“Hey, un! You’re back!”
I raise my hand in greeting to the blonde head who stuck his head out of the kitchen, his welcoming voice slightly muffled by the dango he was chewing.
“Evening, Deidara…” I mutter to him.
“Evening, Kakuzu, Hidan, un. Aren’t you guys gonna eat?” He lowered his voice, swallowing the dumpling. “You better hurry before this greedy pig eats it all.”
“Who?” my partner asks, leaning on his blood-soaked scythe.
“Itachi, who else. He is such a stingy bastard when it comes to sharing, un.”
“I’ll bet. I’m coming. You, fucker?” Hidan turns to me, his violet eyes shining with the anticipation of eating something sweet. I allow myself to smirk behind the mask. He was so simple at times.
“No, I am not hungry. Go ahead.”
He frowns, opening his mouth to protest. Not waiting for him to repeat the dreaded question he asked days ago, I turn around and make my way towards the bathroom.  
I sigh with relief when arriving into our shared room, dumping my bulging bag onto the dark mattress. Grabbing a couple of things, I make my way towards our shared bathroom.
I lock the door behind me, hands automatically reaching up to untie my hitai-ate. The slashed metal symbol gleams in the single candlelight. With a wry smile, I set it dangling down on the chair beside me. The mask is next to follow the pile, the dirt-stained Akatsuki cloak and bloodstained shirt underneath close behind.
I wipe the blood off my latest wounds, the crimson liquid seeping over the dark stitches covering my arms. I smear the blood between my fingers, glancing at the bleeding cuts.
Another day. Another scar.
With a sigh, I shed the rest of my clothes, stepping into the shower. The steaming water washes over my battle-beaten body. I close my eyes, the clear drops streaming over my face.
For those brief ten minutes, it’s nice to feel normal.
For those ten minutes, when the steam covers everything, and my sight is blinded by the water, I can convince myself I am no different to anyone else.
With a regretful frown, I shut off the tap, stepping outside on the cold tiles. I briefly rub at my face, drowsiness invading my eyes.
Involuntary so, but as I turn to collect my clothes, my sight brushes over the mirror hung on the wall. The cold air from the open window has cleared the steam off the smooth glass, so I can see my reflection.
I blink at the horrific man who stares back at me, his bloodshot demonic gaze searching mine. I trace the stitches that slice across my cheeks to the corner of my mouth, casting my gaze down on the floor.
The room seemed to chill, the single candle fixed near the mirror flickering insanely, the shadows dancing on the whitewashed walls.
Involuntarily, I wrap my scarred arms around myself, hugging my torso. The reflection takes up the same pose, his eyes reflecting my inner turmoil.
Nowadays, whenever I look in the mirror, I can see myself as others see me.
And it’s not a pleasant truth or fact to face and take in.
My bruised lips twist into a bitter smirk as I recall the reactions of the ninjas in the village earlier this day when my mask was accidentally torn off during battle. The horrified, gaping mothers, the sneering guards, the disgusted ANBU.
It’s the same story all over again. Even since that fateful day, and that ghastly accident, I have been looked upon as some two-headed cow.
A mistake, never meant to survive.
A monster.
If they only knew that inside this horrifically disfigured and fractured body, there’s a perfectly normal soul. However unimaginable it may seem, I do have a heart – five actually. I too like everyone, long to be loved and cared for.
But like my body, my spirit is constantly torn apart by hateful glares, dirty screams.
It was the same in my home village. I was shunned by those who I used to call ‘teammates’, the ones I used to laugh and joke with on a daily basis – when that little word still existed in my vocabulary, that is.
When was the last time I actually laughed? Truly and joyfully? I only laugh with bitterness these days.
Hell, I can’t remember the last time I smiled.
I used to ignore everything, not giving a damn about how others saw me. The insults ran off me, like the pond water off the waxy feathers of a swan.
But as time goes by, my resistance crumbles, my cover getting harder and harder to keep up, this cruel world getting harder endure every day, especially when you’re utterly alone.
Thinking about facing the coming centuries on my own fills me with cold, clammy dread.
The five hearts thundering under my stitched-up chest bind me to this life like iron shackles.
I know it would be easy to end it. Five precise stabs with a kunai, a swift swipe across the neck, and it would be all over. One less freak, one less criminal on the face of this burnt-out, narrow-minded Earth.
But I can’t. It’s not right.
And I am not that desperate to sink there – to take my own miserable life.
Besides, I would just offer those pathetic fuckers in my home village what they want the most – the fact they managed to push me over the edge, break my spirit and seeing me suffer at my own hands.
That’s something I will never give them.
