Consequence

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, etc., of Naruto. This story is for entertainment purposes only, and not for profit.

Summary: Captured by Akatsuki, Ino’s forced to pretend to cooperate with the criminal organization. Surrounded by nut jobs, how’s a girl to keep her sanity? Much less her convictions…

Consequence

A/N: Another warning for Hidan’s mouth, and thank you for the reviews. Really warms the soul. =)

Chapter Two

“So you succeeded?” The eyes turned towards them were mesmerizing, as distinct in their silver pattern as the Sharingan could be. Set in the shadowed darkness of their meeting chamber, the eyes glowed like an empty phantom out of nightmare. Some said they were the eyes of God.

“Yes.” Itachi met those psychedelic eyes without wavering.

His partner, the Mist-nin Kisame, smiled, showing the jagged, double-rowed teeth of a shark. “I hear she’s quite a looker.”

“She’s delicious,” the white side of Zetsu said almost wistfully, his darker half rebuking, “She’s not for us; Leader has a use for her.”

The way the two halves of the same man could carry on arguments with themselves was unnerving. Hidan twitched, his look disgusted. “By Jashin, you have one freaky split-personality, you damn weed.”

“You’re one to speak about being a freak, yeah,” Deidara couldn’t help baiting.

“Shut your hole, pretty-boy, or I might fucking reconsider who the next sacrifice to Jashin-sama will be!”

“Is that a threat, priest?” His reply was as soft as it was dangerous.

“Hidan, Deidara---enough.” The voice was sharp, inflexible. The two antagonists subsided with mutual glares, Hidan’s just a little more petulant than the creative terrorist’s.

“I still don’t see what fucking use we have for her. She’s so weak it’s pathetic,” Hidan muttered sulkily.

“You don’t need to know,” Zetsu taunted, his darker half settling for a warning hiss as the Leader’s brilliant eyes flicked their way. The leaf-shrouded man fell silent under that gaze, though he smiled, teeth flashing in the darkness. His butter-yellow eyes glowed beneath the muffling shadows of the leafy protrusions on either side of his bi-colored head.

“She lacks training,” Leader advised, “but her kekkai genkai could prove very useful.”

“Her genjutsu is similar in ways to my own,” Itachi pointed out indifferently.

“Really?” Tobi ingeniously added. Itachi ignored him as Deidara favored his partner with the Glare of Death.

“Duly noted,” Leader said. “And she will spend time training under you, Itachi, as she will spend time with Kakuzu.”

“Where is that zombie?” Kisame suddenly realized the absence of the former Waterfall-nin.

“Still recovering,” Leader replied even as Hidan snorted.

“His lazy ass is still in bed. My bed, the fucker.”

“It will take time for him to incorporate the two new hearts he gained from his fight with the leaf-nin into his body. He tells me the girl can help with that.” Leader was surprisingly forthcoming.

“So we train her. Then what? Is she to take Orochimaru’s place?” Kisame asked, wrinkling his blue forehead in the way others might raise their brows.

“No. She would not be ready for that for quite some time.” Leader paused. “We must also assure ourselves of her complete devotion to our cause. I know the Sharingan’s genjutsu can be quite persuasive, but only time will tell where her true loyalties lie.”

“Oh, there are plenty of ways to persuade her, Leader-sama!” Tobi nodded vigorously to show his support. Deidara gave his masked partner a disgusted look as the brilliant eyes cut to them for a long moment.

“I myself will speak with her, of course, but she will bear close watching over the next few weeks, to ensure the true effectiveness of Itachi’s jutsu. Not that I am questioning your abilities, Itachi-san.”

Itachi only looked bored as Kisame’s forehead wrinkled.

“And whose fucking responsibility will that be?” Hidan demanded with a lavender glare as he folded his arms across his bare chest. “I know we caught her, but I don’t want to be saddled with the bitch.”

“Oh, yeah, you’d be a great choice, un.” Deidara rolled his eyes.

