So, I've decided that a re-write would be infinitely less confusing then gradually updating the chapters. Of course, the original will never be deleted; it symbolizes a golden medal to me. OOFAS was a really big hit, and my first one at that. Much work was put into this, and laugh all you want, but I spent almost thirty five minutes desperately trying to piece together all of the random excerpts I had jotted down in sudden bursts of inspiration. I had been writing this and many other works in Chemistry, Arabic and Geography notebooks, two of the numerous sketchbooks I keep on hand for sketches and this exact purpose, and even on the back of exams. I'm lucky my teachers didn't subtract from my grade for filling my test paper with un-related topics.

Anyways, I was planning to finish at least the first seven chapters until submitting anything, but that would've taken until July.

And because you've been waiting for way too long.

Standard disclaimer applied.

p.s don't shoot me if you don't like it. i've improved greatly in my writing, and i'm not going to let your personal preferences hold me back.

Kakuzu quickly made his way down the flight of stairs, subconsciously ducking under a random bump in the wall that he had fallen victim to one too many times, as bright green eyes scanning the floor he now occupied. Where was that foul-mouthed nuisance when he needed him? The large man sighed, suddenly feeling older than what he really was. A figure made itself known as it exited from the basement. Strong shoulders, impressively large biceps, and an intimidating eight-pack accompanied the slightly blue tint of skin that was Kisame's. A light sheen of sweat covered his bare torso and forehead.

"Have you had the displeasure of seeing Hidan recently?" Kakuzu's gruff voice questioned. Kisame slowly shook his head no, still comfortably creeping towards the flight of stairs the older man had just occupied, most likely heading towards the showers.

"But, y'know, I heard him yellin' like a bitch about needin' some food. Prob'ly went out to get some." A large hand ruffled the thick, blue locks on his head in thought. Kisame sighed, then jogged up the stairs. He really reeked. His abnormally sharp ears caught Kakuzu's feet scuffling around, imaginably deciding whether or not to go after the punk. Suddenly, Kakuzu's voice could be heard—he was calling him, it seemed.

"Yeah?" It was silent for a while, then Kakuzu spoke again.

"Pein has something you might want to know about." And with that, he was gone out the door. Kisame decided to wash up, get dressed, then find out whatever it was that leader wanted with him.


The ginger cleared his throat, suddenly needing an endless nap that his pride and profession won't allow, and stared straight at one of his most loyal members—not to mention valuable.

"No doubt you were listening thoroughly during the meeting?"

Said valuable member merely nodded once gently, it was more of an assurance than an answer, really. Last meeting's discussion replayed in his head, wondering how that had to do with the fact that he was in Pein's office.

"Well, I've just received news—I am still unsure whether it is good or bad, but news nonetheless," Kisame's eyes sparked at the idea of being one of the first to be updated on something, and he had a hunch it was something important. The leader gave him a short pause to take it in before continuing stoically, "I've received news not a day ago that they've appointed quite a number of men down south. It is anticipated that there is a gathering planned, and we're not invited." This was shocking news, after all. It was a dead man's wish to establish an event and not extend an invitation to the Akatsuki—they rarely showed, yes, but it was the principle of the thing. Respect. Obedience. Fear.

Kisame pondered at the prospect of a gang intentionally riling the Akatsuki—it sounded pretty suicidal. The large man smirked to himself, more like homicidal in my case. He was pulled out of his trance by Pein's deep intake of breath.

"With this unsettling information, I will act upon the benefit of the Akatsuki; we will not be fooled. If there is going to be a gathering, then so be it. We will be there, however, whether they like it or not. And so, I'm planning on moving us all into the vicinity their men were reported to be in."

Pein folded his hands together on the magnificent desk before him, "We'll be moving south for the summer."

Kisame bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to childishly get his hopes up. He leaned back in the leather chair, playing it cool. "How far down south?" he inquired. Pein's lips quirked up the tiniest bit in amusement.

"Yes," he confirmed the Shark's silent suspicion, "the assholes are near Miami beach, as we will be. I was hoping that—in reaction to hearing this news—you'd offer your old house for us to live in comfortably." Kisame had been on the verge of smiling all up until the last statement. He slightly frowned and sighed heavily with his eyes closed, attempting to prepare himself for the complication that had just presented itself.

"Leader, I sold my place three months into my stay in New York; I needed the money to pay rent." The pierced young man seemed displeased, his thin ginger eyebrows closing in on each other in deep thought. Soon, a low growl of frustration was released. Pein clarified the complication of this disadvantage, "I can't send eight gang members down to Florida for the entire summer in a hotel. No doubt you see the lack of logic—and how suspicious it would prove to be."

Kisame could only agree but kept quiet; any words other than that of a logical solution would have no meaning.



Many smacks and pops followed that initial hit. A solid yellow ball gradually inched towards a pocket before obediently falling in.

