Chapter 1: Vessel, Part 1

Title: Vessel
Fandom: Naruto, post time-slip
Rating: Hard T? R-ish?
Archive: No archives unless I put them there myself, no MSTings.

A/N: I hardly ever do author's notes beyond the bare minimum, but I'd like to make it clear there is no rape in this fic. It's more along the lines of a fluffy forbidden romance. If forbidden romances had fluff, that is. And a sociopath as the romantic lead.

I could not figure out what to do about that little grunt thing Deidara does at the end of his sentences. It gets translated all sorts of weird ways in scanlations, and in the anime it sounds like a combination of "-ka" and "hmmm." I decided to go with "eh" and "huh" and "okay", and use lots of sentences that are statements but spoken like questions.

I'm taking some liberties with the Akatsuki's motivations for the sake of the story.

For manga followers, the timeline diverges about 361. Spoilers abound up until that point, and maybe a bit beyond. This story was originally published circa 2009 (wow, that long ago?) and quite a few things have changed in the Naruto universe. Think of this tale as an exercise in nostalgia.

Vessel, Part 1

One subject had never come up among the Leaf shinobi forced to counter the Akatsuki's pursuit of the jinchuuriki.

It wasn't that they couldn't deal with it. It was that they weren't completely aware of the Akatsuki's motives. They knew the enemy was hunting Naruto because he was the container for the fox demon, they knew other containers had been captured, the symbionts forcefully extracted. Only one of the jinchuuriki had survived the extraction process, and that only because someone else had willingly given up her life to preserve his. There was some speculation that an attempt to create another jinchuuriki was underway, although most thought the freed demons were going to be used to start wars that the Akatsuki could use to their advantage. No real facts supported either theory. All the Leaf shinobi could do as the other jinchuuriki fell to the Akatsuki was protect Naruto.

No one seemed to consider that, if they were trying to create a jinchuuriki, the Akatsuki would need a vessel.

And the vessels for the demons embedded into jinchuuriki always started out as babies.

The Leader chose three Akatsuki as potential progenitors, all because they possessed bloodline limits that would aid the nascent jinchuuriki until it could protect itself.

If any of the males ('men' was a little questionable in this instance) objected, they would not verbally express their doubts. The Leader was not someone to be opposed.

Besides, they all were after the same thing. This part of the process, while inherently seedy, was accepted as a necessary evil.

At least, intellectually the Leader accepted it as a necessary evil. Several individuals within the Akatsuki, however, might object on religious or moral grounds to their own personal participation. The goal was the same, but the Akatsuki was a diverse group. Not everyone agreed on the path to the goal. That played a large part in the narrowing down process. The bloodline limits were important, true, but the Leader believed these final males were individuals who would follow through if chosen and even use force if necessary.

It might well be necessary. The thought was distasteful to him, but the goal was more important than the methods involved in reaching it. That was another reason for narrowing the list down to several males instead of just one. The Leader hoped that the captive might be more willing to cooperate if presented with the illusion of choice.

She had given no indication so far that "cooperation" was a possibility. He considered himself a fair man, so he explained to her a week ago, clearly and without undue threats (or promises) what was expected of her. Her immediate response was "Hell, no!" She did not appear afraid, just very, very angry.

The Leader did not blame her for her anger. It was simply irrelevant. She possessed extraordinary chakra skills he hoped would be passed on to the new jinchuuriki (along with the bloodline limit of whomever she picked), and her presence would force Naruto, the last of the known living jinchuuriki, to seek them out. Two birds, as it were.

"Pein, he's arrived."

He nodded to his partner. "Then we don't need to keep her or the others waiting any longer."

She frowned and turned her head away.

"It's necessary," he reminded her.

"I don't like it."

"Nor I. I am hoping it won't come to violence."

"If it does, I would like to drug her. It would be easier on them both."

He smiled slightly. His partner was assuming it would be the Uchiha, who had not refused when told of the mission but made it clear he did not care for this assignment. It would make sense if she picked him. He was from the captive's village and he was the older brother of a missing-nin that she once trained with. Uchiha had said flatly that force was a last resort. He would kill the captive without hesitation, lock her in her own mind and torture her for days, but his own personal fastidiousness drew the line at other types of abuse.

