Mercury’s Manifestation

The first thing that greets you in the kitchen that morning isn't just the usual dim lighting or the faint chatter from the others—it's the smell. Something sweet, warm, almost inviting.

You blink the sleep from your eyes, following the scent until your gaze lands on the source.

Itachi.

An apron tied neatly over his usual white T-shirt, sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal the lean definition of his forearms. He moves with practiced ease, flipping a waffle with the kind of precision only a seasoned shinobi could have.

You stare.

Is this a dream? Some kind of genjutsu? Because there's absolutely no way Itachi Uchiha—the same man who could set an entire battlefield ablaze without breaking a sweat—is standing there, casually making waffles.

He doesn't acknowledge you at first, fully focused on his task. The golden-brown waffle lands perfectly on a plate, and he reaches for another ladle of batter, completely unfazed by your gawking.

You clear your throat, leaning against the counter. "Since when were you a domestic husband?"

Finally, he glances at you, expression stoic. "I wouldn't call it that."

You raise an eyebrow. "No? Then what would you call it?"

He doesn't answer immediately, placing another waffle on the stack. Then, with the faintest hint of amusement in his voice, he replies,

"Breakfast."

"That's one way to put it," you remark, stepping further into the kitchen.

You lean against the counter beside him, arms crossed, mirroring the kind of posture a high school boy would strike when loitering around with no real purpose.

Then, you squint.

Your eyes trail over his movements, watching as the ever-composed Uchiha meticulously prepares what is, in fact, just waffles.

"You're really taking this seriously, huh?" you muse, watching as he plates each waffle with the kind of precision usually reserved for life-or-death battles.

Itachi doesn't respond immediately. Instead, he drizzles a thin stream of syrup over the stack, careful and deliberate. Only when he's satisfied does he spare you a glance.

"If you're going to do something," he finally says, "it should be done properly."

You blink at him, then at the waffles, then back at him.

"You're applying shinobi principles to breakfast."

He doesn't deny it. Just continues on like this is the most natural thing in the world.

A wild Kisame appears, stepping inside the kitchen with a smug grin "Back from your date so soon, Itachi"

You scoff, barely stifling a laugh. "Word travels fast around here."

Kisame snickers, grabbing an apple from the counter and taking a lazy bite. "Of course it does. You two were playing house for, what, a few days?" He glances at the waffles, then at Itachi. "And now you're making breakfast? Damn, she's got you domesticated."

Itachi, ever composed, doesn't dignify that with a response. Instead, he simply slides a plate toward you, as if Kisame's teasing isn't worth entertaining.

You pick up a fork, grinning as you stab into a waffle. "I mean, if it gets me free breakfast, I'm not complaining."

The three of you enjoy your meal quietly.

Something fishy has been going around in the base. No— not Kisame.

Your suspicions are confirmed when your daily alien meditation is abruptly interrupted by a knock at your door. Not just any knock—his knock. A familiar rhythm, a little routine that only Tobi does whenever he comes looking for you.

You exhale, rubbing your temples. You already know—whatever he's about to say, it's going to be something.

"Come in."

The door swings open, and sure enough, there he is—Tobi, standing in the doorway with an energy that immediately sets off every alarm in your brain. He steps inside, closing the door behind him.

Your eyes narrow suspiciously. "Okay, what did you do?"

Tobi gasps, placing a dramatic hand over his chest. "Me?" He sounds offended, like you just accused him of a heinous crime. "Y/N-chan, why do you always assume the worst? Maybe I just missed you while you were off playing house with Itachi~!"

You squint harder.

Tobi's silence only lasts a beat before he starts bouncing on his heels, barely able to contain himself. "Okay, okay, I did do something—but it's a good something!"

You stare at him, deadpan. "That's debatable."

Tobi wags a playful finger. "Ah ah ah! No spoilers! You'll just have to follow me~!"

Now that sets off alarms. "...Follow you where?"

He just giggles behind his mask, not bothering to respond. "But before that~" he pauses, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a red cloth—almost like a ribbon.

Sitting on your bed, you tilt your head in curiosity. "What's that for?"

He doesn't answer. Instead, he moves toward you—not with his usual playful gait, but with something heavier, something more deliberate. A slow, brooding stride.

The moment the bed dips under his weight, you instinctively straighten your back. His knee presses into the mattress, and then, with a measured grace, he climbs onto the bed—blindfold still in hand, eye locked onto you.