Without looking at his partner, who would go along amicably with anything he wanted anyway, Itachi said slowly, “Perhaps it would be best if---”

But he was cut off as Tobi jumped forward, frantically waving his raised hand. “We can take care of her, Leader-sama! Tobi will take good care of her!”

“What?” Deidara scowled. “You stupid idiot! Who says I want to be saddled with some dumb bitch, either, un?”

“Ow! Deidara-sempai! Aren’t you supposed to be watching your arms? You’re not healed yet---”

“Shut up, yeah!”

Kisame bumped his silent partner with a grin, whispering, “Gods, I love watching those two.”

“Leader-sama, Tobi wants her. Tobi will be good for her. Promise!” The masked Akatsuki beseeched the shadow in their center as Deidara growled.

Surprisingly, Itachi spoke up, his eyes flat as black pebbles. “I don’t think that would be such a good---”

“No, Tobi is right. Deidara needs time to heal from his injuries capturing the one-tail, and I have decided that it will be you---Itachi, Kisame---who will go after the four-tailed. You will not be here much over the next few weeks.”

Deidara scowled even as Tobi danced around in delight, stopping to bow mockingly in front of the cold Uchiha. “Don’t worry, Itachi-san! Tobi will take good care of her! Tobi will make it his mission!”

An unspoken look passed between the two, and surprisingly, it was Itachi who turned his eyes away first. Kisame scratched his head and shrugged, deciding it was unimportant, that Itachi probably didn’t give a shit one way or the other.

“It’s settled then.” Leader’s words pronounced the end of their impromptu meeting. He melted into the shadows, Zetsu joining him with a last grin as Hidan curled his lip in disdain, grousing, “Finally!”


ooOOOoo


“She looks like you, sempai!”

“Shut up, yeah.”

“But she could be your little sister, Deidara-sempai! Don’t you think she could be his little sister, Itachi-san?”

There was a muffled boom, a distinct yelp and a loud wail of protest, “Sempai!”

“I said, shut up, idiot, or next time I’ll blow your head right off, hmm?”

“Was that really necessary?” That cold, unaffected voice she knew. *Itachi.*

“You aren’t forced to put up with him, yeah.”

“Tobi sorry, sempai! Tobi didn’t mean to make you angry!”

“I said, shut up!”

“Tobi will be a good boy! Tobi promises to be a good boy!”

*They’re nuts!* She mentally shuddered, for these madmen were the ones responsible for such death and terror across the known world that every hidden village of the Allied Countries had a standing order that they were to be killed on sight. She desperately tried to remember just who they were in the Bingo Book, but individual names escaped her. Only Itachi’s drawn face with the cold eyes so familiar in the Uchiha clan could be called up, and she sucked in her breath.

“Ah. You’re awake.”

“She’s been awake for some time…” yet another voice pointed out with a giggle, a darker growl immediately adding, “...though pretending not to be.”

Ino wasn’t stupid. Caught in the act, she opened her eyes, pushing herself upright in the bed and reflexively scooting back until her shoulders bumped the unyielding stone wall behind her. Four pairs of eyes watched her with varying degrees of interest or the utter lack of it. The powerful chakra pouring off of each of them had her instinctively reaching for a weapons pouch that wasn’t there. *Of course. They would have disposed of that first.*

The motion was foolish, too, for the role she was supposed to be playing. She let her hand drop, curling it into a tight fist hidden by the folds of the blanket. Her nails dug into her palm as she deliberately forced herself to relax, her eyes flicking from one face to the other, trying to gauge their mood and measure their motives.

Only two were dressed in the distinctive red-clouds-on-black cloaks of the Akatsuki, though there were two other cloaks thrown negligently over a chair and across the second bed. Itachi’s cold face she knew---she tried to detect some hint of what her father had said, some flicker of reassurance. But he remained as stone-faced as ever, his black eyes even more cold and detached than she remembered. She hid a shiver, and turned her gaze to the others.

