A/N: Last one, guys. This is the first fic I've ever completely finished! I promise this is a turning point! I will finish everything else now, too! …Eventually. Might take a while, but it WILL get done!
He has only ever attacked her once. It wasn't completely intentional. He meant to push her away, not to knock her over. But, after being so dependent for a while, he couldn't judge his own strength. He hadn't even realized it was her until it was over. She wasn't in pain, but he seemed to think she was, but that might've been because of how shocked she looked. His reaction to it seemed inappropriate either way.
It was a long time ago that it happened. She feels that it was partially her fault. He wouldn't have done it if she hadn't been so overprotective. Though, she wonders how he would've faired in the beginning if she wasn't. She tells herself he would've died, but thinks that's just her way of pretending she mattered.
He had healed just enough to be away from a bed for more than a few minutes. Those who were still in their army of saw him as their leader, or so he thought. They built him a machine with which to walk, and it became his throne.
She wishes they hadn't, though she hates herself for it.
That was the first time he could do something without her help. It was something so simple. Something he used to do every day. She still had to help him with just about everything else. But, that was his first step toward becoming independent again, which was something he hadn't realized he wanted. When he finally figured that out, she became an obstacle to him, she thinks. It sure seemed that way. Wanting it was just the first step. It quickly became an obsession, and it was their fault.
Gods couldn't rule if people thought they were weak.
To them, that's just what he was.
"Why do you always resist when I try to help with things like this?" She asks Him.
"I can do it myself."
He can't, actually. He just likes to think He can. She always ends up helping at some point, usually against His wishes.
"You won't let me help you with something as serious as an injury—"
"A God can't be wounded so severely, I can always fix it myself," He interrupts. She ignores it. The other bodies, He can fix with Naraka Path's King of Hell. He refuses to use it on Himself, though. He says it's not possible, but she doesn't know if she believes Him. She just can't be sure.
"You'll never let me help you when you're hurt, yet you'll make me do something that even I know you could do yourself?"
He pauses, and looks at her through the corner of His eye.
"I never make you do anything," He hisses. "You could refuse if you hate it so much."
She shakes her head and looks away. She really hates arguing with Him.
He hadn't been fond of receiving help, even as a kid. He'd take it, but he always seemed to apologize when it was given if it wasn't something life-threatening. She kept telling him he shouldn't. Despite telling her that he would, it never happened.
"Why do you always say you're sorry when someone offers to help?" She asked him once. She had just offered to help clean off some of the dirt and blood off of the used kunai. He'd accepted, but told her he was sorry for bothering her.
"I don't want to bother anyone with this if I don't need to," he told her, putting another one down next to him on the bed. They happened to be staying in a house; an unusual occurrence. The entire area was pretty much abandoned, likely because of the war. Everyone was happy to stay in a stable shelter for a while.
"Nagato, no offence, but you're horrible at cleaning these," she said, sitting on his right.
He smiled, knowing it was true. He picked at a particularly stubborn bit of filth with his nail, but it refused to come off. It was just near the tip, and his finger slipped. The blade swept across the top of his thumb, from the knuckle to the back of his hand. He didn't flinch. It really didn't hurt too badly, though a perfect red bead grew from the injury before falling to the ground. As another began to follow, he took it into his mouth for just a moment. After that, it seemed that the wound stopped, though the cut itself was still red.
"Do you want me to do those?" She asked.
"No, I got it." He told her, wiping his hand on his cloak.
She reached across him to try and take it, but he pulled it just out of her reach. She looked at him and swore he was smiling, just a bit. When she put her hand back down, he did the same. She knew he'd just pull it away if she tried to take it again. She got up on her knees and stood behind him, reaching over his shoulders this time. He put the kunai down and grabbed her wrists, holding her there. She rested her chin on his shoulder.
"I'm tired," he told her. He had actually been admitting this to her recently, instead of pretending to be in perfect shape all the time like he used to. She wasn't surprised by his exhaustion, though. The three of them had been busy that day. She was still quite awake.
"We're not doing anything else today. You should rest for a while," she said, pulling his headband off.
She pulled her hands away, and scooted back a bit. He didn't move. She grabbed his collar and pulled his head back into her lap, and rested her hands on his chest. He felt it rise and fall, and felt his heartbeat. It's funny how strong it was back then. Now, she can barely feel it, and that's on the rare occasion that she gets to put her hands on him.
Seeing that he was no longer holding the kunai, she reached over to try and take it. He put his hand over hers before she could. She thinks it was because he'd feel bad making her do it and not helping.
"I'll do it, Nagato. It won't take me long. I doubt Yahiko wants your hands all cut up, anyway."