There’s a slight sweet satisfaction in the fact my existence causes them so much annoyance.
How touching.
I am snapped out of my pondering by a loud knock on my door.
“Oi, Kakuzu, done yet?”
I quickly pull on my clothes. He can’t see me like this…
“One minute…” I shout back, wrapping the mask around my face.
“What the fuck are you doing in there?”
“…beauty check. Be a little patient, for crying out loud.” I smirk a twisted grin. When I am sure none of my hideous body can be seen, I open the door.
“Took you long enough, for Jashin’s sake!” Hidan grumbles, pushing past me. He stops in the doorway, his violet eyes searching me curiously.
“Aren’t you gonna boil in that?” he eyes my long-sleeved clothes.
“I’ll manage.”
He leans against the doorframe, unusual concern and nervousness in his eyes.
“Look, Kakuzu, did I do anything to piss you off?”
“Apart from being a complete pain in the ass on the journey…not particularly.” I answer, frowning. Hidan isn’t usually concerned about what troubles he causes me. “Why?”
“Cause since yesterday, you have been avoiding me like the freakin black plague.” He pointed out, scrunching the towel in his hand. “So I was wondering…ya know…”
I smile at his uncertainty. He is so…well, innocent, almost. It’s funny.
I pity him. And envy him too.
Fucking lucky bastard…
“You’re imagining things, Hidan.” I lie without batting an eye, turning away from his gaze. “You haven’t done anything. Now go…if you wanted the bathroom so much…”
“Sure…”
I don’t move until I hear the faint click of the lock. Quickly checking whether the door was really closed, I pull my mask down and flop on the bed, covering my face with my scarred hands.
I was avoiding him.
He had started asking me about myself, likes, dislikes, family – and why I abandoned my village. Simple, friendly questions.
I don’t want to reveal myself.
I don’t want to reveal my face.
I don’t want him to see me. He is the first partner I actually sort of get on with. His constant talking and preaching gets on my nerves sometimes, but I marvel at his guts and curiosity.
Not to mention the fact he was willing to slice himself open every day, and put up with my occasional outbursts (and attempt to snap his neck in half) without batting an eye…
And he wasn’t so bad when you got used to him…
He might be used to gore and blood (seeing as he stabbed himself on a daily basis), but I am certain he would be like the rest of my partners if he saw my deformity.
And that is something I want to avoid at all costs.
And besides, shinobi weren’t supposed to have friends, did they? No attachments.
Just another rule to brighten my already perfect world…  
With a sour sigh, I pull the covers over me, letting the night drag me into its unpredictable depths. At least there, I was safe.
For some time.     

I still don’t know what to consider joining Akatsuki – the best thing I could have ever done, or possibly just something to make things even worse.
In the beginning, it was only me, Sasori, Zetsu, leader and that mysterious blue haired female. I soon learned to treat her with respect – my ribs still hurt when I think about our first encounter. One little advice for all future recruits – don’t underestimate or bitch to female ninjas. Ever.
It has painful consequences.
It was only after the number of recruits grew, and after Orochimaru betrayed us was when everything changed. Before that, we were just a bunch of criminals everyone wanted dead. But when Deidara exploded onto the scene, along with Itachi, Kisame and later on, Hidan, things began to change between the other members.
Suddenly, Sasori stopped being such an unreachable emotionless prick, and the other members complained a lot less about the organization than they used to – and believe me, it was on a regular basis.
I guess I can say with all the new recruits, partners slowly became friends, then best friends, and the whole team of heartless criminals slowly became a family.
Everyone except me.
I am the only one who can’t afford to get close to anyone. I don’t join the meals where the whole team eats together, as that would require me to take off the mask.
I can’t let them see me.
Even though nobody bats an eyelid at Kisame’s colour and gills, and nobody shrivels in disgust at Dei-kun’s hand mouths, I am still terrified.
I am a coward, I know that.
But is it so hard not wanting to be rejected anymore?
All the other have something to believe in, to hold on to. Hidan has his God, Deidara ad Sasori have their beliefs in art and beauty, Zetsu has his own weird cannibal beliefs.
I can’t believe in anything.
I learnt that long ago. Don’t trust, don’t hope, don’t believe and don’t get hurt.
Hopefully, nobody will ever question why I always place myself to be so distant from everyone else.
It’s just my eternal curse to always sit and watch from the sidelines, when all I really want is to be part of it.

The next day is just another average Tuesday. I sit at my desk, quietly writing up the endless costs of the equipment bought on various missions. Sucked into the comfortingly logical world of numbers, I barely hear my partner’s prayers behind me as he greets his God in the usual morning ritual, his clasped hands already crimson with blood.