One watched her with a quirked brow, as if amused by her wide-eyed stare. He was stunningly handsome, with eyes and hair the same color as her own, though darker by several shades. This must be the Deidara one of the others had teased looked like her. His long hair was parted so that it covered half his face, the rest tied back with a hitai-ate, some pulled up into a careless topknot. They might have had the same coloring and perhaps there was a similarity to how they parted their hair, but Ino frankly couldn’t see that much resemblance between them. Dressed casually in a mesh shirt and faded grey-blue pants, there was something odd about his crossed arms, though she didn’t let her gaze linger, lest he mistake her puzzlement for something more than it was.

Her eyes moved to the man standing behind him. He was slightly taller, and much thinner than the others. He was dressed in unrelieved black, except for the white cloth encasing his lower legs. His face was hidden by a strange mask that looked like a pumpkin, the swirling lines radiating from a single eyehole that was too dark to make out the eye it left uncovered. Short, unkempt black hair spiked around the mask in a style reminiscent of Kiba when he was younger. He leaned forward eagerly, as if friendly, but there was something about him that made Ino want to flinch away, for no reason other than her own unease.

It was the last of them who did make her flinch. She couldn’t help it, for she had never seen anything like him. For one thing, only half of him was visible, the rest buried inside the ceiling. He hung upside down, like a dried flower, except the giant leaves that sprouted up above the high collar of his Akatsuki cloak looked more like the two halves of a Venus fly trap. They encased the strangest head---half black, half white, as if someone had taken two chess pieces and melded them into one. His eyes beneath a wild crop of green hair were butter-yellow, and glowed with amusement as she instinctively drew back, hugging her knees and staring at him with wide eyes. His lips parted in a malicious grin to show a mouth filled with jagged teeth.

“What are you?” she whispered, unable to stop herself.

He didn’t answer, only winking once before turning to Itachi, “I’ll go tell Leader that she’s awake. He’ll want to see her.” Another voice eerily issued from the same black-and-white mouth, as if another mind lived inside the same body. “You might want to give her a bath. She’s rather dirty.”

Ino glared. She knew she was dirty; that damn weed didn’t have to point it out. Her scalp itched, and she knew the stale smell coming from her was disgusting. She’d been in the same dirty clothes for who knew how long, and her hair was a greasy tangle hanging limp and heavy down her back. She shouldn’t have cared so much, but she hated to be at any disadvantage around these weirdos.

“Stinky, too,” the masked man unhelpfully added, and then laughed.

*Jerk.*

“Yamanaka Ino.”

She stiffened, and unwillingly, her eyes were drawn back to Itachi. The Sharingan glowed bloodily at her, the swimming pattern inside the red depths almost mesmerizing. “Do you know why you are here?”

His question was stupid. But her father had said her village needed her here, in the last place she’d ever want to be, and that Itachi could be trusted. She couldn’t, not really, but she was willing to play along. His question was simple, so must be her answer, but she had no idea what to say. So she asked hesitantly, “To serve?”

“To serve who?”

She almost said, “You,” but that left a sour taste in her mouth, so she substituted, “The Akatsuki?”

“Hmmph.” That was from the blond-haired man. He watched her intently, but not as intently as Itachi, whose red eyes bored into hers. “I think you went overboard, Itachi. You made her into a mindless idiot, yeah.”

Her eyes snapped over to his, her brows coming down as she bristled. *Mindless idiot?* Who the heck did he think she was, anyway? Some stupid Akatsuki-slave? She would never, could never, be that, no matter what her father asked of her.

“Guess not, hmm.” The man smirked at her, and she glared.

“Oooh! She’s got your jutsu, sempai! That’s one scary Glare of Death!” The masked man shivered theatrically. Ino lost her glare, confused by his strange actions. This must be the “Tobi” who got on the blond man’s nerves and said such crazy things.

Itachi ignored them to order, “Come with me.”

