A/N: This was an original story, but I thought it would fit these two. I dislike the female submission, but I see some of that in her personality. Hopefully I'll write her better in the future. Please review and enjoy!

-WhirledPeace

The girl was dirty. Filthy, actually. She wore brown and torn rags, exposing her pale flesh. Not that one could tell what her skin color was under the mud and filth of inner city life. But she is not like the filth around her. Around her is mud and dirty, shabby, beaten shacks. The air is filled with the smog of industry, and the sky churns with the pollution. But the girl kneels, head, with its knotted hair, bowed, and presses her grimy hands together. How can something so beautiful still exist in such a filthy place?
Under the dirt, the buildings are still sagging and dilapidated. Behind the clouds were the factories. But under the filth and rags, there was a girl. A girl who prayed to her god, a girl who found solace in worship. A girl who finds the only peaceful alcove in a world torn by war, the only safe place.
"Psh," the boy scoffed, kicking a rock to the side as he found her. Konan looked up, smiling slightly as she saw him. She got off her knees and stepped over to him. He wouldn't dare enter, and she knows this. Though he is a brave boy, he felt he could not disturb this sanctuary. "I've been looking for you," he told her.
"I know," she replied. It was a simple enough answer, said calmly. But those teasing words, they revealed more than either was willing to let on.
"Come on, we'd better get back before dark," Nagato said.
"All right." And they set off through their back alleys and side streets. Nagato kicked a discarded wrapper from his path.
"This place is disgusting," he lamented. Konan frowned. She was rarely smiling, but rarely frowning as well. She bent and picked up the discarded wrapper. Wordlessly, she folded it into an ornate bird.
"I think all it would take a little effort," she replied. Nagato scoffed, but let the moment pass without fighting it.
"Why do you pray?" he asked, changing the subject. Konan sighed, thinking about it for a long minute.
"For hope. If I please God, maybe he will deliver us from this."
"Isn't it his fault we got in this mess?" Nagato asked sneeringly. Konan bowed her head and made no reply. Nagato, though lacking tact, sensed not to press on. But he was right, wasn't he? "Who is God, anyway?"
"God sees everything," Konan said solemnly. "God knows everything. And God rules everything."
"And what's everything?" Nagato pressed.
"Everything is the world," Konan replied. "And when you die, you become an angel. Angels can fly. Angels fly overhead, and see everything for what it really is from above. And the world looks so small." Konan bowed her head. "And that is if you are good." Nagato sighed. She seemed as if she could fly already.

Konan had become a young woman now, in her late teens. She had smears of charcoal on her face and hands from manning the stove all day, and smudges of dirty on her shift where she knelt. Yet she knelt willingly, and though her hands were worn and ached from her days of toil, she pressed them together as best she could, and bent her head. Nagato looked about him. They were alone, something that was now a rarity in the communal house. "Are you still praying?" he asked.
"I've only just begun," Konan told him gently.
"After all these years," Nagato clarified. He leaned against the wall, observing the simple girl. "God has not helped you." Konan closed her eyes. Nagato sighed, knowing she would not speak further on this matter.
"Why do you fight?" her voice came, but a wisp of sound on the still air. Nagato furrowed his brow, wondering if he had heard correctly, if at all.
"What?" he asked. Even to his ears his voice was harsh against the softness of her own. It was as if some magic had been broken.
"Why do you fight? Isn't it fighting that has made us what we are?" she asked. She had not moved; she still knelt with her head bowed and hands clasped. Nagato contemplated her question, wondering at its suddenness.
"I fight to live," he replied easily. "I fight because otherwise, I would drown in this world." Konan hummed lightly at his answer. "I… I don't think God would fight for us," he continued, almost as if he himself had not planned the words. "God… or whatever force… fate… it's not that that has gotten us here."
"I understand." Konan's voice was cool, like a wet cloth in a fever. Nagato's brow furrowed once more. Was this defeat? If it was, then this couldn't be victory. Victory never felt this bad.

They were adults now. Chance alliances and battles had brought them here. The war had picked them up from the slums it had abandoned them in, and they rode it to the top. The palace. The very center of the citadel. They could look out now on all that is. There were generals and guards, servants and cooks. But the palace was left largely empty, the echoing stone chambers in silence and peace.
And so she stood before him, in a plain but beautiful white dress, with her blue hair adorned with a simple paper rose. She curtsied to the man before her, so politely. "You called?" she asked. Nagato brushed past formality and stepped close to her, grasping her hand.
"Come with me," he said, and let her through his neatly arranged chambers and to the balcony beyond. They stood by the rail, and Nagato flourished an arm across the horizon. "Behold," he said softly. "It is all we've ever known. It's our world."
"Yes," Konan sighed happily, a careless smile gracing her features.
"From here, we can see everything," Nagato continued. "Everything from the poorest shacks to the richest mansions. And even the land beyond!" Nagato breathed deeply, enjoying the clean air. "I have my people out there. They report to me. I know everything that goes on. And I am lord of this city." He looked into her eyes. "I rule this city. I rule everything." Konan bowed her head.
"Thank you," she breathed. Nagato was silent, letting her live with just this, before he went on.
"We are adults, now," he said gently. "We know the world for what it is. We know the powers and politics of it all. From here, we can look down and see what it is. We can fly." Konan let out a small noise of emotion, and was unable to stop the wide smile that split her face. She raised her face.
"Thank you."