Origami Malarkey

AN: It's like PWP, but without the sex.

It wasn't very often that Kakuzu found himself idly relaxing at Leader-sama's headquarters, waiting patiently in front of a large office with the second highest ranked member of the Akatsuki. Outside, rain splattered against the windows as lightening occasionally flashed across the sky, illuminating him and his company of sorts. He sighed in agitation; he hated Amegakure, with its rain and its humidity and its lack of any outdoor marketplace with financial stability. But nevertheless he was now waiting outside for orders from Pein. Apparently he was about to be assigned his new partner, some little reject named Hidden or Dawn or something stupid like that.

Unfortunately for Kakuzu, Leader-sama was currently in a meeting with someone else at the moment. He hoped that it was an accountant, what with all the money he wasn't seeing as an employee. His fingers drummed against the wooden table impatiently, time was being wasted, and when time was wasted there was no productivity. Kakuzu despised a lack of productivity. Thunder rumbled outside, and as lightening flashed he heard the low monotone.

"Stop," said Konan, Leader-sama's partner, from where she sat across from him, her fingers idly creasing a paper.

Kakuzu narrowed his eyes but promptly stopped the irritating noise his fingers were making, "Is he almost done yet?"

She stared at him flatly, "You are more than welcome to interrupt his meeting."

Kakuzu, who had been raised in a shinobi village and could hear unspoken threats with uncanny accuracy knew the remainder of her statement, and it will be bland knowing you.

Kakuzu wisely stayed seated, settling for crossing his arms and glaring at the only kunoichi of the organization. It was apparent that she was bored, in a rather dignified manner, of course, and she continued to fold a piece of paper. Kakuzu found himself growing uninterested, as the paper lacked print, and therefore any sort of monetary value, but his gaze was drawn back to her plum-colored fingernails as they finished up. A tiny, intricate looking flower was now in her hand.

"Origami?" He commented, noticing that the kunoichi had some skill at the art. The gears of enterprise began to turn in his head.

She said nothing, only unfolded the paper slowly, smoothed it out, and then refolded it again into a different flower.

"That's not bad," he continued to talk out loud even though it was apparent she was more than happy to ignore his existence. "Can you do anything besides flowers?"

There was a pause, and the slightest of annoyed ticks in her eyebrow, before the flower quickly transformed itself into a butterfly. She was humoring him. Good, he liked that. People who humored him tended to last longer without getting brutally murdered due to his temper.

Kakuzu rubbed his chin contemplatively, "How many of those do you fold a day?"

Konan was silent, and Kakuzu thought he was being ignored, before she flatly stated, "Whenever I find it suiting."

"Can you give me an estimate?"

Her brows furrowed together, but she quietly stated, "Perhaps three hundred a day, more if I am practicing ninjutsu."

He paused, mentally doing figures in his head, "What do you do with them all?"

Her fingers perched on the paper that she had already begun to refold, "I just reuse the paper." He watched as the paper began to mold with Konan's skin. It was a practical use of a resource, he inwardly decided. Certainly creepy, but efficient nonetheless.

"Hypothetically speaking, what if fifty or so were to go missing?"

She continued to just stare at him, "They would not go missing."

He frowned, not that she could see it, but he hoped she felt the genuine disapproval in the air, "How would you know? You say you do up to three hundred-"

"I am not careless."

"What if you gave me-"

"I see no reason to give you anything."

He growled, his temper was flaring, "What if I took-"

"You would regret it." There was such a deadly finality in her tone that he fond his ire sizzling. He slumped in his seat.

"You know how noble women go crazy for ornate origami at their weddings, don't you? There's some real money to be made here." He explained.

"I don't do origami for the money."

His face fell when he realized that he could have possibly created an opening for a long-winded tirade on the values and aesthetics of true art. Such a thing was rather routine within the Akatsuki, and Kakuzu wasn't very partial to it. Unless, of course, it was the monetary value of true art. In this area he was normally left sorely disappointed as there wasn't a large market for statues that spontaneously combusted or eternal human corpses.

After a few moments of begrudged waiting, Kakuzu finally prompted, "And?" Tensed in his seat for the huge explanation.

Konan remained silent for a moment, "And what?"

Kakuzu released a breath of relief. If she had opened her mouth, he may have been tempted to stab her. Which wouldn't be good, because then he wouldn't have a producer of fine origami creations and Leader-sama would likely to be angry with him.

"Just look at this logically," he said, trying to appeal to Konan's love of rationality. "You could earn a profit, which would…" he grimaced, "help fund your village."

There was the slightest of frowns on her face, "I doubt any money made off of my talent would find its way back to Amegakure, Kakuzu."

Kakuzu snorted, and crossed his arms, "Your expectations are horribly low of me." He tried to sound genuinely offended. It was the truth of course, but maybe if he acted insulted he could cover it up.

"My expectations are normally accurate," she said dryly, now folding the paper into a tiny, far more elaborate, figure.

Kakuzu narrowed his eyes, was she taunting him now? The origami being created was very delicate looking, and it was as if…as if…

"You're showing off," he accused, glaring at her.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said blithely, now constructing what looked like a miniature of an entire village model.

"Yes you do," he felt like a petulant child, perhaps because he was acting like one, but she was taunting him and Kakuzu hated being taunted. People had been killed for lesser transgressions.

The tiny paper village was now having folds created to resemble tiny village people. Kakuzu growled; Konan fought down the smirk on her face.

"You're squandering your talent," he said with a huff, fixing her with a set of angry eyebrows before turning his head away to face the closed door to Leader-sama's meeting room.

"People squander things all the time," she said in a detached manner, now folding the tiny people to have a tiny battle reconstruction.

"I don't," he could almost feel the 'kids today' rant on the tip of his tongue, but he fought it down. Giving a kunoichi a lecture was never a wise idea.

"Then what is your talent?" She asked, the monotone picking up a slightest bit of interest.

"Killing," he said flatly, "And…" His scowl deepened.

Konan rose an eyebrow, "And?"

He mumbled something incoherent, his glare on the door intensifying.

"I'm afraid that you're mumbling."

"I sew," he replied finally, "It's a side project. The way this organization wastes money, someone has to pick up the slack and it sure as hell isn't going to be any of the dead beats you got working under you."

There was an amused tilt to her lips, "Sewing." She echoed dully.

"Yes. Sewing."

She looked as if she were about to make another comment, but suddenly her head tilted upwards, "Pein is ready for you now," she said coolly, standing up. Kakuzu followed suit.

He was about to enter the meeting room, but suddenly a dark piece of fabric was flung in his face. He paused, snagging it between his fingers using keen reflexes. "What's this?" He growled, gingerly holding Konan's Akatsuki cloak. After about a second of scrutiny, he noticed that there was a long, jagged tear at the hem.

"I will make you a hundred," was all she said softly, calmly walking into Leader-sama's meeting room.

Kakuzu watched her go, smirking softly and fingering the tear. It looked like the beginning of a beautiful business partnership.