Four Akatsuki stood in the discreet cafe, much to the chagrin of the faint old clerk. However, it seemed to only be an inconvenience to her rather than any sort of offense and she valued her life more than most of the fools in the cloud, so she remained silent.
At the moment it was silent. A pin could’ve dropped and it would’ve alerted them all. Kakuzu preferred it that way.
Each of their minds was burdened with the tasks which lie ahead. Even the crazed jashinist abided, strolling around the aisles with an unamused countenance. Sasori, who wasn’t much of a talker on a good day, was detectable only by chakra signature. In his redhead humanoid form he was small and easy to overlook; though admittedly easier to look at. Judging by that signature he was looking at lathes and other tools for his art on the other side of the store alongside his counterpart, who was an arms length away, pursuing his own craft.
Everybody seemed to be in agreement that they would wander around the fascinating little inlets until dusk. He had a limit of 150 ryo for any one place if he could help it, so his hands typically remained empty.
Leisure time was a rare commodity. Kakuzu made a point to seize every moment of downtime.
That was, until a foot began tapping across the aisle.
Of course, it had been too silent.
Sasori sighed. His partner had a habit of doing this- a clear tell to all who knew the unsubtle youth.
“Dana,”
“what..”
“I’m short.”
“You mean to say that you brought money, but not enough to actually buy anything?”
“I didn’t think I’d need much...”
“You want me to fix it, I assume.”
“Yeah. Hm.”
“what is it then?” Sasori hums indolently.
“Paint. For concept sketches, I want to make the best renderings possible.”
“Why?” Asks the puppet hollowly.
The chakra flare on Deidara’s part was to be expected. It wasn’t conductive of anything, he told himself. Even if it did cause trouble, it wouldn’t be his delegation. Not to mention, the item he wanted was frivolous.
“Can’t you just lend me a hand hmm?!”
“You have no shortage of supplies.”
“Yeah, but this is higher quality. I want to try it out.”
“Mm. Okay.”
The puppet’s chakra flared as his hands were gripped in unison.
“Wait really? Thank you. You won’t regret this-“
“No no, I just came to a realization. Your problem isn’t money, it’s foolishness. Stop being a scatterbrained idiot and maybe next time you’ll have enough.”
Both their chakras had spiked.
Pein wasn’t strictly against Akatsuki brawls but he did draw the line somewhere. Kakuzu who had crossed that exact line a few teammates ago, was not alarmed as much as avidly curious. Due to the new mandates (he’d essentially caused) , and the increasingly apparent fact that his new teammate was immortal, he’d developed a sliver of the pacifist mindset.
Slaughtering comrades seemed to be frowned upon in every organization, after all.
It irked him slightly, but at the moment what was gently grating his nerves more was how the argument was impeding on his free time.
For a moment it seemed like the two might clash heads.
That was until Hidan stumbled over in his usual spirits and unknowingly diffused the tension by snickering.
“You girls gonna fight?”
At that point the youngest member of the group stormed off.
Something told him that it wasn’t over, and that all of their time on this mission would be just as irritatingly tense if somebody didn’t just bite the bullet. Maybe that was just a justification though. Some part of him was gravitating towards the idea already, perhaps one may call it a bias.
Kakuzu walked over to the aisle and picked up the item which had been ditched hastily with the ceramics. A tin of five thin, simple tubes of paint, stark red, white, yellow, blue, black.
Only 75 ryo.
-
Choosing hotels was a duty he always delegated himself to. Nobody loved this fact, but they didn’t have the courage to complain.
In a way, Hidan was a good partner towards this end, because he seemed more tolerant of grime than anybody else he’d known.
At the cheapest place available; which was decent, he pulled the item out of his pocket. Giving things to people was difficult. Even though it wasn’t a gift. He expected to be paid back with interest.
After receiving the keys, Hidan engaged Sasori on his art - in his words, ‘the killer puppet show’- and they sat in the lobby discussing it. More accurately, one ate ravenously, while the other explained his techniques. Normally the suna native wouldn’t, but being as it was Hidan, he eased up a little.
