It was a bright, sunny day on the border of the Fire Country. Blue skies, with barely a cloud in... Ah, screw it.

It was pouring. Not just raining. Pouring. It was like the heavens had been saving this particular deluge for quite a while, just waiting to unleash it at the most inopportune moment. The rain was drumming down like ice-cold stones on the leaves, creating a deafening uproar that drowned out all other noises. The track that had mere minutes ago been dusty and dry as a bone had turned into one river of mud among many, making walking near-impossible for the average person.

Two not-so-average people were currently huddled inside a broken-down old hut, the thatched roof leaking terribly and the dirt floor already mud, the only available shelter for miles that wasn't already occupied with less-that-tolerant shinobi stuck out in the downpour in the middle of a mission. One of the figures hulked under the sturdiest part of the ceiling, completely drenched and looking none too happy about it. The other was sitting cross-legged underneath a table, neck bent awkwardly to avoid hitting the underside. The table was situated under the leakiest part of the roof, and the rainwater dripped down off the table edges and pooled on the floor around the person's feet. Both of them were wearing the trademark black cloaks with the red cloud insignia that had gotten them chased out of the last two shelters, the symbol of the Akatsuki, one of the most feared groups of S-ranked missing-nins in the area.

"Neh, Sasori no danna?" The deep voice proved that, however effeminate in appearance, this particular person was a man. Even if he looked like he could be Ino Yamanaka's long lost sister, mother or aunt.

"What, brat?" The larger figure growled and shifted, cloak slipping to the ground and back splitting in two, lifting up to reveal a red-headed... child sitting inside, wearing a smaller version of the red and black cloak, just as soaked and miserable-looking as the outside of the puppet.

"Someone's coming, un. I think they've been following us a while."

Sasori glanced over at his companion, sulking under the table, the mechanical scope sitting in his lap hissing and buzzing ominously. Because electronics and water do not mix. Neither do wet electronics and human eyes, but our resident terrorist bomber slash art enthusiast had to find that out the hard way, and had spent the last half an hour with his sleeve pressed against his left eye in an attempt to dull the pain as a result.

"Deidara... Who the hell would be stupid enough to follow us?" Sasori flexed Hiruko's arms and grumbled curses that belied his apparent age, trying to dry the puppet's joints as well as humanly possible with a still-damp corner of his cloak.

"Someone with one hell of a death wish, un." Deidara rolled a ball of sticky clay in his free hand, the mouth on his palm opening to swallow it and start shaping it.

"Just don't blow up the hut, brat."

"You never appreciate my art, Sasori no danna, un."

"Those explosions of yours are not art. Art is something beautiful and eternal that will last long into the future, unlike your silly pyromanic displays."

"I respect you and all, danna, but you're so closed-minded. How are those mouldy old puppets of yours art?"

"Watch it, brat." The puppet master's fingers twitched, accompanied by the raising of Hiruko's razor-sharp scorpion tail and its subsequent stab in Deidara's direction. A not-so-subtle warning, the point burying itself in the mud at the blonde's feet.

"A fleeting moment of beauty, something that can never be captured or repeated, that's true ar- Huh?" Deidara cut himself off, visible blue eye fixed on the bedraggled figure in the doorway of their little hidey-hole. "Who the hell are you, un, and why the hell are you following us?"

The mysterious figure walked confidently through the door and shrugged off the wet cloak, pretty pink-red hair dropping halfway down her back, a pair of too-innocent green eyes regarding them coolly. "I want to join the Akatsuki. I'm a missing-nin from Konohagakure. My name is Kiki Hatake."

"Hatake, as in… Konoha's White Fang, and related progeny, un?"

"Er… yes?"

... Deidara nearly burst out laughing. Strike that. He doubled over under his table, clutching his ribs and laughing madly.

Sasori shook his head at his partner's idiotic display and turned from Hiruko, raising an eyebrow at the girl. "You're not even eighteen yet, are you." It wasn't a question. It was obvious that the girl was only fifteen... sixteen at most. Seventeen if Sasori was being really generous. Like... blind generous... She didn't even look like she'd seen a battle, let alone done enough to get turned out of her village. She was soft. Too curvy to take seriously, and the outfit wasn't exactly helping. I mean... who wears fishnet in the middle of a downpour? Never mind that Sasori doesn't even wear a shirt... but he's a puppet. No nerves and all that.

"What does that matter?"

Deidara was still laughing, though he was starting to quiet down. The red-head puppeteer walked over to the table and kicked the blonde in the ribs to shut him up. "You can't join us."

"Why the hell not?" 'Kiki's eyes narrowed; she held a kunai in one hand, trying to look threatening. Sasori was not impressed; Deidara was still clutching his ribs, in pain this time.

"No vacancy, girlie, un."

"W-what?"

"You heard the brat, brat. We're full, we don't need any more members... "

"Yeah, we have a limit, you know... Ten members. Ten rings. Although there's only nine of us now, since Orochimaru ran away."

"Took his ring with him, too. So we can't replace the bastard. Sorry, brat that isn't Deidara, you're just unlucky. And weak, I'll bet."

"Why you- eh?"

The Akatsuki-wannabee glanced down, cut off when something began crawling up her leg... something heavy and slick with water, making ominous little clicking sounds... She came almost face to, well, fangs, with an army of tiny clay spiders, their little feet latched onto her jacket front.

"Deidara-"

"KATSU!"

-Insert massive explosion here-

After the smoke, blood and flying debris cleared, only a pair of detached feet remained of 'Kiki', along with the eyeball that dripped gracefully off Deidara's shoulder and hit the ground with a 'plop'. There was blood everywhere where it hadn't already been washed away by the rain. Sasori brushed a shred of what could have been intestines out of his hair and picked a scrap of jawbone out of the collar of his cloak, looking amazingly dignified as he turned and started cleaning Hiruko again. Deidara brushed bits of unidentifiable meat off his lap, raising an eyebrow as he picked up a finger, the painted, manicured nail still attached.

"What say you we bring Zetsu-san back a snack, un?"

"We are not carrying decaying body parts back for a plant with a multiple personality disorder."

Deidara 'hm'ed quietly, flicking the finger over the rest besides the pair of feet, which chose that moment to topple over comically, the bloody stumps where the legs had once been attached still smoking gently. The blonde artist wiped a few stray spatters of blood off his scope and fixed it back over his eye, now that it had stopped sparking vindictively, before settling down against the leg of the table to wait for Sasori.

"That's the third one this month, Sasori no danna... where the hell are they all coming from, un?!"

"Well, that last one said she was an Iwa-nin, you should've known her, right, brat? Now shut up and start cleaning, I am not travelling with you if you smell like rotting flesh. If you still stink, I'm dumping you in the next hot spring we come across. Fully clothed."

"Yes, danna, un."

Hey, at least I didn't blow up the hut. Much, anyway. Deidara's table was submerged beneath a sudden downpour of water from the fresh hole in the roof after that thought.

... God damn it. Un.