Chapter 26 — You and I Are Both Rulers of Small Nations
Pain — or rather, the man once known as Nagato — stood frozen.
For so long, he had been a god.
A being who gave commands, not conversation.
And now, faced with Oda Nobunaga's calm, human gaze… he realized he no longer remembered how to speak as a man.
The silence stretched between them like a gulf — deep, tense, absolute.
None of the others in the room dared to break it.
Konan stood still behind her "god," eyes flicking warily between the two leaders.
Kakuzu crossed his arms and looked away, eager to avoid divine wrath.
Even Nobunaga's retainers waited quietly, holding their breath.
But Nobunaga, patient as a monk, simply studied the man across from him — the so-called demi-god of the shinobi world.
And after a moment, realization flickered in his mind.
Ah… so that's how it is.
He's forgotten how to speak as an equal.
Or perhaps… without the mask of Pain, Nagato no longer knows who he truly is.
A faint smile curved Nobunaga's lips.
He raised a hand and gestured lightly.
At once, two figures stepped forward — Uzumaki Shion and her daughter Karin, still pale from their recent ordeal but determined.
Unable to repay Nobunaga's kindness and healing, they had insisted on serving as attendants, and now they approached with practiced grace.
From among Nobunaga's belongings, they carefully took out a simple yet elegant tea set.
Once, before tragedy had reduced her clan to ashes, Uzumaki Shion had been a lady of education and refinement.
And even now, with her daughter assisting her, her every movement was serene — a flow of gentle precision.
She bowed deeply to both Nobunaga and the disguised Pain, her red hair falling like a silken curtain, before beginning the quiet ritual of the tea ceremony.
The soft clink of porcelain and the faint hiss of boiling water filled the silence.
The delicate aroma of tea drifted through the air — and with it, the tension slowly softened.
---
"Tch."
Konan's eyes narrowed slightly.
For a fleeting moment, she had almost respected Nobunaga.
From what she had heard — and from what she had just witnessed — he was a man of principle, a daimyō who truly cared for his people.
But this...
This was the same aristocratic posturing I thought he'd risen above, she thought bitterly.
A tea ceremony, in the middle of a negotiation? How like a lord… how unlike us, the ones who came from nothing.
To her, Nobunaga's composed smile was a reminder that no matter how kind he appeared, they came from different worlds — the nobility and the orphans of war.
Surely Pain felt the same, she told herself.
Surely he, too, would find this display shallow.
She was already preparing how to intervene when Pain inevitably snapped — when, to her astonishment, she realized he wasn't angry at all.
In fact… he wasn't even looking at Nobunaga.
Pain's gaze had drifted to the two red-haired women pouring tea.
And in their crimson hair, he saw something he had not seen in years.
The Uzumaki clan…
His breath caught.
After the fall of Uzushio, Nagato's parents had fled to the Land of Rain — where they died protecting him from invading shinobi.
He had never met another of his bloodline since.
Now, before him, two Uzumaki women bowed gracefully, their voices gentle, their eyes alive.
For the first time in so long, the god of pain felt… human.
In their faces, he saw the ghosts of his parents — the warmth of a home long lost.
"Pa—... Hanzō-sama?"
Konan's voice was tentative, uncertain.
She had expected fury, not silence.
And certainly not this dazed expression.
Pain didn't respond.
He simply stared, unmoving, his Rinnegan ripples fixed on the mother and daughter.
Growing increasingly anxious, Konan reached out and nudged him discreetly, whispering under her breath:
"My lord…"
That seemed to snap him out of it.
"Ah— yes."
Startled, Pain blinked rapidly, realizing only then how improper he must have looked.
The younger Uzumaki — Karin — approached, cheeks flushed, and offered him a steaming cup of tea with both hands.
Still half-distracted, Pain accepted it automatically…
and in doing so, committed a mistake that made Konan's soul nearly leave her body.
He reached for the mask.
---
"Hanzō-sama!"
Konan's sharp cry cut through the air as Pain's gloved hand began to lift his respirator.
Her heart stopped — did he forget?
Even in disguise, Pain's chosen body mimicked Hanzō perfectly — the legendary shinobi whose breath itself was poison.
Removing that mask in front of others would make no sense.
Not to mention — he wasn't even drinking real tea.
Idiot! What are you doing? You'll blow your cover!
With an uncharacteristic display of panic, Konan stepped forward and gave him a not-so-subtle shove.
Pain blinked again, his half-lifted mask freezing mid-motion.
The Uzumaki women, startled, quickly bowed and retreated — excusing themselves from the strange tension filling the room.
As they disappeared behind the sliding door, Konan's gaze followed them warily — then shifted sharply to Nobunaga.
Her eyes, usually calm and unreadable, now gleamed with suspicion.
Nobunaga merely raised his cup, unbothered, taking a sip as if none of this concerned him.
The faintest trace of a knowing smile curved his lips.
---
In that small tea room, the storm outside raged on —
but within, an entirely different kind of storm was brewing.
The god who had forgotten how to be human.
The lord who spoke to gods as equals.
And the woman who, for the first time, didn't know which of them she should fear more.
Even though she didn't believe it for a second, Konan couldn't help but wonder:
Is Oda Nobunaga… seriously trying to use a beauty trap?
Her suspicion only deepened when Nobunaga smiled faintly and said,
"Lord Hanzō seems to have quite the soft spot for the Uzumaki clan, doesn't he?"