I suddenly hear the mattress creak sharply as he sits up, cleaning himself with a dry rag. The silence is only broken by the scratch of my pencil on paper, and the soft rag moving across his blood-soaked skin.
“Hey Kakuzu…” he suddenly asks, his voice cautious.
“Hmm?” I answer, not bothering to look up. He probably wants me to lend him money – again. Fat chance…
“Why do you always cover your face up? I mean I kinda understand when we go on missions, but why around the lair too?”
…Oh fuck.
“So you wouldn’t puke every time you looked at me” I answer cynically, my eyes fixed on my notes.
“What the fuck? I thought you would be the one puking from my rituals.”
“I have a strong stomach.”
“You’re not answering the question…”
“Drop it, Hidan.” I growl, sending him a death glare.
He frowns at me, his face confused and slightly hurt.
“But seriously why? It’s not like you have anything terrible to hide…”
His last comment is so ironic I allow a bitter laugh to escape me.
“Have you ever seen my face, Hidan?”
“No, because you always wear that Jashin-damned mask. “ He frowns, hands fingering the rosary around his neck. “Look, I’m just curious why you’re so eager to hide yourself.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” I protest weakly, turning away from his searching violet gaze.
“You hide your face and refuse to talk about yourself whenever I ask you. I know from experience talking about a fucked-up past is hell, so I gave up prying about that ages ago. But you wouldn’t even freaking tell me about things you likes or hated…or anything…” the immortal muttered, staring in his lap, voice laced with confusion and frustration. “Seriously, why?”
“Not everyone is lucky enough to allow themselves to show their face, Hidan” I bark, whirling around to face him.
“Not all of us are fortunate enough to have something to believe in. Everything I ever believed in, everyone I ever trusted betrayed me, slapping me straight in the face.” I step closer to his bed, my dark eyes boring into his widened violet ones, taken aback at my sudden outburst.
I try controlling myself, but it doesn’t work. The walls have collapsed, and I can’t hold back the flood of words I held back for so long.
“Not all of us are lucky enough to have a God to place faith in and pray to – a God who hasn’t turned out to be some hoax. We’re not all so fortunate to have an appearance like you. Some of us are stuck inside a repulsive shell we cannot escape. We do our best to hide it, knowing if people saw our true faces, rejection would come once again.” I briefly close my eyes, trying to get my breath back. When I open them again, I feel dark sadness seep into the bottomless black holes.
“Is it so wrong for me to avoid being rejected anymore, Hidan? I just want to enter a room without people staring at me for the freak I am. Is that too much to ask? All my previous partners refused to work with me after they saw me without the mask…and I doubt your reaction will be any different.”
Cursing myself for letting my guard down so much in front of him, I turn away, quickly making a bolt for the door – when I feel fingers grasp my wrists.
A sharp tug makes me tumble backwards, falling on the bed. I quickly sit up, staring at Hidan. His face is a mix of pity and some feeling I can’t recognize.
“I don’t need your fucking pity” I hiss, wrenching my wrist away.
“I don’t fucking pity you!” he waves his hands, eyes desperate for me to calm down. “But you’re wrong. Just hear me out! Is it only about appearance, Kakuzu? Cuz I seriously don’t give a shit about how you look, seriously.” He glances at me, eyes patient. “Take it off.”
I hang my head. “No.”
“It can’t be that terrible.”
“I’m hideous.”
“Why do you believe the shit that the rest of the world tells you? They all told me that too. Monster, scum, God’s mistake. And I am sure the rest of us had that – especially Deidara, Kisame and Zetsu.” His gaze is reassuring and certain.
I smile at his naivety, making no move to stop at the hand tugging gently at the fabric of the mask.
The cloth falls, leaving me unprotected.
Automatically, I close my eyes, not wanting to see the horror on his face.
Instead, what I feel is a curious finger over the stitches slicing across my cheeks.
“What happened to you? Accident?”
“…yeah…” I whisper cautiously, cracking an eye open. He is staring at my scars intently, no trace of fear or disgust on his face.
“Must have hurt like a bitch.”
“…it did…”
He smiles, removing his hand.
“A few scars is nothing to be so ashamed about, Kakuzu.”
I gape at him. I can’t believe he takes them so lightly…I can’t believe he isn’t backing away, face contorting in disgust.
My shock is cut short by a loud knock on the door. My hand automatically reaches for the mask, but Hidan snatches it away.
“Oi, what the fuck?!” I try prying it out of his fingers, but he holds it out my grasp.
“Show the others.”
“Are you fucking insane?!” I stare at him incredulously.