Your eyes flicker between the red cloth and Tobi's masked face. What the hell is he up to now?

He's close—closer than he usually gets when he's being his usual goofy self. His movements, slow and deliberate, contrast so sharply with his usual chaotic energy that it sends a weird jolt of uncertainty through you. "Tobi," you say, voice wary. "What are you doing?"

His head tilts, mask gleaming under the dim light. "Trust me, (Y/N)-chan," he hums. "It's a surprise~"

You eye the blindfold, then him.

"Do I have a choice?"

Tobi laughs softly—too softly. It's different from his usual loud, exaggerated cackles. This one feels real.

"Not really~"

Before you can protest, the smooth fabric brushes against your skin, and your vision goes dark.

"No cheating, (Y/N)-chan! You can't use your Byakugan," he teases, his voice light but firm.

You swallow hard, your pulse picking up speed. This—this is too intimate. If it were anyone else, you wouldn't bat an eye, but the fact that it's Tobi? That makes you shudder, just the slightest.

Then, without hesitation, he takes your arm, fingers firm but not forceful. You feel the slight tug as he guides you forward, leading you into the unknown.

You exhale slowly, trying to ground yourself, but it's hard when every step forward is uncertain. You can't see where you're going, can't rely on your usual instincts, and Tobi—of all people—is the one guiding you.

His grip on your shoulders is steady, careful, but there's something almost playful in the way he leads you, like he's enjoying this.

You could feel—hear a sudden a sudden motion as you walk.

Then out of nowhere—

"Fuuuuh~"

He blows a quiet, soft air on the nape of your neck.

You squeal, physically jerking to the sensation.

That little prick!

He took off his mask deliberately just to tease you!

"Tobi, you bastard—!"

Your knee jerks up instinctively, aiming for his shin, but he's faster. He twirls you at the last second, laughing, his grip on your arms firm but playful.

"Ah-ah~! Violence isn't the answer, (Y/N)-chan!" he sing-songs, dodging another kick. "You should be grateful! Tobi is giving you the full experience!"

"Oh yeah?" You struggle against his hold, blindfold still secured around your eyes. "You wanna experience my foot up your ass?"

He cackles but doesn't let go.

"Y/N-chan is so feisty! No wonder Itachi keeps you all to himself~"

You freeze.

Your struggling stops, and for the first time since he started this nonsense, you actually consider using your Byakugan to end him.

"Tobi," you say slowly, voice dangerously calm. "I swear to the stars—"

"Oops! No time for threats~ We're here!"

Before you can react, he spins you around one last time, hands on your shoulders as he presses you forward.

There's a shift in the air—a distinct change in atmosphere. The smell of something sweet, the faint sound of rustling... and then—

"SURPRISE!"

Your blindfold is yanked off, and your vision floods with color. You squint at the sudden exposure of the bright saturation blinding your eyesight.

A dimly lit room, decorated with what might be an attempt at a celebration. A banner, slightly crooked, with the words: Welcome to the Akatsuki, Y/N! painted in bold, messy strokes. A table in the middle, set with food, drinks, and a cake that looks suspiciously homemade.

And several familiar faces staring at you, waiting for your reaction.

Zetsu is there, standing off to the side, looking somewhat amused with a pink party hat on his grass hair. Sasori barely acknowledges the event, arms crossed, with a brown party head sitting on his messy red hair. Deidara, looking incredibly reluctant, leans against the wall, eyes rolling the moment you meet his gaze.

There was Pain too, hands behind his back with a party hat crowning his head (How did he agreed to this?). Konan on his side wearing a really gentle smile on her face.

Hidan, shirtless yet again (does he not have money for shirt) with an almost cocky grin. He too seems to be wearing a party hat— and so is Kakuzu on his side, his party hat crooked.

Kisame and Itachi stands near the table— they both seems to be missing the party-hats. Aww.

Tobi spreads his arms wide, practically vibrating with energy.

"Ta-daaa~! Welcome party, just for you!"

When a creature like you is confronted with unfamiliar and unpredictable customs, your facial muscles tense—strained, like you're on the verge of shitting yourself. For the first time, even Tobi and Itachi, both possessing sharp, discerning eyes, struggle to decipher what that look even means.

The silence stretches.

Everyone is waiting—watching for some kind of reaction.

