Zeldris smiled.
Just a small, almost polite curl of his lips.
But for Kakuzu, it felt like the sun just blinked out.
Why the hell is he smiling now?
Before he could piece it together, Zeldris spoke—calm, measured, like this was a casual business meeting instead of the aftermath of near-apocalyptic violence.
"So… if I'm not mistaken, your job in the Akatsuki is to, what—be the wallet?"
He took a step closer. No pressure. Just presence.
"But in the end, all that money doesn't even stay in your hands."
Zeldris tilted his head, still smiling.
"In other words… you're doing unpaid labor. You—Kakuzu, the most money-obsessed man in five nations—are basically an overqualified intern."
—?!
Kakuzu's eyes shot wide.
How the hell does he know that?!
Akatsuki operations were need-to-know, high-security, classified. No one outside the organization should've had any idea what he did.
And yet this smug brat was listing off internal job descriptions like he read the payroll.
"Oi. You," Kakuzu growled. "Who the hell are you really? How do you know all this?!"
Zeldris didn't even blink. He just brushed the question aside like lint off his cloak.
"You don't need to know that," he said, casually. "Just tell me this—"
"Do you want in?"
It wasn't a request. It was a formality. Like Zeldris already knew the answer and was just being polite enough to ask.
Kakuzu stiffened. "You've gotta be joking."
"You think I'm some desperate sell-sword? I fought the First Hokage."
He said it with his chest—except his voice cracked just slightly, and his left knee also chose that exact moment to twinge.
Zeldris raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"
Then he grinned.
"And let me guess—throwing a shuriken from eight hundred meters while hiding behind a tree counts as 'fighting' now?"
Kakuzu's eye twitched.
…Damn it. He did know.
But how?
Zeldris's smile vanished like someone flipped a switch.
His gaze turned sharp—deadly. Cold enough to freeze marrow. And just like that, Kakuzu stopped breathing.
No, seriously.
His body forgot how.
That wasn't just killing intent—that was checkmate. The kind of pressure that made even veteran shinobi think about retirement.
He's going to kill me.
That was the only thought in Kakuzu's head. Not fighting, not escaping—just pure, simple survival panic.
And then—
Zeldris raised a hand.
Kakuzu flinched.
…And got a pat on the shoulder.
He stared.
Zeldris gave him a warm smile again—like the last five seconds hadn't happened.
"Relax. I'm not gonna force you."
"But if the Akatsuki ever goes belly-up… come find me."
"There's always a spot open."
He reached into his cloak and pulled out a sleek, black card—simple design, but heavy presence—and handed it to Kakuzu.
"I don't believe in fairy tales or grand causes. I believe in logic. And profit."
"You work with me, you keep what you earn."
"No percentages. No 'leader taxes.' No creepy cult rituals."
He leaned in, eyes glowing faintly.
"We're not talking a hundred million. We're talking billions."
"One billion. Five. Ten. Pick your poison."
"And trust me…" He smirked. "There's plenty to go around."
Kakuzu stared at the card like it might explode. Five bold red characters were stamped across it, and for once, he was too stunned to read.
By the time he looked up—
Zeldris was gone.
No footsteps. No flicker of chakra. Not even a dramatic whoosh of wind.
Just gone.
Kakuzu stood there, alone in the desert, the card still in his hand.
"…Zeldris, huh?" he muttered.
Then, reluctantly… he smiled.
"…That little bastard's got something."
With a grunt, he turned back toward Hidden Rain, card tucked away, thoughts already racing.
He'd just been offered a golden parachute—by the storm itself.
Later, back at the hideout...
Zeldris strolled in, cloak fluttering behind him like he'd just come back from picking up groceries.
Sasori stood outside, arms crossed. Judging. Always judging.
"I heard an explosion earlier," Sasori said flatly. "Did someone find us?"
Zeldris waved a hand lazily. "Nah. Just some guy trying to cash in on that bounty again."
Sasori frowned. "Seriously? People are still doing that?"
"Apparently," Zeldris said, deadpan. "Hope springs eternal. So does stupidity."
Sasori gave a skeptical glance. "You handled it?"
Zeldris shrugged. "I let him go."
Sasori blinked. Once.
"You what?"
"He was Akatsuki. Might be useful later."
Sasori stared, then slowly nodded.
"…You're insane."
"Efficient," Zeldris corrected.
There was a short silence.
Then Zeldris remembered. "Oh, right. The thing I gave you—how's the research going?"
Sasori's eyes gleamed. The stoic puppet-master's expression cracked, just slightly.
"I've never seen anything like it," he admitted, almost grudgingly.
"If I'm right—and I usually am—I'll have the full breakdown of this 'Divine Mechanism of Magic Machines' by tomorrow."
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