Chapter 399: Konan's Request: Goodbye Nagato
Uchiha Akira slowly withdrew his hand, his fingertips lightly tracing the cold, porcelain curve of Konan's cheek before dropping to his side.
"Of course," he murmured, his voice a smooth, dangerous drawl. "Consider it a reward for your obedience."
He raised a hand, flicking his wrist with casual elegance. The air beside him warped, tearing open to reveal a pitch-black spatial rift. This was his absolute domain—the Tianyu Space.
Plunging his arm directly into the swirling void, Akira's grip tightened around something unseen. With a sharp, merciless yank, he hauled his captive outward.
"Come out."
A gaunt, skeletal figure crashed heavily onto the plush carpet. Tangled, crimson hair spilled across the floor, obscuring the man's emaciated face.
It was Nagato.
He was still little more than skin stretched taut over sharp bones, a ghost of a man. Yet, compared to the withered, near-dead husk he had been during their last encounter, a faint flush of color had returned to his sunken cheeks. The ragged, shallow wheezing had stabilized into a steady, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest.
This was the cruel mercy of the Tianyu Space. Any prisoner sealed within its suffocating darkness would have their chakra continuously siphoned away, stripped of their power drop by drop. In exchange, the dimension forcefully injected raw life force back into their veins, keeping them tethered to the mortal realm. To Akira, a dead battery held absolutely no value.
"Nagato!" Konan's voice cracked.
Her composure shattered, and she lunged forward instinctively. But her foot froze mid-step. Her amber eyes darted toward Akira, silently seeking permission, terrified that a single misstep would cost her friend his life.
Akira merely watched, his dark eyes unreadable, offering no objection.
Taking that as a silent command, Konan dropped to her knees beside the fallen man, her trembling hands gently gathering his fragile frame into her arms.
"Nagato... Nagato, please..."
The desperate, familiar whisper pierced through the fog of his unconsciousness. Nagato's eyelids fluttered, heavy as lead, before slowly peeling open. The world was a blur of muted colors until the tear-stained face of his oldest friend swam into focus.
"Ko...nan?" His voice was a dry, grating rasp, like sandpaper against stone.
Then, the memories crashed down on him. The suffocating despair. The final, agonizing image burned into his retinas: Uchiha Akira's hand clamped around Konan's throat, lifting her off the ground.
"Bastard!"
Nagato violently lurched upward. A faint, desperate ripple of chakra flared from his emaciated core. He locked onto the oppressive, towering presence standing mere feet away.
"Let her go!" he roared, throwing his withered arm forward, his fingers splayed in a desperate bid to unleash the Shinra Tensei.
"Nagato, stop!" Konan threw her weight against him, her hands clamping down on his wrists with iron-clad desperation. She forced his arms down, burying her face into his shoulder. "Don't... I beg you, don't do this..."
Hot tears slipped from her chin, splashing against Nagato's hollow cheeks.
The moisture shocked him out of his rage. The meager chakra flickering around him died instantly. He stared at her, utterly bewildered.
"Konan? Are... are you okay?"
"I'm fine." Konan hurriedly wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve, forcing a fragile, trembling smile onto her lips. "Amegakure is fine, too. Everyone... everyone is still alive."
A heavy, shuddering breath escaped Nagato's lungs. The rigid tension bleeding from his muscles left him slumping weakly against her.
"That's good... that's good..." he murmured, his eyes losing their fierce edge. If Konan was safe, and the rain still fell over Amegakure, nothing else in this cursed world mattered.
But the relief was fleeting. Nagato's brow furrowed. He slowly turned his gaze back to the imposing figure of Uchiha Akira, who stood watching them with the detached amusement of a god observing ants.
"Why..." Nagato rasped, his voice tightening. "Why would he let us go?"
Konan stiffened. Her grip on his robes tightened, her knuckles turning white. She lowered her head, the blue paper flower in her hair casting a long shadow over her eyes.
"Because..." Her voice was barely a whisper, heavy with the weight of her choice. "We submitted. Amegakure is now a vassal of Konoha. We... we surrendered."
The air in the room turned to ice.
Nagato sat in stunned silence, the words echoing in his mind. He, the man who had once elevated himself to the status of a 'God', the undisputed leader of the Akatsuki, fully understood the bitter reality of those words. In the face of absolute, crushing power, dignity was nothing but a hollow illusion.
"Is that so..." A bitter, self-deprecating smile touched Nagato's cracked lips. He didn't scream. He didn't rage. He simply accepted it. "That's fine. Don't look so sad, Konan."
He shifted his weight, glancing down at his own hands. "Honestly, I feel quite good right now. My body... it feels much lighter than it has in years. Whatever that space is, it seems to be repairing the internal damage."
It was the obvious truth. The catastrophic life-force overdraft caused by decades of being tethered to the Gedo Statue was being carefully stitched back together by the ambient energy of the Tianyu Space. He was a prisoner, stripped of his freedom and his godhood. But for the first time in his life, he was a healthy prisoner.
"Enough."
The cold, authoritative syllable sliced through the quiet intimacy of the room. Akira looked down at the pair, his patience exhausted. "Reunion time is over."
