Everyone had seen life and death. Whether it was Kakuzu or Deidara, an outer-member of Akatsuki succumbing to a terminal illness was, in the grand scheme, a trivial matter.
"Uncle, even so, you still can't help worrying, can you?" Even while playing badminton, Deidara hadn't missed their conversation.
"If she wanted you to worry, she would have said so a long time ago. Honestly, just think about how she took away Konan's memories."
Smack!
Hidan hit a powerful return shot.
Kakuzu glanced at Hidan playing, and for the first time, he thought maybe his single-minded, simple-minded partner—his bedmate—wasn't entirely incapable of thought.
"Hmm… probably that's what it means," Itachi said, pursing his lips slightly. A faint sense of loss lingered in his eyes. He had witnessed farewells countless times, but the thought that Kita might die felt particularly regretful. He was not alone in thinking this way—Kakuzu felt it too.
"If there's anything you need me to do, just say so, Hidan. Take the day off in the village today."
With that, Kakuzu began walking away. Usually, at this point, Hidan would leap with excitement; outside the village, he rarely slept in a single bed. But today was different. Hidan didn't even greet him. He dropped his racket and ran after Kakuzu.
"Hey, hey, wait for me, Kakuzu~!"
Sighing, Kakuzu knew that neither his grudges nor his puppet modifications could prolong Kita's time. He couldn't force anything—only wait.
Itachi spoke softly, a hint of gloom in his tone. He watched from the porch, saying nothing, simply waiting.
"Konan has regained her memories… is that a good thing?"
The question left Itachi momentarily speechless. Obito had asked the same when Kita had fallen ill. At the time, he couldn't tell whether it was good or bad. Later, after seeing Konan's tears and hearing Kita speak, he became even less certain. In the end, he had merely poured a cup of tea for Itachi and skirted the question.
"It's a fact," he said.
Deidara picked up the racket Hidan had left on the ground and sat back on the porch. The wooden floor hung slightly above the ground, so his legs dangled but did not touch the earth. Swinging them thoughtfully, he answered Itachi.
"I think it's a good thing. My mom always said… as long as you're alive, it's a good thing."
...
"Hey, wait, Kakuzu~"
Hidan, jogging to catch up, finally matched Kakuzu's long strides. Even as he called, Kakuzu didn't pause once. Hidan, persistent as ever, eventually caught up.
Rain had fallen in the morning. By noon it had stopped, then drizzled in the afternoon. By evening it halted, but the sky remained gray—just like Kakuzu's mood. The gloomy irritation made him feel murderous, though only in thought.
"Kakuzu… are you really worried?"
Hidan had stopped running, walking alongside Kakuzu, arms crossed behind his head, matching his pace.
He should be worried. A rare friend was facing an untimely death. Kakuzu had lived a long time. He should have been hardened to life and death, indifferent to the fragility of life. Yet even he could not escape this particular inevitability.
"You're right. She hid it all this time because she didn't want anyone to worry. If we had successfully exiled the tailed beasts earlier, she might never have appeared at all."
The joy of recovering someone lost was intoxicating, while the taste of loss made time feel endless. When Kakuzu first heard of Kita's death, each day felt unbearably long. Yet time never stopped—it marched forward: seconds, minutes, hours, years, until so many years had passed.
Hidan pouted.
"It's rare… seeing you care about someone so much, worrying about their life and death."
Indeed, it was rare. Describing Kakuzu as cold-blooded was not inaccurate. Early in his partnership with Hidan, it was evident. If not for his protection under the so-called "Evil God," Hidan might have long returned to that embrace. To care so deeply about someone—especially a non-human—is unusual. And for Kita, Hidan truly knew very little: she had been an outer-member of the organization and had supposedly died.
Did he care? Was he worried about her life?
Kakuzu admitted it to himself.
He did care.
"Humans are social animals. That's what she told me. Even if all the people you know, all your familiar friends die one by one, leaving you alone, being alive still means you need a community."
"So… that's why you joined Akatsuki?"
"Not exactly. I just sometimes feel that being alive is a blessing. So if you live carelessly, it's a disservice to those who cannot live as humans."
"Ugh, that's convoluted, Kakuzu."
Hidan shook his head. Kakuzu glanced at him, lips slightly upturned beneath his mask.
"It's lonely, isn't it? To be deprived of the choice to die… it's lonely, in a way."
This time Hidan understood. He stopped, looking at Kakuzu, eyes full of loss.
"Kakuzu… are you mocking me?"
"Even so, the will to live is strong. You, me, even her… all of us share that. Once you start believing in her words, humans are strange creatures."
Believing that as long as you live, good things might happen—and really starting to hope for that unknown joy. So you do not want her to die. Not even a little.
"A friend?"
"Probably. A friend to drink with, eat meat with, and draw swords to help. Weird, right? Someone like me cares about something besides money."
Hidan shook his head, finally understanding.
"Not at all. If Deidara died, I'd feel the same. So Kakuzu, don't speak like an old man would."
"Old man?"
"Yeah. Old men ramble in ways you can't understand, endlessly. Generation gap! Kakuzu, it's painful!"
Kakuzu laughed. The worry for a dying friend, slowly, began to dissipate.
You were right, Kita. Humans are social animals.
━━━━ ❖ ━━━
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