The rain returned that night, softer than before, as if the sky were trying to apologize for so much suffering. We found shelter in an abandoned, half-collapsed house, its walls covered in mold and its roof leaking from every corner. But at least there was silence… and human warmth.
Konan built a small fire. The flames sputtered with difficulty, struggling against the dampness. Nagato sat beside her, his gaze distant, his knees drawn up to his chest. I watched as the flames reflected in his eyes—eyes that would one day become those of the "God of Destruction."
"Yahiko…" His voice was weak, as if each word weighed heavily on him. "That man, the one you killed today… was it really necessary?"
I closed my eyes for a moment. The image of the Konoha spy still lingered in my mind, his face washed by the rain. "Yes," I answered, without hesitation. If I hadn't done it, they would have informed Hanzo about us. —But you said you didn't want to kill without reason. —And I didn't do it without reason. —I sighed.— I did it so that you and Konan could keep breathing.
The silence stretched on. Only the patter of rain and the crackling of fire could be heard. Konan looked up at me. —You've been speaking differently lately, Yahiko. Before, you always spoke of peace, of hope… now you only speak of survival.
I smiled slightly. —Perhaps because I realized that world peace isn't something we can achieve. I turned to them, with a calmness I hadn't felt. —But happiness… that is within our reach.
Konan frowned. —Happiness? In the midst of all this? —Yes. —I nodded. —I don't care if the world continues to burn, if villages are destroyed, if great ninjas kill each other. I stared into the fire. "As long as you two are alive… as long as we can smile once in a while… that's enough for me."
Nagato watched me for a long moment. Then, for the first time in months, a small, almost imperceptible smile appeared. "Then that will be our goal," she said. "Not peace. Not glory. Just… staying together."
Konan let out a soft laugh, like a sigh. "That sounds harder than winning the war."
The three of us laughed, and for a moment, the sound of the rain became sweet. The fire illuminated our faces, and I felt that this scene—so simple, so human—was worth more than any dream of world peace.
I leaned back against the wall and let exhaustion take over. Before closing my eyes, I looked at my two friends. "This time," I thought, "I won't die for an ideal. I'll live for them."
The rain continued to fall, but it no longer sounded like a lament. It sounded like a reminder that, even in the storm, there are moments of calm that can be called happiness.