Chapter Text
“50,000 ryo. And not a cent less,” the shifty, dirty shop keeper was trying to grift you into paying much more than the pair of knives were worth.
“Please,” you huff, “entertain me with a price that isn’t full of shit. These knives would have to be plated with gold for that price.” You snark at the man making sure he understands that you won’t be taken advantage of.
“These kunai were wielded by a fierce Shinobi. A very famous Kage! 50,000 ryo is quite generous, and it’s only a special price for such a pretty girl.” His slimy compliment makes you bark out in laughter at the fool. But you quickly regain your composure.
“Oh yeah, baby?” You ask in a mock-seducing tone. “How about I buy these kunai and promptly shove them up your ass?”
His ugly face turns beet-red as he slams his fists on the table next to the knives. You back up an inch but your smirking face is unfazed by his aggression. “Leave my shop you ungrateful whore!”
“Woah!” You exclaim raising your hands slightly in front of your chest to feign innocence, “please explain this logic to me, I’m a ‘whore’ because I refuse to sleep with you?” Snickers escape your mouth “you’re an idiot. Wherever could I find more kunai in the Shinobi underground market?” The false worry in your voice makes the man turn a shade of purple. He moves to grab your arms but you’re much quicker than him as you grab one of the kunai and stab it through his hand right through to the other side of the table. He shrieks in pain as you proceed to slam his face down on the table effectively knocking his ass out.
“Serves you right,” you say softly to yourself as you pull out the kunai from his hand, wipe it on his shirt, and place the pair in your bag. You pull out the bag of 10,000 ryo and put it next to his head. You were always going to pay for them, but you refused to get ripped off. And you certainly weren’t going to pay his idea of a “fair price.”
You turn to leave, but you halt when you acknowledge the figure standing in the doorway of the shop. He’s tall and has piercings throughout his face and on his hands. His presence is ominous and stills you in your place.
“That was quite impressive. I thought I’d have to step in,” he remarks in a smooth, even tone. You just nod your head silently while staying completely still trying to assess how the hell you’re going to get out of the shop. “Tell me,” he states as he steps toward you “how long have you been working with your chakra? I know it is forbidden for women in this village.”
Shit. Fuck. Shit. You hate it when people in the underground ask you questions. Obviously it’s not something you’d want to discuss considering it could get your family exiled. Rather than answer, you just clear your throat and back away from the approaching shinobi. You’re very clearly uncomfortable.
“I am not going to hurt you. More so, Im not someone that shares other people’s secrets. You can tell me.” He stops only when he’s inches away from your front. Your breath hitches as he reaches into his pocket. This is going to be so bad.
You scramble for the kunai as he pulls out a card and holds it in front of your face. “Take it,” he orders, “and find me if you’re ever looking for work. You’ve heard of the Akatsuki, I presume?” Your head nods as you take the card. A red cloud adorns the front just like the ones on his cloak. You raise your head to ask how to contact him but he’s already turned to leave.
A big breathe exhales as you shove the card into your bag and you shuffle to get out of this damned store. You’ve got to get out of here before your family knows that you’ve gone.
As you leave the tunnel that serves as the entrance to the underground market, you glance around to ensure that you don’t see a trace of the pierced man. You scoff to yourself when you think about how he could kill you without trying and that your looking around to see if he is watching you is completely futile.
The sun is rising as you make your way back to your parent’s house. You plop on your warm, cozy bed for a little cat nap and snuggle deep in your covers. You begin to dream of kunai and piercings when your mother bursts into your room with your grandmother in tow not 30 minutes after you shut your eyes.
“Wake up, dragon fly! It’s a big day!” She chirps as she yanks open the curtains and the yellow light floods your room. Your grandmother scurries to your bedside and lightly taps your cheeks. “Dragon fly, you remember what today is, right?” Your grandma questions with a hint of concern.
Of course you do, how could you forget? It’s the day where you are bathed, massaged, waxed, primped, plucked, and pulled until you are then paraded and sold to the highest bidder. The day you meet your husband. Your stomach threatens to heave as you think over the implication of the day. Your village has a long standing tradition of arranged marriages where the women, after coming of age, are trained for years in house-wifery and child rearing before they are dressed up and paired with the man willing to pay the highest dowry for her hand in marriage. Today was that day. You’ve been dreading it your whole life and avoiding its existence until this very moment. Plausible deniability allowed you to think of your house-wife lessons just as learning skills to live as a functional adult. Your well-crafted facade was crumbing before your eyes.
