The long smoking pipe cracked squarely against Shoji's backside. Choking on the smoke, Kyubei's face turned bright red as he rasped,
"Spouting bullshit—get back to work."
Even without a word of explanation, Zaraki Kita understood. She smiled, a little helpless.
"S-sorry. I-I w-was t-too a-abrupt."
"Come back in two months. This amount."
Kyubei held up five fingers. Zaraki Kita nodded, took out the money from her wallet, stacked two bundles on the stool, and turned to leave.
Kyubei lit up his dry tobacco again. When Zaraki Kita had walked a fair distance away, he muttered softly,
—As long as you're alive.
"Huh? Master, what'd you say?" Shoji hadn't heard clearly. Even as he pulled the bellows, he turned his head to ask. Kyubei knocked the ash out of his pipe.
"Nothing. Tonight, we'll open a good bottle—have a few drinks with your master."
"Eh!"
Far away, Zaraki Kita's steps faltered for just a moment before returning to normal. She raised a hand and rubbed Karin's head, the girl still grumbling about why her weapon had to be forged in such a shabby little place.
"Th-th-the G-Great King w-was m-made b-by h-him."
...
Zaraki Kita had never known Konan could be this hard to deal with. Yesterday's grilled eel rice—one bite, then tossed to her. Today, pork cutlet rice—again, one bite, then handed off. Especially since before buying it, Konan's answer had been a flat whatever.
"W-what d-do y-you w-want t-to e-eat?"
Zaraki Kita asked with difficulty. Konan sipped the calamansi juice Zaraki Kita had brought back and replied calmly,
"Whatever."
Zaraki Kita went back out and bought seaweed rice balls—something Konan used to love and praise endlessly. She wasted no time and hurried back to the administrative hall. This time, Konan didn't even taste them. She merely glanced once and said,
"Don't feel like it."
And so, both the pork cutlet rice and the seaweed rice balls ended up belonging to Zaraki Kita. The rice balls were edible, but the pork cutlet rice—she truly couldn't eat that. Meat was something her body simply couldn't digest, no matter how forcefully she tried. One rice ball remained untouched; the pork cutlet rice hadn't been touched at all. When Zaraki Kita finished the rice ball, Konan—finally unable to bear the hunger—quietly took out some instant noodles from the cabinet.
Zaraki Kita, "…Y-you w-what d-do y-you a-actually w-want t-to e-eat?"
Konan, "What do you think?"
Zaraki Kita let out a long sigh and went out again. Konan did have times when she didn't want to eat anything at all. At those times, fruit salad didn't count as food—according to Konan, fruit and desserts belonged to a separate stomach. Just in case, Zaraki Kita also packed some yōkan. About ten minutes later, she returned with snacks that barely counted as a meal. Konan was sitting on the sofa, already eating her second pack of instant noodles. The fruit salad and yōkan were placed on the coffee table.
Konan took out a third pack of instant noodles. She'd only eaten one cold rice ball in the morning. She was genuinely hungry now—and that seaweed rice ball had looked really good. Even the pork cutlet rice had looked tempting. It all just made her hungrier.
"Don't feel like it."
Konan said so again.
Zaraki Kita felt utterly dejected. Too much time had passed—she no longer even remembered what Konan liked to eat. Her lowered gaze didn't escape Konan's notice. Konan chewed on the dry instant noodles in silence, watching her. Watching her pack the food away from the table. Watching her stand there, motionless, her face full of overwhelming loss.
If you'd just ask me one more time. Ask me what I want to eat. Even hint at it—I'd tell you.
Konan thought, saying it quietly to herself.
Perhaps it really had been the right choice—to erase herself completely from Zaraki Kita's life. Seven years. Not long, not short. A person's life doesn't contain that many spans of seven years. How Konan had lived during those seven years without her—what habits she'd discarded, what new ones she'd formed—Zaraki Kita knew none of it. Moments of joy, moments of sorrow, whether happiness or pain—through all those seven years, she hadn't been there. In truth, even if her memories hadn't been removed, it might not have mattered. Time really could change far too much.
