Disclaimer: Naruto does not in any way belong to me, it's the property of Kishimoto, etc.

jack o' lanterns in july

[ 5 - comrade ]

Few people took note of Akatsuki, in those early years when Yahiko was still alive. Fewer still remember the young Ame shinobi who led it. It is in Nagato and Konan's interests that they remain forgotten, not even a footnote in history. Jiraiya is still alive, and it would be a problem if he learned that two of his former pupils are as well.

It is for that reason that Konan and Itachi keep a low profile when carrying out their missions. Technically all Akatsuki members should do the same, but in practice most of the pairs don't get along and react, at times, with unnecessary violence.

Fortunately, Itachi is polite and subtle. He kills with a swift efficiency, without any inclination towards dragging the deaths out.

Konan appreciates that. They can't allow any witnesses to escape, under any circumstances, and torturing their enemies is a waste of time they cannot afford. Her identity must remain a secret.

Which is all well and good, but the downside is that Konan has no reputation to speak of. Itachi is the kin-slayer, but she is just a woman.

Konan should probably be used to the usual derogatory comments about her gender and abilities, but today's ignorant opponents manage to work their way under her skin.

"Hey, boys, I heard the Akatsuki were a bunch of S-rank criminals, but it's just two girls," the leader of the shinobi sneers, corded arms crossed over an equally muscled chest.

Three of his subordinates laugh, but the fourth looks rather nervous. His gaze is fixed on Itachi's face - it's obvious that he recognizes the young man.

"May I?" Konan asks, turning to Itachi. He's grown several inches since he joined Akatsuki, so that their eyes are nearly level now.

Itachi inclines his head. "Of course, Konan-san," he murmurs, stepping back.

"That one's a boy, taichou!" one of the subordinates crows.

Konan would like to dismiss the five men out of hand, but the other shinobi were good enough to discover their trail and follow it. Apparent ignorance aside, they must have at least a competent tracker among them. Even though they were stupid enough to challenge her and Itachi.

"Haha! You think you can take all of us alone, bitch? Bring it," the leader jeers, uncrossing his arms. He's surprisingly fast for a man of his bulk, closing the distance between them in the span of a moment.

Konan's already leaping back - she's not a close range fighter - and preparing a flock of origami creations to block their field of vision.

The three subordinates who had laughed fan out, covering their leader's blind spots with the ease of long practice. The fourth - probably the tracker; his slim build is a stark contrast to the others' muscles, speaking of a non-physical specialty - turns tail and makes a break for it.

Itachi is nothing more than a blur of black in the corner of her eye. Konan doesn't have much attention to spare, but she doubts the tracker made it more than five steps away from the unfolding battle.

A scream of terror erupts from behind the enemy's side; just as quickly as it started, it cuts off into a strangled gurgle.

"The fu-" One of the subordinates looks back. Konan deploys one of her exploding creations - some of her birds have exploding tags hidden among the sheets of chakra-infused paper - and then there are three.

"Ishida-" one of the remaining peons starts to shout.

"Focus," the leader barks, sparing the fallen no more than a quick glance. His earlier cockiness has disappeared; she can see where it has faded to bravado, a veneer that does little to hide his apprehension.

"Let's finish this bitch, taichou!"

Konan rolls her eyes. Unlike their leader, the other two are either too stupid or too inexperienced to realize how grievously overmatched they are. She's betting on the former; they're all adults.

"Well?" she asks, arching an eyebrow. Her creations have encircled the trio of shinobi, preventing them from even attempting to escape as their tracker had. She can't see or sense Itachi, but he has no doubt concealed himself in the trees lining the road to watch the rest of the battle.

If a fight this one-sided can be considered as such.

The leader snaps out order with terse efficiency; his remaining men carry them out without hesitation - this attack is obviously practiced.

The two men come at her from both sides; the leader rushes her head-on.

Konan substitutes with one of her exploding tag creations and wipes the rest of them out in an instant. Her paper rustles slightly as it returns, settling with a nearly imperceptible weight all over her body.