He raised his hand once more. The pitch-black spatial rift tore open behind Nagato, swirling like the gaping maw of a beast eager to reclaim its meal.
Panic flashed in Konan's eyes. She subconsciously dug her fingers into Nagato's arm, refusing to let go. But Nagato reached up, his skeletal fingers gently prying hers away.
"Let go, Konan," he whispered, offering her a final, reassuring look. "Live on."
Turning his head, Nagato faced Akira. Though his eyes lacked their former oppressive glow, he nodded respectfully toward the Uchiha patriarch, acknowledging the victor.
Akira remained entirely expressionless. He curled his five fingers inward, grasping at the empty air. A violent suction force erupted from the void. Nagato was instantly yanked backward, his feet leaving the carpet as the darkness swallowed him whole.
"Konan..."
His final, fading echo was abruptly cut off as the rift snapped shut. The room fell dead silent. The oppressive aura vanished, leaving the space as calm and undisturbed as if the reunion had been nothing but a fleeting dream.
Konan remained kneeling on the floor, her amber eyes locked onto the empty space where Nagato had just been. She didn't move for a long time.
Akira calmly walked back to his ornate wooden desk, settling into his high-backed chair. He picked up his porcelain teacup, taking a slow, measured sip.
"Konan," he said, his voice smooth, laced with a subtle, underlying threat. "You don't want Nagato to suffer, do you?"
A violent shudder ran through Konan's spine. She stood up abruptly, her posture rigid as she hastily smoothed out the wrinkles in her Akatsuki cloak. Stepping forward, she bowed deeply, her pride entirely subjugated.
"Thank you, Akira-sama," she said softly. "I am already satisfied that he is allowed to live."
She meant every word. In the blood-soaked reality of the Ninja World, survival itself was an extravagant luxury.
Akira set his teacup down with a soft clink. A fleeting glimmer of dark appreciation crossed his eyes.
"Very good. I have always favored smart people who understand the shifting tides of the era." He leaned back, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. "Now, speak. What clever little plans did that mob of rabble concoct to deal with me?"
Taking a steadying breath, Konan walked over to the massive, detailed map of the elemental nations pinned against the far wall. Her pale finger traced a wide arc across the northern borders.
"The Allied Shinobi Forces'strategy is divided into two distinct phases. The first is designated'Iron Wall'." She tapped a specific valley region. "The main military forces of Kumogakure and Iwagakure, bolstered by the elite combatants of the minor ninja villages, are assembling here. Their total numbers exceed eighty thousand shinobi. They intend to form a massive vanguard, using their absolute numerical superiority to push forward in a direct, head-on assault."
A cold, contemptuous sneer curled Akira's lips.
"Eighty thousand," he scoffed. "Even if they were eighty thousand pigs, it would take a few days to slaughter them all. But relying on archaic human wave tactics to bury me? Has that stubborn old geezer Ōnoki finally gone completely senile?"
Konan shook her head, her expression grim. "The Iron Wall is merely a feint. Or rather, it is a colossal piece of bait designed to anchor your attention to the northern front."
Her fingers moved swiftly across the parchment, tracing a dozen invisible lines from the borders inward. "From the Land of Grass, the Land of Hot Springs, the Land of Rivers, and even via the eastern sea routes... they are converging from all directions, pointing straight toward the heart of the Land of Fire."
She turned to face him fully. "The true killing blow is the second phase: the 'Wolf Pack'. They have dispatched dozens of highly mobile infiltration squads, composed entirely of Elite Jonin. They are slipping past the borders right now. Their target is not Konoha itself. They are aiming for the civilian populace, the merchant towns, and the critical supply depots scattered across the Land of Fire. Their objective is to incite mass panic, sever our logistical routes, and set the entire rear of the nation ablaze."
Konan's tone remained purely analytical. "Mifune's overarching strategy is to force Konoha to scatter its military strength. Once Konoha divides its forces to hunt down these Wolf Pack units, the defensive integrity on the main front line will inevitably weaken. The moment that happens, the eighty-thousand-strong Allied Forces will wash over the border like a tidal wave, directly crushing Konoha's fractured defensive lines."
Upon hearing the grand strategy, the smile on Akira's face didn't falter; it grew wider, sharper, and infinitely more dangerous. He raised his hands, the slow, mocking sound of his applause echoing through the quiet room.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
"Brilliant," Akira praised, his tone dripping with dark amusement. "Truly brilliant. I must admit, if they were deploying this tactic against the old Konoha, this move would indeed be a fatal strike to the throat."
His eyes narrowed, gleaming with predatory anticipation. "It is a pity, though... the current Konoha is no longer the fragile, bleeding-heart village of the past."
Akira tapped his index finger rhythmically against the polished wood of his desk.
"Return to Amegakure," he commanded. "Consolidate your forces and wait for my signal. When the time comes, I want you to sweep in from behind and sever the Allied Forces' own supply lines." A cruel smirk played on his lips. "Let them experience a true chill to the bone."
Konan took one last, deep look at the man who now held the fate of her world in his hands. She bowed her head.
"As you command."
In the next heartbeat, her body dissolved. Thousands of crisp white paper sheets burst outward, dancing wildly on the draft before drifting out the open window, vanishing into the endless, rain-filled sky.
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