Nagato had always been frail—a fragile 10 year old boy in a harsh world, often hiding behind his twin sister, Erza. She was his protector, his shield against the cruelty of their orphaned existence. When their mother Irene left them as babies in the care of a quiet village far from the chaos of war, they knew peace for a time. The villagers became their family, raising them as their own. But peace is usually fleeting.
One day the cult of Zeref came without warning. A storm of dark magic tore through the village, killing all who resisted. The adults, their adopted family among them, were slaughtered where they stood. Only the able-bodied children were spared, herded like cattle by the black-robed cultists. Those too young, too weak, or too broken to be of use were discarded without mercy.
Nagato trembled as the chaos unfolded, clutching Erza's arm as their world burned around them. When one of the dark mages stepped forward, his hood obscuring all but a cruel smirk, Erza pushed her brother behind her, arms spread wide. She wouldn't let anyone hurt him—not while she could still stand.
"Looks like this one's got some fight in her," the mage sneered, motioning toward Erza. "She'll fetch a good price. But this runt…" His eyes narrowed at Nagato, who cowered behind his sister. "Dram, why'd you even bother bringing him? Trash like this won't survive the docks."
Another hooded man grabbed Nagato's arm, yanking him away from Erza and the group of sobbing children.
"No! Get away from my brother!" Erza screamed, lunging toward the mage. But a blast of wind magic knocked her back, sending her sprawling in the sand. Blood trickled from cuts along her arms as she struggled to her feet, only to be held down by another dark mage's magic.
Nagato stumbled as he was dragged onto the beach, the burning remnants of their village painting the horizon in flickering shades of red and black. The mage towering over him sneered, his fingers curling into a grotesque mimicry of strangling hands.
"Well, kid," the mage said, dark magic circles forming around his fingers. "I'd say I hate to do this, but I really don't."
"Dark Magic: Stranglehold!"
Nagato's body convulsed as an invisible force clamped around his throat. He clawed at his neck, purple-ringed eyes wide with terror. He fell to the sand, gasping and kicking, his frail frame no match for the malevolent magic.
"Stop it! Please, stop!" Erza screamed, struggling against her captor, tears streaking her dirt-stained face. "He's just a kid!"
The lead mage sneered, his outstretched hand glowing with energy. "You should be grateful, girl. Your brother's leaving this cruel world behind. As for you, you'll spend the rest of your miserable life mining Etherion for Lord Zeref's resurrection."
Nagato's vision blurred, the smoke-filled sky above him dimming as he reached a trembling hand toward the fading sunlight. His body went limp, fingers falling into the sand.
"NAGATO!" Erza's scream tore through the air, raw and guttural, as she collapsed onto the deck of the ship. Chains rattled as two other children tried to comfort her, their own tears flowing freely.
"All right, men," the lead mage barked, "we've got a good haul this time. Set sail for the Tower of Heaven! And show our cargo the 'hospitality' they'll be enjoying for the rest of their lives."
The ship's crew erupted in sinister laughter as the captives were herded below deck. The burning village faded into the distance, taking with it the last remnants of Erza's childhood.
10 Years Later
"The guild's up that path," the scarred man stammered, his voice trembling as he pointed toward the forest. "Take the second left—please, just let me go!"
A shadow fell over him, blotting out the faint sunlight. The tall figure with crimson hair and ringed purple eyes stepped forward, his black cloak billowing slightly in the wind.
"Six Paths Magic: Chikushodo," Nagato intoned, his voice cold and unyielding.
A glowing magic circle appeared at his feet, and with a burst of light, a massive bird with eerie, matching eyes materialized. It took flight, soaring northward toward the guild.
"He tells the truth," Nagato said, brushing past the man without a second glance. "Konan, finish it. We have work to do."
The blue-haired woman at his side, a paper spear hovering ominously above her hand. "As you wish." She spoke in a mono tone way.
Nagato disappeared into the forest, the heavy sound of his boots fading into the distance. Konan turned back to the trembling man, her paper wings rustling softly as they unfurled.
"Wait!" the man cried, falling to his knees. "I swear I'll change! I'll leave the guild, turn my life around—just spare me!"