Your eyes dart from the crooked banner to the makeshift feast, then to the various Akatsuki members who—despite their usual nonchalant or outright murderous tendencies—are here.

For you.

Your mouth opens slightly, but no words come out. The muscles in your face remain stiff, uncertain, as if any movement might betray you.

Tobi, feeling uncomfortable in the silence, gently nudges you forward. "(Y/N)-chan~! Aren't you touched?"

Deidara snorts. "She looks like she's about to throw up, un."

Hidan cackles. "Oi, if you don't want your cake, I'll take it."

Konan gives them both a look. "Give her a moment."

Another stretch of silence. Then—

"...What the hell is this?" you finally say, voice barely above a whisper.

Tobi gasps, hands flying to his masked face. "(Y/N)-chan! This is a party! A celebration for our newest member! A proper Akatsuki welcome! Isn't it wonderful?"

Your gaze shifts to Pain, whose face remains unreadable, yet stoicly accepting of... whatever this is. His ridiculous party hat does not help.

Finally, your eyes land on Itachi.

He, too, watches your reaction carefully—no party hat, no forced enthusiasm. Just a calm, steady gaze, as if waiting to see what you will do.

You exhale slowly, shoulders slightly relaxing. Then—

"...Did you make this cake?"

A pause.

Tobi, Zetsu, and Deidara all immediately point at Sasori.

The redhead's eye twitches. "I helped," he corrects, tone sharp.

You stare at the cake again. It is... definitely a cake. Its edges are slightly uneven, the frosting barely holding itself together, and the decorations—red and black swirls—are applied with what you can only describe as determined frustration.

"...You made this?"

Sasori crosses his arms, glaring. "Do you have a problem with it?"

For the first time since stepping into the room, your lips twitch. A flicker of amusement—small, fleeting, but real.

"No," you murmur. "I think it's... interesting."

"SEE? She loves it!"

"I........ Like it" you say dramatically, a pathetic glint of wetness in your gaze and a slight pinch of your brows and all. "Thankyou, Sasori" you look at the puppeter like he's some divine revelation from heaven. It looks like shit, but god you love it.

The room is silent for a beat—then, as if on cue, Tobi erupts into applause.

"Y/N-chan is so touched!" he exclaims, practically vibrating with excitement. "She's crying! Sasori-danna, you moved her!"

Sasori's eye twitches again. "She's not crying."

"YES, SHE IS!"

You sniff dramatically, wiping a nonexistent tear from your cheek. "It's just—so much love in one cake. I can feel the effort."

Zetsu mutters something about you being full of shit, but you ignore him.

Taking a deep breath, you lean down at an awkward angle (why are you like this?) and blow out the candles. The flames flicker out one by one, leaving behind a thin trail of smoke.

There's a pause.

Then, to your absolute horror, Tobi screeches:

"MAKE A WIIIIIIIIIISH!"

You stare at Tobi, blinking slowly. "A wish?"

He nods furiously. "YES! That's the tradition, (Y/N)-chan!"

"Uh-huh." You deadpan. "And what happens if I wish for something unrealistic?"

Tobi gasps. "Nonsense! The power of birthday magic will make it come true!"

Kakuzu, who has been completely silent this entire time, finally speaks. "That's not how it works."

"Shhhhhh! Let her believe!"

You roll your eyes, but... You glance back at the candles.

A wish, huh?

You don't believe in such things. You never have. But... if you were to entertain the thought—just for a second—what would you even wish for?

You close your eyes in quiet reverence, letting the wish settle deep within you.

I wish for moments like this to last forever. I wish... I could stay here, surrounded by everyone, until the end of time.

But, of course, you'd never let them know. Some things are meant to stay unspoken. Straightening your back, you take another glance around, committing their faces to memory. Then, with a small smile, you nod. "Thanks! I appreciate it!"

A beat of silence follows.

Then—

"SO? SO? WHAT DID YOU WISH FOR?" Tobi practically jumps in place, hands on his mask like he's dying to know.

You blink at him. "You're not supposed to ask that."

"Why nooooot?!"

"Because if I tell you, it won't come true,"

Tobi freezes. You swear you can hear the gears turning in his head.

"Oh my god," Hidan snorts. "She's got you there, dumbass."

"Y/N-chan! How could you?!"

Konan, ever patient, places a hand on his shoulder. "Tobi, calm down."

Meanwhile, Itachi watches you with quiet curiosity.  He doesn't ask about your wish. Neither does Kisame, though his grin lingers.