The Leader was not in any particular hurry for the child. In fact, it would be a year before conditions were proper for using the baby in the sealing ritual, so he did not want her pregnant immediately. Those conditions would become less favorable with the passing of another year, but the illusion of time might work the same way as the illusion of choice. He didn't want this to be more unpleasant than it had to be. He was a civilized man.

If she did select the Uchiha, hopefully the young man could persuade her, or use his sharingan to subdue her without undue violence (although that suggestion had invoked one of those cool stares that indicated stark disapproval). Drugs could have a negative effect on the fetus. "We'll see what happens," the Leader finally responded.

His partner's mouth tightened, but she nodded.

The girl was just a tool.

They both accepted that.

Deidara was not happy.

He usually wasn't unless he was in the process of blowing something up, so perhaps it should be specified that he was even less happy than usual.

Nearly a week ago a summons had come. He and Tobi were to drop everything and report to a compound hidden in the unincorporated wilderness east of Sound. Since they had been in the western-most corner of the Earth Country at the time, they were about as far away as they could possibly get. Even though most of the journey had been atop one of his clay birds, he was tired and cranky.

And everyone at the compound was giving him really, really strange looks.

When mind-controlled ninjas kept looking at you oddly, you knew something was up.

He barely had time to suck down a meal (he had hardly eaten in the last week, because stopping for anything when the Leader called was akin to suicide) before Itachi Uchiha came looking for him.

The Uchiha leaned in the doorway of the small, functional kitchen, ignoring Deidara's scowl. He was wearing the Akatsuki's dark robe with its characteristic pattern of red clouds, unfastened at the neck so that his face could be clearly seen. It made Deidara very conscious that he had been traveling at break-neck speed for a week, that his own robe was crumpled and stained, and that his hair (which he took some pride in) was flattened to his head with sweat and grime. "What?" he snarled between gulps of his miso soup. "I'm starving, okay?"

"The Leader wants to see you now," said the Uchiha with his usual calm and inflectionless intonation. "You should clean up."

Deidara slapped the bowl down, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. The improbable mouth on his palm briefly faced towards the Uchiha, its tongue wagging as if in mockery.

Not many people stuck out a tongue at Itachi Uchiha and lived, even if said tongue was on a hand rather than a face.

"What does it matter, eh?" demanded Deidara crossly. "He's not here, right? He can't smell me, and I don't care if you can."

Head tilting to the side, the Uchiha made a non-committal sound.

Great. Even the most emotionless of the Akatsuki was looking at him oddly.

"What?" snarled Deidara.

"I have a spare robe," said the Uchiha. "You should at least put that on."

Deidara shot him an incredulous glare. For the love of all that was holy (or unholy in his case), they were ninjas. They usually came back from a day at work splattered with fleshy body bits. The Leader wasn't going to care that Deidara's cloak wasn't perfectly pressed, if he could even tell that through the haze of astral projection. "What the hell do I need to get spruced up for, huh? He's just going to send me back out on this new mission."

The Uchiha blinked.

Which he never did. The sharingan seemed to have a "can't blink like a normal person" side effect.

"What's the hold-up?" rumbled a deep voice from the hallway. Deidara grimaced. Oh, yeah, it needed only this…

A tall figure loomed behind the Uchiha. Perfectly round, white-dominated eyes stared at Deidara from what seemed like a great height. Kisame's stature was such that he towered over his partner. "Eat fast or eat later, kid," he suggested in irritation. "We've got a meeting."

"He's objecting to — sprucing up, I believe he said."

Kisame shrugged. "Yeah? Well, he just got in, so a little dirt's to be expected."

The Uchiha's head cocked back slightly, not enough to look in the taller male's face, but enough to indicate which of the men in the room he was addressing. "Do you seriously want to give him an advantage because he looks like that?"

It was Deidara's turn to blink. He glanced down at himself, wondering what advantage (or disadvantage, as far as that went) could possibly come from a travel-rumbled robe and travel-matted hair. (Although the travel-matted hair did bother him. A lot.)

The effect the query had on Kisame, however, was electric. "Oh, hell, no!" he snarled. Striding into the room, he seized Deidara by the collar of his not-perfectly-pressed robe and pulled. The chair he had been sitting in crashed sideways as Kisame physically lifted Deidara into the air. Instinctively Deidara wrapped his hands around the other male's wrist; just as instinctively the teeth in his palms bit down hard. Kisame winced, but he had a tough hide. He just gave Deidara a shake and snapped at Itachi, "You get the shower going. No way is this guy going to get out of this by being skanky!"

