The Fourth Wall

On the idle days, she will sit and stare at the rain. Or at least, that's what she tells herself she's doing. If there is still a shred of that regretful honesty within her, something that has been thankfully dwindling away with the pages of the calendar, she will admit that she isn't trying to watch.

She is trying to understand.

She stares as the drops, which are falling fast enough to create vertical scars on the horizon, crash onto the ground. She finds the process a bit too ordinary, dull even, and she drums plum-colored fingertips against the windowsill. The spectacle may have held her attention if the falling matter were something better suited to her own tastes- blood maybe, or senbon. When water crashes against the earth it doesn't leave the harder, longer-lasting impression that could have captured her eye. It was fleeting, common, and wholly unremarkable.

Her breath is beginning to form crystalline patterns on the glass and she carefully folds the collar of her cloak over her face. Unable to quell the childish urge, she finds herself lying her palm flat against the window, absently tracing patterns.

There has to be a reason for this, she mulls, with the slightest furrowing of her eyebrows indicating her inner search for something to analyze as she halts her hand, palm still pressed against the glass as she stares even harder outside. The sound is a dull throb, like a heartbeat, with not even the glitz or glamour of thunder and lightening and she knows there's a reason for this. It's hiding in between the spaces left by the water droplets in the sky and when she finds it, she will find him.

Obvious, plain, and similar words circle around her mind but she is determined. Find a source of comfort, find a weakness. Find the weakness, and build upon it. It's a simple equation, one that has been instilled into her blue haired mind since first becoming a genin.

She would figure him out. Because, while Pein may be a very elusive man, Konan is a horribly patient woman.

There was a method to him, there was a reason behind why he was so connected to the rain. Just like there was a reason why she was connected to origami, just like there was a reason Deidara was addicted to explosives, Sasori to puppets, Zetsu to plant life, Kisame to his sword, Hidan to Jashin, Kakuzu to his profits and Itachi to the color red. Finding the underlying purpose to his hobby would mean that she could come one step closer to his past and sentimentalities and weaknesses. One step closer to a perfect partnership. After all, more than one of the members of Akatsuki had met their demise due to their vices, and Konan will not allow it to happen this time. Because she is not a naive little girl and she knows that he is not an immortal man.

Which is why she has been looking out of the window for the past few hours. Because she has made it her mission to ensure her own survival, and consequentially, that of her partner's.

There's the sound of a doorway opening then closing and she isn't surprised to see him. She turns and he stares carefully at her, then at the window.

There is a slight crease between his eyebrows when he watches the rain. There is a slight smile on her lips concealed by a murder's uniform. This is it, the opening that she has been determined to find in her seemingly invulnerable partner. A crack past the pretense.

He looks out the window, and she sees it. The barest slumping of his shoulders, the slightly less rigid posture, and the killer shinobi aura is discarded for a fraction of a second as he appears…comforted. It takes her a moment to discover that he is no longer observing the rain when this transformation occurs, rather the only other observer of it.

It appears that perhaps his point of weakness is a lot closer than Konan had anticipated. And it is not nearly as delicate as the water descending from the clouds. She allows a slightly surprised look to take over her generally impassive face, and a hand strays to the paper flower in her hair absently.

"Time to go." There is the smallest hint of a smile underneath the flat expression as he realizes her intent, and Konan for once sees that there could be a man buried underneath the cutthroat leader. A friend, or something odder, underneath the partner. A sky beneath the clouds.

She gives him the barest of nods, and they're gone before the rain stops falling.

She might not be able to understand his fixation on the skies, but nevertheless, she is beginning to understand him.