The Fifth Mizukage was surprisingly enthusiastic. Less than three days after sending the documents, a reply arrived, claiming that an envoy would visit.
Konan thought it over for a long time. She couldn't let Itachi's tattling slide. With a wave of her hand, she assigned a tedious task to the squad under her authority as Amegakure leader.
She even gave it an impressively grand codename—the Jingyue Pool Plan.
…Simply put: it was trash duty.
Garbage bins in Amegakure were not everywhere. Not everyone could simply carry their trash to a bin. So tossing trash casually in the street was something everyone had done, even Konan herself.
The main reason this task was assigned to the squad was that Akatsuki had no pressing missions at the moment. For them, village "troublesome tasks" were hardly troublesome at all.
So Konan issued the task under her own name, privately assigned it to Akatsuki, then, using her authority as Akatsuki's mission manager, released it to the squad.
Uchiha Itachi… such a mouthful.
After collecting trash along an entire street, Kisame sat on a stone bench, seriously pondering what misdeed he might have committed recently.
After finding no answer, he nudged Itachi and asked, "What bad thing did you do?"
Itachi, who had also just finished picking up the same street, didn't think the blame was his. He didn't answer Kisame, simply saying,
"We work faster if we split up. Think about it—trash collection is a D-rank mission, but we're getting A-rank pay. Doesn't that make you feel better?"
"Then how about you pick up my 'feeling better' too?"
The burly man's words made Itachi decide to keep quiet. As he got up and headed to the next street, he noticed something disturbing—the street they had just finished was now littered again with very obvious trash.
"I swear I'll never litter again!"
"Do it!" Kisame drew his massive sword, glaring at a young man who had just tossed a paper towel onto the ground.
Itachi activated his Sharingan. "Let's solve the problem at its root."
"Like… killing everyone who litters?"
"No. That's too brutal. I'll use Tsukuyomi to brainwash them."
"…You're even more brutal!"
Well, if you want to do an A-rank mission for A-rank pay, you can't treat it like a D-rank task. After all, Akatsuki was an elite team.
Meanwhile, Konan had lost two kilograms after a week of eating nothing but instant noodles. Her weight fell below standard by a kilo, and even her chest had lost some volume.
But that wasn't the main concern. Her stomach began hurting during the day as well. Even if she forced herself to eat fruit to balance her nutrient deficiency, her stomach still throbbed like it had a perforation.
This wasn't how it used to be. In the seven years Kita had been gone, Konan had filled her life with work, eating instant noodles for two months straight once, only to develop a perforated stomach. Doctors had advised her to say a permanent goodbye to instant noodles. She had obeyed for two or three years, occasionally eating a pack without consequence—but now she silently opened another pack after taking two painkillers.
Kita had brought back lotus seed congee from the village's porridge shop.
When Konan tried to shove the crushed noodles into her mouth, Kita's hand blocked hers, gripping her wrist firmly.
Konan couldn't pull free. Her face turned pale, sweat beading on her forehead. This was pain. Just an hour ago, she had vomited blood.
She could either starve herself to death or vomit from eating—she preferred vomiting.
"What… what do you want to eat?"
"Don't you know what I want?"
Her voice was soft, weakened by pain and hunger.
"I… I really don't know. You… you tell me."
"Let go."
The hand released her, but the instant noodles were thrown into the trash.
Konan didn't have the strength to argue with Kita. She bent down and retrieved the noodles from the bin. The guilt of wasting food these past days was already heavy—every meal in wartime could mean survival.
Kita's face darkened. She snatched all the noodles, including the few remaining packs in the cupboard, bagged them, and threw them out the window.
"Speak!"
Just one word—but Kita's anger made veins pop from her forehead.
Konan clutched her stomach, unable to care about Kita's wastefulness or insubordination. She simply repeated:
"I'm hungry."
I know you're hungry! What do you want to eat?!
Kita, silently roaring inside, placed a well-packaged porridge box in front of her. The color and smell were perfect, filled with overcooked lotus seeds, her favorite—but this wasn't what she wanted.
"Eat."
"Don't want to."
"Do you want me to… force-feed you?"
Even as a stammer, Kita would never speak gently.
Konan flung the entire bowl to the floor. She had no strength left—if she had, she would have thrown it at Kita's face. The aroma filled the room, overwhelmingly tempting.
Kita folded her arms, face dark as iron, staring down at Konan.
"Enough messing around?"
Konan didn't consider who the question was directed at. She had no noodles left to eat. Her stomach hurt terribly. Even though it was noon, she had already decided to skip the afternoon shift.
"I'm tired. Take me back."
"First… eat something."
Here, Kita was unusually forceful. Konan braced herself, ignoring the words, and said, "Tsubame, clean this place up. Sparrow, don't let Shigure come looking for me. Goose and Hawk, disband."
"Yes, ma'am."
Four voices—male and female—answered. Then a masked ANBU appeared, standing awkwardly between Konan and Kita.
"Kita, do you intend to resist me?"
The question came not from Tsubame, but from the frail angel herself. Tsubame shivered instinctively.
Kita's face went steel-blue. She glanced at the frozen ANBU, clenched her fists beneath her sleeves, and stepped forward, kneeling before Konan. Each word precise:
"I… will… obey… your… orders!"
"Look up," Konan said, cold as ice. Kita obeyed, raising her head.
SLAP!
The sound of the full-force strike against Kita's cheek rang sharply.
━━━━ ❖ ━━━
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