Deidara smirked devilishly, his hip against the table and a pool stick between his tattooed fingers. Gorgeously thick blond locks cascaded down his neck to his shoulder blades, a knot unique only to him holding less than a fourth of his hair up and long bangs covering the left of his face.

The other figure across from him tsked lightly before pushing himself off the wall he was lounging against and soundlessly sauntered to the wooden cue awaiting him, taking it into his hands expertly. Crimson strands of hair rustled quietly against his forehead, but never getting in the way of his auburn eyes, as he leaned down to calculate his shot. Pulling the light wood in his hand back, he suddenly pushed it into the pure white cue ball, watching smugly as a striped seven bounced off the velvet curb of the table and astonishingly fall right into a pocket on the other side.

Deidara grimaced, "Damn you, Sasori, yeah. How'd you get so damn good, yeah?"

"That's what she said!" Hidan hollered, his rumbling laugh shaking the walls of the dim room as he entered politely. Deidara couldn't help but chuckle along with the Jashinist.

Hidan sidled up to the blond, pressing his wider stature into Deidara's mockingly. He leaned his head on Deidara's shoulder and raised a silver eyebrow, "C'mon, bitch, you know what to fuckin' say. Here, I'll remind your shit-for-brains: Where?"

Deidara's smirk only widened and tilted his head slightly to touch his psycho for a friend's gelled back hair as he chortled, "In bed, yeah."

Hidan howled with obviously exaggerated laughter once more, shoving Deidara away playfully. He seemed extremely happy, and surprisingly not in that scary way. Probably just got laid, Deidara reasoned.

"Oh, to be young again," Sasori commented sarcastically, referring to the undying joke the two fools have shared since middle school.

The Jashinist's shit-eating grin quickly evolved into a tight line and his breathtaking eyes became glaring slits of icy amethyst. Sasori seemed unfazed, but it wasn't a secret that the pasty-skinned priest was dangerous, and so only if you looked closely would you notice the straightening of the red-head's back or the shifting of his footing.

It was a silent staring game for some time until Deidara cleared his throat, intentionally occupying their attention. Hidan got the message and calmly relaxed himself by rolling his shoulders and sliding his tongue along the bottom of his teeth. He then turned to look at Sasori, smirking lightly, "I'm still fucking young, seriously."

Sasori could only roll his eyes in return.







He was asleep, and in every meaning of the word tranquil. Burning eyes finally at rest, receiving the solatium they positively deserved. The black abyss that was unconsciousness was nothing but a reassurance, calming his mind and body. Strong lungs sucked in the pure gusts of wonderfully still air, cleansing his soul. It is a blessing, his subconscious concluded, to be asleep. Work, headaches, stress, shit; all of it—it was all a curse. He was cursed, and fuck if whoever bestowed it upon him didn't do one hell of a job. His lean but strong body decided that it had rested enough, and his mind was brought forth, his eyelids opening to reveal the darkness of unconsciousness, reminding himself and everyone else just what it was he wanted more than anything in life:


An eternal sleep, like the wrapped mummies.

Itachi almost moaned at the thought. He sighed gently, his hot breath barely making a sound; death wasn't an option. Life may be tiring, but everything comes at a price. He could only hope that whatever it was he was working endlessly for proved worth it.

Loose blackstrands rustled against the pillow as he tilted his head to stare silently at the bright, red numbers of his digital clock.


Deciding not to waste anymore time, he stealthily climbed out of bed, his feet quietly padding towards the bedroom door. Opening and closing the slab of wood behind him, the aristocratic man made his way towards the shared bathroom of the third floor. Silently undressing, he tossed the flannel gray pants and soft, black, short sleeved shirt into the hamper, ignoring Hidan's atrocious manner of leaving everything messily on the tile floor. In nothing but his boxers, the raven-haired man reached out to turn on the shower before removing his underwear and slipping in.

The water beat down on his shoulders and back as he submerged his thoughts into what his partner had informed him of last night. Florida had gangs, but they weren't any of the Akatsuki's business—but what does that piece of shit want with Florida? He couldn't tan even if he burned under the Miami heat, Itachi inwardly smirked at what Kisame had implied.

Lathering and rinsing his hair absently, the young Uchiha turned the water off, stepped out, and wrapped his lower half in a towel. Beads of water dripped off the tips of his hair and onto his chiseled chest and down his straight back, and the small towel didn't leave much for the imagination.

As he walked back to his room, locking the door behind him, he couldn't help but sigh wearily, mentally checking off things he would pack for the trip south.


After getting dressed and making himself presentable, the young man waited in the kitchen with a piping hot mug of coffee. Sharp ears caught the unbelievably light footfalls of one Sasori Akasuna as he comfortably entered the kitchen about half an hour later. Slowly but surely, more and more delinquents took place in the kitchen. By eight o'clock, all of the current inhabitants of the house were gathered not-so-quietly on and around the island with a few of them bickering good-heartedly. The front door opened and closed heavily, the loud slam effectively silencing them.

