"If I have to choose between one evil and another, I'd rather not choose at all."
— Geralt of Rivia
--
This fight is already over, Otis thought. One mistake, and we both die.
Or so he believed…
Konan stared back at him, amber eyes steady.
Her lips curved.
Not a smile.
A smirk.
In that instant, Otis understood the mistake.
My chakra's gone, he realized. Hers isn't.
He felt it a fraction of a second too late.
A single, thin sheet of paper lay beneath his foot. It was so small, so insignificant, that his senses never registered it. No vibration. No warning through earth-sense.
But it was enough.
Enough for Konan to change the tide of the battle.
She willed it to move.
The paper shifted, folding sharply, twisting beneath his foot just enough to throw his balance off by a hair's breadth.
That was all it took.
And all of it happened in less than a millisecond…
Otis knew immediately.
She has the upper hand now.
But even then.
Even knowing that.
He poured everything he had left into his arm.
Muscles screamed. Tendons burned. His body protested violently as he drove the axe forward with absolute intent.
I'll end it, he thought.
Right here. Right now.
The blade surged…
And passed straight through her neck.
(Pic)
There was no resistance. No sound of impact.
Konan's neck turned to paper beneath the axe, her body dissolving at the exact instant steel passed through. The blade cleaved empty space with terrifying force, the momentum carrying through and carving a deep groove into the stone behind her.
CRACK
Paper fluttered everywhere.
Otis staggered forward as the axe slipped from his grip, torn loose by its own momentum. His chest heaved. His vision swam. His legs threatened to give out.
Damn it…
He was too late.
The paper kunai moved as well…
But during their exchange, Otis's chakra had regenerated just enough. Just enough for him to reinforce his body for a single heartbeat.
The blades struck.
They grazed his skin, drawing blood, but his vital organs were spared.
Barely.
Konan reformed several meters away, landing lightly despite her injuries. She was breathing hard now too, but her chakra, unlike his, was far from empty.
She looked at the man who had come that close to killing her.
"…That was dangerous," she said quietly.
Otis retrieved his axe and turned to face her. His shoulders sagged, his armor barely holding together, stone cracked and hanging loose. Yet his stance remained ready through sheer stubbornness.
Not because he could still win.
But because he refused to fall first.
"Yeah," he rasped.
Paper gathered around Konan again. Not aggressively this time. More like a reflex.
She studied him for a long second. Then her gaze drifted past him, toward the shattered earth dome behind him.
The dome had been destroyed during their fight.
Beyond it, children and civilians peeked out from behind Taro and his squad. The shinobi stood in front of them, weapons raised, bodies forming a living shield against any stray attack.
Konan followed their gaze.
She saw fear.
She saw trust.
She saw a man standing in front of her… broken, bleeding and exhausted.
Yet still protecting them.
Konan had never believed Kusagakure was innocent.
She had seen too many villages to be fooled by walls and banners. She knew how rot hid behind order, how cruelty learned to wear uniforms. She had seen the signs long before tonight… The way people looked away. The way fear clung to the streets. The quiet obedience that only existed where suffering had become routine.
Now, standing here and watching the aftermath of this battle, there was no doubt left in her mind.
Her eyes shifted from the children back to the man standing before her.
Otis.
He was not attacking these people. He was protecting them.
His body was covered in blood, his injuries far more serious than he let on, yet his position had not changed. He still stood between the people behind him and the world beyond.
Her gaze drifted past him again.
Children clung to one another behind the shinobi guarding them. Their eyes were not on her.
They were on him.
Konan felt something twist painfully in her chest.
A memory surfaced.
In the cold of Amegakure, when Yahiko helped her… when Jiraiya taught them how to mold chakra for the first time. Weren't they in the same position as these children, back then? In that war-torn country, they had been starved. Beaten. They had seen more suffering than anyone should.
She remembered how Yahiko had formed Akatsuki for the sake of real peace in the ninja world, and how their dream had been to stop war, to stop hunger.
Yahiko's dream.
That dream was the reason Akatsuki existed.
The reason she had followed this path for so long.
Konan slowly raised her hand, paper fluttering faintly around her fingers as she looked at the children watching her with wide, frightened eyes.
Am I the villain in their story? she wondered.
For the first time in a long while, the question didn't have an answer.
She held her hand there for a moment longer.
Then lowered it.
She looked at the children again… and again. Then her gaze returned to Otis.
Konan stepped back once.
Then dissolved into paper, scattering into the morning air like falling snow, her voice carrying faintly as she vanished.
"Don't let the world turn you into me."
The wind carried loose sheets of paper past her as dawn crept closer, and Konan turned away… not defeated, not victorious, but changed in a way she hadn't expected.
Some battles didn't need to end with blood. Some ended with realization.
And those were the ones that stayed with you the longest.
The street fell silent again…
Otis stood there for a moment longer, gripping his axe like it was the only thing keeping him upright.
Then his knees finally gave out.
He dropped to one knee, breath ragged, vision dimming.
And then… the world went dark.
--
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