Heavy—so heavy.
Uzumaki Nagato felt like he was falling into a bottomless abyss.
Was he going to die?
Ah… yes—he had been defeated.
A reel of images spun before his eyes like a revolving lantern. He saw himself running under the sunset, Yahiko and Konan at his side, and Master Jiraiya watching them fondly from nearby—that was his vanished youth.
The lantern whirled faster.
Next came the founding of Akatsuki—them setting out everywhere to help anyone in need. The people of the Land of Rain called them the Robin Hoods of the shinobi world, the good neighbors of Ame. Many like-minded souls joined them—shinobi and ordinary folk alike.
Everyone worked toward a single goal.
That was probably the happiest stretch of Nagato's life.
But as Akatsuki grew, they drew the wariness of Amegakure's leader, Hanzo the Salamander.
Hanzo always put on the face of a man who prized talent—he had for Mifune of the Iron Country and for Konoha's Sannin… but when the real thing appeared at his side, he chose to destroy it to protect his own power.
Had age curdled his heart? Or had he always been that way, his "love of talent" just a mask?
Nagato didn't know and didn't need to. All he knew was that Yahiko died—under Hanzo's coercion, under Shimura Danzō's plot, under Nagato's own carelessness.
That was the pain that would never leave him.
Even now, it made his heart ache.
After Yahiko died, everything changed. Without their charismatic leader, Akatsuki began to crumble, and in the end only Konan remained at his side.
That convinced him that "allies" can't be trusted; power belongs only in one's own hands.
So he made the Six Paths of Pain—and, mad with grief, turned his dearest friend into Deva Path, to continue leading Akatsuki as the god who would make the world feel pain—and bring it peace.
The plan advanced steadily. Everything was on track—until today, when he met that man.
Uchiha Yorin.
His strength was enough to make a god bleed, but worse than his power was his tongue.
What he said, the prophecies he made, the questions he posed—everything chilled Nagato to the bone.
Because, taken together, they led to a terrifying conclusion:
Everything he had done was in vain.
That thought stirred fear in Nagato's core; fear turned to anger, anger to madness.
Then he and Uchiha Yorin and the Sannin clashed.
And then—
He lost.
"Ah. I lost. Thunder–Fire Sword Dance, huh… what a brutally unreasonable technique.
"So then—am I going to die?
"Is this what death feels like?
"What a shame… Uchiha Yorin said he had a way to fix everything—what was it? Will I never know?
"Am I about to see Yahiko? Will he be disappointed in me… Huh? W-who…? So warm… Konan—is that you…????"
…
The lantern, the thoughts, the regrets—all of it faded. Nagato gradually realized he was still alive. Something warm and damp was wrapped around him, flooding him with powerful chakra that mended his wounds.
"C-could it be… oh. It's Katsuyu."
He cracked his eyes open to see a person-sized slug sprawled over him, its two eyestalks peering down.
When their gazes met, the slug seemed… embarrassed—it biu-blushed.
Nagato: "…the hell."
…
Before he could process it, Jiraiya shoved the slug aside and hugged him, wailing, "Nagato…!"
Truth be told, Nagato felt awkward being treated like this by Jiraiya—embarrassed, and a bit guilty.
They'd just fought. Defeated, then forgiven—healed, even—left him feeling he'd failed his master.
Guilty and flustered, he turned his head to distract himself—still wondering why he didn't hear Uchiha Yorin's voice.
Given the state he was in, Yorin should be over here gloating—something like, "What's with the blushing kettle face?" or the like.
But he didn't.
Curious, he turned—and saw on the other side, Uchiha Yorin lying in Tsunade's arms, head pillowed on her thigh.
Same human, different fate. Why am I the slug?
"Nagato!!!"
Jiraiya was still sobbing; Nagato looked the other way—Orochimaru was haggling with Manda.
"Can I eat that one?" Manda asked, eyes gleaming as he stared at Yorin in Tsunade's embrace, basking in her soft, gentle gaze.
"No," Orochimaru said lightly. "He's an ally."
A look of sour displeasure crossed Manda's face—oddly human on a snake.
Then Manda turned toward Nagato. "What about him? Can I eat this one?"
"Only if you want Jiraiya to kill you."
Manda pictured a berserk Jiraiya, Sage Art: Super Big Ball Rasengan in both hands, and shuddered—turning away, even more cranky.
"Then what about those? I can eat them, right?!"
He yelled at the still-offline Pain bodies.
"If you don't mind a stomachache—"
"—Damn you, Orochimaru—making me work for nothing, I—"
The next second, Manda was cheerfully desummoned.
Yorin watched and felt… inspired. He made a note to ask Orochimaru later for tips on squeezing the most out of summon beasts.
But first—more important things.
Reluctantly leaving Tsunade's paradise, he walked over to Nagato, plucked Jiraiya off and set him aside, then sat cross-legged in front of Nagato.
"So, Nagato—you've effectively died once."
Nagato: "…"
Yorin: "So. Now… can we talk?"
"…"
After a silence, Nagato said: "So.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Just so we're clear—even if you have a plan, I won't abandon my ideals."
Yorin: "No problem."
He didn't hesitate. "So—let's work together."
He extended his hand. Nagato hesitated, then took it.
Orochimaru said nothing. Tsunade felt nothing in particular. Jiraiya opened his mouth, then shut it.
And just like that—before the eyes of the three Sannin—Uchiha Yorin + Uzumaki Nagato, a terrifying alliance, was forged.