to make peace."

Deidara narrows his eyes. "...You?"

"Yes, me."

He scoffs, grabbing a fresh set of clothes from a nearby chair. "After you made me pay for your damn meal?"

"To be fair, I thought Tobi was paying."

Deidara glares as he slides into his shirt. "That doesn't make it better."

You hum, then dramatically clasp your hands together. "Oh, Deidara, my dearest, most talented artist, I have come to apologize for my sins."

He pauses mid-motion, giving you a suspicious look. "...Go on."

You sigh as if in great suffering. "I now see the error of my ways. For a man as cultured as you, who understands the fleeting beauty of art, it was terribly rude of me to make you waste your funds on my meal."

Deidara crosses his arms, his expression unreadable. "And?"

You grin. "And I'd like to humbly request your forgiveness, oh great one." You pause dramatically looking up at him like some nun praying for her god "You shall educate me all about thou art"

Deidara stares at you for a long moment. Then, to your surprise, he chuckles. "Thou art? What, are you tryna speak my language now, un?"

You nod enthusiastically, hands clasped together in fake reverence. "Yes, Master Deidara. Bestow upon this humble peasant the divine knowledge of your art."

Deidara snorts, shaking his head. "You're such a weirdo, un." But despite his words, you notice the tension in his shoulders ease a little.

"Does that mean I'm forgiven?"

He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. But you owe me, got it?"

You feign shock. "Oh? And what, pray tell, does the great Deidara wish as repayment?"

Deidara's smirk widens. "Guess you'll have to wait and see, un."

Taking this as a sign that you're getting somewhere, you scoot closer on his bed. Deidara watches you with a mixture of suspicion and mild exasperation. "Oi, what do you think you're doing, un?"

"Observing," you say simply, running your fingers over the fabric of his bedspread. It's softer than you expected.

Deidara huffs. "Yeah? Well, observe somewhere else."

You ignore him, scanning the room. It's a bit messy, but not unbearably so. There are various clay sculptures scattered across shelves and his desk—some half-finished, others fully formed. The walls are adorned with sketches, and in the corner, you spot a few abstract painting that you can't really decipher.

"Hm. I like your room," you muse.

"Of course you do. It's the room of an artist, un."

You hum, tilting your head as you study one of his clay figures. "What's this supposed to be?"

He walks over, grabbing the piece from your hand with a scoff. "A masterpiece in progress."

"Looks like a weird pigeon."

Deidara glares at you. "It's a hawk."

"Sure it is."

As you practically inspect every sculptures with surgical precision, you decide it's a good time to stroke his ego, just as you promised "So? Are you gonna show me your art or what? Or am I doomed to wander this cruel, artless world forever?"

He sighs, dramatically running a hand through his hair like he's truly burdened by your ignorance. "Fine, fine. Since you clearly desperately need my guidance, I'll educate you, un."

You beam at him. Hook, line, and sinker.

"So, what do you do? How do you make all of your art?" You plop down on his bed without asking for permission. Surprisingly, it's quite soft and comfortable. Better than yours actually.

Deidara raises an eyebrow at you, watching as you make yourself comfortable on his bed like you own the place. He clicks his tongue but doesn't actually tell you to leave.

"Well, if you must know," he drawls, sitting down at the small desk in his room. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the surface. "I mold them with my hands, un."

You blink at him, confused. "With your hands?"

A smirk tugs at his lips. "Yeah. My hands." Then, with a dramatic flourish, he lifts his palms and reveals the mouths on them—tongues flicking out like they have a mind of their own.

Your head tilts, inspecting them with curiosity. "Huh. So you just... eat clay?"

Deidara huffs. "It's not eating. It's—ugh, whatever. I take the special clay, my mouths mold it into my art, and then—boom, un."

You hum, considering this. "So, technically, your hands are always eating."

"That's not—ugh, forget it, un."

"Wait— that's not important. You have mouths on your hands? That's kind of freaky," You shudder like it's the weirdest things you've come across.

