Chiba's plan to elevate every remaining host into a Perfect Jinchūriki left the Yondaime Raikage visibly reluctant. The resistance was real - rooted in Kumogakure's secrets and in a leader's instinct to guard what kept his village alive. Yet the memory of what had just happened on Turtle Island - and what Chiba had done for them there - made refusal impossible.
In the end, the decision was finalized.
All six Jinchūriki went to the True Waterfall, where, under Killer B's instruction, they began the training that could reshape their fate and awaken the bond necessary to become Perfect Jinchūriki.
Chiba didn't accompany them.
As Supreme Commander of the decisive Turtle Island battle, he still had unfinished business. Victory was never clean. When the fighting stopped, the work simply changed shape - and the most delicate problems were often the ones left behind.
One of those problems had a name.
Konan.
Jiraiya had defeated her and brought her back in chains, but even he hadn't known what to do afterward. Once, she had been his student. Now, she was an enemy born from loss, hardened by ideology, and sharpened by years of bloodshed. In the end, Jiraiya could only pass her to Chiba, because some burdens demanded authority, not sentiment.
It didn't take long for Chiba to summon her.
Konan was escorted in, her posture composed and her gaze glacial. She didn't look like a prisoner pleading for mercy - she looked like someone who had already accepted the worst and decided that fear was beneath her.
Before Chiba could speak, she cut in, voice cold.
"Where is Nagato?"
She knew the Six Paths of Pain being destroyed didn't necessarily mean Nagato had died. No one understood Pain's secret better than she did.
Chiba held her gaze. He could tell from the stillness in her face that she already suspected the answer - and was forcing herself not to break under it. Konan had been an orphan since childhood. She had survived by clinging to Yahiko and Nagato, the three of them growing up as one fragile unit in a world that devoured the weak.
Now Yahiko was gone.
And Nagato…
Chiba didn't waste words. He didn't offer shallow condolences. He chose the only thing that mattered - the truth.
He released a recorded vision of Nagato's final moments, replaying them in front of her as if time itself had been peeled open. It was a senjutsu technique from Ryūchi Cave, something even the White Snake Sage was said to command:
Nenenha ("Mind Wave").
Through precise control of senjutsu chakra, it allowed the user to reproduce what they had witnessed and cast it back into reality.
Konan watched the image of Nagato - dying, drained, yet strangely calm - and the grief she had been restraining surged up so violently it almost stole her breath. But it wasn't only the sight that broke her.
It was what she heard.
Nagato's final words to Chiba rang clear, stripped of battlefield hatred. Even as enemies, the conflict between them had never been about desire. Both had wanted peace for the shinobi world - only their methods diverged.
And at the end, Nagato chose to trust Chiba.
Not the fractured Akatsuki he had helped create. Not the masked man who called himself "Uchiha Madara," a figure who hid manipulation behind a grand name.
Konan watched Nagato tear out one of his own Rinnegan and entrust it to Chiba. The meaning of that act - its desperation, its hope, its final plea - hit her like a blade.
"Nagato…" she whispered, voice trembling.
The vision ended.
Chiba released the frozen body he had preserved and placed it carefully on the ground. Nagato lay sealed in ice, not displayed like a trophy, but treated with a strange, solemn respect.
Konan's composure fractured completely.
"Nagato…"
Chiba's voice was quiet. "He's dead. But his dream didn't die with him."
He looked at her steadily. "As his companion, you should inherit his will."
Konan forced herself to breathe, then lifted her chin as if defiance was the only thing keeping her upright. "Inheriting his will means continuing to oppose you."
Chiba shook his head once. "Do you truly believe that?"
Konan fell silent, and in that silence, Chiba pressed forward - not with force, but with clarity.
"Nagato said it himself. He sought peace. He fought for it until the end. His path failed… but the shinobi world's search for peace didn't stop."
"If you want to inherit his will, you have two choices."
Konan's voice came out low, strained. "What choices?"
"The first is to return to Akatsuki and continue hunting the tailed beasts and their hosts."
Chiba's tone remained calm, but there was no softness in his logic. "But Akatsuki is already falling apart. Even if it hasn't completely collapsed, it has likely ended up in the masked man's hands."