"Thank you for taking care of the runner," Konan says, when Itachi appears out of the trees and falls into step beside her.

"It was the least I could do. You did the majority of the work, Konan-san," Itachi replies. "Though we should quicken our pace; I interrogated the tracker. There is a platoon of shinobi several kilometres away."

Konan nods and follows Itachi when he leaps into the trees. His bangs fly out of his face, displaced by the speed of his running. Konan thinks she sees a drop of blood slip down his left cheek, but surely the tracker could not have injured him.

"You don't treat me any differently than you would a man," Konan remarks.

At first she had attributed this to his youth, but he has reached maturity now. His frame has filled out since he first joined Akatsuki seven years ago, though the lines of his face have deepened as well. He has a naturally wiry build, but the thinness of his face, she knows, is the only outward sign of his sickness. However, his serious nature remains unchanged.

Itachi meets her gaze, though his eyes are slightly unfocussed. His sight is going, she knows. The blood that she has seen leaking from his eyes after he uses his Mangekyou Sharingan can lead to no other conclusion.

"Should I?" he asks simply.

Konan opens her mouth, then closes it. She inclines her head slightly. "I suppose not," she says.

"Perhaps we should stop here for the night," Konan suggests, gesturing towards the city rising before them. The city in front of them isn't the country's capital, but it is its primary economic hub. Shinobi have few dealings in such places, and it's so densely populated that their anonymity should remain intact.

"Very well," Itachi acquiesces. It's growing dark, and Konan suspects that he does not like to use the Sharingan for such simple tasks as walking safely in the dark.

They pass an ophthalmologist's office on the way to the latest dingy, no-questions-asked hotel and Konan pauses before it.

"We have time tomorrow," she remarks lightly. "You could stop in."

Itachi looks at her sharply. Even without his kekkei genkai activated and his deteriorating vision, his gaze is still uncannily piercing. "Perhaps," he murmurs, turning to squint up at the sign above the door. "... You planned this."

Itachi is nearly fifteen years younger than she is; Konan shouldn't feel so proud that she managed to pull one over him, but Itachi has a keen intuition. That he didn't suspect anything until she pointed out the specialist's office is frankly astounding.

"Yes," she concedes, gracious in victory.

Itachi isn't facing her, but she thinks she sees the corner of his mouth curl up slightly.

"Thank you."

"Why did you let Sasuke live?" Konan asks. They'd overheard some shinobi talking about Orochimaru's demise at his protégé's hands in the last town they'd passed through. Sasuke must be coming for his older brother.

She's honestly curious; Itachi is not a cruel person, and tormenting his brother is almost anathema to his nature. Perhaps someone who does not know Itachi as intimately as she does would not have noticed, but Konan has spent nearly eight years with Itachi, so she notices. The stark difference in his attitude, from efficient killer to maniac torturer on the rare occasions that they have come across Sasuke, is hard to ignore.

Itachi doesn't look at her and they walk on in silence. Perhaps he will not answer her; if he doesn't, Konan won't mind. It is a rather personal question, and of no relevance to their missions.

Finally, still staring blankly ahead, Itachi speaks.

"You have seen my Mangekyou Sharingan," he says. "It taxes my eyes even more than the regular Sharingan. But if I transplant my brother's Mangekyou, my vision will be restored. Permanently."

Konan purses her lips; his vision, perhaps but what of the rest of his body? She has seen him cough up blood and attempt to discreetly dispose of the bloody tissues with increasing frequency. Whatever disease has taken root within Itachi's body will not be so easily remedied, she's sure.

"Then Sasuke can take your eyes and do the same," she points out.

Itachi does turn to her then. "If he is strong enough."

Without another word, he quickens his pace and walks ahead.

Madara told her and Nagato that Itachi had been manipulated by Danzou, just as the original Akatsuki had been. She had always felt a strange kinship with him as a result.

But now, watching Itachi's back as he walks away, Konan wonders if they had ever been on the same path at all.