“Where?” she couldn’t help asking, but he ignored her, too, the jerk. Turning his back, he went to the door. He finally stopped, turning to look back at her over his shoulder. His look was indifferent but there was something about it that had Ino finally slipping free of the bed, following reluctantly and trying to ignore the other two who watched her so avidly.

Itachi did not look back again. Leading her through the door, which opened on a long, stone hallway with wooden doors set at infrequent intervals, he finally stopped at the last one. “There are bathing facilities and supplies inside to clean yourself up. You will make yourself presentable, for our Leader would speak to you. You will show him that your true loyalty lies with Akatsuki.”

She blinked. Was Itachi trying to warn her somehow? But his tone was so carelessly apathetic. But she had the sudden sense that her very life, let alone the game she was supposed to play, depended on how well she convinced this Leader-guy of her earnestness.

*Oh God.* She suddenly felt faint---was she even up for acting out such a lie? She bit her lip, the self-doubt creeping in, but her hands tightened into fists as her natural stubbornness reasserted itself. She was a kunoichi of Konoha---and they needed her to do whatever she had to in order to keep this farce up. And she would, damn it. Her chin rose fractionally, and she squared her hunched shoulders.

Itachi did not acknowledge the slight movement, instead saying flatly, “I suggest you hurry. This is the only bathroom, and the others will not wait on you to finish.”

With those cryptic words, he was gone---literally, for he seemed to vanish right before her eyes. Ino looked around uneasily, and then shrugged. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door.


ooOOOoo


It was---and was not---what she expected. In some respects, it was like any other bathroom. There was a toilet, a sink, a shower and a tub. But what a tub! Sunk into the stone floor, it took advantage of a natural hot spring beneath the underground base. Steam wafted from the constantly moving surface, and Ino looked longingly at it, imagining what a good, long soak would do to ease the aches and pains away. But Itachi had told her to be quick, and she didn’t fancy anyone barging in on her. There was no lock on the door, which was bad. The memory of how that freaky plant-guy could sink right through the ceiling was worse.

Glancing around, she spotted a threadbare towel and a couple of white robes hanging from hooks along the wall closest to the door and beside the sunken tub. Ino looked down at the various stains smeared across her purple top and grimaced. There was dried blood on it, and if she wasn’t mistaken, there was more smeared across her arm and torso. She shuddered, and quickly stripped, dropping her dirty clothes right there on the floor.

Stepping into the shower, she fiddled with the knobs to find the right temperature, and spent a few seconds in pure bliss as the warm water beat across her head and shoulders. Coming to her senses, she reached for the scrap of soap and wrinkled her nose at the harsh lye in it. One would think a band of S-class criminals like the Akatsuki could afford better products. Why, the shampoo was horrible, and the conditioner---it was so thin she had to use most of it just to keep the tangles from snarling in her hair. She suddenly missed the comforts of home, where she had her own floral-scented supplies, and a furry blue bathrobe with the cute yellow ducky on the back.

God, she was pathetic to be thinking about such stupid things right now, but...she was, and suddenly it was too much. All of it. The strange, cruel madmen she’d encountered since Asuma-sensei’s horrible death, the lie she was supposed to convince some Akatsuki bigwig, the responsibility she had of maintaining some crazy allegiance to a band she despised and who frightened her so damn much she wanted to curl into a ball and disappear right through the floor. She knew she was supposed to be strong---her father believed in her, the Hokage believed in her, the whole village was counting on her. Shikamaru---Chouji---her sensei, Asuma and Kakashi---she could not let their deaths be in vain. But oh, god, she missed them, she missed them so much, and the tears were coming now, too many to stop, and she felt such a wave of homesickness and so out of her depth and such panic and fear that she could only stand there, holding herself as she trembled violently, the water thundering down all around her.