Pein walked in, his features already portraying frustration at this hour of the morning. Sighing loudly, he sat in his chair, gulped down the disgustingly cold coffee Deidara handed him, and began.


After educating the group of the current troubles, everyone unconsciously turned to Kisame, as if he had the answer merely because he was from Miami. Said blue man took in a deep breath, his hands rubbing circles into his temples as a poor attempt at relaxing himself, despite the stress he was currently in.

He did, in fact, have a plausible solution to all of this hubbub, but it wasn't as easy as you'd think. The "solution" not only needed Pein's approval, but a certain other person's agreement as well. And the fact that the Akatsuki, an infamous illegal gang of the grungy alley-ways of New York, was to be living in the home of someone who wasn't pledged to Pein nor to the gang was not only going to arouse suspicion but it would be increasingly dangerous for the person.

And, had it been anyone else whose life were to be put on the line, Kisame really wouldn't have cared. But this was someone special, and the only thing that stopped him from keeping this "solution" to himself was the permanent red cloud between his left ring and middle fingers, the ring on the left ring finger and the loyalty he felt for his brothers. His beady black eyes roamed over Hidan's rakish morning looks, and Deidara's tired expression. He saw those two as his younger brothers, and love them he did. As he did the rest of them.

But then a different face formed in his mind, with a bright smile from his dearest memories and twinkling eyes that tugged at his heart.

It was nothing if not a difficult decision.

But when push came to shove, Kisame knew his attachments and emotions paled in comparison to his duty to the Akatsuki. He had taken a pledge and had been marked.

And so he knew what he had to do.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking. And it's been half a decade from the last time I've been in Miami, so I've had to go over a lot of options," here, he braced himself inwardly, and mentally sent millions upon millions of sincere, heart-broken apologies to a particular college freshman, "and I've gotten us a potential place to stay in."

Pein didn't seem surprised, in fact he seemed a bit smug. Probably complimenting himself. The majority of the Akatsuki's ears perked up with curiosity sparkling in their eyes.

"An old friend of mine has this three bed-room house near the beach. It's only twelve miles or so away from the place Pein said they are staying."

Pein seemed interested, and Kisame wasn't sure if this was a good thing.

"An old friend?" oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. He was angry.

Had he been a lesser man, the Hoshigaki might've cringed at the sight of the menacingly calm Akatsuki leader. Kisame filled his lungs with tense air as he wracked his brain for a way to piece his words together without getting his ass whooped.

Exhaling slowly, he brushed off the urge to sneeze and nodded.

"Yeah. We were friends long before high school and the Akatsuki. And before you start getting mad, let me just tell you that we haven't spoken in three years. My friend thinks I'm here for college." Kisame prayed to the Heavens above that he wouldn't be dead within the hour.

Pein seemed to be mulling it all over in his head, his silver eyes hardening as his brows pulled together. The blue-skinned man did his best not to punch something as he usually did when he was nervous.

Seconds that felt like hours were silent except for the soft sips of coffee and the occasional rustle of cloth as someone altered their position.

"I would like to speak to this...friend."

Kisame had expected as much, really,but he was hoping that he wouldn't have to do it like this. It wasn't like the Hoshigaki wasn't going to call, but he wasn't planning on it being in from of all of them.

Too late now, though, he concluded miserably.

"Sure, I guess. I have the number," and with that he pulled out his phone, tap-tap-tapping through his contacts list.

Kisame called and lay the phone on the counter after turning on the speaker.

It rang four times before someone answered.

"Listen, you fuckwad. I have a fucking crow-bar and great fucking skills to go with it. Call me one more fucking time and I'll track you down and beat you so hard that your motherfucking kidneys will come shooting out of your eye-sockets while I sing to caramelldansen."

If Kisame could blush, he'd be purple in embarrassment. Despite his amused audience, however, he played it cool.

"Oh really? And who do you think taught you that?"

"...Oh shit."

Kisame chuckled; he loved it when he scared the shit out of her.


So? What do you think, my lovelies? If you have any questions, feel free to ask. And if you'd like to flame, go on ahead; at least I know that it was good enough for you to have read it in the first place. ;)

If you haven't noticed, I've made them older.
This was for two reasons:
(a) I won't have to burden myself and all of you with the tiresome, unnecessary complications of high school and its gag-inducing drama.
(b) At the ages I've put them in, we can trust the story to harbor less unexplainable dark moments and more logical angst-y moments. The characters have been given the time pre-story to mature and develop their characters. I have no concern for whiny, hormonal mongrels as my main stars. This may sound ridiculous; it's a story, why bother with such meaningless details? Well, I care about things like this. I want to excel as a writer. I want this to be as realistic as possible, because I want my readers to laugh and cry with me. I want to make your day.

And I guess I just wanted hot, older guys.