The Night Bird's Plea

Chapter 1: Reunion

Kakuzu had lived his long, extended life by no rules, with one exception: never have regrets. Seldom did one reach his old age without them, but he thought well of himself to do just that thus far.

This morning he woke up on the damp forest floor, a crick in his spine, his neck refusing to move until cracked, an intense pounding in his head, and a yapping in his ear from his assigned partner. Still, this was the life he wanted to lead. Fragile sanity perched precariously on the edge of a bloodied blade. Nerves frayed like the sutures on his visible mouth, cloth mask torn from yesterday's confrontation with a foe. An enemy Hidan, his partner, had no business instigating with contrived riddles; taunting an angry bull with a red flag before its death.

Yes, yes, Kakuzu of course defeated the rogue-nin after Hidan's arms were severed--and reattached at Pain's behest. He may be a dour man resistant to teamwork, but this was his job, afterall. A comfortable job. A job where he was allotted resources outside what he could procure himself in effort to hunt heads for personal and professional gain. Encouraged to do so, even! And if his boss ever noticed the steep cut Kakuzu kept for himself stowed in his hefty purse, he never questioned it as long as he received the rest.

Hidan picked at the stitches on his bicep. Said the knots could've been neater.

Another day. Another annoyance. But no regrets.

No regrets.

None.

The Zombie Duo--an apt name they were unwillingly bestowed--happened upon the main road weaving through a barren forest outside the nearest town for as far as kilometers could measure. The village was small from what Kakuzu recalled last time he was here seeking one of his many informants. The populace had thinned as time turned; people rehoming to the larger cities in pursuit of better opportunities. These days it remained a tourist destination for destitute travelers and those wishing to ogle the traditional buildings run by generations of families, and partake in their festivals of yesteryear that had fallen out of favor in the capitals that prioritized war over respite.

The road widened. Thatched roofs came into view. No citizens passed them on the way here. No townspeople picking mushrooms, no residents bringing home fresh caught supper, no children playing tag hiding behind spindly trees.

No one except the two walking up ahead. One wearing a black cloak sporting red clouds, and the other in black garb and padded armor of a bygone era.

Until that moment, Kakuzu had not one regret. The other members of the Akatsuki hadn't heard Kakuzu's heavy stomps, nor Hidan's traipsing gait--they had time to vanish before being seen.

Kakuzu looked to Hidan, forming a plan of escape.

The blond ponytail of the one wearing the cloak swished against the overcast day. The padded armor of the other shifted, black head of hair bobbing animatedly in the midst of some wild tale. Then the orange mask turned away from the blond's ear.

"Dear Jashin," Hidan cursed. Kakuzu hung his head.

"Look, Deidara!" the voice behind the mask yelled to his partner, slapping him on the back.

Kakuzu wept, "There are no Gods."

"Deidara, it's our friends!"

Maybe, just maybe, he was remorseful of one thing. Not putting his foot down when Pain introduced this newest recruit. Fully fledged members had some amount of veto power, but he truly thought Tobi would've gotten himself killed by now through other means.

"Tobi, you oaf." Deidara snatched his eye scope out of the mud and wiped it off, sullying his cloak. He had it laundered just the other day, too.

"Well, well, well," Hidan mustered up some form of happy tone while shouldering his scythe, "Small Akatsuki family reunion. What brings you two to this sleepy village?"