"Alright, enough of this," Kakuzu grumbles, crossing his arms. "Are we eating the damn cake or not?"

Your eyes flicker back to Sasori's masterpiece—if it could even be called that. It's... slightly lopsided. The icing is uneven. The decorations are minimal at best.

And yet—

You smile. "Yeah. Let's eat."

"The first cut is mine!" you declare as if it's some grand event. Before Pain can even hand you the plastic knife, you bypass all civilized methods and pierce the cake with your bare hand.

A collective silence falls over the room.

Zetsu stops mid-chewing (whatever he seems to be snacking on). Deidara's eye twitches. Hidan lets out a disbelieving cackle.

"The fuck is wrong with you?" Kakuzu mutters, appalled.

You, wrist-deep in cake, grin at them like you've just accomplished something great. "Tradition," you say simply, as if that explains anything.

Tobi gasps dramatically. "Y/N-chan, you're so cool!"

Sasori, who had begrudgingly put effort into this cake, stares at the destruction you've just caused. His expression doesn't change—but you know he's seething.

"You absolute heathen," he mutters.

"Aw, c'mon, un," Deidara groans, rubbing his temples. "Why do you do this kind of shit?"

You don't answer. Instead, you take a piece of the cake—frosting and all—and hold it up toward Itachi.

He stares at you. You stare back.

Then, slowly (painfully) he leans in and takes a bite.

The room erupts.

"Dont worry! Ill make sure to feed everyone," You playfully wink like the deranged creature that you are. Most of the room stares in stunned silence, jaws slightly agape—not at you, but at Itachi, who, against all odds, is actually indulging in your nonsense.

"You'll what?" Deidara recoils, taking a full step back.

"I'd rather starve," Kakuzu deadpans.

"Not a chance in hell," Hidan scoffs. "You come near me with that cake-covered hand, I swear to Jashin—"

Konan lets out an amused huff, joined by Zetsu and Kisame, who seem thoroughly entertained by the spectacle. You, however, completely disregard Hidan like he's yesterday's garbage and turn your attention to Sasori with a mischievous grin.

The redhead immediately takes a step back, his expression twisting into one of pure disdain. "I'm a puppet. I don't eat," he scolds, as if you're some kind of heathen for even trying.

"Oh, but you can hold things, right?" Your grin widens.

Sasori narrows his eyes. "What does that have to do with—"

You slap a chunk of cake right into his wooden palm.

"There! Now you're participating." You beam at him like you just did him the biggest favor.

Sasori stares at his frosting-covered hand, then back at you. His eye twitches. "I will remember this."

From the sidelines, Deidara absolutely howls with laughter. "Holy shit, finally! Someone's messing with you for once—"

Sasori hurls the cake at him.

It splatters directly onto Deidara's smug face.

Silence.

Then—

"Oh, you bastard."

More chaos ensues.

Your grin stretches unnaturally wide—this is war. But before chaos erupts, you swiftly snatch the cake, cradling it protectively in your arms like a sacred artifact.

No one is launching this masterpiece across the room. They can throw anything else—kunai, insults, even Tobi if they feel like it—but not this. Not the handmade cake that Sasori painstakingly crafted for you.

Your heart flutters just looking at its... unique shape. Deformed, uneven, slightly cursed—but undeniably made with effort. And that's what matters.

Chaos erupts like a battlefield of baked goods. Cupcakes soar through the air, pillows become makeshift shields, and someone—probably Kisame—starts splashing water like it's a full-blown war zone (You dont question where he gets the water from).

You duck just in time to avoid a rogue pastry "Cease fire, you heathens!" You declare dramatically, clutching the cake like it's a wounded comrade on the battlefield. Something comes your way— only for you to narrowly dodge another cupcake aimed right at your head.

Tobi cackles as he pelts Deidara with a muffin, while Hidan is shouting profanities about getting frosting in his hair. Sasori, utterly disgusted, has retreated to the far corner, arms crossed in silent judgment.

Despite the madness, you can't help but laugh. This is your kind of celebration.

Deidara wipes frosting off his face, scowling. "You started this, yeah."

Sasori crosses his arms, unimpressed. "I wasn't the one who shoved cake into my hand."

"Oh, cry about it." You stick your tongue out, before turning your attention back to the cake. With exaggerated tenderness, you cradle it closer. "This is a symbol of love and friendship! You wouldn't dare ruin it, would you?"

