This fic is dedicated to the wonderful creativecherry! This pairing needs a little more love. And if you don't like this pair, why are you here?
Thanks a bunch to my beta kiohates!
Warning: this story contains shonen-ai and mature themes. Also...I don't own Naruto. If I did, fangirls would probably be having nosebleeds everywhere.
Nagato ran his hands along the body…Yahiko's body – no, his body now – and was surprised by the sensations that traveled up his spine from his fingertips. They caused his eyes to squint shut tighter, and it was only then that he'd realized they'd been closed. A long window on the opposite wall made his reflection visible in the dimly lit room and he wasn't certain he wanted to see it, preferring blindness to alerting his other senses. His sense of touch could be fooled when his eyes were closed. But once his eyes were opened, reality would be impossible to ignore.
He would scold me for being afraid, Nagato thought. That was why he was always the leader; he was so much braver than I am, yet he valued my life so much more than his own. That's why I'm doing this, though. I have to make my survival worth it and achieve our dream.
With these thoughts of encouragement, purple eyes met their reflection, the color so obviously out of place. Those foreign yet familiar eyes blinked once, twice, to affirm that Nagato was, indeed, in control of the movement. To say it was disconcerting wouldn't do the feeling justice. Nagato felt a strong ache of longing for the blue those orbs were supposed to contain. But now, here he was, staring into the Rinnegan – his blessing and his curse – on the wrong face.
Yahiko's eyes were, perhaps, harder to lose than Yahiko himself, as traumatic as that had been. After all, it was his hand that had been on the kunai that plunged into the older man's ribs, giving him the ugly puckered scar on his stomach. To the redheaded shinobi, it had seemed as though that hand would never be clean again. Even though Yahiko had told him to do it. Even though it had been a willing sacrifice. Even though it demonstrated nothing other than Yahiko's determination and trust in Nagato's ability, the Rinnegan-bearer couldn't accept that it had been his hand that brought an end to Yahiko's life, nor could he accept that he hadn't been able to stop it. To live up to his promise of always protecting him no matter how much pain befell him. Once Yahiko was gone, Nagato burned the memory of those eyes and all their expressiveness into his mind. Seeing this face with eyes other than those amazing azure orbs staring back at him was just another reminder of how he would never be able to look at them again.
A twitch of the lips at the pang in his chest drew Nagato's attention to the snakebites and he couldn't help but laugh quietly. As he and Konan figured, it was a necessary modification like all the other strategically placed chakra transmitters, but they marred the beautiful creation that was Yahiko.
Subconsciously, Nagato allowed his fingers to trace the orange haired man's lips. He let his tongue poke out, daring a taste.
He remembered the first time he had a taste of Yahiko. It had been raining that day, as per usual in Amegakure. They were training with Jiraiya all morning, sparring so the Leaf shinobi could give them pointers. Nagato had broken his losing streak, defeating both Konan and Yahiko. With congratulations and the promise of a hot meal, Jiraiya took Konan inside and left the boys to clean up the scattered kunai and shuriken from their battle.
"Glad you're back Nagato!" Yahiko called, clapping the pale boy on the shoulder.
Nagato just smiled proudly to himself, his red hair falling over his eyes.
"Y'know, you sure kicked my ass…" The older boy paused, contemplating his last statement as he watched Nagato pluck shuriken out of the mud. "You haven't been holding out on me, have you?"
Nagato stood up, his eyes invisible. "N-no. Why would you say that?" It was a blatant lie; Nagato had been holding back, afraid that his Rinnegan would act up now that he was using more chakra.
Yahiko smirked, almost predatorily. It made the younger boy feel like Yahiko could read his mind. "Well you seemed…reluctant to attack me for a while. And then today…you beat me just like that? I don't know. Its fishy."
Nagato knew his friend was putting on airs, but the accuracy of his accusation made him uneasy. He kept with his façade. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."
Yahiko seemed to get some kind of fire behind his eyes as he closed the distance between them. "This is what holding back feels like."