"What the hell –" started Deidara in alarm. He had seen strange things during his time with the Akatsuki, experiences that would give Orochimaru nightmares, but being bathed by force—?

The Uchiha leaned over and flicked the facet over the sink. "Just run his head under here. It'll have to do."

Any further questions or comments Deidara might have uttered were literally drowned out by having his head forced under water. One hand flailed towards the bag at his waist that held his special exploding clay, but Itachi seized him by the wrist before, to Deidara's complete horror, the Uchiha began to scrub his hair. With dishwashing soap.

It was a good thing his head was being held face-down in the sink so that the water muffled his opinions on what was currently happening to him. Even seasoned shinobi would have been shocked by the words coming out of Deidara's mouth.

"Enough," the Uchiha finally said. Kisame grunted and pulled Deidara, sputtering and coughing, upright by the hair.

"He's still a mess," grumbled Kisame, sticking his face far too close to Deidara's and examining him.

"Let go of his hair," instructed Itachi, "and you — don't move." This was said as the Uchiha cupped his fingers around Deidara's cheeks.

Deidara uttered a sound that was (he insisted to himself) not a squeak as he stared, horrified, into those sharingan eyes. Fortunately the eyes weren't doing that thing they did to trap the unwary. Instead steady warmth came from the fingers the Uchiha threaded into Deidara's hair, and after a few seconds Itachi nodded and said, "Done."

"With what, huh?" screamed Deidara, who was almost at his wits end.

"Your hair is dry," the Uchiha blandly informed him.

Startled, Deidara pulled one hand free from Kisame's restraining grasp and ran it through his fine, long blond hair. It was, indeed, dry.

So that's how his hair always looks normal even after a week in the field, eh? He's his own walking blow dryer.

"He hasn't been informed of the mission," the Uchiha continued as he shrugged out of his own cloak. "Get that off him — that's why," he continued as Kisame grabbed handfuls of Deidara's cloak and pulled, "he's in here eating instead of getting ready."

"Getting ready for freakin' what, huh?"

The Uchiha threw his own cloak around Deidara's shoulders. "Oi, are you going in like that?" exclaimed Kisame. Underneath Itachi wore a loose-fitting white top and dark trousers, making the resemblance to his younger brother Sasuke suddenly very marked. "Man, you're going to get picked for sure—unless that's what you want, of course…"

Fingers dug into Deidara's shoulders. "It is not," hissed the Uchiha.

There was a beat of silence.

"It is not," said the Uchiha in his usual emotions-do-not-touch-me tone as he smoothed out the creases he had just pressed into Deidara's new, fresh, clean robe. "There's no time left, we're already late. This will have to do." There was a final automatic stroke across Deidara's shoulders before the Uchiha turned away, striding towards the hallway beyond the kitchen.

Kisame prodded Deidara. "Get moving."

"Wait, okay?" said Deidara in a faint voice. He had been staring directly into Itachi's face during that brief loss of control, and he had no doubt that the Uchiha's revulsion was real. The Uchiha paused in the kitchen's doorway; Kisame snorted but stopped trying to make Deidara move. "What's the mission?"

Kisame made a noise in his throat that didn't sound like a happy one.

The Uchiha slowly turned his head. The sharingan weren't swirling, but being on the receiving end of that red-eyed glare was still unnerving.

"We have to impregnate a woman," said the Uchiha coldly.

"What?" Deidara gasped. "Why—?"

In all truth he was so busy incredulously grappling with the implications of Itachi's flat statement that he wasn't sure how that second sentence was going to end, but the sharingan did begin to swirl which startled Deidara into silence as he wondered if he should clench his eyes closed or if it was already too late. "Why do you think?" parried the Uchiha, his voice flat and unemotional.

Deidara dropped his gaze (glad that he could drop his gaze, because it meant he wasn't caught in a genjutsu, or at least that's what he hoped it meant) to his own hand. The teeth in the palm gnashed back at him.

"Yeah," he said bitterly after a minute, "dumb question, huh? Fine. Let's get this over with."