Chapter Text
He had tried, in the end.
Had tried to hold onto both his own beating heart and Yahiko's. He'd tried. Because leaving Konan with only one of their warmth would be unspeakably cruel. No matter who was saved, no matter which heart continued its beat while the other stilled, the other two of their group would be broken in a way not even war could manage. They were, after all, a trio- not a duo. They were three bright points of hope that could and would light the world. Two lights, small and wan as they were, could be doused. And the world would be ever darker for it. Harsher, if any of their little team left it.
But it's too late.
He's young. Foolish. Too full of bitterness. He can feel it when Yahiko leaves, when his soul ceases to take up space in a body and the strain doubles and redoubles, and then redoubles again. He is a singular soul, too small to properly fill his own body most days, much less two. Especially when Yahiko's heart, his fire, had always burned so much brighter than his own.
It's a special kind of agony-- to feel both bodies dying, to no longer know which is his own and which is Yahiko's--to feel dual heartbeats grow leaden and slow. Weak. A special kind of hell to feel himself-- because by now he's too tightly bound to Yahiko's body now, there is no separating them any more-- dying twice over. It's pain. Hell. A torture he'd never considered before that cracks his chest and steals his breath, leaving not so much ad a gasp, never-mind a scream.
He screams anyway. They all do. His own throats ripping raw and bloody and… And somewhere else. Someone else. A girl. An animalistic cry of grief and rage and the sensations of origami flowers crumpled under a careless foot after being abandoned yet again. It's Konan and Nagato knows they're stronger as a trio-- three equal sides sharing and supporting the entire worth of pain on their too young, too thin shoulders.
Ĵi
But Nagato kĵ he's dying. And Konan is lovely. Is strong and true and beautiful bur she cannot raise their dreams alone. Nagato will not let her. He bluntly refuses to be another step in her cycle. Another soul who gave her hope, gained her trust, offered her sweet sugared words of promise and forever only to abandoned. He refuses. But he cannot keep two hearts beating. Not even for a single more rattling breath. He has no time. No energy. No…
He throws his entire self into one of the bodies, cuts ties with the other and takes a moment to do nothing but breathe. Eyes, he doesn't dare say whose eyes, clenched tightly as the wildly beating thing in the chest squeezes and lungs heaving in desperate little spasms. Hard, sharp little pants and he doesn't know what body he's in. Can't remember if it's his own or if he's animating Yahiko's corpse that should have been lying a few feet away, and if asked, Nagato wouldn't be able to say which he wants it to be. But he is Shinobi and he is going to change the world in Yahiko's name if nothing else, and he won't be able to do that if he refuses to open the world and see the truth of that world.
So he breathes again, a little steadier and a little deeper this time. The very last time in blissful ignorance, and opens the eyes. His eyes, he guesses now.
Nagato then has to try very hard not to sob out his grief fueled rage as the ever present rain sweeps bloody orange hair into his eyes, drenched dark enough to be almost right, almost red but… no. It's Yahiko's. He stole Yahiko's body. Nagato loses it all then, lays down in the mud he refuses to think about why it's sticky, and sobs himself sick, choking out bitter regrets and losing a piece of himself amid the blood and the bile.
Yahiko, Nagato and Konan had woken in the same bed that very morning, curled around each other until they were as close as humanly possible, but only Pein and Konan leave that battlefield.
#
Years passed from that bloody day.
Pein lived them all, eventually defeating Hanzo the Salamander and winning the war he started. Slaughtering the man's guards and every known associate was easy as well, easy with his powers and the quiet conviction Konan still placed in his bloodied hands, even if they weren't his and the two of them were missing their third. Easier than breathing, in this body only familiar from the exterior. But Konan didn't allow him to falter, paper flowers pressed between their fingers and whispered words reaching their ears. Ame's God and his angel.
That was how they were surviving, how they were dragging themselves up by tattered bootstraps and fighting the ever uphill battle that was peace when Zetsu came to them. Zetsu growing from the floor like a twisted flower, the green of his outermost leaves the only thing to see for a long moment before his eyes peered out, clearly suspicious.