Konan's cold gaze didn't waver. "The Dark Knights, your guild traffics innocent lives. To join, you spilled blood. Tell me, does mercy come to those you've murdered?"
The man opened his mouth to respond, but Konan's spear fragmented into dozens of razor-sharp paper shards. They struck with unrelenting precision, leaving his body riddled with holes. He collapsed with a final, choking gasp.
Konan sighed, brushing a strand of hair from her face as her wings carried her into the air. "You were right, Nagato," she muttered, flying after him. "This world doesn't deserve mercy."
The Dark Knights' hideout loomed in the forest clearing a massive fortress of stone and iron, its grim facade a testament to the guild's vile deeds. The air was thick with tension as Nagato approached, his black cloak billowing around him. His Rinnegan eyes, glowing with a distinct, otherworldly purple, gleamed coldly in the dim light.
Standing in the shadows just outside the gates, Nagato raised his hand. His voice, low and filled with calm menace, echoed through the stillness.
"Almighty Push."
A sudden, deafening boom shattered the forest. An invisible force erupted outward, obliterating the fortress. Stone walls disintegrated, cement and bricks flung high into the air like leaves in a storm. Trees snapped in half, crashing to the ground in a cascade of splinters. Inside, screams filled the air as the guild members were hurled like ragdolls—many crushed beneath the rubble, others left broken and barely clinging to life.
Dust and debris hung thick in the air as Nagato stepped forward, untouched by the devastation. His boots crunched over shattered stone as he strode through the ruins. The bodies of the Dark Knights littered the ground, groaning or lifeless, but Nagato spared them no attention. His focus was singular.
At the heart of the wreckage, the guildmaster emerged—a hulking man named Garris Feldon, his fiery orange hair streaked with soot and blood. Despite his injuries, he managed to stand, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and rage.
"You… You monster!" Garris spat, clutching his side as he glared at Nagato. "What are you? What kind of power is this?"
Nagato stopped a few paces away, his Rinnegan eyes cold and unyielding. "You're the guildmaster, aren't you? Then you'll answer my questions."
"And if I don't?" Garris sneered, trying to mask his terror with bravado.
Nagato's voice dropped, laced with chilling certainty. "Then you'll know pain."
For a moment, Garris hesitated—but then fiery chains erupted from his arms, glowing like molten lava. "I don't answer to anyone!" he roared, the chains crackling with power as they lashed toward Nagato.
Nagato didn't flinch. With a subtle motion of his hand, he whispered: "Almighty Push."
A focused shockwave rippled from Nagato, deflecting the chains effortlessly. They shattered mid-air, their molten fragments sizzling into the ground. Garris stumbled back, sweat beading on his forehead.
Before Garris could recover, Nagato raised his arm. Mechanical components hummed to life, transforming his arm into a multi-barreled energy cannon glowing with deadly intent.
"Six Paths Magic: Asura Mode."
Energy blasts roared from Nagato's cannon, ripping through the air with unrelenting force. Garris summoned more fiery chains in desperation, using them as shields to block the barrage. At first, he managed to hold his ground, but Nagato's onslaught was relentless.
Then, with a flick of his other arm, Nagato summoned a second energy cannon. The combined firepower overwhelmed Garris, forcing him to his knees as the blasts broke through his defenses. A final, searing shot struck him in the chest, sending him crashing into a pile of rubble. Blood oozed from his wounds as he groaned, clutching his side.
"You've lost," Nagato said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Now, answer me. Where is the cult of Zeref operating? And have you heard of a girl named Erza?"
Garris coughed, his defiance crumbling under the weight of his injuries. "The… Tower of Heaven," he wheezed. "That's where the cult operates. It's a prison… for slaves. They're mining Etherion to bring back Zeref. And the girl… Erza… Yes, I know her…. the Queen of the Fairy's is what they call her…She's there. They've marked her as one of their prime sacrifices recently……"
Nagato's fists clenched at the mention of his sister, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. "Erza…" he murmured. "Finally, I've found you."
He turned away, his cloak swishing as he began to walk toward the forest. Garris, still trembling, called after him, hope creeping into his voice. "You're… letting me go,you won't kill me?"
Nagato paused but didn't turn. His voice was calm, yet icy. "You're right. I won't kill you."