Deidara glares at you, visibly offended. "Freaky? Tch, you're one to talk, un. You carry around some weird-ass futuristic bindle and act like you've never even seen food before."

Your eyes widen at his statement, feigning deep offense. "Excuse me? My bindle is a masterpiece of destruction. Your hands have tongues. That's objectively weirder."

"It's called a Kekkei Genkai, un. It's an ability—one that makes me an artist."

You narrow your eyes at him before nodding sagely. "So you're like a living art factory."

Deidara blinks. "I—what?"

"Your hands consume the material, process it, and then produce explosives. You're like an art vending machine. Or, like, a sentient clay printer."

Deidara looks completely baffled for a moment before his eye twitches. "Okay, first of all, un—"

Deidara tenses up immediately, his arms still crossed but his body leaning back to his chair. "Oi—what are you doing, un?"

You stop just short of invading his personal space, tilting your head with a mischievous grin. "I just wanna see them up close."

He narrows his eyes suspiciously. "See what up close?"

You point at his hands. "The mouths, duh."

Deidara lets out an exasperated sigh, clearly debating whether or not to entertain your curiosity. Finally, he hesitantly uncrosses his arms and holds up one of his hands, palm facing you. "There. Happy now?"

You stare at the little mouth for a second before slowly reaching out a finger. "Can I—"

"No, hm."

"But—"

"No."

"...What happens if I feed it?"

Deidara looks personally offended. "It's not a damn pet, un!"

"Okay, can I touch it? Let's hold hands!" you exclaim, parkour-ing to sit onto his table, eyes locked onto Deidara with growing excitement. He's clearly on edge, which only fuels your curiosity. As a third being, you've always entertained the idea of having a human as a pet—or something along those lines. And now, it hits you—you haven't really made any intimate physical contact with any of them yet. At least, the way Tobi jumps you doesn't really count.

Deidara seems like a good place to start. A perfect test subject.

The blond eyes you warily, stepping out of his chair almost instinctively. "Why do you wanna hold hands, un?"

You flash him the most innocent, wide-eyed look you can muster. "Because we're friends now! Isn't that what friends do?"

He scoffs, arms crossing again, but his fingers twitch slightly like he's actually considering it. "Tch. Your definition of friends might be loose if you think this is what friends do."

Undeterred, you jump off from the table. You grab his wrist gently, lifting his hand closer to yours. He stiffens but doesn't pull away. His palm mouth opens slightly at the unexpected contact, and you swear you hear a faint, wet sound—almost like a yawn.

Your face lights up with intrigue. "It moves—"

Deidara yanks his hand back immediately. "Alright, that's enough! Geez, you act like you've never seen anything before, un."

You pout. "I haven't seen anything like this before! This is top-tier alien behavior."

He glares at you, ears turning just the slightest bit pink. "I'm not an alien, un!"

"Are you sure? 'Cause this is very extraterrestrial of you."

Deidara groans, rubbing his temple. "Why do I even bother talking to you, un?"

"Because I'm fun and mysterious and incredibly charming." You grin, hands behind your back as you rock on your heels.

He mutters something under his breath before finally sighing. "...Fine. But only one second."

You perk up instantly. "One second of what?"

He rolls his eyes and hesitantly extends his hand toward you, palm up. His face turns to the side as if trying to hide the heat rushing to his face "Holding hands, yeah."

What is he, twelve? Has he never held hands with the opposite sex before?

Your grin is devilish as you immediately lace your fingers through his, squeezing just slightly. The mouth on his palm twitches again but doesn't try to bite you. You can still feel the wetness of the mouths pressed against you.

"See? That wasn't so bad," you tease.

Without a warning, you hold his hand tighter as if letting go will make him disappear. Deidara raises his eyebrows when you swing your hands slightly.

"I understand that human tend to use the sensation of touch to confirm the existence of others. Since, that's the case why not try touching me in other ways too?" You say this in the most sultry way possible.

Deidara chokes on absolutely nothing, violently pulling his hand away like you just set him on fire. "WHAT?!" His face is red—comically red.

You tilt your head innocently. "What? I'm just saying if touch helps humans connect, why stop at hands?"

