A/N: Just a bunch of drabbles focusing on Akatsuki. I wrote most of these for a drabble contest at H&E adding a few minor edits. What better way to get myself back into the writing mood to do some writing exercises.
He was always around her, but never there. He surrounded her with his presence, yet he was always miles away. When did things become so constrained between them? Maybe it had always been like that. Holding her hand out into the cool rain, she felt the sensual kiss of the rain: his rain. It glided down her fingers like joyful tears, it splattered against her palm playfully. She liked to think that she was the only one privy to these sensations. But he was a God and God loves all.
There was once a time when she was the only one he loved: when she was the only one that they loved. Yahiko was the more demonstrative one while Nagato favored being the silent protector. They meant the world to her. In a way, she could consider herself lucky that she would always see Yahiko's face everyday and when see looked into his eyes, Nagato would be the one staring back at her. She should feel lucky.
She pulled her hand out of the rain and stared at her damp skin. It glistened, mocking the fact that she wasn't the only one blessed by his gift. Because even though she could always see her two precious people everyday, they spared her the same courtesy as all of Amegakure no sato. She clenched her fist in frustration, digging her nails into her palm.
She turned to face the man who embodied everything she lived for, "Yes, Pein-sama."
"You shouldn't stay so close to the rain, it will ruin your jutsu."
"I know. I only wanted to feel it, to remember."
The Akatsuki leader nodded briefly, "we leave tomorrow to go after the Kyuubi. I trust that you will be ready and rested?"
"Of course," she said bowing, letting a few strands of blue hair fall in her face; a gesture that once elicited the rarest and rawest emotions from that man.
He said nothing and did nothing as he left her to her thoughts. That was how things were between them now. She was paper and he was rain. He would be her downfall, her ruin. He would only drench her with his ambitions until she would become a fragile mess, easily torn and washed away. Pulling her wet hand to her face, she let the moisture wet her dry lips. It was the closest she would get to him: to Yahiko, to Nagato, to Pein . . . it didn't matter who he was anymore because to her, he would always be hers. Hers to love, hers to protect and hers to die for, because she loved the rain and she wanted nothing more than to drown in it.