Relief washed over Garris's face as he slumped back, breathing heavily. But his reprieve was short-lived. A low, guttural growl rumbled behind him, and the ground trembled as a massive, three-headed dog materialized from Nagato's magic. Its glowing purple eyes, mirroring Nagato's Rinnegan, locked onto Garris.
"No! No, please!" Garris screamed, scrambling backward. "We had a deal! You promised!"
Nagato glanced over his shoulder, his expression cold and indifferent. "I did. And I'm keeping it."
The three-headed dog lunged, tearing into Garris with savage ferocity. His screams echoed through the ruins, turning to wet gurgles as the beast ripped him apart, limb by limb. Blood splattered across the debris, soaking into the earth.
As the cries faded, Nagato continued walking, his voice low but resolute. "Your pain ends here."
The beast dissolved into smoke, leaving only silence in its wake. Nagato stepped into the forest, his path clear and his resolve unshaken.
"Erza… I'm coming for you. Forgive me for taking so long."
Nestled deep within the ruins of a forgotten nation, far from the prying eyes of the Kingdom of Fiore and its oppressive laws, the Akatsuki's base lay shrouded in mist and shadow. The village, once a thriving community, now stood as a haunting remnant of its former self—buildings in ruins, overgrown with vines, and streets silent save for the whispers of the wind. This was Nagato's sanctuary, the birthplace of his vision, and the rallying point for his band of S-rank mages.
Nagato sat at the head of a long, battered stone table in the Akatsuki meeting hall. The air was cold and still, the flickering light of enchanted torches casting eerie shadows across the room. His Rinnegan eyes, glowing faintly, were fixed on the lacrima projector at the far end of the chamber. The device hummed softly, displaying a live news broadcast from Fiore's most prominent network.
he screen showed the aftermath of the Dark Knights' destruction—a smoldering ruin, littered with bodies and rubble. Pools of blood stained the ground, and broken limbs jutted out from beneath the wreckage. The camera panned over the devastation as the newscaster's voice trembled with both fear and outrage.
"In a shocking display of violence, the notorious slaver guild, the Dark Knights, was completely annihilated yesterday in what officials are calling an unprecedented act of rogue magic. Thirty of the guild's thirty-five members were killed, their bodies torn apart by devastating magical attacks. Witnesses report seeing limbs and viscera scattered across the scene—a bloodbath unlike anything we've seen since the Great War."
The screen cut to an image of the surviving guild members being wheeled into a hospital under heavy guard. Most were unconscious, their bodies broken beyond recognition. A sobbing nurse described their condition: "They're alive, but barely. Whoever did this didn't just want to destroy the guild—they wanted to send a message."
The image shifted again, showing a press conference held by the captain of the Council's Rune Knights, a grim-faced woman in a pristine uniform adorned with Fiore's royal insignia. Her voice was stern as she addressed the gathered reporters.
"This level of unchecked rogue magic endangers us all. The destruction of the Dark Knights was not justice—it was a massacre, and it cannot go unanswered. We have confirmed that the one responsible for this atrocity has red hair and purple-ringed eyes."
The room erupted in gasps and murmurs as she continued. "If these reports are true, then the culprit is none other than Pain, the leader of the infamous illegal guild, the Akatsuki. Rest assured, the Kingdom of Fiore will not tolerate such violence. Pain will be brought to justice."
Nagato leaned back in his chair, his expression calm yet thoughtful as the broadcast ended. He had expected this reaction, of course. The Kingdom of Fiore, with its false promises of peace, would never understand his methods. To them, he was a criminal, a rogue mage who defied their carefully constructed laws. But to the enslaved and oppressed, he was something far greater: a savior.
He closed his eyes briefly, remembering the cries of the children who had been freed from their slavers. Their faces had been pale with fear, but their eyes had held a flicker of hope. That hope was worth the bloodshed. That hope was why he fought.
The doors to the meeting hall creaked open, and Konan entered, her footsteps soft against the stone floor. She wore her black cloak adorned with red clouds,. She approached Nagato, her expression unreadable as always, and stood at his side.
"They're calling for your head," she said simply, gesturing toward the now-silent lacrima projector. "The Rune Knights won't stop until they find you."