How ridiculous.
Zaraki Kita thought, letting out a faintly self-mocking breath.
"I-I h-haven't d-done m-missions i-in a v-very l-long t-time… l-let a-alone a g-guard m-mission. K-Konan-sama, I-I'm s-sorry. T-this m-mission… I c-can't h-handle i-it."
The stuttering was severe—severe enough to irritate Konan. She stared at Zaraki Kita's face, filled with guilt and loss, and couldn't hold back. She grabbed the teacup beside her and hurled it straight at her.
There was no water inside. The small ceramic cup struck her face—it didn't hurt at all, wouldn't even leave a red mark. Zaraki Kita didn't dodge. Not because she didn't want to—but because, like yesterday's hot water, it came without warning. Unpredictable. Mercurial.
"Come here. Say that again."
Zaraki Kita stepped forward, stood beside Konan, and dropped to one knee, speaking in the tone a subordinate used toward a superior.
"S-sorry. I c-can't h-handle i-it."
A crisp slap landed squarely on her face. The force was heavy enough that her pale skin flushed red instantly. Just like before—no warning at all.
"Say it again."
The ANBU hidden in the shadows didn't even dare breathe loudly.
"I—I c-can't—"
"Say it again."
The blow was hard enough that blood began to trickle from her nose. Konan set aside the unfinished third pack of instant noodles, pulled out a tissue, and wiped the blood from Zaraki Kita's nose. The motion was gentle, intimate—like a leader caring for her subordinate. As if the one who'd just slapped her into a nosebleed wasn't Konan herself.
"I—I'll d-do i-it m-myself."
Zaraki Kita stopped refusing the mission. She took the tissue, pressing it to her nose. Her face burned with pain.
Konan let her do as she wished, then picked up the instant noodles again. She took a bite, chewed carefully, and swallowed with difficulty. Dry. Hard. It scratched her throat on the way down. She drained the last of her drink and set the cup down, speaking without looking at Zaraki Kita.
"Do you know why I hit you?"
"B-because I m-made y-you a-angry."
The address had changed—from you to sir. A perfectly proper answer, one Konan couldn't fault. Any mistake—big or small—could be summed up by that single sentence. Konan closed her eyes, breathing through her mouth to suppress the emotions threatening to erupt. After a moment, she spoke.
"Zaraki Kita. Do you think you've been wronged?"
Zaraki Kita was confused.
"Look at what you've done. You carried the comfort of the entire world on your shoulders alone. You helped Toneri protect this world, day and night, exhausting yourself until the Otsutsuki matter was finally resolved. No matter how you look at it, you're a hero—a hero who saved the world. And now that hero is kneeling beside me, being slapped, scolded, humiliated at will. Do you think you've been wronged?"
Zaraki Kita didn't know how to answer. Just as she didn't know why Konan was asking this. But standing in the shoes of the person Konan described—yes, that person would probably feel wronged. Even if she herself didn't feel that way, she still nodded and said,
"Mm."
Is that so? I'm even more wronged than you.
Konan thought.
"Good. Feeling wronged is good."
Konan said. The furious look on her face melted into a smile as she looked at Zaraki Kita—perfectly illustrating how a woman could change expressions faster than flipping a book. She reached out and pinched Zaraki Kita's cheek. It didn't hurt. Her smile was bright.
"I kept you by my side precisely so you'd suffer all the wrongs you deserve. Do you really think I lack bodyguards? I don't. I just can't stand how a non-human like you still loves to make decisions on your own. Zaraki Kita, remember this—I don't have such a good temper. I'm not some soft persimmon you can squeeze whenever you want!"
By the end, her tone had turned sharp again.
"I-I d-don't."
Zaraki Kita protested weakly.
Konan's expression didn't change. Calmly, she said,
"Wash the blood off. Then come back and keep reading."
"…Yes."
======
Note: Isn't this kind of Konan especially intense~