She let herself dwell in it, unable to stop herself, for only a few minutes. The sobs came, hoarse and low, as she tried to keep them muffled, and her anger that she had to keep so damn quiet about it actually helped her to get past it. Gritting her teeth, she angrily wiped the tears away, and violently wrenched the knob so that the spray shut off. She listened to the dull splats of the water still dripping from the spout and breathed in and out, carefully slowing her racing heart and composing herself for what she knew she had to do.

Pushing the shower curtain back, she stuck one foot out, looked up into a pumpkin, and shrieked.


ooOOOoo


Deidara almost fell over his chair trying to get out the door. Cursing under his breath, he kicked it out of his way as he slammed the door open onto chaos. The hall was suddenly crowded with Akatsuki ready for battle, and he had to duck before that stupid Jashinite cut him with his damn scythe, which he was foolishly waving around demanding to know just what the fuck was going on. The blood-curdling scream had come from the end of the hall, but Kisame’s bulk was blocking the way. One blue hand was gripping the hilt of his huge Samheda, ready to draw it forth, but he was tall enough to see over everyone, and suddenly laughed.

“Tobi sorry! Tobi so very sorry!”

Eyes widening, Deidara felt like banging his head against the wall. Repeatedly. What had that stupid idiot done now?

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re not that sorry.” Kisame wasn’t helping, damn it.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me! All this shit’s on account of her?”

Elbowing his way forward with an exasperated sigh, Deidara finally squeezed past a half-grown Zetsu sticking out of the wall and Kisame’s blue bulk. His right eye widened, and he bit back a laugh. By God, he had to get a picture of this. Pushing his hair back, he exposed the camera-scope covering his left eye and took a good picture of Tobi cowering beneath one thoroughly pissed off kunoichi. She was brandishing a shampoo bottle, of all things, and wore nothing but a skimpy towel, wet white-blonde hair tumbling all over her back and shoulders. Kakuzu wouldn’t let them buy anything so frivolous as decent linens, and for the first time ever, Deidara felt like thanking the cheap ass for his miserly foresight. Dirty and disheveled, the girl was pretty, clean and disheveled, she was stunning.

They sure knew how to grow them in the Leaf Village. And he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. The hall grew suddenly quiet---except for Tobi’s continuous “sorry’s!” and her yells of “Jerk!” as she soundly thwacked him on the shoulder with the shampoo bottle. No one laughed, and the short blonde finally noticed her audience. Glancing around, her light blue eyes widened. She almost dropped her towel in her surprise, and he wasn’t the only one who sighed with regret when she caught it again so quick, tightening it as close as she could around her ample chest. She whirled, giving a glimpse of the creamy skin of her sweet ass through a nicely placed tear in the worn-out towel before the door slammed shut behind her.

“That,” Kisame pronounced, “made it all worth it. Come on, Tobi.” Reaching down, the big shark-nin hauled the hapless man up, patting him on the head with a fond grin. “I knew having you around would brighten this gloomy place up!”

“You might like being dragged out of bed by some girl screaming her damn head off, but Jashin-sama does not take kindly to---”

“Oh, stow it, priest, and go handle that woody before Jashin-sama takes offense to that.” Kisame leered good-naturedly.

Turning red with rage or embarrassment, Hidan abruptly turned and slammed his own door shut.

“Hope Kakuzu’s asleep or he might have to sew Hidan back up again after he tears him apart.” Kisame was on a roll. Itachi gave his partner a cool glance, one that instantly quelled the mischievous twinkle in the shark-nin’s grey eyes.

Deidara smirked, and then realized that he might just have to go and take care of his own little---well, not so little---problem. Shifting uncomfortably, he frowned even as he slammed the door shut to their shared room in Tobi’s face. The troublemaker would just have to wait a few damn minutes…


ooOOOoo


There was a polite knock. Jaw tightening, Ino ignored it. Gripping the sides of the sink, she stared into the mirror with a dark look. Let them wait. She needed a minute to regain her composure. Damn them, anyway!

The knock returned, slightly firmer.