Nagato didn't respond immediately. He turned his gaze to the shattered window on the far side of the room, where the faint glow of the setting sun painted the ruins in hues of gold and crimson. "They can try," he said at last, his voice low but firm. "Fiore may have won the Great War, but they do not control us. Not yet."
One by one, the other Akatsuki members began to arrive, their presence filling the room with an air of tension and power. Each of them carried the weight of their own dark pasts, their unique abilities making them invaluable to Nagato's vision.
Minerva Orland entered with the grace of a queen surveying her court. Her long, flowing dark hair framed her sharp, striking features, cascading down her back in soft waves. Her golden eyes gleamed with amusement as she surveyed the room, her lips curving into a knowing smirk. Minerva's sleek black-and-gold mage attire hugged her form, a deliberate choice to exude both elegance and authority.
She moved with deliberate slowness, each step punctuated by the click of her heels against the stone floor. As she approached the table, she crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly.
"Well," she said, her voice smooth as silk, "thirty dead slavers and a pile of rubble. Truly, Nagato, you do have a flair for making an impression."
She pulled out a chair near the center of the table and sat gracefully, crossing one leg over the other. "Though I must admit," she continued with a sly grin, "I wonder if Fiore's council is more furious or terrified. Either way, it's delightful to watch them squirm."
Nagato offered no response, his focus still on the now-dim lacrima projector. Minerva chuckled softly, reclining slightly in her chair as she waited for the others to arrive.
The air seemed to grow heavier as the doors opened again. Lust, the demon created by Zeref, stepped into the room with deliberate poise. Her presence demanded attention. Her long black dress clung to her curves, shimmering like liquid in the abyss with every step. Her sleek black hair framed her sharp, otherworldly features, cascading down her back like a silken veil. Her deep violet eyes were pools of dark amusement, and her crimson lips curled into a wicked smile.
"Nagato," she purred, her voice low and sultry, "your handiwork with the Dark Knights… what can I say? It speaks to me. Carnage on that scale—it's almost art."
She moved to the table, her fingers trailing along its edge as she leaned slightly forward. Her gaze locked on Nagato as if daring him to respond. "Perhaps you've been taking notes from me?"
Before Nagato could respond, another figure entered the room. Desire, Lust's sister and another of Zeref's demonic creations, strode in with commanding authority. Clad in jet-black armor polished to perfection, Desire exuded both strength and elegance. Her raven hair flowed like a dark waterfall, her golden eyes burning with intensity. Unlike Lust's seductive aura, Desire carried herself with regal poise.
"Lust," Desire said sharply, her voice firm, "must you always reduce yourself to such shameless displays? It's pathetic."
Lust turned to her sister, her wicked smile undeterred. "Jealous, are we? Afraid I'll catch his eye first?"
Desire's wings flared slightly, her golden eyes narrowing. "Unlike you, I don't need to stoop to such levels. Our leader values loyalty and strength, not desperation."
The tension between the sisters was palpable, filling the room with an almost electric charge. Lust stepped closer, her voice dripping with mockery. "Still pretending to be perfect? Face it, Desire—you're no different from me. Just another discarded plaything of Zeref's."
Desire's wings flared fully now, her tone rising. "Say that again, and I'll remind you why I'm the stronger one."
"Enough." Nagato's calm voice cut through the tension like a blade. Both sisters froze, their attention snapping back to him. Lust smirked and stepped back with an exaggerated pout, while Desire folded her wings neatly and shot her sister a triumphant look.
Seizing the opportunity, Desire approached Nagato and leaned in close. "My lord," she murmured, her golden eyes locking onto his, "you deserve loyalty. I exist only to serve you."
Her large bust brushed lightly against his arm as she leaned closer. Nagato remained stoic, his expression unchanging, but there was a faint flicker in his gaze—a subtle acknowledgment that brought a faint smile to Desire's lips as she stepped back her face red and her mind definitely filled with indecent thoughts.
Konan rolls her eyes with a scoff standing beside her best friends throned seat watching the jealous demon sisters act like school girls over a crush.
The doors opened again, and Itachi Uchiha entered with silent purpose. His black cloak with red clouds swayed slightly as he walked, his movements calm and precise. His Sharingan eyes, glowing faintly crimson, betrayed nothing of the turmoil within.
