Summary: Everyone has a happy place in their minds. Even the Akatsuki. And dear Jashin-sama, they NEEDED it during the torturous Saturday meetings. BEWARE: humor lurks within.
A/N: Inspired by: Akatsuki members inners by Chocoholic93
Well, really. Even notorious S-class criminals would be bored to tears at a meeting. So I decided- how do they keep sane? While us mere mortals picture our bosses nude or in dunce caps, what do the most elite ninja do?
Add Sasori's mind. Add Sasuke, Kisame, onigiri minons into Itachi's brain. Minor edits everywhere.
Pein's voice rang out ominously over the silent Akatsuki gathering. Each cloaked member stood stock-still on a finger of the enormous statue that gave an eternal, silent scream. The shadows blanketed the room like a black sea.
However, this place was nowhere near as terrifying as the psyches of those present.
The speaker, a shadow save his gleaming eyes, was holding an inner pep talk meeting in his head with the rest of his bodies' smaller personalities. The bodies themselves were lurking in Pein's office among the file cabinets, in case he needed to reference a fact. The mental meeting was set on the roof of the finest bakery in Fire Country, in order to calm the nerves.
'Oh man, they're all STARING at me…'
'Suck it up, bro.'
'Stick to the speech we rehearsed and you'll be fine.'
'What if they ask QUESTIONS? I HATE questions! They make me want to-'
'Shut it, we swore to never speak – think of that incident. Ever again. NEVER.'
'Ever never ever ever never ever again!'
'You shut it too.'
'Deep breaths. Innnnn… and ouuuuuuutt… and innnnn… Gooood.'
'OK. OK. I am calm. C-A-L-M.'
'Great flying hell-chibi UFOs! What comes next in the speeeeech? I don't remember!'
'We're searching as fast as we can!'
'Relax! Just glare at everyone while we search the records… And breathe.'
'Innn… And OUT! I mean, ouuuuuuuttttttt… IN! and OUT! And OUT! Or in? something like that…Uhhh…'
Nearby was the notorious mass murderer Itachi Uchiha. He watched the leader with eyes that promised hell to any in his way. Inside his mind, gummy bears and Teletubbies alike were tortured mercilessly with, horror of horrors, sharpened lollipops under an omnipresent rainbow and whimpering sun. Occasionally Sasuke would run by, his stupid hair on fire, to break up the monotony, pursued by hordes of screaming fangirls (also lit on fire, courtesy of the Uchiha Fireball Jutsu, performed by one or both Uchiha brothers.) Itachi's mental self (which he had meticulously created as the Ultimate Chibi, whose charms would make the most anti-anime activist squeal in fan-girlish glee) painted his toenails a pearly purple, humming to the music of the surrounding screams. A line of onigiri minions carefully noted down any new ways Itachi thought up to bug Kisame, Sasuke, or any other Akatsuki member. When they did not write fast enough, they would be mercilessly munched. Kisame was nearby, unsuccessfully trying to persuade a cook that he was not a good thing to eat. The argument would inevitably devolve into Kisame fleeing, screeching, as the cook ran after, swinging the Samehada and bellowing. With his minions, nailpolish, and suffering cute (and highly-edible) creatures, Itachi Uchiha was in his happy place.
Next to him towered his blue partner, displaying a mouthful of sharp teeth and wielding his enormous sharkskin sword, Samehada. Truly a frightening opponent, Kisame Hoshigaki was one of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist. His mental state was even more terrifying. Beneath the shadow of the Supreme Sushi (Kisame), armies of rice and ships of seaweed triumphed over the forces of cucumber, vegetables, pickled plum and various other sushi condiments. The Supreme Sushi laughed in evil delight as his enemies were tackled by rice and wrapped by snakes of seaweed. They tried to flee, but great bento box walls shot up behind them as Kisame performed Tabemono Style: Bento Box Trap. In the background, a bright blue boombox belted out the Little Mermaid song, Under the Sea.