“Hold your horses, damn it!” Ino bellowed. The rage boiling up inside of her felt good, strong, and cleansing. Outrage was better than humiliation, and annoyance was far better than the despairing fear of earlier. Her eyes snapped over and she turned, ready to throw the stupid shampoo as the door creaked open. “I said, hold your---oh.”

The woman who stood in the doorway said nothing, her face as beautiful in its marble remoteness as an Uchiha’s. Her short hair was a remarkable blue color, and set off by an intricate paper flower. The Akatsuki cloak hid what clothing she wore, but her ninja sandals had wooden heels, much like those Tsunade and Shizune favored. Ino continued to stare as the woman calmly closed the door.

“Who are you?” Ino blurted, unsettled by the woman’s eerie calm.

“I am Konan," she said, her voice as soft and remote as her perfect features and cool gaze. Her amber eyes drifted over Ino’s borrowed yukata and wet, tangled hair. Ino flushed, hating the woman for catching her at such a disadvantage, but the woman said nothing, only pulling a simple wooden comb from her pocket and holding it out.

“Uh---thanks.” Ino took the comb gingerly. She felt entirely too unsettled, having the woman watch as she freed the tangles from her hair, so tried to make conversation. “So...you’re part of Akatsuki?”

Konan only looked at her.

Ino winced as a particular snarl caught the comb. *Gods, she’s spooky. There must be a rule somewhere that you gotta be weird to join this group. Ow!*

She made a face in the mirror as she tugged the last tangle free from the end of her hair. She needed to tie her hair back, at least, or it would just tangle again as it dried. Not seeing any handy hair-ties, she had to filch a belt from one of the other robes still hanging on the wall. She’d sell her soul right now for a hair dryer or a just a simple barrette. Tying the wet length low on her neck instead of in her normally high ponytail, Ino pushed the long wisps that curled around her cheeks back behind her ears. They immediately slipped free and she sighed. Well, this was good as it was going to get, without decent clothes or better products. With a fatalistic shrug, she turned away from the mirror. The evil things always added ten pounds anyway.

“Thanks for the comb.” She extended it to the creepy woman, who only looked at her.

“Keep it.”

“Er...thank you.” Ino didn’t know what else to say, and they stood there awkwardly for a long moment.

Finally, the statue came to life long enough to say, “Come,” and led the way out of the bathroom. The hallway was eerily deserted, and it felt unreal to be traveling behind the woman as it circled past even more closed doors that led who knew where. Ino noted with a sour look that Konan had that type of gliding, graceful walk that made it look like she was floating. Peevishly sauntering in her wake, Ino felt every inch the ugly waif in her too-long white robe and messy hair. Being barefoot did not help, as Konan’s heels gave her that many more inches to tower over her, and the woman was already a good three inches taller. *Ugh. Next to her, I look like something dragged in off the street.*

Well, she had been dragged, and not by her choice. But she better start coming up with a plan, for she had a suspicion this woman was taking her to the Akatsuki’s Leader. If the other members of this cracked-in-the-head organization were anything to go by, she better keep her wits about her. She wasn’t surprised when Konan stopped before a last door, marked with a sigil, surprisingly, meaning “Peace.”

*These people really are crazy!*

“Nagato has been waiting for you,” Konan said, gesturing Ino to precede her. Ino gingerly stepped past the beautiful woman, who held the door open.

Not knowing what to expect, Ino didn’t expect such total darkness, like being dropped inside a pocket. She didn’t like it, and inched to the right as Konan silently followed her inside, closing the door softly behind them. Ino’s eyes darted around, looking for anything and everything, and she felt the small hairs rising on the back of her neck as she forcefully tried to calm her beating heart and pace her quickening breaths. There was a discernable presence here, one that she could not place. It felt oddly indistinct, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on why. Instinctually tracing the chakra paths, she could feel the quiet power of Konan behind her---as completely self-contained as the woman was herself, if still an unbelievable level of control.