"Madara-Sama bids me to bring you before him." That, more than anything, had stirred something within Pein's chest. Some bit of awe, or fear, or something. Madara was a name known even well outside of Fire. No one would dare claim that title without… but the plant man apparently had been less asking the duo and more flatly informing them, because before Pein had even attempted to protest, there was an arm around him. Darkness. Then.
Well, it was still darkness. But… different, somehow. Smellier for one, like rotted plant life and the stink of stale air, dank and damp from some source of moisture. And, slowly, he began to see. They were in a cavern of some kind. Large. With roots that crossed over and over each other all along the ceiling and walls, though the floor was perfectly smooth stone. The plant creature, who had wrapped its leaves closed around them both, had disappeared and reappeared with Konan, unfurling the strange dark green things and setting her on her own two feet.
"We have brought the Akatsuki children, Madara-sama."
"It really was too easy to get them, are you sure that these two are the children you want?" The voice, higher and for less formal than the prior, comes from the same creature. But…
Pein's attention, after settling a hand on Konan's shoulder to reassure her of his presence as her own eyes adjust to the gloom, snaps forward as a laugh rolls across the wide open space. Sinister, almost dripping with darkness as a chakra so old and rotted with darkness it scrapes malevolently against his senses, follows the low chuckle. Somewhere in the darkness, a shape shifts and an eye that glows a faint red opens.
"This one had the Rinnegan. He will do just fine, and I would never dream of tearing two lovers apart." It's reflex to correct, to say three lovers, because that's what they would have been, should have been if Yahiko were still there when they were finally able to explore romantic or sexual things. But the man is talking again, pinning them down with a lazy, bloody red eye, both considering and dismissing at once. "You children want peace? We all know that sweet words and treaties aren't the way to get it. What you actually need--"
In spite of the kidnapping, in spite of the creepy room and how the man practically oozes power and malicious intent from his throne grown of roots, Pein can't help but listen. Can't help but agree. Can't help but understand in star-burst strong flashes behind his eyes. Force couldn't conquer, could do little more than enslave and embitter those shoved into submission by the terrors of war and control. Just like treaties and mutual understanding would not slake the endless thirst for power, for more land and more money and more resources. Greed, the ever hungry dragon within the hearts of man, would not bend to written words.
But the two together… domination as well as mercy. Power wielded and withheld. Strength and gentleness… Those could shape the world. And if a few, incredibly powerful, took the first step and had the weight to back up those very steps? Madara had promised change, an entirely new world, and not just from the force in his eyes. But from the force in their heart, the force of love.
So Pein and Konan listened. Listened and, eventually, agreed. Leaving the cavern with a new mission, a new task. They had to find others. Strong men who could find equally strong women, who could birth and raise the strongest ninja ever known.
They would have a new world, and they would stand as its saviors. Its new God and his Angel.
#
More time passed. Time refining his plan, his soldiers. The men he thought were worthy of becoming more than the world that spat them out like so much garbage. Each had their own motivations, money or religion or power. Misguided love or betrayed loyalty. Each was easy enough to manipulate into place, and each eventually came to be somewhat trusted. And, when the time came, like faithful hunting birds, each pair was sent to the rustling bushes where the Bijuu lurked. Each would strike hard and truely.
And they had too. They'd dragged the five tails into the demonic statue high above where Madara had first made their acquaintance, where there was light, though it was limited and strained. They'd extracted the beast from its host, sealing it and placing the creature into a statis like state. It would be unaware of the passing of time, like a deep sleep, until they were ready to seal it within a new container. Pein himself took care of the body of the host, face still utterly contorted in agony, smoothing a hand over the tortured face and easing the pain in cold features. A simple doton jutsu, easy enough even for those who didn't have any skill with the earth, and the stone ripples like water, accepting the body into its cold hold and arranging the limbs into something appearing like rest. He had been a decent man, a strong fighter and Pein disliked the necessity of killing him. But it was a necessity and the best he could do was honor the man. Write his name deeply into history as a cornerstone, rising the new future far above the darkness of the past.