Farther on was a blonde, who seemed hard-pressed to stay still. Deidara's mop of hair was bound into a ponytail that gave a lovely dramatic effect when he flew on his clay birds. A shock of loose hair hid his mechanical eye, in a popular style known to many Eagle Country residents as 'emo.' This was the Iwa clay bomber, who delighted in explosions and destructions. His nightmarish psyche rivaled the Tsukiyomi, as claimed by a few members of the Yamanaka clan. Deidara's mindscape was- an enormous amusement park. Rollercoasters twisted recklessly around tracks that defied the laws of physics. Often a car or the whole vehicle would fly off, landing with a fantastic explosion that the rider got to experience up close and personal. At random intervals, parts of the ground would blow up, flinging those in the vicinity into the air, at optimal viewing of the destruction. There was one booth to play games at- Tobi danced around on a high shelf, while the player paid to throw pie-shaped bombs at the idiot. Deidara's mental self ran around with no leash and an expression of purest rapture, while the other fantasy residents (who were all Uchiha) squealed and bowed at the excellence of the art, whimpering phrases such as, "I would kill my entire clan and destroy the Sharingan to see another detonation like that!" and "If only I could create such beauty!" Deidara would bask in the praise for a second before losing interest in the speaker and making them explode with a well-placed clay spider or other creature. Truly, art was a bang!
Beside the happily-fantasizing Deidara was the aforementioned Tobi, Madara Uchiha to those who knew him well. His orange mask, with its swirls, concealed his face menacingly, leaving only a small eyehole. Like a child lurking around a house on Halloween, Tobi was plotting for better things, a greater prize. In his mind, he was doing just that. Trick-or-treating, that is. Effortlessly, Tobi wheedled candy, weapons, and money from taller, more delusional people under a crescent moon. The Kages patted his head and cooed from their various residences. After all the valuables had been extracted, he tripped the victim and had a kunai through their neck before they could blink. Beautiful. The Hokage he knocked out after an entertaining fight. Then he targeted Konoha. One by one they fell, in a series of glorious battles. They woke from unconsciousness only to witness the destruction of their precious village, as he directed the Ten-tailed Bijuu through. The Halloween sky filled with the anguished cries of the betrayed and lost. Tobi giggled madly atop the head of the Bijuu, as a crayon-drawn Deidara clapped and cheered from his clay bird. Tobi was happy.
Tobi inclined his head slightly, attracting the momentary attention of Zetsu. Zetsu, half pitch-black and half powder-white, flexed his enormous fly-trap, closing it briefly. Pein's droning voice snaked through the room. Zetsu again focused his eyes on the leader, though his thoughts were not about the Akatsuki's declining funds. Zetsu's psyche was a brilliant mix of schizophrenic patterns and colors. The place was equipped with an extensive kitchen and garden. Two mental beings occupied the place, sitting at identical desks facing each other like political opponents. They debated out any and all issues, from the shape of the neon cloudlike structures that scampered the area to whether the world was better off without the color brown to battle strategies. When there was nothing to debate, one or both of the inhabitants would carefully plan the most effective landscaping of a farm of all the plants in the world or the most delicious way to enjoy eating dead or alive humans.
On the other stone hand, Hidan's silver hair gleamed in the faint light. Narrowed eyes observed Pein, not sparing a glance to the three-bladed scythe that he was absentmindedly pressing through his left arm. Hidan's mind roved the existing world, scythe in hand, unfettered by his cloak or material possessions. He created an entire, highly-detailed and graphic scene for each person's sacrifice, cheerfully deciding every move, every wisp of stray hair. One by one, they went to Jashin, who watched from a shattered sky across the new world. The world of Jashin and his army of well-groomed followers would rise and bring order to the chaotic world. Hair would be clipped and gelled perfectly, on pain of death. There would be Unbelievers, kept in cages. When it was time for a sacrifice, the honorary victim would be released, to lead a merry chase that would inevitably end at Jashin's alter. Hidan had the clear image of every strand of sweaty hair being trimmed and prepared for the vibrant joy of the sacrificial ritual. Such beauty, all in the name of Jashin!
