Konan truly didn't hold back—there wasn't the slightest hint of mercy. So much so that when Zaraki Kita played chess with Itachi, the clear imprint of five fingers was still visible on her face. Itachi really couldn't hold it in and wanted to ask.
"Who hit you?"
"I-it's a l-long s-story."
Zaraki Kita answered awkwardly, a bitter smile creeping onto her face. After narrowly escaping being checkmated, she took out her portable teacup and sipped some hot tea.
"Konan?"
Zaraki Kita nodded. Itachi's chess skills had reached the level where he could play while thinking about other things.
"By the way, where did you go today? Kisame went looking for you this afternoon to spar and couldn't find you."
"G-guard d-duty."
"Huh?"
Itachi honestly didn't remember Nagato assigning Zaraki Kita such a task—no, he genuinely hadn't known she would even do guard missions.
Zaraki Kita sighed and slowly explained.
"K-Konan… i-is a-also t-the v-village's l-leader. M-my i-identity… a r-rogue n-ninja. A-as a l-leader, n-no one w-would b-be h-happy a-about a s-subordinate's b-betrayal. J-just a b-bit of d-difficulty."
Uh…
Itachi scratched his head and continued blocking Zaraki Kita's moves.
"But Konan isn't that kind of person. And if she really wanted to make things hard for you, it wouldn't stop at just hitting you twice."
"I-if N-Nagato s-spoke u-up f-for m-me, i-it's n-not h-hard t-to u-understand."
Itachi's chess grew sharper and sharper—she was really about to lose.
"I don't see it that way," Itachi said, picking up a skewer of dango. "That technique—what exactly is its principle? Even my Sharingan can't see through it."
"W-which t-technique?"
"The one that takes memories."
Itachi explained simply.
"T-through c-chakra, i-it e-extracts a-all m-memories. T-takes t-them o-out—not s-seals t-them."
"But that doesn't make sense. Logically speaking, the target would notice memory loss. After so much time, wouldn't they remember something?"
Zaraki Kita shook her head.
"T-the b-brilliance i-is r-right t-there. E-even i-if t-the t-target n-notices, t-they w-won't d-delve d-deeper. E-even i-if s-someone t-tells t-them, t-they w-won't r-remember. I-it's c-complete e-extraction. E-even i-if t-they k-know t-the t-truth, t-there's n-no f-feeling a-attached."
"That's a terrifying technique," Itachi commented, then delivered a decisive move. "Sister Kita, speaking as a third party—I'll say this: what you did was really too much."
Perhaps it really was too much. But the method itself had been effective.
"S-she… s-she h-hasn't l-laughed i-in y-years."
That was indeed part of the problem—but not all of it.
"I-I a-am, a-after a-all… j-just a l-lowly o-one. I-it's b-because o-of m-me t-that s-she b-became l-like t-this. I-it's n-not w-worth i-it."
That was the true core of it.
Itachi didn't know what to say. After Zaraki Kita abandoned her pieces and conceded, he sighed and began packing away the board.
"This isn't really my place to say, but since you put it that way, I'll say one more thing. Sister Kita, upstream from the village there's a place called the North District. When you have time, go take a look. It's lively."
"N-newly b-built?"
"You could say that."
As they were speaking, someone approached at an unhurried pace. This downstream pavilion had almost become the place where Itachi and Zaraki Kita played chess—if you couldn't find someone, waiting here usually worked. But they didn't come empty-handed. Holding a container, they went straight to the point.
"Draw some blood for me."
Only a few days ago, half a tube had been taken—now again. Zaraki Kita extended her arm and joked,
"I-I s-should c-charge a f-fee."
No reply. The needle was inserted, the tubing secured. Dark red blood slowly flowed through the tube. Midway, a question was asked.
"Who hit you?"
Referring to Zaraki Kita's face.
Itachi laughed.
"I just asked that. Sister Kita went to be Konan's bodyguard."
"Why'd she hit you?"
The tone was casual, like friends chatting. Zaraki Kita sighed.
"I-I t-told h-her I c-couldn't h-handle t-the m-mission."
"Serves you right for talking back."
There was a teasing edge to the words. Zaraki Kita shook her head helplessly, thinking of how she'd guessed wrong about what Konan wanted to eat two days in a row, and explained in detail.
"S-she s-said s-she w-was h-hungry a-and t-told m-me t-to b-buy f-food. B-but a-after I b-bought i-it, s-she d-didn't e-eat. T-these y-years… d-does s-she h-have a-anything s-she r-really l-likes t-to e-eat?"
They didn't know either. In their impression, Konan didn't particularly dislike anything, nor did she have strong favorites.
"Konan's not picky—she's probably just giving you a hard time," they said. "A rogue ninja in the village, even pardoned by Nagato—just claiming you defected back in the Hanzo era, as a leader she still has to give you a little trouble."
Then, speaking from Konan's perspective, they added,
"What you did really was too much."
As they spoke, the needle was pulled out. A full tube of dark red blood—more than enough. Zaraki Kita didn't comment on that, instead changing the topic.
"B-by t-the w-way… a-aren't y-you o-on m-missions?"
"We're on break," they replied, shrugging. "Nagato said work resumes next week."
After putting the blood away, they looked at Zaraki Kita.
"Be careful. Konan's temper's been especially bad these past few years."
Zaraki Kita nodded with a bitter smile. Her face still burned with lingering pain from the slap—ending up like this really was her own doing.
As they spoke, a paper butterfly drifted past the three of them. Zaraki Kita looked up and sighed. Itachi laughed, crossing his arms.
"A close-protection mission, huh."
Zaraki Kita scratched her long hair, still unwilling to give up, and asked once more.
"S-seriously… d-does s-she r-really n-not h-have a-anything s-she e-especially l-likes t-to e-eat?"
She was asking whether, during these years, Konan had developed any particular favorites.
Itachi shrugged.
"Why not try premium beef yakiniku? There's a new barbecue place in the village—tastes pretty good. Too bad it's not for takeout."
Zaraki Kita sighed, waved her hand, and followed the paper butterfly.
"N-never m-mind."
As her figure receded, Itachi packed up the board and glanced at the one beside him.
"Want to make a bet?"
"On what?"
"I bet Konan has a scheme."
"Like you even need to say that?"
Itachi paused, then continued.
"Then I'll bet Konan already knows someone tampered with her memories."
"Then I'll bet Konan's already recovered the memories Kita sealed away."
The tone was utterly certain.
Itachi decided not to explain the principle of that technique to them. Then he said,
"One thousand ryo. One-month limit. If Konan hasn't recovered her memories by then, you give me a thousand."
"Deal."
Hands met in a sharp clap. Itachi began pondering how to spend the money that was practically already his. Just to be safe, he added,
"You're not allowed to tell Konan."
"No need."
...
The direction the paper butterfly led toward was so familiar it could only be called home. Zaraki Kita knew exactly what lay behind the door.
First the entryway. Past that, a rack for cloaks and robes. Along the left wall, a four-legged long table with four chairs—one on each side, two along the length. The table and chairs were a matching set, made of white ash wood. When she bought them, they'd cost her half a month's salary.
But they'd turned out to be unexpectedly good.
━━━━ ❖ ━━━
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