He stares at you, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "You—You can't just say stuff like that, un!"

"Why not?"

"Because—Because—Do you even hear yourself?!" He gestures wildly, like he's about to explode in more ways than one.

You press a finger to your chin, pretending to ponder. "Hmmm. Nope. I don't see the issue."

Deidara physically vibrates, running both hands through his hair in exasperation. His palm mouths gently bite his fingers in what seems like sheer stress.

"You are not normal, un," he finally huffs, crossing his arms so tightly it looks like he's holding himself together.

"Yeah, I get that a lot," you chirp, completely unbothered. "Anyway, you never answered my question. Where else should I let you touch me?"

Deidara short-circuits.

"GET OUT!"

You hum to yourself, eyes squinting at him as if he’s some interesting sentient science project "Have you ever used them for any other purposes?"

Deidara chokes for a second time, almost toppling over. "W-What?! NO!" His face is now a war zone between embarrassment and outrage. "Why would you even ask that, un?!"

"Hmm... You're being awfully defensive."

"Because that's a weird-ass question!" he sputters, gripping his own arms like he's trying to physically keep himself from combusting. His palm mouths twitch slightly. "They're for my art, not—whatever the hell you're thinking, un!"

You hum, tilting your head. "So, you've never wondered?"

"NO!"

You purse your lips, clearly unconvinced. "Not even a little bit?"

"WHY WOULD I—" Deidara stops, dragging a hand down his face as if this conversation has single-handedly shaved ten years off his life. "You are actually insane, un," he mutters, like the fact turns him on or something.

"Heh. You're fun to mess with."

Deidara whips around, pointing at you accusingly. "You were doing that on purpose?!"

"Maybe." You playfully nudge him in the shoulders before peering your intense, freaky eyes at him again. Deidara exhales sharply, muttering something under his breath. "What do you even want from me, un?"

You tap your chin, pretending to think. "Hmm. Maybe I just wanna hold hands. Maybe I wanna test how strong your explosives are. Maybe I wanna find out what happens if I feed one of your palm-mouths a snack."

"DON'T—" Deidara yelps before cutting himself off, exhaling sharply again. "I swear to god, you are a menace."

"That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"Oh, great so you have a degradation kink, un."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah don't change the topic. What are you getting shy for? Don't act like you haven't done any fun activities with your hands."

"Wha—?! Stop with this accusations, yeah?!"

You tilt your head, feigning innocence. "I'm just saying... Those mouths must have other uses besides chewing clay, right?"

"NO, THEY DON'T!" he blurts out, practically combusting on the spot. "They're for my art and nothing else, un!"

You hum in mock contemplation, rubbing your chin. "Hmm... Seems like a waste of potential."

"A waste of—?!" He sputters, then groans, gripping his head in frustration. "Why am I even having this conversation with you?!"

You grin, clearly enjoying his suffering. "Because you love my company?"

"I hate it," he deadpans, turning his back to you.

"Aww, don't be shy," you tease, poking his shoulder. "If you ever want to explore new ways to use those, let me know. I'm all about... innovation."

Deidara stiffens like you just turn him on in the most inhumane way possibly, then quickly marches toward the door with his hands gripping tightly on the towel wrapped around his waist. "That's it. I'm done. OUT, un!"

"What? Why? We were bonding!"

"OUT!"

You laugh as he shoves you out of his room, the door slamming in your face. You take a step back, smirking to yourself with the satisfaction of a well-executed war crime.

Mission to mess with Deidara? Successful.

Now, which victims should you try to terrorise next?

"Zetsu," His voice deep and raspy as he address the bipolar creature "Tell me honestly why you decided to brought her here?"

They both appears to be in Tobi— or well, Obito's room.

Zetsu tilts his head, the white half of his face curling into a mischievous grin while the black half remains unreadable. "Hmm? Is our dear leader finally curious?"

Obito narrows his eyes. "Curious? No. Suspicious? Absolutely." His voice is dangerously low, his patience already wearing thin. "She's not from here, that much is obvious. But even for an outsider, she's...different."