For that matter: he leaps, sticking lightly to the demonic statue's face, palm smoothing over where one of the statue's large nine eyes was now closed, an energy humming inside. This beast, this sentient chakra animal that was both more and less than human, would have its name written down too. Twined with the man who held him, and who called out the beast's true name as the pain overcame him. Kokuo. The dolphin horse. Swift and deadly, steam based techniques deadly in their efficiency. A good name, for a good creature. Pein refused to allow the sorrow for the trapped thing any sort of hold. It was a tool, a fulcrum for change. Just as he was. Just as they all were. Every enemy, every friend. Good souls pushed to do bad things. The most he can do is ease the transition as much as possible, such as the sleeping seal instead of trapping the beast in darkness without anyone or anything to talk to.
A small mercy.
So no, Pein would not feel empathy for the beasts or his men, no matter if the two who dragged the Gonbi back nearly didn't return themselves.
And, so, he'd sent them out again.
Only for failure to strike.
Pein had been furious, of course. Had punished the failures with a strict hand, reminding them exactly why he was their leader and widely acknowledged as not only a God of Shinobi but God period. Discipline, then.
And mercy, now.
He doesn't further punish the two who failed, refusing to even assign the failure to names. Merely acknowledged it, and tolerated the acceleration of the plans. Thankfully, the master craftsman had been able to finish producing the necessary items the week before and Zetsu had finished dropping them off the day before. Konan herself had buckled Pein's wrist strap into place, and they'd both watched as he funneled the smallest bit of chakra into the material, the way the color rippled and settled on pale purple, nearly pearl gray. Raised string had appeared then, rising strands of deeper smoke gray coalescing into concentric rings of rain drops. A symbol deeply meaningful to himself. Subtle, and beautiful. Pein allows a moment to study the leather, turning it back and forth in his sight, before gesturing to Konan to turn.
Blue hair is swept up and secured, leaving her neck bare for the leather he slips around it. He tightens it, slipping two fingers carefully underneath to ensure it wouldn't choke her. And then, a swipe of a bloodied thumb, another trickle of his chakra. The leather changes again, the same shade as the one looping his wrist. But the stones embedded into the leather, before crystalline and shockingly clear, glow with contained power too bright to look at before it settled. The stones had shifted, had changed. From a blank slate, now it held alternating stone:
Half the stones were banded in shades of purple and gray, half eggs of agate, smooth like they'd been tumbled for years by the sand and surf. Or polished by an expert hand, not even the smallest hint of a scratch to even his keen eye. The other stones were rougher, some left raw and others cut into dazzling facets, each reflecting light like they had their own power source. With them came knowledge, both familiar like he had always known it,-- a deep unquestioning certainty that made it so entirely obvious he couldn't deny the truth of it-- and with the understanding he'd never seen the gem, much less knew its name. But now Pein was aware the gem was called Spessartite Garnet and that he would always be able to pick this particular gem out, no matter how it was hidden. The collar rippled, smoothly closing without a way to release the strip. And it looked good on the woman, and one hand lifted to feel at the stones a little curiously before letting it hand fall and silently accepting the new weight on her neck. She had agreed of course, had accepted her duty though the task wasn't one she was going to relish, and Pein resolved to not test the functions of the collar until he needed to. This… this was enough, the sensation of knowing her flooding into his mind, the exact beat of her heart just a little under his own.
He knew his angel, of course. Had always known her since they were all helpless children, but now… Now he didn't have to rely on sight and words to know what she was feeling, doing. At the time, he hadn't wanted to feel the feedback loop, how he would know exactly what pain he would cause her. It would happen, and that was enough.
The time for it to happen, it seemed; standing in front of his organization, eyes of every color and shape boring into his form, would be sooner rather than later. They were silent, falling that way only after he allowed his chakra to flare wildly, a deadly threat no matter how far away their physical bodies were. But they would not be for long. This was too much a deviation. A thing that was too new and too demanding, too much of an infringement of the freedoms Akatsuki had promised its members. Too much like the villages they all fled, where the Kage had much the same power as the heads of clans, marrying or denying the right of the village's shinobi as they pleased. Some, bluntly ordered their kunoichi to fuck whatever bloodline they wanted to preserve, treating their women like cattle to be bred. Others, like Konoha, did it 'nicely' and subtly-- pairing wanted couples on high stress, two person missions, where they would be forced to trust in one another and romantic or sexual feelings almost always came from the flood of life and death chemical cocktails.
