Yahiko's voice echoed through the vast, empty chamber, thick with urgency and sorrow.
On the mechanical throne, Nagato clearly reacted.
He stared, stunned by the person before him, unable to believe it—unable to accept that this could really be him.
The friend he had once cherished more than anyone…
The friend he had lost completely, in a conspiracy many years ago.
Nagato's back was still pierced through by dozens of thick black rods, driven deep into his flesh.
His skin was ghastly pale, and his once-vibrant red hair had lost all of its luster.
He had reached the very end of the line—
what little health he had left was nonexistent. His body was in a state worse than "ruined."
"Who? Who did this to you?!" Yahiko demanded anxiously.
Looking at each black rod, Yahiko felt as if they were stabbed into his own body.
His emotions were a chaotic storm.
Nagato used all the strength he had left just to lift his head.
A simple motion that now felt impossibly heavy, as if a thousand tons weighed on his neck.
When his Rinnegan finally met Yahiko's gaze, two lines of bright red liquid slid from the corners of his eyes.
It wasn't tears. It was blood.
But in that moment, Nagato knew for certain that he was truly seeing the friend who was supposed to have died long ago.
"Yahiko… it's really you… I'm not dreaming…" Nagato's voice trembled as he spoke.
"Nagato, look at me! I'm Yahiko!" Yahiko suddenly raised his voice.
"Everything you did—none of it was my will!"
"Peace isn't something you achieve by creating more pain!"
"You were deceived. We… all of us were deceived!"
Yahiko began to speak.
He brought up that rainy afternoon years ago, when Hanzo of the Salamander had proposed so-called "peace talks."
He described the trap that had been laid, Hanzo's betrayal, and the shadow behind him—
the leader of Konoha's Root division, Danzo, lurking in the dark.
He spoke of the man wearing the whirl-pattern mask,
the one who called himself Madara—
how that man had exploited their pain and hatred, step by step pushing Nagato toward extremism,
planting in him the lies of a fabricated Tsuki no Me Keikaku (Moon Eye Plan).
All of this information was what Shinju had told him, word for word, after bringing him back to life.
Nagato listened quietly.
He looked at the living Yahiko in front of him—
the healthy, vibrant friend he was supposed to protect, the leader he had once followed with absolute faith.
Then he thought about everything he had done over the years.
He had destroyed villages, slaughtered countless lives, crowned himself a god, and tried to make the world feel his pain.
He believed he was carrying on Yahiko's will,
that he was walking a thorn-filled path toward true peace.
But it had all been a lie.
His so-called "path of a god" was nothing but rails laid out by someone else.
His pain and hatred were nothing more than fuel thrown into the fire by others to drive him forward.
The ideal he had clung to for over ten years—
the body he had sacrificed, the emotions he had thrown away—
From the very beginning, it had all been part of a carefully crafted scheme.
He wasn't a god bringing peace.
He was just a pitiful puppet controlled by hatred and conspiracy—
a deluded, ridiculous fool.
A massive wave of regret and anguish crashed over him, like a broken dam bursting all at once.
"Ahhhhhh!!!"
A beast-like howl tore from the deepest part of his throat, shrill and despairing.
His thin body thrashed and twisted violently on the mechanical throne,
and every movement tugged at the black rods driven through him,
sending unimaginable waves of pain through his flesh.
Yet the agony in his body was nothing—
not even one ten-thousandth of the pain he felt as his spiritual world collapsed completely.
His screams were filled with bottomless despair and self-loathing.
Konan could no longer simply stand and watch.
She rushed to Nagato's side, carefully avoiding the lethal black rods, and gripped his hand tightly.
Her tears fell in silence, drop by drop onto Nagato's bony hand.
After enduring a long, cruel separation by life and death,
they had been forced into this reunion in the most brutal, painful way possible.
Shinju had been standing at the entrance of the chamber the entire time.
He did not take a single step forward,
nor did he utter a single word.
He simply watched the intense scene before him in silence.
He didn't need to display any power, nor say anything.
His very existence was the greatest shock to Nagato, the harshest judgment of all.
He was a variable that could not be understood—
an absolute existence that rendered all schemes and plans laughably meaningless.
Shinju was waiting as well—
waiting for Nagato to make his final choice.
After a long time, Nagato's anguished screams gradually faded, turning into heavy, suppressed sobbing.
In the empty chamber, only his rough, pained breathing and Konan's quiet sobs remained.
"I'm… sorry… Yahiko… Konan… I'm… sorry…"
"The one who should be apologizing isn't you, Nagato." Yahiko shook his head.
The anger in his eyes had faded, replaced by deeper regret.
"It's because we were too weak that we were so easily toyed with."
"We're also tragedies created by that era… but luckily, we still have a chance to make things right."
"And that's thanks to someone who possesses power like this."
He turned, fixing his gaze on the silent boy standing at the doorway.
"Things are different now."
They all understood very clearly—
this boy was the core of everything that had changed.
Shinju had destroyed Pain's Six Paths without much effort,
brought Yahiko—who should have remained dead—back into the world,
and revealed every truth that had been buried.
Just by himself, Pain had already been an overwhelming threat, even to a great nation like the Land of Fire.
Attacking Konoha alone, he could have forced them to pay a terrible price—
he might even have been able to wipe the village out entirely.
Yet against all expectations,
the enemy had counterattacked—
not just defending themselves, but striking directly at Amegakure, on their home ground,
bringing along a whole army of legendary figures who utterly crushed these so-called "gods."
It was the complete opposite of the image they had spread and preached over the years.
In front of these people, they had almost no power to resist.
At best they could stall for a moment.
It was laughable.
Pathetic.
This person was definitely not someone ordinary.
He was a "true god."
Nagato looked at Shinju, his eyes filled with indescribably complex emotions.
There was no longer any hostility.
No trace of looking down from above as a "god."
Only the most primal awe remained.
He had lost.
And he had lost completely—
a crushing defeat, leaving not a single shred of defense or excuse.
Yahiko walked back to Nagato's side, bent down, and whispered something in his ear.
Nagato fell into a long silence after hearing it.
He looked at Yahiko, then at Konan,
and finally lowered his gaze to his own ruined, broken body.
He made his decision.
Gathering what little strength he had left, he tried to push himself up from the throne that had bound him for over ten years.
A motion so simple for an ordinary person was indescribably difficult for him.
Every attempt to exert strength made his body tremble violently,
tugging at countless sources of pain.
"I…"
"I'm willing… to pay the price… for the crimes I've committed."
(End of Chapter)
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