There was another distinctive aura, somewhere in the center of the room, and it was even more powerful. Ino was getting rather tired of that. These people left Sakura, who was one of the strongest ninja she knew, in the dust, let alone her. She shivered, and crossed her arms to dig her nails into her upper arms, forcing herself to remain calm. She couldn’t let any of her uneasy fear show. She was better than that, damn it.

“You’re young.”

Blinking in disorientation, Ino sucked in her breath. A pair of eyes now stared at her out of the darkness. Silver and blue-on-silver, they were somehow ringed, like some strange hypnotist’s medallion. They exuded a soft, silvery-gray light that somehow pushed back the shadows. She could feel the light on her face, and knew that he had brightened it so that he could see her. She could make out an outline now, a shadow on shadow, spiky on top and muffled below in the familiar high-collared obscurity of an Akatsuki cloak. She couldn’t sense a direct presence, though. There was no one really there; it was a hologram.

And yet his power still came through, so that if this was just a shadow of his true self, then his real control over chakra was so vast that it made all she had learned in the past two years studying under Tsunade and her father rather pitiful. And she knew real fear. Fear that was making her clammy with sweat and still icy-cold so that she wanted to shiver. She gripped her arms tighter, ignoring the goose-bumps that prickled across her skin, and fought the overwhelming urge to run away. Because while those eyes made her very, very scared, right to the point where she wanted to run away and hide, she was still Yamanaka Ino, damn it, and she wouldn’t ever give up or give in to anyone. Even herself.

So she stood her ground, her chin rising, and she met those eyes defiantly. And suddenly, the crushing, ominous weight of fear was gone, and the eyes lost a bit of their brilliancy. They even seemed to warm slightly, and Ino had to blink, taken aback by the thought.

“But you are not weak.” He seemed satisfied by that, and Ino said nothing, uncertain what she could say. Her initial reaction, to demand who this jerk thought he was, didn’t seem properly subservient. But she couldn’t really be subservient, it just wasn’t in her nature. But she was supposed to pretend she was completely under Itachi’s influence, enforcing her obedience and loyalty to the Akatsuki, and so she couldn’t exactly start making irritated demands.

He stared at her for a time, and then said, sharp as a thrown kunai, “Your team is dead.”

Ino couldn’t hold back a flinch as her eyes grew wet. *Damn you.* She refused to let the tears fall, and tightened her jaw, cursing the fact that she had probably just killed any chance of pretending to be under Itachi’s jutsu with the involuntary reaction.

But Eyeballs seemed to be even more satisfied by her reaction. There was relish in his voice as he said, “You know pain.”

He was as nuts as any of them, the sadistic jerk. Ino’s eyes flashed.

“That is good. You may come to understand our true purpose in time. Only with pain can one come to true enlightenment. For now, though, I must take some precautions---” He paused, and then unexpectedly snapped, “What is your true desire?”

She suddenly seemed caught up in some type of jutsu, even though she could not sense anything. But her throat closed, and breathing became difficult, light, shallow. Lights went off inside her head, and Ino struggled futilely against the invisible grip around her throat. She opened her mouth, trying to suck in more air, but words were suddenly pouring out, as if he were somehow plucking them right from her mind. Ino froze, fear icing down her soul, and she started struggling more, but could do nothing. It was as if she were caught in her own Shintenshen no jutsu. She heard herself say, in a hoarse whisper of her own voice, “Never to lose---to anyone.”

Sakura’s face flashed before her eyes, and she winced. Damn it. For too long, Sakura had been the yardstick she had measured herself against, and in the last few years, the distance between them had grown greater and greater. The words of her mentor at his death came back to haunt her, and she found them drawn forth from her unwilling lips, her whisper even more low and rough than before. “To be strong---in ninjutsu and in love.”

“Love.” The voice mused over the word, and Ino abruptly felt the grip of his power loosen from around her throat. She fell to her knees, gasping greedily for air. She closed her eyes at the humiliation of having her deepest longings pulled out for him to toy with. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides and she glared up at him. But he wasn’t even looking at her, but somewhere over her shoulder. She felt Konan draw closer, and glancing back at her, Ino was surprised to see the slight softening in the woman’s amber eyes.

