The rain fell softly tonight—gentler than it ever had before. The shrine glowed faintly under the pale light of paper lanterns, each flame flickering in rhythm with the distant thunder outside. The walls, pure white and unscarred, stood in stark defiance of the rusted world beyond. And there, in the center, Konan knelt between two still forms—Nagato and Yahiko—laid side by side beneath a veil of paper lilies.

The scent of rain mixed with incense, light and sorrowful. Konan’s head bowed as she placed a final flower atop Nagato’s frail and bony chest. Her hands lingered there, fingers trembling slightly before she withdrew them. “He believed until the end,” She murmured, her voice barely louder than the rain. “Naruto... he reminded him of what we used to be.”

She looked toward the floor, her expression unreadable but soft. “He believed in a peace born not from pain... but from understanding. Maybe... we were wrong all along.” She reached beside her, lifting the Akatsuki cloak folded neatly on the altar—the one that had belonged to Pain. Her thumb traced over the crimson cloud stitched into the fabric.

“How strange,” She whispered. “Before these clouds, once stood for justice... for change. But in time, they only became a shadow that consumed everything.” The cloak slipped from her grasp, falling to the polished floor with a hollow sound.

Her gaze lingered on the fallen robe, the red cloud staring back like a wound that refused to heal. “For so long, I thought pain was our answer. I let it shape me as it did him... bury me,” *She said, her words cracking faintly. “But Nagato believed again, even after all he’d done. He found hope in that boy. And if he could... then maybe I can too.”

Konan stood slowly, her hands reaching for the collar of her own Akatsuki cloak. She hesitated—just for a moment—then began to undo it, letting the heavy fabric slide from her shoulders. “This isn’t who I am anymore,” She breathed. The robe collected around her arms, which she clutched briefly before tossing aside. “The rain doesn’t have to fall forever.”

Her eyes, once cold and distant, lifted toward the ceiling where a thin ray of moonlight filtered through a crack. “I can still see them... Yahiko’s smile, Nagato’s conviction...” Her lips curved faintly, though her voice trembled. “Even after everything, you all stayed within me. I told myself those feelings died years ago, that I buried them with our dreams. But I was only running.”

Konan knelt again before the shrine. “I don’t want to keep living in the past,” She said softly. “If there’s still a future left for this world, then... I’ll protect it. I’ll protect him. And maybe... I can finally protect us, too.”