You nod at your grandma as you gently push your forehead to hers in reassurance. You’d do anything for your family. Even this.
Grandmother grins widely as she raises her arms in praise toward the sky. Your mother comes over and pulls you out of bed.
“Hurry, Dragon Fly! Madame Bovary would break a stick over your back if you’re late!” Your family desperately needed you to do this. Since the beginning of the latest Shinobi war, your family was barely making ends meet. The dowry would lessen their financial pressure for a few years, allowing them to save up. Things had been particularly hard since your father died and it was just you three women at home. Women in your village aren’t supposed to work, but your mother sells dairy from your family cow and your grandmother works as a seamstress. Hardly enough to get by.
You pull on some clean clothes and grab your bag before being ushered out the door.
………..
Okay, you can admit the spa treatments are nice. Except for the waxing, that is. You hadn’t a clue they were going to groom you down there. It nearly brought a tear to your eye. Nearly.
The facials, body wraps, pedicure, and manicure all precedes your visit to the seamstress who fits you in a brilliant blue, form fitting kimono. This must have cost your family months of savings. You’ve never seen yourself look like this, and you blush when you look in the mirror. You’re not used to seeing yourself as an attractive woman. It seems surreal. Underneath the ornate silk, you know that it’s just plain ole you. But you can’t deny that you look like someone else. It feels odd. It also feels good, which feels even odder.
Madame Bovary enters as you are getting your hair and makeup simultaneously done. “Ahem.” She clears her throat as your eye shoots over to her and you fight a frown. The fakest smile in the world graces your lips as you greet her. “How are you today, Madame Bovary?” Your tone is sickly sweet.
“Fine, dear. Just peachy,” she responds curtly, “You know I’m here to test your memory on the marital duties, correct?” You nod as she proceeds to look down at her notecards.
You pass the test with flying colors. While you hate the material, you pride yourself on your intellect and ability to excel in school. She huffs audibly. This woman is a piece of work. “Well, when you are ready, prepare for the parade with the other girls. You all will promptly march at noon when the whole town has gathered. You nod once before she turns and shuffles out the door, her overly large hips knocking into tables on her way out.
Your grandmother and mother are then allowed in to see you as you are completed. They gasp and fawn as they see your transformation. You know that it’s symbolic for the impending finances that will save your family. “Oh, Dragon Fly,” you grandmother stutters as tears fill her eyes.
Your mother grins at you as she visibly remembers something. “Ah! I have something for you.” She reaches into her pocket and your eyes go wide when she pulls out a hair comb covered in jade filagree encased in silver. It’s beautiful.
“Your grandmother gave this to me on the day I married you father.” You breathe a deep appreciative breath as your mother pushes the comb into your updo. It sits near the crown of your head and you wipe away a tear.
“We can’t thank you enough,” your mother whispers as she and your grandmother embrace you. This is what it’s all for.
You step into place amongst the other women with a solemn reverence. They all look magnificent and put your looks to shame. But you maintain a low head bow as you were instructed. Oh how you wish you could look at the suitors as they appraised you all. You’d give them your best “fuck you” glare but instead you stand with your head bowed in submission.
The line begins to move as you all walk to a precise beat. The music overhead being rather traditional than catchy. People ooh and ahh at the line of beautiful women advertising their eligibility. This is an honored tradition in your village after all. Why are you so different though? Why do all these women seem so natural doing this? Why are you so odd?
The marching ends with the women sitting together in a secluded room waiting for silent bids for their hands in marriage. Several women are called to meet their future hubbies. You start to become nervous that you won’t be called as only a few of you remain. Oh lord, what if no one bids? You’d bring complete shame to your family. You reach for your bag to give you comfort. Your father gifted it to you after all.
Finally, Bovary shouts your name. You sigh in relief and terror as you stand and walk toward the room where you shall meet your destiny. Your bag is clutched tightly in your hands as you gently push the door open.