Still upset, the blonde claimed his key and quietly sulked down the hall. Kakuzu followed, pulling out the tin. It was odd to go about it this way, but in honesty, he was inexperienced at giving things away.
How exactly did such a ritual work?
It made no sense and it was beginning to really get into his head. Sick of dancing around the subject, he shoved the tin into the shorter man’s back.
“What’s the big deal, hmm?!” A shield of golden hair scattered about as Deidara swung around, nearly sending the box flying. Amusement shone in his narrow eyes.
If nothing else, he was a funny kid.
It had been ages since he had ever been so reactive, even as an adolescent shinobi. Clearly they were very different.
Under the young artist’s left arm was a large sketchbook.
When the younger man recognized the item he blinked a few times as he clasped it in his right hand speechlessly. His eyes were very wide when they looked back up at him, wider than usual somehow, and full of light. “ Woah, this is great! I don’t know what to say. Thanks.. and sorry about that..”
“Don’t be.”
Kakuzu assured politely and walked away. For some reason he felt pleased.. that was until he realized that he had forgotten to ask. Idiot! He thought, cursing himself.
By then, the other two were headed his way.
That night he was restless. Nobody got the better of his wiles like that.
Perhaps there was another way to receive payment. Two things came to mind.
Maybe he could be paid back with a sketch. Deidara’s art was undoubtedly valuable. Next, since the young man was decidedly quite attractive, he could return the favor with his presence. Lately he was bored and would like nothing more than a charming little plaything to toy with as he pleased. There was a practical side to it; it’d boost his morale.
Lately, things with the Akatsuki were getting disorganized and stressful.
Since he couldn’t think of an appropriate way to broach the second topic, he decided to play it safe with the former. The next day, as they settled in an encampment within the humid forest, he approached Deidara, who was strolling around aimlessly with the sketchbook under his arm.
Something about his demeanor made it seem as though he was casing the place.
“Did you loose something?” He asked.
Deidara looked up, then smiled plainly. “Ah, nah. Just looking for something to sketch. Gotta say, this place isn’t much to look at.”
It was true, the location did very little for the eyes. The forest was obscured mostly by the thick fog, and the ground soil was dry and not very dense with flora and fauna, aside from a short, sparse grass that poked up from the dense layer of earth.
Behind them was a clearing where a few logs had fallen, leaving thick, hollow trunks protruding from and into the earth. Deidara sat on one and gazed about in search for a subject, though unsuccessfully.
“My man, I’m stumped. Have any ideas?”
A beat, slight trepidation on his part, but it passed, and his low, indifferent voice rang through.
“Well,” said Kakuzu, standing up straighter, “you could draw me.”
Once again, he’d caught the other man’s interest. A broad grin settled on his face. “I could, couldn’t I..? Alright. Take off your mask.”
Obviously this was to be expected, but the action itself daunted him. Still, he obliged, and as he did, the young nin began.
In an instant he was focused, sizing him up with his instrument, and making small, light brushstrokes.
Kakuzu only watched. Simple as it seemed, he felt a power in the action that he knew he didn’t possess himself. It captivated his interest deeply.
After many moments of watching his face rise up for a second then bob back down to capture everything, he spoke.
“Have you ever sold your art?” he inquired.
“Sure. Lots of times. Mostly when I was young, yeah people always wanted me to draw or sculpt them things. I used to do it for free, but then there were tons of requests adding up from across the village, and it got annoying. Time consuming, you know?”
“Advisable. Your time is valuable.”
“That’s what I’m saying!”
“You could’ve likely made a fortune though.” He pondered.
“Probably .” He laughed “Though that’s really only a small part of what makes it so gratifying, hm.. there’s a personal value.”
which sounded reasonable enough, nobody
valued his creations more than Deidara himself.
Kakuzu pondered this for a moment. If anybody else had told them that, he’d have called them stupid, but the kid actually made him want in on it.
Creation for its own sake just seemed bizarre. Valuing the intangible.. Why? How could one reap benefits from such a way, anyhow?
Instead of bothering to debate it, he watched the younger man as he sketched away.
He bit his tongue, all too satisfied with what he was observing. A few of the threads surrounding his lips threatened to jump at the pain, but he ignored them.