Nagato recruited the Uchiha because Itachi's tragedy had been even greater than his own. Danzo a powerful elder in his former hidden nation of Konoha; had taken his mother and brother hostage, forcing him to slaughter his father and the Uchiha clan to secure their safety. Branded a rogue mage by Konoha and every other nation, Itachi now found refuge among the Akatsuki.
Following him came Kisame Hoshigaki, a towering figure with jagged teeth and blue, shark-like skin. His massive sword, Samehada, rested on his back. He grinned broadly as he entered, his voice carrying a rough humor.
"Looks like everyone's here," Kisame said, his grin widening. "I hope this meeting ends with a fight. It's been far too quiet for my taste."
Deidara sauntered in next, his blond hair tied back and a smug grin on his face. "Finally, a meeting," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Let me guess—it's about my art. Everyone knows my explosions are the highlight of this group."
From behind him, Tobi skipped into the room, his cheerful voice cutting through the tension. "Deidara-senpai! Your art is amazing! But don't forget about me—my art is assassination!"
Deidara groaned, rubbing his temples. "Tobi, for the last time, your so-called art is just you being a clown."
The room quieted briefly as the heavy doors creaked open again. Sasori, the infamous puppet mage, stepped into the hall, his movements unnaturally smooth and deliberate. His cloak with red clouds swayed slightly as he entered, the dim torchlight glinting off his pale wooden skin. His expression was calm, almost detached, as his amber eyes scanned the room. On his back, the segmented tail of his personal puppet, Hiruko, curved menacingly.
Sasori moved to his place at the table without acknowledging the others, his voice low and measured as he finally spoke.
"My eternal art is the best form you fool's!"
Deidara scoffed from across the table, already bristling.
"Eternal art, huh? Let me guess—you're still clinging to that idea that your lifeless puppets are art? True art is an explosion, yeah!"
Sasori turned his head slightly, his tone sharp.
"Your explosions are fleeting. They're chaos, not creation. My puppets endure the passage of time—they are art perfected."
Deidara slammed his hands on the table, glaring at Sasori.
"You're just afraid to admit that your boring, stiff puppets can't compete with the raw beauty of destruction! My art leaves an impression no one can forget!"
Nagato raised a hand, silencing them both with a calm but firm voice.
"This is not the time for debates on art. You will both have your roles to play when the time comes."
Sasori nodded, though his tone remained laced with quiet confidence.
"Of course, Nagato. I will ensure our enemies never forget the craftsmanship that ends their lives."
Hidan followed, his scythe resting on his shoulder. His crimson eyes gleamed with zeal as he laughed. "Finally, a reason to kill! Jashin will be pleased he loves when we have meetings."
Once the group was assembled, Nagato rose from his seat, silencing the room with his presence. His glowing Rinnegan eyes swept over them as he spoke, his voice calm yet commanding.
"I've called you here to inform you that I will be leaving on a mission alone.It is a personal mission half of the reason I formed the Akatski. While I am gone, you will continue as planned—taking bounty jobs, gathering funds, and collecting intel on the great nations and Fiore. Soon, the time will come when we seize control of the tailed beasts and Fiore's magical weapons. Then we will shake the world to its core."
He paused, his tone growing darker. "And if the world refuses to change… they will know pain."
Minerva leaned back in her chair, her golden eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and approval. She spoke with a sly smile.
"Shaking the world, are we? Bold words, Nagato. I do enjoy watching the so-called mighty tremble before us. Just ensure there's enough chaos left for me to savor."
Kisame's shark-like grin widened, and he rested a hand on the hilt of Samehada.
"Finally, some real action. It's been too long since we've had any missions. All this talk about shaking the world has me itching for a fight. Just point me in the right direction, and I'll carve a path through anyone dumb enough to stand against us."
Hidan threw back his head and laughed, gripping the shaft of his scythe with both hands.
"Now that's what I'm talking about! Pain for the world, sacrifices for Jashin, this is what I live for! I'll bleed them dry, one by one, and offer every last drop to my god."
Hidan glanced at Nagato with a wild grin. "You've got my scythe ready for action, boss. Let's make these heathens scream."