"He wants the tailed beasts too," Chiba continued, eyes narrowing slightly, "but his true plan is different from yours."
"If you return, you'll become an obstacle he won't tolerate."
Konan didn't answer for a long time.
Because she knew he was right.
Even if she could go back, Akatsuki was no longer the organization she, Yahiko, and Nagato had built. The man who claimed to be Uchiha Madara would have seized control. And with Nagato dead, Konan had no power left that could truly challenge him.
Finally, she asked, "The second choice?"
Chiba smiled faintly. "To choose our side."
"Our side?" Konan repeated, as if the words didn't fit in her mouth.
"Yes."
Chiba drew the Rinnegan back out from within his fused body and held it in his palm. The eye's presence alone seemed to deepen the room's silence.
"This was Nagato's final trust," Chiba said. "Wasn't it?"
Konan stared at the Rinnegan, and again she had no immediate response.
After a long pause, she asked the question that mattered most.
"Mizukage-sama… what will you do?"
"To bring peace to the shinobi world?"
For Chiba, the answer was simple - not because peace was simple, but because he refused to romanticize it. He'd seen what happened to people who made "world peace" a slogan, something to worship until it warped them. That kind of obsession almost always turned into extremism.
Nagato had reached that point.
So had Uchiha Madara.
Chiba was different. He wasn't a preacher. He was a builder - pragmatic, relentless, and unwilling to pretend that ideals alone could protect anyone.
"Very simple," he said.
"When you're within your clan, you protect your clan."
"When you're within your village, you protect your village."
"And when you have power," Chiba continued, voice steady, "you protect peace on the scale your power allows."
"That's only natural."
Konan's heart stirred.
The words were straightforward, almost blunt, yet the truth beneath them was heavy. And more importantly, Chiba wasn't merely speaking - he had lived it.
He had saved the Snow Clan, protecting every last member.
He had ended the era of the Blood Mist in Kirigakure, rebuilding a village that had been on the edge of collapse and pushing it into a position of dominance within the shinobi world.
And during the war - protecting the Jinchūriki as Supreme Commander - he had fought with absolute commitment. Even as his enemy, Konan couldn't deny that he deserved respect.
"So to achieve the peace you believe in," she said quietly, "you'll have to become the one who rules the entire shinobi world?"
Chiba chuckled softly. "Rule it, command it, lead it - call it whatever you like. The meaning doesn't change."
"If I can control the shinobi world," he said, calm as steel, "then peace can be achieved immediately."
"And even if I'm not there yet," he added, "I've already brought peace to my clan, my village, and even between the Five Great Nations. Haven't I?"
Konan's gaze sharpened. "That's only because Akatsuki was a common enemy."
"True," Chiba agreed without hesitation. "But without Akatsuki, the shinobi world would already be at peace."
Konan had no rebuttal. The thought sat in her chest like a stone - unpleasant, but impossible to ignore.
Much later, she finally spoke again.
"Even if I want to inherit Nagato's will, and even if I choose your side… the Five Great Nations won't tolerate me."
Chiba smiled, as if the objection was expected. "Why wouldn't they?"
"With a single word from me," he said evenly, "you can atone through merit."
Konan stared at him. For the first time, she couldn't find a way to argue - not because she was convinced of everything, but because she could feel the solidity of his authority. This wasn't bravado. It was the confidence of someone who had already proven he could bend the course of the era.
"You'd really give me that chance?" she asked.
"Of course."
"Why?"
Chiba met her eyes. "Because I believe your desire to bring peace to the shinobi world is real."
Konan's breath caught.
She fell silent again, then slowly raised her hand. Paper unfurled from her fingertips - soft, precise, controlled - folding into a delicate origami flower. It wasn't a weapon. It wasn't a threat. It was an offering, fragile in a way she rarely allowed herself to be.
She held it out to him.
"If that's true," she said quietly, "then I'll believe you too."
Her eyes lowered to the flower for a moment, then returned to Chiba - steady, mournful, and hopeful all at once.
"I hope you can create a world… where flowers never have to wither again."
Chiba accepted the paper flower from her hand, and a faint smile touched his lips.