Kakuzu watched passively as Pein began sweating little drops of shadow, struggling for words. His masked face gave nothing away, just as mysterious and threatening as any person in a balaclava and/or scarf. Kakuzu's actual mental energies went into The Master Tablet, on which calculations were neatly lined up, adding more and more to the great Final Amount, which was written in black Sharpie and decorated with black Sharpie stars and hearts. His psyche was geometrically symmetrical, all honing in on The Master Tablet, where Kakuzu (distinctly taller and more handsome than in reality, with a strange resemblance to Kakashi Hatake) sat in an amphitheater of calculators and counting frames, directing them like the conductor of an orchestra. With every blast of numerical music, the Final Amount increased. Neatly trimmed hedgerows (that bordered every mental area worth knowing) grew fresh green money and bloomed shining coins. Kakuzu smiled slightly, beneath his mask, and ignored Pein completely.
The last of the nine was the only female present. Konan's blue hair contrasted her white origami hair ornament in a way that made Kisame twitch and hold his bound Samehada to his shoulder to steal some of the effect. She was a fearsome warrior with her paper missiles – except in the rain, a fact that Pein insisted on reminding her of. Her eyes bored into Pein, which did not help his low self-confidence. In her own mind- paper sculptures dominated the flat, papered landscape as paper planes scoured the night for enemies. Paper cutouts of her toughest opponents fought waves of slicing processed-tree and lost, tearing themselves in half- fourths- eighths. A clumsily-chibified set of six paper-cut-out Peins wandered, being periodically poked, cut and jabbed by sheets that disappeared as their target whirled to look. Others in the Akatsuki fought the paper hail, and the paper demons burned, soaked, and were torn but rose again to attack. Konan, the only three-dimensional object, cackled as her colleagues and victims fell beneath a glowing white paper moon.
Finally, there was a ghost that stood just as still as his rather-more-alive former colleagues. Sasori of the Red Sand hid his eternally youthful spirit inside a spirit puppet, along with his numerous poisons and vicious weapons. He saw no real reason to stop attending the meetings, despite the terrible monotone that was the most terrible weapon in the Akatsuki leader's arsenal. This decision had absolutely NOT been affected by the fact that Sasori had been forcibly evicted from hell by the furious Devil, who had been clutching his poisoned arm at the time. Sasori relaxed into the familiar delusion that prevented absolute madness- the Puppet Show. The world's population dangled on chakra strings that fell from the heavens. The whole world was a stage- a beautifully polished, wood-paneled planet with thousands of red curtains, operated by that Suna boy with the makeup and black cat hood. Kankuro, as the only worthy minion, darted around in a hurry on a red sleigh with flying reindeer.
Pein cleared his throat. The Akatsuki snapped briefly out of their sadistic, demonic happy places to see what their esteemed leader had to say.
"It has come to my attention that I- er, not all of you have been paying complete attention during our Saturday meetings. Fortunately, a low level of the Rinnegan will allow me to catch the gist of your thoughts." Eight Akatsuki cursed mentally and simultaneously with varying degrees of profanity. "I do this only to promote communication and cooperation for our collective venture."
'That was an okay bluff, right?'
'Shut up and look cool for the second before your captive audience flees.'
'Yes! It was lovely. Now pose-'
Those criminals assembled nodded almost imperceptibly –communication – and allowed their projected images to vanish in unison –cooperation.
Next Saturday, the invading Konoha and Suna forces were shocked and pleased to find the entire Akatsuki in deep, boredom-induced comas –including the leader, who raved madly about traitorous other bodies, pranks, and file folders when he was brought to temporary consciousness for questioning.
A/N: And that's a wrap! Eh… I didn't know all that much about Konan's personality or the Rinnegan… So I made it up. Artistic license! Says right here that I can do that. But if you think there was something essential missing from ANY character, do tell me. I tried to make them somewhat realistic. Somewhat. I didn't mention Nagato because- that was just making everything more complicated. This set of Akatsuki members may or may not comply with the Naruto timeline.
Tabemono Style = Food Style. You have your Earth Style, Fire Style, etc. Now there is Food Style. And Chouji sneezes in Konoha, wondering what beautiful cuisine-related event has happened.
Ask if you need any clarifications, reassurances that the Supreme Sushi has no interest in scrawny teenagers, etc. Please feel free to send me any requests for details of Teletubbie torture, comments about the creativity levels in Akatsuki, questions about the sanity levels of the author, suggestions for bribery, general questions, general corrections, general comments, generalizations, etc.
Ooh, here's a template! You may add anything else you find necessary, including mindless fangirling/fanboying (I sympathize) and/or flaming, random outbursts, etc.
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