Before Nagato had time to process what was happening, Yahiko had planted a gentle kiss on his lips, leaving Nagato to wonder what this had to do with sparring.
The orange haired boy pulled away after a few seconds to push Nagato's rain-soaked hair out of his eyes. His Rinnegan was met with fierce blue. "This is what not holding back feels like."
Their lips met again, but this time was much different. There was a definite hunger behind his movements. Yahiko's mouth was moving with his, and when the older boy's tongue brushed his pale lips and hands fisted in red hair, Nagato didn't care about sparring anymore, unless the battle was between his tongue and Yahiko's. After that, Yahiko had made him promise to never hold back again.
His heart, the one in his main body, fluttered passionately against his ribs at the memory. Nagato had to take deep breaths and focus. He needed to make sure the Paths would work, not give himself heart palpitations. Returning his full attention to the orange-haired body, he let his eyes travel downward, past the chakra rods in his collarbone, shoulders, biceps and forearms. Experimentally, Nagato raised his arms and turned them – palms up, palms down – before lowering them again. They landed on the smooth skin of his thighs. It was the natural position for arms to take, but to Nagato, it felt almost awkwardly intimate for him to be touching Yahiko's body there without his permission.
Even so, he couldn't help but tighten his grip on those muscular thighs despite knowing it was foolish. It wasn't the same as touching Yahiko, though it was still touching Yahiko. The action also had the unusual perspective of touching himself. And there was little consolation in that. Aside from being inherently wrong, the singularity of it had him aching for the times when it was just the two of them; hours spent making private memories, the only sounds coming from their quiet moans and whispered promises.
It had been risky, they knew. Nagato had always worried he would become a burden to their leader instead of the asset everyone seemed sure he was. He trusted Yahiko to remain rational and collected in a crisis, but he was always more skeptical of himself. Being friends and teammates was a significant enough bond, but if anyone had known the true extent of their relationship, their enemies could have manipulated it. Though in the end it seemed fate had slapped them hard for their hearts' transgression.
If anyone else had seen Yahiko the way Nagato had, it would be hard to blame him for making such an ill-fated aberration. Since the moment he had been introduced to the boy, it seemed as if the center of the universe had somehow shifted to revolve around Yahiko's spiky orange hair. Suddenly, Nagato had someone to care for him, provide for him, challenge him, and believe in him. And later on, he also had someone to love him.
These hands had once been used to caress and hold him, make him feel safe and enthralled simultaneously. Just one run of those hands down his back would send shivers down Nagato's whole body. The more they touched, the more he wanted them to touch, the sheer desire they inspired enough to drive him mad. And when Yahiko's lips decided to join in the exploration of the younger man's body, Nagato could swear they set his nerve endings on fire every time they brushed his skin. It was like he was being branded by the older man's kisses, and he never wanted it to stop. When they were finally intertwined and those slender hips drove the source of their pleasure to its crescendo, it was like a form of heaven on earth. It was also the one pain Nagato couldn't live without. Gentle and curious or aggressive and playful, regardless of their mood, Nagato always accepted whatever pleasure or pain this body gave him freely; he reveled in every sensation, acknowledging that Yahiko's body was akin to something sacred. No other was allowed do what Yahiko could do, and none dared try.
Watching this body- the way it walked, the way it looked, the subtle shifting of its muscles and tendons- was proving more difficult than Nagato had expected. Using Yahiko's body had seemed like a good idea at first. It still was a good idea, he reminded himself. In order to become the god Yahiko had wanted to be, the Six Paths of Pain was a necessary step.
Nagato had to release the vice-like grip he had on his thighs in an attempt to come back to himself. He was losing focus again, following the contours of this body down into dangerous territory. Altering his chakra, his control over the body wavered. He could just put it to rest now. The test had served its purpose; the Deva Path could walk, see, and hear, manipulating the chakra fed to it.