When you enter the room, you look around and see a Shinobi with a Chunin headband standing near the window. He has his back turned to you as you close the door and clear your throat. He turns around.
His looks seem very average and you don’t recognize him, so that’s a plus. Everything seems to be coming up Milhouse until he opens his mouth.
“I paid a shit ton for you. Hope you’re worth it,” he says greasily as his eyes rake over your body. “Hell, I’m already assuming that that body can do some amazing things. You aren’t a prude are you?”
You scoff at his audacity and cross your arms defensively over your bag that covers your chest. “How much did you pay?” You query him with questioning eyes.
“None of your business,” he spits angrily. “Don’t you know your place, girl?” Your patience is wearing thin as you patiently try again.
“I’m so sorry to offend. My family is just in a bit of a tough spot, so I’m worried for them.” You offer a more vulnerable side in hopes that he recognizes your effort.
Instead, he scoffs and crosses the room to place a few fingers on your cheek. “I know,” he smirks “that’s why I got you so cheap.”
You heatedly shove his hand away and push him further from you. “You’re a pig!” You declare as he stumbles unexpectedly backwards. When he catches himself, he is visibly pissed.
“How dare you, bitch!?” he cranks his arm back with a clear intention to reprimand you. In the wee moments before he hits your face, golden rings appear and ripple around your irises.
Your chakra unleashes as your kekkei genkai allows you to see 5 clear seconds into the future. His hand whirls through the air and hits you. Hard. You see him start to wind up to hit you again when your vision shifts back to the present.
Your prediction allows you to duck below his swing as you kick him in the side. He sputters in shock at the relatively strong kick. You scurrying to a further corner away from him. Even though your kekkei genkai protected you for the moment, you see him becoming even more enraged. He’s nearly purple. Funny, he reminds you of the shop keeper from earlier this morning. But this man is storming at you. It’s so quick that you don’t have a chance to use your kekkei genkai.
“I’m gonna kill you, you fucking bitch! I’ll teach you to know your place before we even leave this room!” He’s on you quicker than you can react. You suppose his chunin training had something to do with that.
He wraps a hand around your throat and squeezes until your faces pulses red. Your clawing at him, gasping, and kicking out at him. His fury seems to let him completely ignore your efforts. You begin to panic when he yanks your hand down to his hardened member.
Oh no, this is not going down like this. Fear surges through you as you suddenly remember the contents of your bag.
You shift your free hand into the bag as your vision goes blurry. Fingers graze the cool metal. The muscles in your hands going weak due to the strangulation. At the last moment of consciousness, you grab the Kunai and shove it forward.
His grips lessens as he stumbles backward. You fall to your knees as you sputter and gasp for life. When you regain breath, you look up just as he falls down. Kunai sticking out of his throat. He never expected you to be armed. “Want to know my nindo? Kicking scumbag ass, that’s my ninja way!” you spit venomously as adrenaline pours through you.
What the fuck just happened? In fear, you scramble backwards on your ass until you hit the wall. Your breath once again hyperventilating. Your kekkei genkai reactivates and you see him dead within the next 5 seconds. The kunai mocks you from its perfect placement in his jugular. Vomit threatens you.
Keep it together. Keep it together. You tell yourself. While you’ve been in many compromising situations while shopping in the underground market, you’ve never killed a man. This was certainly a first. However, it wasn’t guilt that swept over you. The man was an asshole and you were defending yourself. Rather, dread sweeps through you as you think about you mom and grandmother. They’d be destitute within the month. This was supposed to save them. Shit.
Tears fall as you evaluate the situation and the man’s corpse sleeping silently in front of you.
The next 15 minutes pass by before you gather the motivation to move. You’d gone through every plan of action. Every situation would end in your mom and grandmother living on the streets by the months end. Except for one. You reach into your bag once again to pull out the Akatsuki business card.
“Contact me if you ever need work,” the pierced man’s voice echoes through your head. Work means money, right? Shit, it’s your best and frankly only option at the moment. You decide to move forward with your plan before your reasoning can talk you out of it.
