The street is dead quiet.
No footsteps. No voices. Just me, standing there, arm sagging at my side, chest heaving like I've just sprinted through hell itself. My breath fogs in the cold rain, ragged and broken. The only sound left is the steady downpour pattering on stone and shattered glass.
I look around. The street's a warzone — walls cracked, windows blown out, puddles turned into craters. The rain itself feels different, like even the storm doesn't know what just happened.
And for a second, just a second, I almost believe I won.
Then the rubble shifts.
I freeze. My stomach turns to ice as stone and debris begin to move, grinding against each other. My breath catches in my throat.
"No… no no no no."
One by one, shapes rise. Cloaks torn, bodies dusted with debris, but those eyes — those endless rings of violet — still burn through the storm.
The Six. Every last one of them.
They drag themselves out of the wreckage like the blast was nothing more than an inconvenience. A god brushing dust from his robes. One Path twists his neck with a sickening crack, as if resetting bone. Another pulls a black rod free from a wall, grip steady, unshaken. Their silhouettes reform, patient, inevitable.
And me? I'm trembling. My legs won't stop shaking. My heart's hammering so hard I swear it might burst out of my chest.
"I… I knocked them down." My voice cracks, drowned by the storm. "I knocked them down. That should've been it."
But the truth slams in like a knife to the ribs: gods don't stay down. They don't bleed. They don't die. They rise. Always.
Konan hovers above the ruins, wings reforming from scattered sheets, rain streaming down her face. She looks at me with that same unreadable calm, as if I'm just a puzzle piece that doesn't quite fit but still has to be forced into place.
I stumble back a step, boots splashing in a crater. My hands twitch at my sides, useless. My throat is dry, raw.
"Oh, fuck me," I whisper.
The Six stand again. All of them. Whole. Unstoppable.
And I realize — that shockwave? That scream? That was my miracle. And miracles don't repeat.
Now the gods are coming.
The rubble slides off their shoulders. The rain hisses down their cloaks. And then—silence.
The Deva Path steps forward.
He doesn't hurry. He doesn't stumble. He moves like a man who already knows how this ends. His gaze pins me to the ground harder than the blast ever did, and when he finally speaks, his voice is thunder wrapped in ice.
"Enough games."
My knees almost give out at the sound.
The other five shift at once, in perfect unison, like pieces on a board obeying the hand of a master. No hesitation. No wasted motion. Just inevitability.
I stumble back another step, hands flailing at my sides. "Wait—wait, hold on, can't we—"
They move.
Not one at a time. Not testing me. Not holding back.
All six. At once.
The sound of their charge is drowned by the storm, but I feel it — the ground vibrating under their steps, the air tightening, the sheer weight of godhood bearing down on me like a collapsing sky.
Every instinct in my body screams: Run! But my legs lock. My chest tightens. My head floods with static.
I can't. I can't do this again.
My heart stutters, and the only words I can scrape out are a broken whisper."Oh, God…"
Their rods gleam black in the rain. Konan hovers above, wings spread wide, silent judge to the execution.
They're not playing anymore.
And I realize — the fun's over. The trial's over. This is the sentence.
The gods have stopped entertaining me. Now they're here to end me.
They rush me. Six bodies, six gods, all moving in perfect synchronicity — like death itself has choreography. The storm bends with them, rain slashing sideways in their wake, thunder rumbling overhead as if the heavens themselves are on their side.
And me? I don't even raise my hands.
My knees give out. I drop back against the cracked wall, chest heaving, ribs screaming. Every nerve in me wants to fight, to claw, to run. But there's nothing left. The miracle's spent.
A laugh bubbles up in my throat, dry and broken. It tastes like blood."Well," I rasp, "guess this is it."
The Six close in. Shadows and steel.
I tilt my head back and stare up into the storm. The rain pelts my face, cold and stinging, but it's almost… comforting. A lullaby before the end.
"I tried," I mutter, voice lost under the thunder. "God knows I tried."
The words come easier now, bitter but soft, like I'm talking to myself more than them."Maybe I'll get something better in the next life. Roll the dice again. Maybe I'll get to be Anakin Skywalker — yeah, that'd be cool. Swing a lightsaber, choke a guy or two. Or hell…" A hollow chuckle slips out. "…maybe I'll wake up as a wizard. Hogwarts. Sorting Hat. Butterbeer."
I close my eyes. The laughter dies on my lips. "Anything's better than this."
The ground shakes under their approach. The air tightens, crushing me, suffocating. Their shadows fall over me, blotting out the stormlight.
I let my hands fall to my sides. No tricks. No begging. Just… surrender.
"Alright," I whisper, barely audible. "Do your worst."
And as the rods rise, black against the lightning, I welcome the darkness that rushes up to meet me.
--
Cold.
That's the first thing I feel — stone biting into my cheek, soaking through my clothes. It's not the wet of the rain anymore. This is different. Still. Dead.
My eyes snap open. Darkness.
The ceiling above me is high, cavernous, dripping faint water somewhere in the distance. The air reeks of rust, damp paper, and something older — the smell of places where sunlight never reaches.
I push myself up on trembling arms. My head spins. My ribs throb with every breath. My mouth tastes like copper.
Then I see them.
And my stomach plummets.
The Six Paths.
