Chapter 63: Strength Depends on the Version; Being Handsome Is for Life
There was another shinobi beside Konan, but it was not Nagato.
This person was not wearing the Akatsuki cloak either. He had on ordinary, casual clothes, and it looked like he was carrying something on his back.
Kenichi narrowed his eyes.
Wait a second. Why does this guy look so familiar?
"Dirt cake?" Kenichi repeated, looking at Konan first. Even if he was curious about the stranger's identity, ignoring the person speaking to him would be rude.
Kenichi considered himself a gentle, refined man.
"Yes," Konan replied calmly, as if nothing in the world could touch her mood. "It's a specialty from the Land of Rain. Made from soil. It has no nutrition, but it can fill your stomach."
Yet Kenichi could still see it, the lingering sadness in her eyes.
Konan really was a good person.
She did not smoke. She did not drink. She did not perm her hair. Even as a member of Akatsuki, even as a woman who could casually burn through explosive tags like loose change, she was still a good girl.
Kenichi scratched his head. "Clay cake?"
Now he understood. Something similar had existed in his previous life too, like Guanyin clay.
People liked to joke that they were so poor they were eating dirt, but in some eras, people really had been that poor. It was not an exaggeration. It was reality disguised as a figure of speech.
Kenichi bought one piece of tsuchi mochi, though he did not plan to eat it. He had his own reasons.
After inheriting Yahiko's will, Nagato would one day turn Akatsuki into the true ruler of the Land of Rain. Yet in the future, nothing seemed to change for the people here.
Wars still swept through. Nothing improved. It was only when Akatsuki was exposed that the other villages truly paid attention.
Kenichi did not know how Nagato viewed the lower classes of the Land of Rain, but he planned to test the waters.
If Nagato genuinely cared about their lives, Kenichi could use that to convince him to set up a research department. Then Kenichi could focus on his work without worrying about every trivial obstacle.
He did not really like fighting.
He preferred inventing new toys and letting enemies close their eyes peacefully under the weight of power and firepower.
To his surprise, Konan bought all the clay cakes and then glanced at him.
Just one?
She did not say it out loud, but Kenichi somehow felt the meaning anyway. It left him amused and exasperated at the same time.
Konan was still…
Cute.
Kenichi shifted his attention to the person beside her. "Is this a new member?"
He had noticed the ring on the other man's hand. Kenichi also had a ring. His was jade. He had no idea what this one was made of.
And speaking of jade, Kenichi suddenly thought of something. He looked properly at the face in front of him.
That familiar outline. That dead calm in the eyes.
Sasori?
Kenichi's surprise deepened.
He recognized him now. Sasori of the Red Sand, a genius puppeteer from Sunagakure, a shinobi who had even possessed the strength to kill the Third Kazekage. A truly dangerous opponent.
And more than that, Sasori was the kind of person who had turned himself into a puppet, stepping into a different kind of eternity.
Right now, though, Sasori still looked more like a living person than a puppet. That was why Kenichi had not recognized him at first.
"This is a new member of the organization, Sasori of the Red Sand," Konan introduced briefly.
She had brought Sasori along so Nagato could assign tasks, and she also needed to prepare clothing for him.
Kenichi's lips twitched.
But Sasori's eyes looked like dead fish, as if the world had nothing left to interest him.
"Oh, so you're a new member." Kenichi smiled and held out his hand. "I'm Kenichi Amamiya."
Sasori glanced at him the moment he heard the name.
"A rogue shinobi from Konoha. Rank A?" Sasori studied him closely.
What surprised him most was that Kenichi had used his real name directly. Especially since Konan had said earlier that members communicated with codenames.
Konan's expression turned slightly awkward.
Nagato did insist on titles and codenames, but it was clearly useless against Kenichi. That troublemaker treated rules like optional reading.
"These are your clothes," Konan said again, tone tight.
If this continued, the new member would start doubting Akatsuki's seriousness before he even joined.
They were Akatsuki, not a traveling comedy duo.
Kenichi had actually wanted to speak more with Sasori. He was genuinely interested in puppetry technology.
If it became more complex and used better materials, could it be pushed further?
Could it become something like a Gundam?
And then, once he studied the Mangekyo Sharingan and successfully upgraded it into the Mangekyo Sharingan, he could equip Susanoo with a Gundam too.
That would be terrifying.
Of course, it was still difficult. But he was not in a hurry. He could take it slowly.
Still, Konan's words pulled his attention away. Clothes were important. He just did not know whether he looked handsome in them or not.
When Konan took them out, Kenichi's expression fell.
It was a very ordinary uniform. The only difference was that it was looser than normal, and if you left the buttons open, it would hang like a cape.
"This isn't artistic at all," Kenichi sighed.
Sasori could not help glancing at him again.
Similar.
Sasori felt an itch of interest. He also liked art. He believed that eternal things were the most beautiful. The idea of aging, changing, decaying, becoming something else, disgusted him.
"I made this," Konan said, eyes narrowing.
This was Kenichi's fault. His endless demands had forced her to modify the clothes in the first place. She had never seen a shinobi with so many issues.
Were clothes not just something you put on and wear? As long as they covered you and did not restrict movement, that should be enough.
"But it really doesn't look good," Kenichi said, scratching his head.
He had to admit that the ninja world's sense of fashion was unique. But that was also because everyone was busy fighting every day.
In this world, people in their forties or fifties were already considered old. Very few lived as long as Hiruzen. That was especially true for ordinary civilians.
Sasori silently gave a thumbs up. "Warrior, you actually dared to say that."
Even though Sasori was extremely independent, he still understood that polite words could smooth a situation like this.
Yet Kenichi had spoken his mind without hesitation.
That kind of bravery was rare.
Konan's face darkened.
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