The room stares at you.

Then at Sasori.

Then back at you.

..

The party starts with some music in the background. Not too loud but it is definitely there. Humans seems knows the concept of music. You don't question it.

You take another bite, chewing slowly as you glance around the room. The atmosphere is lively—Konan is volunteering to cut the cake, Kisame is laughing at something dumb that Hidan said, and Deidara is gesturing wildly about "true art" while Tobi nods enthusiastically.

You lean back in your chair, letting the moment sink in. It's strange, being surrounded by humans like this, partaking in their customs. Even stranger that they're... kind of fun.

You look down at your cake again. Yeah, it definitely tastes weird. Maybe it's just a human thing. Not bad, but not exactly what you expected. Then again, your understanding of human cuisine is still a work in progress.

Konan watches you with a hint of amusement. "Is it alright?"

You swallow and nod, offering a thumbs-up. "Delicious." A half-truth, but she seems satisfied with the answer.

Itachi, however, is standing nearby, observing the scene with his usual unreadable expression. His gaze flickers to you, just for a moment, before he looks away.

You chew on your cake a little slower, hiding a smirk behind your fork. Oh? So the ever-composed Uchiha does steal glances. Interesting.

Still, you don't react. You keep your posture relaxed, idly tapping your fingers on the table as if you're completely unaware. If he wants to watch, let him.

Then, Zetsu plops down next to you. Ah, it feels like ages since you last spoke—he's always slipping in and out of sight, like a ghost. Maybe you should start making more of an effort in summoning him out of a ceramic pot.

You flash him a turtle-like smile.

Zetsu eyes you with mild amusement—well, the black half does. The white half grins back, more openly expressive. "You look like you're enjoying yourself,"

Black Zetsu, ever the pessimist, huffs. "Don't get too comfortable. Moments like these are fleeting."

You chuckle, unfazed. "Oh, come on, do you always have to be so ominous?" You poke at your cake with the fork, pretending to consider his words seriously. "What if—just for today—I want to believe that this moment will last forever?"

Zetsu doesn't respond right away, but there's a shift in his gaze, like he's studying you a little more closely.

Then, White Zetsu laughs. "Well, if that's what you want, you'd better savor it." You hum in agreement, taking another bite of cake. It still tastes weird.

"Want some? I can feed you if you'd like"

White Zetsu snickers. "Ooh, how generous! Should I say 'ahh' like a baby?"

Black Zetsu scoffs. "Don't encourage her."

You wave a forkful of cake in front of them, grinning. "Come on, don't be shy. Say 'ahhh'~"

White Zetsu humors you, opening his mouth dramatically. You shove the cake in without hesitation, watching as he chews with an exaggerated expression.

"...Tastes weird," he finally says.

"Yeah, but it's the thought that counts."

Black Zetsu sighs. "You're both ridiculous." But he doesn't move away, and you count that as a win.

From the corner of your eye, you spot Kisame lugging a box into the room. He drops it onto the floor with a heavy thud, making some kind of announcement that you don't quite catch. Whatever it is, it earns a round of cheers from the others.

"It's been a while since I had a drink, hmm!" Deidara declares, sounding far too enthusiastic.

Kakuzu shoots him a skeptical look. "Deidara, you don't drink. Sit your ass down."

"Yeah, aren't you a minor?" Hidan adds with a cocky raise of his eyebrow.

"I am not, un!" Deidara huffs, stomping his foot like an petulant child. "I'm legal—legal! Old enough to drink!"

Wait a second. He's a minor? as in, underage? You start choking at this. You have been flirted by an underage child. And worse, you've played along. Does this make you some kind of cougar now. You slap a hand over your mouth, coughing violently. Oh god. Oh no. You've been entertaining a child's advances?

Deidara turns to you, smug. "What's with that reaction, un? Didn't seem to bother you before~"

You point an accusatory finger at him, still reeling. "I thought you were an adult! A grown man! A legal, tax-paying shinobi!"

He scoffs. "I am legal!"

Kakuzu mutters, "Barely."

Your stomach sinks. You've been playfully indulging a barely-legal teenager? Is this how those predatory alien horror stories start? You clutch your head dramatically. "I need to reevaluate my life choices."

Kisame, already pouring himself a drink, snickers. "Too late for that."