But this exercise had another affect on the redhead. His thoughts had gone fishing in distant waters and were returning with an idea. From an early age, Nagato should have learned not to let his emotions govern his actions, but this idea catered to a part of him he tried to repress. A part that, more than anything, wanted to relive those moments he'd spent with Yahiko. A part that wanted to defy fate and recapture love. One touch was all he really wanted. Something platonic would be enough to sate his desire…
Before he was able to change his mind, Nagato turned the body towards his walker. Situated back in a dark corner of the room, lurking like a spider, he watched Yahiko's body move toward his, simultaneously aware of both his approach and how he looked, red hair around his face like a curtain, as he waited.
They came into contact with each other for the first time. Nagato gaped, his shallow breath tickling Yahiko's face as they stood Rinnegan to Rinnegan. Looking in the others' eyes was like looking in a mirror, reflected upon itself…repeating the same image, reversed, over and over again.
Nagato willed the Deva Path to close its eyes - it was just too weird – and it made it hard to focus on the sensation as Yahiko's hand moved to caress his cheek. His breath caught but his heart sank as he realized the hand was cold against his skin, not at all like the warm rough hands he'd been expecting. He leaned forward, defeated, his forehead meeting the dead man's as a tear ran down his cheek.
It was this position in which Konan found them, and her first instinct was to bow out of the room immediately. On more than one occasion she had found herself intruding on their private moments, finding them wrapped in coitus or some other such position meant solely for the two of them. She pulled the door shut silently, drawing no attention to herself. It was a practice she had perfected over the years. Their trysts may not always have been secret to her, but they had to remain so to everyone else and the less attention drawn to them, the better.
She had already turned to walk back down the hall when it hit her. Yahiko is dead. That wasn't another one of their rendezvous; it couldn't be. Nagato was supposed to be testing the Deva Path, she realized. Of course she knew it would be hard for him. She had even offered to be there. But Nagato had refused, claiming that it would be better for both of them if he did it alone. Somehow, the situation had gotten out of hand. Surely Nagato didn't think…couldn't possibly think…that this would replace the real Yahiko.
Konan prepared to enter the room a second time, her hand poised to knock so she could snap the redheaded shinobi back to the present. Nagato's soft voice echoed out of the room before her hand made contact with the door. "You can come in, Konan."
The blue haired woman entered to find things as she expected them the first time; Nagato in his walker in the corner, the Deva Path standing near the wall of windows. It walked towards her and she couldn't stop the tremor that flowed through her body even if she tried.
"It works just fine," Nagato said, his voice barely above a whisper. It was a sign that he'd been crying.
"That's good…" It was all she could suffice to say as the Rinnegan blinked at her from Yahiko's body.
The body walked back to the gurney from which it came, before Nagato had taken control of it. In one swift motion, it was lying back on the surface closing its eyes to resume its position as a corpse. "I've severed control. We can put it away for now," Nagato said. He wasn't sure if he was more relieved to be out of that body and away from the memories it sparked, or saddened by how dead it looked back in that position. Averting his eyes, he took to staring at the floor again.
"I'll take him back to the storage room, then." Konan approached the gurney to wheel it back to its pod in the room above. "I- I think its what Yahiko would've wanted," she added.
"To be dead?" Nagato asked, a hint of irony in his voice. It made him sound bitter though that wasn't what he intended.
"I didn't mean that…"
"I'm sorry, I know. He would've wanted us to continue on our path. Yahiko had a dream. He wanted world domination. He wanted peace. Do you remember one time he said he also wanted to be a god?" Nagato asked, barely registering her nod to the affirmative. "Now he has a chance to be that god. Though he is no longer with us, he has given us something invaluable. He is the Deva Path. Do you know why I chose this path for him?" Again he didn't pause for her response. "Because the Deva is the heaven path; the path of god. With Yahiko's body we shall be able to achieve peace, and he will get to be the god he wanted to be after all."
Konan smiled, a rare occurrence in recent years. It was a simple gesture, but it reached her eyes and for the first time in a long time, Nagato was able to smile back.