c154 – Dirty World, Dirty Players
Konan stiffened under Uchiha Gen's gaze. His eyes lingered too long, sharp and mocking. Her voice was calm, though edged with frost:
"Stop your delusions."
Gen smirked. "Delusions? You misunderstand. I wasn't admiring you."
His hand gestured casually toward her. "I want your cloak."
Konan blinked once, then lowered her gaze at the black robe with red clouds the new Akatsuki uniform. Her tone remained flat. "The robe can be replaced. But the true mark of Akatsuki is the ring. You won't get that."
Sasori narrowed his eyes. The boy was toying with them. Surely the Uchiha wanted more.
Gen chuckled. "Naturally. The robe is just the start. I also want the paper flower at your temple… and financial compensation."
Konan's lips pressed into a thin line. The request was strange, almost mocking, but she masked her unease. Money, fine. But the flower? A token of Yahiko's memory… this man taunts without realizing.
"What amount?" she asked coolly.
Gen shrugged. "Give what you think is fair."
Her eyes flicked, surprised at the arrogance. "You're leaving it to me?"
"What if I said my life's worth?" Gen drawled, smirking. "Could you afford it?"
Sasori's hands twitched. What nonsense… I'm the hostage here. His pride flared, but humiliation burned hotter. If he'd already reforged his body into a true puppet, such defeat would never have happened. Once I escape, I'll make it so no blade or poison can ever harm me again.
Konan, measuring Gen's tone, finally nodded. "Fine. All the ryo we carry."
Sasori's stomach dropped. Our funds…! The cost of human puppets, the weapons, the maintenance, it all bleeds money. And she's giving it away?!
Konan didn't waver. She slipped off her cloak, revealing the lilac battle garb beneath. Folding the black robe neatly, she set it on the ground. Beside it, she placed a sealed pouch of coin and, after a pause, plucked the pale blue paper flower from her hair.
"Take it. And leave."
Gen tilted his head, feigning disappointment. "So proper. Do you want me to check myself?"
Leaning close, he pitched his voice mocking, low, and almost sing-song in Sasori's ear. The puppeteer stiffened, uncomfortable in a way he couldn't name. "Enough. I'll do it myself." His hands moved quickly, producing additional scrolls of savings.
Gen's laugh was unkind, echoing in the quiet clearing. Sasori of the Red Sand, panicked like a child when did the great artist of poisons ever look like this?
"Good," Gen said finally. With a flare of wind chakra, the robe, coins, and paper flower lifted smoothly from the ground and floated into his waiting hand. His chakra control was so refined it left even Konan uneasy.
"Done. You may go."
The Kusanagi blade at Sasori's throat withdrew. The puppet master retreated instantly to Konan's side. Gen smirked. "If you want it all back, you're free to try."
Konan said nothing. The loss was bearable, and debts could be repaid in time.
Sasori's eyes narrowed. "What is your name?"
"Uchiha Gen," he said calmly. "Remember it well. Every debt has its collector. Don't trouble the wrong Uchiha, Chiyo's grandson."
Both Konan and Sasori stiffened. Their pupils shrank.
"You…" Konan whispered. "So you are the one rumored to be Orochimaru's disciple. The Uchiha twin star, commander on Konoha's front lines during the war."
Gen's Sharingan spun lazily. "Then you recognize the puppet you flaunt. The Third Kazekage. Hard not to notice though frankly, with the war over, I couldn't care less."
Sasori's lips curled. "The Kazekage is mine. Sunagakure cannot threaten me. Their leaders only feed me material for more perfect puppets."
Gen laughed sharply. "You boast too much. Sunagakure is still a Great Village. If they chose to hunt you, not even your Iron Sand would hide you forever."
Then his voice dropped cold, carrying weight like steel. "But I won't bother informing them. Instead… perhaps I'll ask Orochimaru to use Edo Tensei, the Reanimation Jutsu. He could summon your parents' souls from the Pure Land, twist them, and make them suffer endlessly. Could you endure that, orphan?"
Sasori froze, bloodshot eyes wide. His killing intent burst like venom, filling the air.
Konan's frown deepened. "Despicable. To desecrate the dead—how could one orphan threaten another so?"
But Gen only smiled. The weight of his own killing intent surged outward, colder and sharper than either of theirs. The very air shuddered; frost crept along the ground. Konan and Sasori felt their skin prickle, their breaths catch. How many lives has he ended, to radiate such bloodlust?
Gen's Sharingan glowed. "The shinobi world is filthy. And I play by filthy rules. Sasori turns people into puppets, discarding their humanity. I answer with threats darker still. Filth is only subdued by filth."
His smirk widened. "So stay close, Konan. You'll see soon enough. When the world is this dirty, only dirty players survive."
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