Tobi bursts into laughter, while Sasori lets out an amused huff, a rare grin tugging at his lips. "You're lucky you're in a criminal organization," he muses.

"I AM A FUCKING ADULT, UN!" Deidara interjects, loud and indignant, making sure everyone hears him.

You shake your head, groaning. "No, no. I need a moment. I've been flirted with by a baby."

Deidara looks personally offended. "A baby?! I'm older than you think, un!"

You squint at him, then at Sasori. "Puppet-man, how old is this one?"

Sasori shrugs, completely unbothered. "He's still a brat, if that's what you're asking."

Deidara glares daggers at him, stomping again. "I AM NOT A BRAT!"

Tobi wheezes in laughter, Kisame grins into his drink, and Hidan (still shirtless, of course) leans over with a wicked grin. "Y'know, if ya really feel guilty about it, maybe you should let me take over instead. I'm a real adult."

You make a face and shove his forehead back with a single finger. "Not even in your wildest dreams."

Hidan scoffs, crossing his arms. "Why the fuck not—you bitch!"

You shake your head at his crude choice of words, maintaining a perfectly stoic expression as you wag a finger in his face, like some kind of enlightened sage.

"I am a woman of class," you declare. "Maybe, if you take me out to dinner, I'd consider it." Yessss. This is exactly how you get free meals on Babylonia.

Hidan throws his head back with a barking laugh. "Dinner?! What kind of high-maintenance bullshit is that?"

You cross your arms, looking down your nose at him like some regal queen. "It's called standards, Hidan. Try it sometime."

Kisame snickers into his drink. "She got you there."

Hidan clicks his tongue, shaking his head. "Tch. You're lucky you're kinda hot, otherwise I'd tell you to fuck off."

You flash him a wicked grin. "Oh? So you admit I'm hot?"

For once, Hidan is the one caught off guard. He scowls, grabbing a drink off the table and chugging it aggressively. "Fuck off."

Deidara, still fuming from earlier, scoffs. "Tch. And I'M the baby."

You laugh, genuinely amused. From the corner of your eye, you notice Konan chuckling as well, sipping from one of the bottles Kisame brought.

Suspicious...

You narrow your eyes at the drink. Something about consuming anything provided by Kisame feels inherently questionable.

You squint at Konan. "What are you drinking?"

She lowers the cup just enough to meet your gaze, her expression unreadable. "Sake."

Ah. Alcohol. Human poison.

You glance around and realize most of the others have a drink in hand too—Kisame is already on his second, Kakuzu is sipping his like some refined noble, and even Itachi has a cup, though he doesn't seem particularly interested in drinking much.

Tobi, ever the wildcard, is holding his cup up to his mask, as if debating how to consume it.

You turn back to Konan, still suspicious. "And you're drinking it? Willingly?"

She gives you a small, almost knowing smile. "Why? Do you think I can't handle it?"

Your gaze flickers to Pain, who remains stoic beside her, arms crossed. "...Is he drinking?"

Konan chuckles softly. "No. He's just watching over us."

Huh. Fair enough. You tap a finger against your chin, contemplating. "Well... should I try it?"

Konan tilts her head slightly, resting her chin on her palm as she watches you. "You've never had alcohol before?" she asks, her gaze curious.

"I..." You tilt your head, considering your words. "Let's just say it wasn't exactly common where I grew up."

Konan hums, swirling her drink lazily. "It's not for everyone," she muses. "Some drink to celebrate. Some to forget. Some just to feel something."

That last part makes you shift in your seat. Humans really are something else.

"Would you like to try?" she asks, voice smooth, inviting.

You glance down at the cup she slides toward you. A small thing, filled with that suspicious liquid.

The others are still talking, arguing, drinking. The party goes on, but here, in this small space between you and Konan, the moment feels oddly quiet.

"...What happens if I don't like it?" you ask, resting your fingers on the rim of the cup.

Konan's lips curl into a smirk. "Then you don't have to drink anymore."

Simple as that, huh?

You exhale slowly. Then, with only the slightest hesitation—

You take a sip.

It comes out almost an instinct— sprinkling over Zetsu's. Particularly his fly trap.

You held your mouth like youve been punched. What the hell is this thing?!

Zetsu turns to you, a sad expression dredge over the white side.

You cough, gagging slightly. The taste is heinous—burning, bitter, and nothing like the sweet nectars you're used to. How do humans drink this for fun? Zetsu, meanwhile, looks utterly betrayed. His flytrap drips with the remnants of your unfortunate reaction.