Lust traced a finger along the edge of the table, her violet eyes glinting with dark amusement.
"Pain and destruction and a world remade from the ashes of the previous..… you do know how to make a girl's heart race, Nagato. Zeref never dared to dream as boldly as you. Perhaps this time, we'll finally give the world a lesson it won't forget." Her voice sultry.
Desire's golden eyes burned with fervor as she stepped closer to Nagato, her voice soft yet brimming with devotion.
"Your vision is flawless, my lord. I will follow you to the ends of the earth,and beyond. Whatever stands in your way shall be crushed beneath our might. And if the world refuses to bow… I'll ensure it's forced to its knees for you."
She cast a sideways glance at Lust. "And, I'll make sure certain… distractions stay out of your way."
Deidara leaned forward with a smirk, his enthusiasm unmistakable.
"Now this is art, yeah. As long as this new world is remade through my art, I'm all for it. Let's give these fools a masterpiece they'll never forget."
He shot a glance at Tobi. "Not that you'd understand true art, idiot."
Tobi jumped to his feet, clapping his hands together with exaggerated excitement.
"Oooh! Nagato-sama! Can I be in charge of the assassinations? I'll make them really creative! Silent but deadly—like my art!"
He turned to Deidara with a mischievous grin. "Not that boring, boom-boom stuff, Deidara-senpai."
Sasori was next to speak, a thoughtful smirk on his face.
"Pain, destruction, control… all fleeting things." He folded his arms, his gaze fixed on Nagato. "What you're planning will require precision, patience, and durability. The world's decay cannot be fixed overnight, but…" He smirked faintly, his voice dripping with pride. "I suppose my eternal art can lend itself to such a project, and the money from the bounties is a sweet bonus."
Kakuzu crossed his arms, his voice cold and calculating.
"Your vision is ambitious, but ambition requires funding. I'll keep the coffers full, as always, but I expect results. If we're going to reshape the world, it had better be worth the effort—and the cost." The ancient mage said.
Konan's voice was calm and resolute, her loyalty to Nagato evident in every word.
"You've always seen farther than the rest of us, Nagato. Your vision is the only path forward. The world may resist, but we'll ensure they have no choice but to follow." His beautiful blue haired companion spoke house words with such belief it stirred his heart.
As the meeting room buzzed with chatter, Deidara leaned toward Sasori, his voice dripping with irritation.
"I just can't get you and this "Eternal Art shit"? You always act like your little wooden dolls are so special, nothing lasts forever and they'll burn just like anything else when the real art hits."
Sasori didn't even turn his head, his tone calm but cutting.
"You wouldn't understand true art if it stared you in the face, Deidara. What you create is chaos. What I create is perfection."
Deidara clenched his fists, but before he could retort, Tobi chimed in with a cheerful laugh.
"Deidara-senpai! Maybe Sasori can make a puppet of you when you blow yourself up one day! It'd last forever—like his 'art!'"
The table erupted in stifled laughter, even Kisame letting out a booming chuckle. Deidara slammed his hand on the table, his face red with fury.
"Tobi, you idiot! Shut up before I blow you to pieces, yeah!"
Sasori smirked faintly, a rare flicker of amusement crossing his face.
"Perhaps Tobi has a point, Deidara. A puppet version of you might actually improve on the original."
Deidara growled, but Hidan interrupted with a loud laugh.
"Now this is what I'm talking about! A bunch of lunatics arguing over art while we're about to bring the world to its knees. Jashin would love this chaos!"
As the bickering continued, Nagato leaned back in his chair, silently observing the room. Despite their differences—and their madness—he recognized the value each of them brought. Sasori's precision, Deidara's passion, and even the disruptive antics of Tobi played a role.
In his mind, he thought of his sister, Erza. She had always been strong, determined, and fiercely protective. Would she understand the path he had taken? Would she see the necessity in what he was doing?
'when I find you, Erza….I know you'll understand!' Nagato thought to himself convincing himself of his words.
As the chaotic chatter of his guild filled the room, Nagato sat silently, his Rinnegan eyes glowing faintly in the flickering torchlight.
Nagato closed his eyes, and for a moment, he was back in that burning village. The screams of the villagers, the crackle of flames, and the rough hands of the slavers dragging him and his sister, Erza, into the chaos were vivid in his mind.