“How long will you punish yourself, Kakuzu? You can’t hide forever. And you might as well show them now that you showed me. They care too. Believe me. And seriously – who DOESN’T have anything weird or freaky about them around here? Kisame’s a shark, Zetsu’s a plant, Deidara has three mouths, Sasori’s a puppet, Leader has his face covered by those weird piercing, Blue is scary and the Uchiha…well, he’s a psycho with red eyes.”
As I struggle to take in what he told me, he yells ‘come in!’
A blonde head sticks itself in the room.
“Hey, un, I was just going to ask…” he trails off when he notices me, his visible blue eye widening to the size of a shuriken. I wince, and prepare myself.
“Oh my God, Kakuzu! What happened, un? Did you injure yourself this bad on the mission? Is there anything I can do to help? Un?” he hurries over, face worried.
“N-no…these are old scars…” I stutter, taken aback by his anxiousness.
“Oh, I see, un…wow…” he grimaces in awe. He steps back, the signature smile creeping back on his lips. “Finally we get to see you without the mask, un! Thankfully, you don’t have fish lips, like Zetsu said you would…”
Hidan makes a gurgling sound before collapsing, laughing. His face becomes a living tomato as he thumps the bed with one hand, followed by my amused glance. Deidara starts to giggle too, echoing my own.
“He is not going to see daylight again, I promise that…” I remark dryly, smiling.
“Well, come on you two, we finally convinced Blue to cook something, un! And anything else than what Itachi usually brings is bound to be good!” the artists beckons us, bouncing out of the door.
My partner stretches, still chortling away to himself.
“Hahaha…I can’t wait to see you beating plant-boy up…coming down?” he asks, his gaze hopeful.
“…yeah…go ahead, I will be right there…”
He storms off with a victorious smile, chatting to Deidara excitedly. I quickly finish the accounting notes, sweeping up the papers and putting them neatly away.
Briefly hesitating, I glance at the mirror before heading for the door, my mask lying on the bed, abandoned.
No pain, no gain I guess.
And I thought I would never say this, but Hidan is right.
I can’t hide forever. I can’t hate myself forever, either.
And why should I when it can be better?
I allow a small smile to creep on my lips as I reach the kitchen, the delicious smells and screams music to my ears.
Hesitating, I slow my steps, stopping before the kitchen door, when a memory, long-forgotten flashes in my head.

“I…think we should wait until next week…”
“Oh come on! Stop being so shy! It’s not like you!”
Laughing, a tall teenager with long glossy black hair and strange, demonic eyes scooped down to grab the hand of a small boy hiding behind her. She tugged gently, trying to free her legs from her brother’s death grasp.
“Seriously, Kakuzu, let go! It hurts.” She scolded him lightly.
Poking his head out cautiously, a small, skinny eleven-year old looked up at his sister, black eyes pleading.
“I don’t want people to see me like this…” he whispered, fingering his cheeks and his arms. The tanned flesh was marred by harsh red lines, held together by large black threads.
Kneeling beside him, she placed a finger under his chin, lifting their identical gazes together.
“Hey. It could have been a lot worse. You could be scattered all over the village if it wasn’t for the doctors.”
He winced. “I know…”
She smiled sympathetically, stroking his short black hair.
“I know it’s difficult to be different. I have the same eyes as you do. And I know it must have been terrible to get these done. But trust me, things might be bad, but if raise your chin up, and don’t care what the others say, it will be fine. Your friends will stick by you, and those who reject you – well who needs them?” She shrugged. “I have friends, so do you. And if they accepted you with your eyes, what will a few stitches do, eh?”
Slowly, he nodded.
“There you go! See, your sister always knows best. And besides, chicks dig scars. You’ll be a big hit with Nagasuki-chan, won’t you?”
Blushing, Kakuzu hit her in the arm. “Hey!”
Giggling, she scooped him up quickly, hugging him close. “You know that we love ya, don’t cha? Even when you do kinda look like a living voodoo doll…”
“Thanks a bunch, Moyira…”
“Just kidding” she set him down in front of the school gate. She prodded him in the back, nodding encouragingly.
“Go knock ‘em dead, Kakuzu.”
With a shaky smile and a wave, he ran into the classroom

Taking a deep breath, I enter the kitchen, the words my sister whispered to me echoing in my ears:
Go knock ‘em dead, Kakuzu. Raise your chin up, and don’t care what the other say.
Wise words, Moyira…wise words.
And although I would really like to scowl ‘easier said then done’ into your smirking face, I find myself obeying.
After all, as you always told me, you do know best…
Besides, he mused, walking into the crowded kitchen.
If they don't like me, I can always convert into Jashinism and sacrifice them all...