"...I'm sorry," you croak, voice hoarse from the sting of alcohol. "That was... involuntary."

The white half of Zetsu pouts. "You spat on me."

The black half sighs. "Typical."

You wipe your mouth, still reeling from the aftertaste. "Be grateful it was just that," you mutter. "That could've gone way worse."

Konan chuckles, taking a slow sip of her own drink. "So? First impressions?"

You swallow the lingering bitterness, grimacing. "Insanity."

"Pffttt— what's this? Can't handle a little alcohol in your system? What a virgin." Hidan saunters over to your small group—you, Konan, and Zetsu—wearing that ever-annoying, shit-eating grin.

You narrow your eyes at him, licking the last of the bitter taste off your lips. "It's not about handling it," you say, voice slow, deliberate. "It just tastes like ass."

Hidan barks out a laugh. "Hah! That's the point, dumbass! The more you drink, the less you care about the taste!"

"That sounds like a you problem," you deadpan.

Konan chuckles across you, setting her drink down. "It's an acquired taste," she says, "though I can't say I blame you."

Zetsu sighs, still sulking as he wipes at his flytrap. "I'm the real victim here."

You glance between them, then back at Hidan, who's looking way too smug for your liking. "...You know what?" You straighten your back, determination gleaming in your eyes. "Fine. I'll try again."

Hidan's grin widens. "Now that's what I'm talkin' about!"

You grab the bottle.

You stare at it.

And then—

You hand it to Konan. "You drink it first. I need to see if you survive."

Well, Konan clearly had some alcohol in her system. Like any other irrational drunk, her eye twitches before she suddenly snatches the bottle and downs half of it in one go.

Your jaw hang at this.

Hidan lets out an impressed whistle. "Damn, Konan! Didn't know you had it in you."

Konan slams the bottle down, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her usually composed demeanor is... slipping. Just a little. She tilts her head at you, a slow, almost lazy smirk forming.

"You gonna back out now?" she teases.

You squint. Hard.

"...This is peer pressure," you mutter.

"Damn right it is!" Hidan cackles, slapping your back hard enough to make you jolt.

Zetsu sighs dramatically. "I can already tell this is going to end terribly."

You glance at the bottle. Then at Konan. Then at Hidan, who's grinning like a devil on your shoulder.

"...Alright, fine." You take the bottle, take a deep breath, and then—

You take the smallest sip imaginable.

Hidan groans. "Oh, come on! That doesn't count!"

Konan chuckles, shaking her head. "Flawless. Truly inspiring."

Hidan rolls his eyes so hard you think they might get stuck. "You're a damn lightweight, I can already tell."

You cross your arms, feigning offense. "I'll have you know, on Babylonia, I am—" You pause. Right. No one here knows where you're actually from. "—I am known for my drinking skills."

Zetsu hums, unconvinced. "Are you, though?"

You wave him off. "It's a lost art."

Konan pushes the bottle back toward you, an amused glint in her eyes. "Then prove it."

...Oh.

This is escalating fast.

Well, you're known for consuming a lot of things in one sitting... Whats a bottle of poison going to change... am i right?

Sasori seems to find amusement in this. He inserts himself into the group, trying to see this shit-show youre about to put on.

You point a finger at him when you see him lingering near your table "I thought puppets couldn't eat"

The redhead sigh, making a big deal out of rolling his eyes. "I can't eat. But i can still consume any kind of liquid." he states. Oh, make sense you suppose.

"Huh. So you choose to drink coffee, but not alcohol?" You squint at him like you've just uncovered some deep, dark secret.

Sasori scoffs, crossing his arms. "It serves a purpose. Caffeine keeps my mind sharp."

Hidan cackles, nudging him with an elbow. "Oh, so you can have a little fun. Thought you'd turn into dust if you so much as looked at booze."

Sasori's gaze flickers to the bottle in your hand. "And you? Are you actually going through with this, or are you just stalling?"

The challenge is clear. The bottle in your grip suddenly feels heavier, like it's filled with something far more sinister than just alcohol.

You glance at Konan, who's watching with mild amusement. At Zetsu, who seems intrigued. At Hidan, who's already grinning in anticipation. And finally, at Sasori—stoic, unreadable, but waiting.

Well.

What's the worst that could happen?