You grab the Kunai and yank it from the corpses throat. The blood wipes rather easily off on his clothes. This man was a bastard, you repeat to yourself. People will be coming in shortly, so you’ve got to get going. A thought stops you short.
All the Akatsuki wear headbands with their village symbols crossed out. All rogue ninjas do. Maybe, right now in this moment, you could pretend you were a rogue ninja also. A tear falls as you briefly think of your dad and how disappointed he’d be in you. You were never supposed to use your kekkei genkai outside of home.
You grab the man’s headband and untie the knot at the back of his head, “what’s mine is yours, baby.” The now clean Kunai in your hand easily scratches through your village’s symbol, and you wrap it around your head. You best get going before they come looking for you and your betrothed.
The ongoing festivities of today’s events provide an opportune means of escape. With a raggedy tarp scavenged from an alleyway strewn across your shoulders, you pass by the crowd unnoticed. Your head remains hidden until you travel deep into the forest outside of the village. Your feet still ache from the heels you ditched a few miles back, and your adrenaline is wearing off.
You’ve been studying the Akatsuki’s card for an hour now but you haven’t a clue how to contact that man. Fuck. You really didn’t think this through. As you amble through the forest moving further from your village, the pain in your heart starts to grow. You left your family, and now you’ll never see them again. Cowardice and poor planning made it so you couldn’t even say goodbye. Fuck, you should’ve left a note considering your damned anyways.
Tears once again poor as you lean against a tree for a brief reprieve. The emotions wash over you like a tsunami as your shoulders shake and you silently wail. Greenery surrounds and shrouds you from onlookers, but you can’t escape the feeling that you aren’t alone. Fear shoots through you as you try to use your nindo again, but it seems you’ve reached your limit when you get a serious case of dry-eye.
“What are you running from?” The same smooth, calm voice from this morning asks from above. You sniffle as you stop your tears and look up. There are two of them. They are sitting on opposing branches and both dressed in the red and black cloaks.
“I was looking for you,” you state frankly and a bit withered.
“I know. That card notifies us when blood touches it. A fitting calling card.”
“So were you serious about that work thing? I kind of need the money.”
You hear a muffled chuckle before the pierced man drops to the ground besides you. “That is quite common this day and age,” he says as he appraises your crumpled form leaning on the tree for dear life.
“You may join us, but there is always a cost,” you nod in response knowing that nothing is free. “You must use your foresight at our disposal.”
“How did you…” you start but he interrupts you. “It’s quite the valuable gift, and it’d round out our group quite nicely. If you agree to join us, your gift will for all intents and purpose belong to the Akatsuki. Can you agree to that?”
You pause in momentary reflection but you know damn well that you don’t have a choice. He leans to help you stand, and you are grateful for his help.
“Yes, I can agree to that.”
Rather than respond, he just shortly nods before the second figure drops down. The figure, as it turns out, is a beautiful woman with a blue rose in her hair. “We will take you to the compound now. It’s where you will live from now on.”
You nod but your thoughts starts to race. “Wi - will I be living with other people?” You stutter.
“Yes, seven others to be exact. Konan and I don’t live there.”
Ah, so the woman’s name is Konan. “What’s your name, sir?”
“Pain.”
“Pain?” You ask quizzically feeling unsure if you heard him correctly.
“Yes, I am Pain.”
“Can you run?” Konan speaks up for the first time.
“No, I don’t think so,” you whisper as you look at your abused feet.
“You’ll need to take that tarp off before I carry you, it stinks” she informs you as you grab for the material. It pools around you on the ground.
“We will need to find you a change of clothes at the compound,” Pain says quite matter-of-factly “the men might be distracted.”
“Men?” You worry aloud. “Are there any other women?”
“No, besides Konan, you will be the only woman in the Akatsuki.” A shiver runs down your spine at the implication. Great, you left one abusive asshole for a whole gaggle of murderous assholes. You’re a genius.
“We must get going. Your training will begin promptly,” Pain declares as Konan leans forward indicating that you should hop on her back.
As you travel through the trees, Konan quietly asks you, “Where did you get the headband?”
You contemplate keeping this a secret and then think Fuck It. “I killed a bastard for it.”
Konan grins as she carries you, both of which you are grateful for.