He remembered Erza's desperate screams as she fought against the men, trying to protect him. But she was only a child, and even her fiery spirit wasn't enough to save them. When one of the slavers deemed Nagato too weak to sell, he was dragged to the side and discarded like garbage. He could still feel the cold sand beneath him as the man's dark magic strangled him, stealing his breath, and his vision blurred into darkness.
But then, something awoke deep within him. The pain and desperation ignited a fire in his soul. His Rinnegan, a gift he didn't understand at the time, activated in his final moments of consciousness. In the darkness of his mind he met the King of Hell a terrifying enormous face and mouth, which simply said it was not his time;before sending the red head back to the land of the living. When he came to, the slavers were gone, the ship carrying Erza and the other children fading into the distance.
"Erza…" he whispered into the empty air, tears streaming down his face as he reached toward the ship that was already too far away.
Nagato didn't know how long he wandered the scorched village, weak and hungry. His frail body barely held him upright as he searched through the rubble, hoping for a miracle. That was when he was found by a group of bounty-hunting mages from one of the minor hidden villages in the Rain.
They were hardened warriors, their eyes full of suspicion when they first spotted him. But among them was Konan, a quiet girl with hair as blue as the rain-soaked skies. She had crouched beside him, her voice soft but firm.
"You're safe now. We'll take care of you."
That moment marked the beginning of a new chapter in his life. The mages took him to their hidden village, a small sanctuary overshadowed by the larger nations constantly at war. There, he met Yahiko, a fiery and ambitious boy who quickly became his closest friend. Together with Konan, they became inseparable—a trio of orphans bound by shared pain and a longing for something greater.
A two years later they met a great mage from a powerful hidden nation who took a interest in them. Under the tutelage of the great toad sage, Jiraiya, Nagato learned to harness his powers. The Rinnegan's abilities were vast and terrifying, and Jiraiya taught him to channel them with purpose. His training was grueling, but it gave him strength he had never known. Jiraiya, a man full of hope and conviction, often spoke of a world where peace could thrive—a world free from the endless cycle of war and suffering.
But that dream seemed impossible as the Great War between the hidden nations and Fiore escalated. The minor villages, like Nagato's, became battlegrounds, their lands reduced to ashes as the larger powers clashed. Refugees flooded the Rain Village, their stories of loss and despair fueling Nagato's growing resentment toward the nations that had destroyed their homes.
It was during this time that tragedy struck. Yahiko, ever the fearless leader, sacrificed himself to save Nagato and Konan during a brutal attack by invading forces. Nagato could still hear Yahiko's voice in his final moments, his words etched into his soul.
"Don't let them win, Nagato. Don't let their pain destroy you. Use it… Use it to change everything."
Yahiko's death shattered something within Nagato. The grief and rage he felt that day became the foundation of his resolve. Jiraiya's teachings of peace still resonated with him, but now they were tempered by the harsh reality that pain was the only language the world understood.
Nagato's thoughts returned to the present as he observed the members of his guild. Each of them had their own pain, their own reasons for joining him. They were dangerous, unpredictable, and broken in their own ways. Yet they followed him, bound together by his goal—to reshape the world through his strength and will.
His dream of finding Erza burned just as brightly as ever. But now, it was joined by a greater purpose: to create a world where no child would be torn from their family as he had been. A world where suffering was not the currency of power. And if the world refused to change, then it would face the only justice it understood—pain.
He opened his eyes, his gaze sweeping over the room. The guild members were still bickering—Hidan laughing maniacally about sacrifices, Deidara arguing with Tobi over the nature of art, and Lust and Desire exchanging sharp words as they jockeyed for his attention. In their chaos, he wondered how even was even able to contain such different personalities in one guild.
"They're insane," Nagato thought, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
As the noise swirled around him, his thoughts drifted once more to his sister.
"Erza," he thought, his expression hardening. "I haven't forgotten you. I'll find you, no matter what it takes. And those who took you will know pain unlike anything they've ever imagined."
The rain outside intensified, its rhythmic patter blending with the faint hum of the enchanted torches. Nagato closed his eyes again thinking about the many ways he would save her from the Tower of Heaven.