*She...she loves him.* Ino couldn’t believe it, but she knew love when she saw it. Although someone else might not be able to detect it---for Konan really was good at hiding her emotions, the old stone-face---Ino had an uncanny perception where true love was concerned, having longed for it herself for so long. And if this wasn’t it, than she didn’t know what was.

It was weird to see such a tender emotion in such acknowledged, ruthless killers as the Akatsuki, and it left her feeling even more unsettled. Her distraction cost her, for those weird, silver eyes were back on her, pinning her with the simple force of their compelling personality. “We may have just what you seek, Yamanaka Ino. What wouldn’t you do to become stronger? What if I could promise that you could, with hard work and our help, of course.”

“Wh-Why would you...help me?” For some reason, her tongue felt thick in her head, and it was hard to get the words out. Her eyes bore into his, trying to pull the reason from him as he had her.

There was a smile in his voice, almost a kindness, as if he were some fatherly figure and she still a young child that he would indulge for now because it amused him to do so. “You have a unique kekkai genkai, one that could be brought to its full potential if given the proper training. You also have lesser talents that we could put to use now, but I will let Konan explain that to you.”

It was clearly a dismissal, for the glowing silver eyes grew dim. Jumping to her feet, Ino protested, “Wait---” She had a million questions, for he hadn’t answered anything really, and neither had she. But he was gone, and Konan was already opening the door, letting in a bit of the orange glow from the hallway to pierce the stygian darkness of the room.

“But…” Ino was disgruntled by the abrupt dismissal. Konan didn’t say anything, only giving her one of those serene looks that said all too well that she was wasting her time. Frowning, Ino finally left, casting a last, troubled glance behind her.


ooOOOoo


“You seem quite certain of her obedience,” the dark shadow beside him said, amused by his subordinate’s assurance.

“I have no need to question her loyalty,” Pein replied. “Only her motivation.”

“You put too much trust in Itachi’s genjutsu,” he cautioned.

“You, of all people, question the persuasive strength of the Sharingan?” Pein seemed amused by that.

Madera smiled, a red gleam glinting through the mask that concealed his features. “It is a dangerous game you play, Leader-sama. She believes the Sharingan has no power over her, that her family’s kekkai genkai neutralizes it.”

“She also believed Itachi was her father,” Pein answered. “Caught in his genjutsu, she thinks she reached out to Inoichi and that he told her to pretend a loyalty to Akatsuki she does not have.”

“Yet,” Madera answered softly. “A loyalty that she does not have---yet.”

“You think you can manipulate her so easily?”

“There is a little bit of darkness in everyone.” Madera shrugged. “And I will be there to re-enforce the genjutsu’s influence, of course.”

“Why do you take such an interest in her?” Pein asked, curious, for it was not normal for the true leader of Akatsuki to care all that much.

“Why, because you have taken such an interest in her, Nagato,” Madara answered laconically.

“At first, I thought she would be a very useful tool. But not one I could turn into a mindless slave, as that would defeat the purpose of her telepathic genjutsu. Now that I understand what truly motivates her, I feel that she might prove a most valuable ally, if we are careful. Her loyalty to Konoha is strong.”

“Ah. Now I understand why you questioned her as you did.” Madara smiled. “And using her own loyalty to her village to manipulate her to our advantage---I would not credit you with such clever duplicity, Nagato.”

Pein shrugged. “It is useful, for now. It will give us the chance to turn her to true enlightenment and the righteousness of our cause.”

“She has potential,” Madara admitted. “Without the hindrance of the Leaf's restrictive morality, there is the possibility that she could actually make real use of that potential.”

“It is enough for now that we wait and watch to see how she does. If she is not strong enough to survive the early training, than it was not meant for her to come to our true purpose.”

Madara only smiled.