He kept her hand pinned, but she pulled it out and grabbed the weapon. He reached up to grab it from her, but she pulled her hand behind her back to quickly. He rolled over and sat on his ankles to look at her. He looked as if she had just taken something very important from him. She guesses now that she kind of had; taking away something that he could've done to be useful. That was something he had always desperately needed.
The upset seemed to disappear quickly, though. He stood up on his knees and leaned forward to take it from behind her, but she leaned away from him. He came closer until she was almost completely flat on her back. He put his hands on either side of her, feeling unstable leaning so far forward. She flung the kunai off the bed and dropped the rest of the way. He tried to push himself up to get it, but she grabbed his cloak and pulled him back down to her.
"Just relax for a while, Nagato," She told him. "You just told me that you're tired."
She really hadn't meant to end up in such a compromising position. However, no matter how innocent and clean-minded Nagato seemed to everyone, he quickly noticed what it looked like. Rarely one to make the first move, he stayed above her, awkwardly waiting to see what she would do next.
She didn't move, either. He had just said he was tired. She was afraid he would've gone along with it even if he didn't really want to, and she didn't want to make him. Now, she thinks it'd be impossible for a boy of his age to really be against it in the first place, so that was never actually an issue.
Today happened to be a day where he did decide to make a move. Figuring that she already had, he thought that's what she wanted. She hadn't really been aiming for that, but once it started she didn't even think of complaining. It was a lot more relaxing than it usually was, having a proper bed instead of the ground with blankets that they always slept in. The group had beds, but those were specifically for those who were injured, and sex wasn't really something they felt like doing when they were sick enough to need those beds.
"I thought you said you were tired?" She asked him. She was kidding, of course, but he seemed a bit taken aback.
"I am," He said quickly, pushing himself back up. He looked a bit scared after he said that. Like he thought she'd be mad at him for it. She smiled and shook her head, pulling him down again. He finally figured out she was messing with him, and went back to what he had been doing.
It ended up being quick. Shirts pushed off the chest, her skirt hiked up around her waist. She opened his cloak, but never too it off. He saw before he began that it wasn't going to be as big of an event as it sometimes was, and finished her first. While he might've been unable to clean a kunai properly, he was quite skilled with his hands. After she was done, he didn't last long.
She stood up for a moment to fix herself after he finished, and picked up the kunai she had pushed onto the ground. When she went to sit back down, he had gone up to the top of the bed to relax like she had told him to. She came and sat against the headboard. Despite being even more exhausted than he had been a few minutes ago, he didn't seem to be going to sleep. He stared up at the ceiling, his eyes glazed over.
"Are you going to rest or not?" She sighed.
He looked at her, and then pushed himself up. He sat there for a few seconds, but surprised her when he reached over and grabbed yet another one of the kunai.
"I told you, I'm not going to make you do this. I was supposed to."
"Can I get you anything, Nagato?" She asks. She sounds desperate.
He quickly shakes his head, looking pained. He's fighting back another coughing fit, she knows.
"Water? Can I get you that?" She asks.
"No."
He barely finishes the word before He's busy choking again. He's sitting in his bed, hunched over sheets damp with his own sweat and the saliva that's come up after some dry heaving from choking so much. She hears Deva stumbling down the hallway as Nagato tries to keep His chakra focused. She can't understand why it's hard for Him, now. He had been in a similar, probably worse, condition when fighting the Kyuubi, but had been able to keep fighting through more than just one of his bodies. Now, He can barely even walk Deva in a straight line. When Deva finally gets into the room, she sees that He has brought Himself some water.
"Nagato, if you'd just relax and stop trying to do it yourself, you'd—"
His glare makes her stop, but she glares back. He looks even weaker than he usually does, and she really doesn't care if they have to argue anymore. She'll do it if it means He'll swallow His pride.
He looks as if He'll say something, but then He stops. His eyes narrow, and He looks confused for a minute. He looks out the window, and she sees Him grip the sheets harder.
"What?" She asks.
"Someone's here."
"Who?" She asks. It's a silly question, since she should know by now that He can't tell. She's the one who does that.
"There are a lot of them," He tells her.
"I'll take care of it, Nagato. Just rest," She says, standing up.
"There are too many."
"You don't know that they're hostile."
He looks at her as if she's crazy. There have been other visitors to the village after God's judgment, but none of them had been friendly. Though, they had only come in twos or threes. There are more of them now.
"It doesn't matter. I'll get better." She says.
"You're being a bit hypocritical, don't you think?"
She is. She knows she is. However, this is different, and they both know that. She wishes he'd swallow his pride, just this once.
