Konan woke in the middle of the night. In the end, she had overestimated herself. She'd thought three packs of instant noodles would be tolerable, but the spasms of stomach pain dragged her out of sleep.
She swallowed two painkillers with cold water. Instead of waiting in the bedroom for the medicine to take effect, she went to the living room and sat beside the sofa, looking at Kita, who was sleeping soundly.
That cascade of loose hair was incredibly soft. The feel of it in her hand was exactly the same as it had been years ago. It had grown very long—down to her hips.
Kita truly suited long hair. That was why Konan had almost forcefully made her keep it, even though those long strands of silver hair often hindered combat. When the snow-white silver hair spread loose, it felt dreamlike, unreal.
Tears dampened her eyes.
In all those countless nights of the past, how many times had she woken from dreams like this, sitting alone on an empty sofa, thinking of a non-human named Kita?
She had imagined, over and over again, how Kita had died at Zetsu's hands. She had imagined countless times how Obito—how he had failed to help. Every imagined possibility was agony straight through the heart.
With nowhere to vent her resentment, she could only repeat a single fact to herself, again and again.
Kita was dead. And the world had become hell once more.
She often thought that way—because in this hell, she had lost Yahiko, and she had lost Kita as well.
And yet, on the day Kita appeared before her again, she felt hatred, she felt resentment—but more than anything else, she felt relief.
No matter the reason, as long as she was alive, it was enough.
No matter the explanation, as long as she could see her again, as long as she could hold her again, it was enough.
Konan's demands were pitifully low. Just knowing she was alive was enough to bring her satisfaction.
But…
Kita, do you know how wronged I feel? Do you know how much it hurt when Toneri gave me back the memories you stole from me?
How could you be so cruel—stealing every feeling I ever had for you? How could you erase all says of happiness from my life? What did I ever do to make you hate me this much? Do you even understand how important you are to me?
She was too wronged.
To have all memories of love erased by the one she loved with her own hands—she should have hated her. Hated Kita's heartlessness. Hated Kita's cruelty.
And yet, that day, Kita had said—
—Konan, I like you. I like you the most.
Just that single confession was enough to throw her completely off balance.
Just one honest admission of feeling was enough for her to forgive seven years of deception.
Just one simple embrace was enough to erase over two thousand nights of longing and pain.
When Konan faced Kita, she truly was weak—utterly defenseless.
Kita… please don't lie to me anymore. Please don't leave me again… alright?
...
What happens when a great nation that doesn't practice diplomacy sends a diplomatic letter to a small nation that also doesn't practice diplomacy?
Konan truly wanted to know the answer.
The Fifth Mizukage of the Land of Water had sent a letter—via Hanzo of the Salamander's channel—strongly expressing a desire to establish a friendly alliance.
Konan didn't quite know what kind of game the Fifth Mizukage was playing. But after three consecutive letters, she felt it deserved serious consideration.
Amegakure—no, the Land of Rain—didn't engage in diplomacy because, to the outside world, it was still under Hanzo's control. Akatsuki had been born and nurtured here under many favorable conditions.
But in recent years, Akatsuki's movements have been far from small. Those who needed to notice, had noticed.
For example, the Kusagakure—who used to provoke Amegakure out of sheer boredom—had behaved themselves for many years now. Konan admitted that sending Akatsuki to harass them once had been extremely effective.
Thus, in the eyes of the outside world, Amegakure was mysterious—and absolutely not something to provoke lightly. Especially after the spies sent by the great nations were quietly wiped out, even the major powers no longer dared to offend it casually.
A large part of that fear stemmed from an operation many years ago. Konan didn't think that operation had been particularly secretive—the scale had been so wide that it even reached the Land of Iron, a place even the Five Great Nations found hard to penetrate.
In any case, to outsiders, the Land of Rain was shrouded in mystery and danger. Many had likely guessed that the now-famous Akatsuki had originated here—there just wasn't any proof.
But…
Why would Kirigakure, one of the Five Great Nations, seek an alliance with Amegakure?
The distance alone was absurd—practically one in the far south, one in the far north. And more importantly, Kirigakure, like Amegakure, didn't engage in diplomacy.
Rationally speaking, a great nation seeking alliance with a small nation was a good thing. Despite the distance, it could bring many conveniences.
For example, if Mist and Rain encountered the same mission, unnecessary casualties could be avoided. Both sides could profit. From the perspective of national and village interests, it was undeniably beneficial.
But from a more personal standpoint, it wasn't a good thing at all.
An alliance with Kirigakure would effectively confirm Akatsuki's existence within this small nation.
Konan laid out the pros and cons clearly, then handed the decision over to Nagato.
Seizing control of Amegakure had been for the sake of Akatsuki's operations. Bringing peace to the Land of Rain without affecting Akatsuki—that was Konan's guiding principle.
"What do you think?"
Nagato asked.
"It benefits the village," Konan said, biting into a jujube, "but it's not suitable for Akatsuki."
They were in Nagato's room. Three decrypted documents lay spread across the table in front of him—each one expressing a strong desire for alliance.
It really wasn't suitable.
After all, Akatsuki had taken Kirigakure's Three-Tails and Six-Tails. Even though the jinchuriki had been spared, the tailed beasts had still been stolen.
Aside from Konoha, the other great nations—Lightning, Earth, Wind—were still utterly confused. No great nation that had lost a tailed beast dared to be the first to confront Akatsuki. Not to demand people—no, to demand tailed beasts.
To be honest, they still hadn't figured out where Akatsuki was located. Some probably hadn't even figured out whether only their beast was gone—or whether all of them were gone.
Nagato used this opportunity to maintain extreme low-key behavior. Not because he feared the Five Great Nations, but because he hadn't yet decided what path Akatsuki should take after losing the tailed beasts.
Still… the wording of Kirigakure's documents was filled with sincerity.
Should we use this chance to test a great nation's intentions?
"How about we take a look first?" Nagato suggested.
"Using Hanzo?"
The puppet on Hanzo's side still existed, originally meant to provide cover for Akatsuki. But given the current situation, keeping it no longer seemed useful.
Nagato shook his head.
Konan made a gesture to show she understood. She tossed the jujube pit—cleanly eaten—into the trash can, then added casually,
"No rush. Take your time."
With his goal gone, Nagato couldn't come to a conclusion anytime soon.
Uchiha Obito—that master swindler—had been severely neglecting his duties lately, spending every day tailing Kakashi and completely forgetting about the grand responsibility of manipulating the Five Great Nations.
As she spoke, Konan picked up another jujube, preparing to leave. Nagato hurriedly stopped her.
"Ah—wait."
"Hmm?"
"You… hit Kita, didn't you?"
Which bastard had such a big mouth?
"What, you got a problem with that?"
Nagato scratched his head. "Not really… it's just, maybe don't hit her. Kita's had it rough these past years. She's had a hard time on her own. If she made you angry, maybe just endure it a little."
"You feel sorry for her?"
"Absolutely not!"
Nagato immediately denied it. With Konan currently thinking he had feelings for Kita, this misunderstanding had to be cleared up immediately.
"You're well informed. Who told you?"
"Itachi."
Nagato sold out his subordinate without a shred of guilt.
Konan rolled her eyes and turned to leave.
"I know. Next time, I won't hit her face."
"There's a next time?!"
"Tch. Fine, fine. I won't hit her anymore."
Konan—the consummate actress—said this, then strode off without looking back.