“You’re pretty good at staying still, you know. Anybody ever tell you that?”
Obviously he wanted to say something again to catch Deidara’s interest, something clever perhaps, but his mind was always blank when they spoke, and now his tongue hurt too.
Instead he remained still, appreciating the shiny hair that rained down every time his head sunk into his sketchbook.
Moments passed without the blonde noticing.
“Alright.” He said with finality, appraising the sketchpad at an arms length. “ I’m done.”
Kakuzu ambled over to the fallen logs beside him to see. He stared for a moment or two at his strange old face, captured meticulously on paper. “What do you think hmm?”
He nodded somberly. “It’s just right. Thank you.”
“Anytime man! I always need more human subjects. Especially ones as relaxed as you. You want this?”
Initially he did, but now for some reason he was reconsidering. The idea of being tucked into the other man’s sketchbook felt satisfying in a peculiar way.
“No. Keep it.”
An uncharacteristic heat rushed to his face.
Deidara only smiled in a way he dare call meek, and obliged.
-
It was ages before they’d met again.
Both of them were tired. Too tired to say much. It was a lot of running lately, with fewer and fewer victories.
Slowly, he stitched him back together in his room back at the hideout with his own thread. It occurred to him that this was another favor; optimally one to be reaped this time.
Deidara’s silvery eyes shone with indignation. He was in pain, and he was talking a lot of smack. To steady him, he kept a hand on his deltoid, where he felt him tremble slightly. “Next time. He sighed. Next time I won’t go easy on those bastards, just wait.”
The news that day about the puppet made him frown behind his mask. The loss of Sasori weighed on both of them, but especially his partner.
Unfortunately, he feared no such occasion of retribution would come. Deidara lived too quickly. In a flash he would be gone as well, Sasori had always fortold.
Which brought to mind the second proposal even more. He had just done him a favor, and he hoped to be paid back with affection. It was a hard topic to broach, but time was running out. The real question seemed to be whether it was reciprocal-
no matter how unlikely that seemed.
Just as he finished the final few stitches, he appraised his own work, then, for some reason, traced it gently.
Neither of them said a word.
Deidara moved his fingers, then flexed his arm, observing its new form. “Ah,” he said in a strange voice. “Thanks.” His long hair brushed against his robes as he gazed intently up at the larger man behind him.
Then again, perhaps it was reciprocal , he thought.
“ Don’t thank me,” he murmured, “Just return the favor.”
“Oh?,” said the blonde, eyes widening before shedding light of an ambiguous smile. He pressed the back of his head against him, and gazed up knowingly. “Hmmm..”
“ I could. Couldn’t I?”
Kakuzu exhaled silently. It wasn’t that he was diffident, or uncertain, and it had nothing to do with experience. Mostly, he was very adept at getting what he wanted.
The problem, he supposed was that he didn’t exactly know what that was anymore. The feeling he had burned in his chest as well as his core. Rather strange indeed.
As much as he’d have liked to have deliberated on it a little further, it seemed ungrateful not to seize a moment like this. What he wanted was in the palm of his hand.
Gingerly, he lowered his mask, then directed his hands to either side of his face, enjoying the ethereal softness of his cheeks and hair, seemingly spun from the finest material. A breath escaped the man below him as he leaned pliantly into the grip.
When there were mere inches between them, Kakuzu arched down to share the warmth radiating off of his parted lips.
What surprised him was not the way that his wispy arms wrapped around his head as their lips collided, but the pleased hum that accompanied the embrace. An electric current ran down his threads- the type which he thought had disappeared many years ago.
Such a short encounter was all he needed evidently. It had been enough.
Half lidded eyes stared back up at him when he pulled away.
“That was nice, old man.“ Sighed Deidara. “Feel free to do it again.”
“Consider our balance even for the moment.” He replied softly, reapplying his mask.
It had been just that, a moment, yet it felt as though in that time, Deidara had returned something greater than he’d ever ventured to give. That must have been personal value then; something he’d carry in his mind forever.
“Had I known, I would’ve indebted myself to you much sooner, hm.”
At this he only smiled broadly. Perhaps one day he’d allow him to pay his dividends back with interest.