"Are we good people?" Nagato asked Yahiko once, lying on his stomach on his sleeping bag.
It was in the beginning of the war, barely a few months in. They were still losing. Still looking like a tiny, hopeless group of rebelling teenagers. Yahiko still seemed a bit unsure of himself as he tried to lead an entire army, though it was quite small. At that point, the three of them were still new to causing bloodshed. Nagato still hated it. She found him alone sometimes, so very disturbed by the memory of the people he had killed. She never saw him cry. He'd just sit and stare at nothing, wide eyed with a kunai in his hands. She knew enough to leave him be. Whatever was going on inside his head seemed to go away when he was through.
Yahiko hesitated before he answered Nagato's question. After considering it, she looked at Yahiko expectantly. She wanted to know the very same thing.
"Why?" he asked. He was sitting on the ground, leaning back against a bag of their supplies.
"Are we doing the right thing? We're killing people."
"So are they, Nagato," Yahiko sighed.
"We're just as bad as they are, then. We've sunk to their level."
"They're killing people for their own selfish bullshit."
"Aren't we all?"
She shifted in her seat, thinking that Nagato might be right. She stayed quiet and waited for Yahiko's response.
"How are we being selfish?" He asked, sitting up. "They're the ones that fight in our country because of their problems."
"If they fought in their own countries, they'd be destroyed just like this one. That wouldn't be fair to them, don't you think?"
Yahiko shook his head, obviously annoyed with this argument. She couldn't tell if he was annoyed at Nagato for not seeing his point, or because he was beginning to see things differently. He stood up and stepped outside.
"What do you think will happen to us after we die?"
She didn't reply to him at first. She was tired. She didn't feel like talking. He turned his head to look at her, though she couldn't see his eyes through his hair. She realized he wanted a response.
"After we die?" She repeated.
"I think we're going to hell for this," he told her, ignoring her new question.
"I don't think so," she muttered. "You don't get sent to hell for one thing."
"It's been more than one thing."
"I'm not saying we'll go straight to heaven."
"What other options are there, then? We don't deserve to go to heaven."
She kept forgetting that he had never learned about these things. He hadn't really known much about anything religious until Yahiko had explained it to him.
"Do you know what Purgatory is, Nagato?"
He didn't reply, and she took it as a 'no'.
"People go there. Good people, who just aren't perfect."
"What's that like?"
She tried to explain it. She'd heard a few different things about it. She told him that people went there to pay for their sins. It was a test. It was where you would repent, and then you'd go to heaven.
"And what decides if you go there instead of hell?"
She didn't know the answer to that. She lied to him. She lied and told him exactly what he wanted to hear. She learned to do that so well. Now, he couldn't even tell the difference.
She can't be in two places at once, or at least not to the point where she can multitask. He can. Right now, she wishes He couldn't.
She loves Yahiko.
She loved Nagato.
She can't protect both of them at once. She learned that a long time ago. She can't even protect one of them. She hasn't felt so helpless in a long time, and now she's remembering what it feels like. Deva is fighting for His power, and Nagato is fighting for His life.
She wants to go back and beg Nagato to stop, but she knows it won't work. Deva will be destroyed if she does. Nagato will fix him if anything happens, she knows, but she's not sure he can in his current condition. She fights alongside Deva, but she can see Him stumble, and lose control even for those split seconds. There aren't as many opponents as Nagato had led her to believe. She wants to kill them as fast as possible.
The faster they die, the faster Deva will go home.
She takes them down one at a time, occasionally swarming Deva to push away His assailants, but she can't take them all down at once. She thinks it'd be easier if He'd just stayed home. He never listens to her.
And then, Deva falls, and He doesn't get up.
He stays on the ground, eyes closed, with such a peaceful face. It takes here a second to notice. Those who have come to harm God know that Deva will not be getting back up and go after His angel.
She hardly cares. Before they can even touch her, she's gone. She's home in just seconds, but she can see that He's not. Nagato is in the same position Deva was. On His side, motionless. She brushes away His hair. His eyes are wide, and rolled back. His cracked lips are white with foam. She doesn't feel anything. Nothing seems out of the ordinary.
He's just not there.
She wonders where He has gone.
She wonders if Yahiko is there.
She wonders if they'll be waiting for her. She'll be joining them soon. She hears the cries of the damned, and knows that she's next.
She doesn't want to fight. She has done that for so long. How nice it'll be to let a real God decide her fate. Perhaps he'll finally let her see Yahiko again. Maybe He'll fix Nagato like she never could. Maybe things will be better than they ever were.
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: `Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert... Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear -
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.'
A/N: …Sorry for the kinda lame ending, guys. Couldn't really think of a better way.