Zetsu hums, crossing his arms. "And what exactly do you mean by 'different'?"

Obito leans against his desk, rubbing his temples. "She acts like she doesn't know a damn thing about how this world works, but at the same time, she has a weapon that shouldn't exist, like, she's from the future or something familiar." His gaze hardens. "And you just conveniently 'found' her?"

Black Zetsu finally speaks, his voice a low whisper. "We did."

"And why did you bring her to us?" Obito presses. "Don't tell me it was out of the kindness of your hearts."

"Of course not," Black Zetsu replies smoothly. "Let's just say... she piqued our interest. You've noticed it too, haven't you? Her presence isn't normal."

White Zetsu chuckles. "She's fun, though. Wouldn't you agree?"

Obito glares at him. "This isn't a joke."

"It isn't," Black Zetsu agrees. "That's why we're watching her closely."

Obito exhales sharply, eyes flickering with something unreadable. "She's trouble."

"Perhaps."

"And if she turns out to be a problem?"

Black Zetsu's smirk widens. "Then we'll deal with her accordingly."

Obito hums behind his mask. "Still, it was very unlike you to take an interest in humans, or women to be specific. I won't pry too much. Do what you want, the liability is on you"

Zetsu merely chuckles, White Zetsu tilting his head in amusement. "Liability? That's a strong word."

"A fitting one," Obito counters, arms crossed. "If she causes problems, I expect you to handle it."

"Of course," Black Zetsu says smoothly. "But tell me, Obito... are you really that indifferent?"

Obito's gaze hardens behind his mask. "She's not my concern."

White Zetsu snickers. "Then why bring it up?"

Obito exhales sharply, pushing off the desk. "Because unlike you, I actually care about keeping things under control." He turns toward the door. "Just don't let your 'interest' in her turn into a weakness."

Zetsu merely smirks as Obito exits.

Obito is looking for you. Standing in-front of your room was enough assertions for him to know that you're not there. He's a sensor type after all. It was also surprisingly easy to pick up your unique chakra signatures.

His steps are silent as he makes his way toward your location, the dimly lit halls of the Akatsuki base casting long shadows. When he finally finds you, you're exactly where he expected—lingering in someone else's space, completely unbothered.

Obito pauses for a moment before straightening up, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the weight of his real self. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, he hops forward, waving the Akatsuki robe in the air.

"(Y/N)-chan~! I found you!" His voice is sing-songy, exaggerated in its cheerfulness. He spins dramatically before stopping right in front of you, shoving the robe in your face. "Tadaa~! Look what I got for you! Now you can match with us, yeah!"

"For..me?" You look at the brand new robe on his hand. It's the... legendary fashion robe that they all seemed to wear.

He tilts his head, pretending to study you. "Hmm... but will it suit you? Maybe you need some accessories! Oh! Oh! What about a cute little mask like mine? Eh? Eh?" He leans closer, his mask mere inches from your face, radiating his usual chaotic energy.

Then, just as quickly as he appeared, he twirls away, placing his hands on his hips. "Anyway! You're officially one of us now, so you have to wear it! No takesies backsies!"

"Aw, I'd love a mask to match with you but I wouldn't want to conceal this beauty from the world. It would be unfair to hide such face right?" You wink at the masked man, confidence skyrockets to spaces.

Tobi gasps dramatically, clutching his mask as if personally offended. "EH?! (Y/N)-chan, are you saying my handsome face isn't worth showing? That's so mean~!" He wobbles in place like a child throwing a tantrum, shaking the robe at you.

"No….. I didn't say that!"

Then, he suddenly leans in, tilting his head. "Buuut, you do have a point! It would be such a tragedy to deprive the world of your face, hmm!" He taps his mask, pretending to think. "Alright! No mask for you! But you do have to wear the cloak. No negotiations! Pain-sama will be mad, and I don't wanna get yelled at!"

He thrusts the robe toward you again, bouncing excitedly. "C'mon, c'mon! Try it on! Let's see if it makes you look more evil~"

"Alright."