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It happens when he reaches over to look at the odd keychain next to your body. One moment, he had been bare - an empty husk, and in the next a string had wound its way around his soul, forever tying him to you. In that split second it was all too much for him, and in an entirely uncharacteristic lapse of control, he collapses to his knees. He claps a hand over his mouth, feeling the taste of iron in the back of his throat, before a spattering of blood coats his palm after one agonizing hack. He forces the coughing fit back, eternally grateful his only witness is fully unconscious.
When the searing in his lungs subsides to a tolerable level, he opens his eyes to analyze the prone form before him. The string pulls taught between the two of you, urging him closer. His places a hand on your shoulder, gently turning you over so he could burn every square inch of your face into his mind. You, he knew, were about to throw all of his plans for a loop.
After releasing a heavy sigh he smoothly picks up your unconscious form with ease, intent on carrying you somewhere safe. He knew the Akatsuki might not always be a permanent safe harbor, he just never suspected needing to defect so soon. It wasn't as if he had a choice, he had to save you, or your death would spell his own. And so, with begrudging acceptance, he begins transporting you both to one of the only safe houses he still has left.
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