It didn't help that the precious forehead protectors, woven with incredibly delicate and miniscule seals to prevent successful counterfeit, were interwoven with subtle jutsu to alter the mind underneath. Things that wouldn't affect the ninja too badly, but just… sway them. Encourage loyalty, a near fanatic worship of the village, to keep the ninja from ever looking too closely at the similarities between villages, between allies and enemies. They all bled after all. Not that Pein was criticizing the Kage or the seals stitched into every forehead protector, he had similar ones in every ring the Akatsuki held. The collars had the same-- stitching loyalty and obedience into the layers between leather. It was only common sense, after all. But the jutsu were subtle, they had to be. Too strong and instead of a ninja, capable of thinking and changing plans on a dime, a kage would have a programmable doll, blindly loyal but basic and weak. Useless. Pein wasn't about to have useless things, and had impressed the need for choice and clear thinking instead of blind loyalty to the jeweler he commissioned for the rings. But that meant he had to explain, and quickly, glaring a few men who were about to speak back into silence.
"To harness the power of the Bijuu, we need human containers to funnel it through. To ensure those containers do not turn on us, they need to be loyal. Truly loyal, not through indoctrination, which can be broken, or threats, which only encourage the host and its beast to fight. Loyal to a mother and a father. Dissimilation starts at home, and if your chosen woman sows seeds of disloyalty to the organization, the world we are building can come crashing down."
A pause, for a much needed breath.
"That is not allowed to happen. We need the Jinchuriki and they must have bonds between us and the Bijuu within themselves. So that their power is freely and fully given to the host and the host trusts it may be guided by our own hands. They need to be raised to know peace, so they can properly guide the rest of the world." Silence. The Akatsuki accepted those words, at the very least. Pein looks around sharply again, taking in the few who still look muleish. That would not be tolerated. The men would not be allowed to disobey this order, and if Pein had go discipline a few of the unruly men to ensure he would be obeyed, he would. For now, though, he allows his voice to harden. Strengthen.
"This is very much an order. A mission on par with seeking the Jinchuriki and delivering them here. All of you are to find a woman, bind her to yourself using the collars Zetsu will be delivering--" a sharp glance and Zetsu is already gone, sinking into the earth like he had never been above it, "--and find ways to gain her loyalty. I do not care how you do it, but gain that woman's trust and exploit that until she will join the Akatsuki."
Madara had gone on, when they were planning this part of their overhaul of the system, about love and bridging the gap. Pein had understood that the Uchiha had gone mad from something close to one hundred years mostly buried under the earth, with only Zetsu for company, and the plant-like man frequently ate people. So he had largely discounted the dark haired man's ramblings about brothers and peace for spite and finding untainted love. From what Pein understood of any Uchiha, love was something to be revered and feared in equal measure, like a drug that could drive the mind to ecstasy and ruin at the same time. Love was a luxury the Akatsuki hardly had room for, with its members each having a glowing obsession for their individual vices. Trying to force them to love something else was a futile battle. But forcing them to gain another human's loyalty? Pein could do that, could understand it easily enough. And, most importantly, he could use that. And the additional fire power would only help.
"And how, Leader-sama, are we to ensure whatever girl we are kidnapping stays by our side? The regular methods of torturing for information would hardly gain us their loyalty. Even if it did, finding and subduing a strong kunoichi until their loyalty… the body would hardly be something fighting fit." Itachi. Pein doesn't focus outright on the man, but he does allow his voice to chill slightly.