Pain — still in the guise of Hanzō of the Salamander — froze with the teacup halfway to his lips.
Then, awkwardly, he set it back on the table without a word.
Nobunaga's smile never wavered. He took a measured sip from his own cup before continuing, his tone light but sharp as a blade sheathed in velvet.
"After all, we are all creatures of emotion. Even those who claim to be gods cannot wholly sever themselves from feeling… not unless they gain something powerful enough to bury it."
He let the words hang there, watching the faint flicker of turmoil in Pain's eyes.
He's human after all, Nobunaga thought with satisfaction.
The more he feels, the more he can be guided.
All that was left now… was the final push.
He set his cup down with a soft click.
"The fall of the Land of Whirlpools," Nobunaga said gravely, "is the mirror of every small nation's future."
His voice, deep and resonant, instantly commanded the room's attention.
Even Kakuzu stopped glaring long enough to listen. Konan's expression stiffened. And Pain — or rather Nagato — turned fully toward him, silent but focused.
Nobunaga went on, his cadence deliberate, each word carved like a chisel into stone.
"There was a time when the Uzumaki clan stood at the height of all that a small nation could achieve. The Land of Whirlpools — unified, peaceful, prosperous. Its people strong in spirit and craft. Its military small, but capable of defending itself. And, most importantly—"
He looked directly at Pain.
"—it was allied with the greatest of all shinobi villages: Konohagakure."
"The Uzumaki and Senju were bound by generations of blood ties. And Konoha, founded by the Senju and Uchiha clans, was their most powerful ally. By all logic, the Land of Whirlpools should have endured forever."
He paused.
The silence after that word forever seemed to echo.
"Yet…"
The single word fell like a blade.
"…the Land of Whirlpools was destroyed. Its people scattered. Its bloodline nearly erased."
Nobunaga let the silence linger — a space for reflection, for pain to settle in.
"I will not allow the Land of Fields to share that same fate," he said finally, bowing low, his tone heavy with resolve.
"That is why I have come here, Lord Hanzō — to seek your aid."
---
Pain's expression did not change, but his eyes — those endless, rippling eyes — drifted once again to the red-haired mother and daughter standing behind Nobunaga.
His hands clenched, just slightly.
"Yes," he said after a long silence, his voice low and resonant. "The Land of Whirlpools should never have fallen. By all logic, by all strength, it should have survived."
He exhaled slowly.
"And yet… even with Konoha as its ally, it was reduced to dust."
He lifted his gaze back to Nobunaga, the faintest trace of challenge in his tone.
"If such a powerful nation, backed by the strongest village, could not survive — how could I possibly protect yours? Why not seek an alliance with Konoha, or with the Land of Lightning instead? Surely their armies can offer you what I cannot."
The logic was sound. The question — fair.
Even Konan had asked herself the same thing when she first met Nobunaga.
Why come here, to a war-torn land ruled by a man worshiped as a god, cut off from the world?
Why risk everything for a distant, improbable alliance?
Feeding an entire country was already bleeding Amegakure dry — she, more than anyone, knew that truth.
For a moment, even Kakuzu looked curious.
Yeah, he thought. Why the hell didn't you go bother Konoha?
---
But Nobunaga only smiled — that same disarmingly calm smile that made even Pain hesitate.
"Because," he said softly, "you and I are the same, Lord Hanzō. We both rule small nations. We both know what it means to be forgotten."
He straightened slowly, meeting Pain's gaze without fear.
"And because I admire the courage you once showed — when you dared to start the Second Great Ninja War. You sought to make the great nations acknowledge us — the ones they call pawns, buffer zones, and collateral."
He paused, letting the words dig deep.
"Of course," he added with perfect composure, "I have no intention of ignoring Konoha or Kumogakure. A wise ruler must never put all his faith in a single hand."
It was a dangerously honest statement — one that would have sounded like treachery from anyone else.
But coming from Nobunaga, it sounded pragmatic. Visionary, even.
And then, without breaking eye contact, he turned slightly.
"Lady Shion," he said gently. "Would you show them the truth?"
Uzumaki Shion blinked — then nodded quietly.
Even after her rescue, the marks left on her by the Grass shinobi had never fully healed. Wounds from years of captivity — of being treated less like a person and more like a resource to be exploited.
Wordlessly, she slipped off her outer robe, revealing the pale, scarred skin beneath.
A breath caught in Konan's throat. Even she, hardened by war and death, felt her stomach twist at the sight.
Pain's fists tightened until his knuckles cracked.
The once-living god trembled — not from anger at Nobunaga, but from the memory of his own mother, his own father, and the endless suffering that had driven him to godhood in the first place.
Nobunaga's voice was quiet now, but every syllable struck deep.
"This woman was one of many," he said. "A survivor I rescued by chance from the ruins of Kusagakure. The fate of the weak is always the same — suffering, degradation, and silence."
He looked directly into Pain's eyes.
"That is why I did not seek out Konoha or the great nations. They do not understand this pain. They have never lived it. They never will."
And then, after a heartbeat's pause, he added — low and cutting:
"When the Land of Whirlpools fell, Konoha did nothing."
---
The words hit like a thunderclap.
Konan's eyes widened. Pain's breath caught.
For the first time since the conversation began, the god of Amegakure clenched his teeth — and felt his heart, the human one buried deep beneath divine resolve, stir with something dangerously close to rage.
Oda Nobunaga had played his final card — and it struck exactly where he wanted.
Right in the heart of the man who once called himself Nagato.