"As Itachi pointed out, the women we will be taking must be either s-rank or one with the possibility to reach such a rank in a fairly short time. As for keeping the woman beside you? Once you receive your wrist strap and collar from Zetsu, activate the wrist strap with a small burst of your chakra. When the chosen woman is captured, close the collar around her throat and close the collar with blood and chakra. Then you may use it in one of two ways." Konan was ready for this. Had even agreed, no matter how demeaning she thought it would be to reveal herself like that, to show any amount of pain or unease. Still, Pein jumped down onto the ground, Konan following. This way, at least, she wouldn't harm herself from falling if the pain distracted her enough to slip. "The first method is to activate your chakra within the woman's body, as the collar acts like a conduit between you two and you will always be subconsciously aware of her general health and whereabouts."
Pein could feel his chakra within Konan even now, brighter in the stones meant to represent his eyes but steady and strong all through her coils. Perfectly suitable for this. He focuses, it takes only a moment, after all, and pulls. Beside him, Konan breathes sharply in through her nose, but says nothing and her hand doesn't shake where it's barely visible past the length of her robe.
"The harder you pull on it, the more you focus on your displeasure--" he pulls harder, and Konan's eyes are closed now, jaw clenched shut, "--the worse the pain will become. Do not take this lightly, despite having no physical wound, this pain is very much real and connected to every single drop of chakra in their bodies, all at once."
It's torture. Plain and simple. Pein wouldn't deny it, but he also wasn't above such methods. No governing system was.
Pain flashes across Konan's face as he increases it, almost to the maximum extension of the collar now, and then her knees are buckling. She's falling. First to her knees, the crack of skin to stone too loud in the large space, and then further. Sideways, collapsing on the ground with a short, bitten off scream from between her teeth as she convulses, body steuggling to throw off the pain there was no physical cause for. Every single one of these men had seen her in action. Had seen her take devastating blows without so much as a flinch. And now, they saw her on the dirty ground, gasping for enough air to scream again as Pein held the moment like an eternity, before easing the stranglehold he had on her chakra system. She stays down, however, and he kneels to be beside her head. There was very little he could do to stop it, or the softly spoken words that every one in the room heard nevertheless. Konan was both his beloved queen, the woman who he would usher peace into the world beside, and his last remaining link to before. To Yahiko and Nagato. To children finding fun and games even in the middle of a war. Denying a spare bit of comfort, even if that comfort is merely running his hands through her hair? It's beyond his ability.
"But Pein must be balanced. By pleasure, by mercy. And so this collar has a secondary function." Instead of pulling, instead of yanking, Pein allows his chakra to circulate faster within her body. Twisting the energy within her groin and other erogenous zones. Watch her cheeks flush from the pale of pained fear to the rosy hue of desire. "Instead of pulling at your chakra within her, allow it to focus on areas of sexual intensity."
Again, he increases his precision, how intensely he pushes his angel. Konan had never opened her eyes, but now she was panting, breathing coming harder and a little faster, desperately attempting silence despite what Pein was doing to her. She is beautiful, even like this. Attempting for poise and the elegant distance she always showed, despite how he can feel her rising pleasure, the easing of tightened muscles.
"You can make your woman cum, just like this." Which would, he knew, be its own kind of unspeakable cruelty. Orgasms, if not properly built up, could be painful. And knowing one's most hated enemy, which almost all the hidden villages saw them as, was giving them such pleasure? He wouldn't deny it was a bastard's plot, but still couldn't make himself order it off the table. The ends would justify the means. Konan was practically coming apart already, and he eased the chakra. She wouldn't be happy, so close to orgasm after the pain he put her through, but she also wouldn't have been if he continued. And, yes. She's relaxing back into the ground, stirring the dust as she tries to breathe more calmly, brilliant orange eyes closed as she does so. This would be the first, and the last, time anyone would ever get to see Konan in such a state. If it hadn't been entirely necessary, he wouldn't have but… it was, and he had. And now Pein gathers Konan into his arms and walks away, only calling over his shoulder once more before the darkness closes around his form.
"Use pain. Use pleasure. Use whatever you have to, physically or through the collar. But you will find someone to bear a child and you will make that child the next Jinjuriki. Dismissed."
He does not look back. The Akatsuki will obey, or he will handle them.