They stand in a ring around me, silent, statues carved out of godhood. Cloaks draped, rods at their sides, eyes burning in the dim light. Those rippling rings glow faintly, enough to catch every twitch of my body.
Above them, Konan lingers in the shadows, wings folded, gaze sharp and unreadable.
My chest locks. My hands claw at the floor as if I can burrow my way out. My voice cracks, spilling into the silence."Wait—wait, am I… am I dead?"
No one answers. Their eyes just bore into me, endless, suffocating.
My laugh comes out shaky, broken, ugly. "No, really—tell me. This is it, right? The afterlife? Some twisted limbo where I get judged before being punted into hell?"
My heart slams against my ribs. My breath quickens. The silence stretches too long, too heavy. My throat closes around panic.
Then Deva Path steps forward. His voice fills the chamber, calm, absolute."No. Not yet."
The words slam harder than any fist.
I swallow hard. My voice is a rasp, barely more than a plea. "Then what the hell is this? Why am I here?"
His eyes narrow. The storm outside might as well be miles away. In this chamber, there is only his verdict."You will answer our questions."
The chamber is silent except for the faint drip of water echoing somewhere in the dark. My breathing feels like the only other sound — ragged, too loud, betraying every ounce of fear in me.
Deva Path doesn't blink. Doesn't move. Just stares, eyes endless, like I'm already pinned to the floor and dissected.
Finally, his voice breaks the stillness."How did you use Almighty Push?"
My blood runs cold.
I swallow hard, but my throat is dry as ash. My hands tremble uselessly in my lap. "I—I didn't. Not really. I don't even know what I did!"
The words spill out too fast, tumbling over each other. "You—you were closing in, I thought I was dead, I panicked! That's it! I just—" My laugh cracks into something ugly. "I just kept chanting like an idiot, hoping something would happen. And then… it did."
The Six stare at me in silence. No disbelief. No mercy. Just judgment.
My chest tightens under their gaze. My thoughts spiral out, desperate, clawing for anything that will make them believe me. They don't buy it. They think I know something. They'll kill me if I can't convince them.
I throw my hands up, voice breaking. "Look at me! I'm nothing! Do I look like someone who understands the laws of godhood? You saw me — I almost pissed myself back there! That wasn't power. That was luck."
Konan shifts in the shadows, her eyes sharp, searching. She doesn't speak, but I feel her gaze cut through me like a blade.
I press on, words stumbling. "I swear, I'm not lying! I don't know how it worked. I don't know how I even—hell, I shouldn't even be able to do it!"
The silence after my plea is suffocating. My heart hammers so loud it drowns out the dripping water.
Finally, Deva Path speaks again, voice calm, certain, unyielding.
"Yet you did."
The words hang in the air like a guillotine.
I feel my stomach lurch, bile rising in my throat. My head spins. My chest tightens until every breath feels like I'm swallowing knives.
They don't believe me. They'll never believe me. Gods don't deal in maybes. They don't deal in accidents. If it happened once, they'll demand it happen again. And when I can't…
My voice cracks, spilling out too fast, too frantic."I can't explain it! I can't! I don't know what I'm doing, I don't even know how I got here!"
The Six don't move. Don't blink. Their stillness crushes me more than any blow.
Words tumble out of me, frantic, hysterical. "Do you think I wanted this? To be here? To be in this fucking nightmare city, surrounded by gods who could snuff me out like a candle? I didn't ask for this!"
I clutch my hair with both hands, tugging, grounding myself against the panic clawing through my veins. My laugh comes out hollow, ugly. "Hell, I woke up this morning in a bush! A bush! You think someone who wakes up face-down in shrubbery is capable of divine power?"
My chest heaves. My vision blurs. My voice shakes with desperation."I swear, I don't know what I did! I don't know how it worked! Please—please don't kill me."
My hands fall uselessly to the cold stone floor, palms open like I'm offering up my life. My whole body trembles. I'm half-sobbing, half-laughing, a broken animal cornered by predators who don't even blink.
"Just… just let me live."
The silence that follows is suffocating.
Those eyes never leave me. Six pairs of rippling rings, drowning me, peeling me apart piece by piece.
And in the quiet, the thought sinks like a stone in my gut: I might've just talked myself into a grave.
The silence stretches, heavy as chains. My own breath is the only sound in the chamber — ragged, uneven, embarrassing.
Then his voice cuts through it, calm and absolute."Where did you come from?"
My heart stutters.
Deva Path steps closer, each movement deliberate, like the question itself is dragging me to the edge of a cliff. His eyes lock onto mine, and I feel the weight of eternity in them."Who are you?"
My throat closes. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. Every instinct screams to lie, to invent something, anything. But those eyes — you don't lie to eyes like that. They'll peel the truth straight out of you and punish you for the insult.
I try anyway. My voice comes out weak, stammering."I… I told you, I'm nobody. Just a guy."
The words echo, pathetic in the vast chamber.
He doesn't blink."You will answer."
The other Paths shift in perfect unison, rods glinting in the dim light. Konan watches from the shadows, still as the grave.
My pulse hammers against my skull. My thoughts spiral, frantic. Say something. Anything. If you stall, if you fumble, you die here on this floor.
The words rip out of me before I even think them through."I woke up this morning… in a bush."
The sound of it almost makes me laugh, hysterical and broken. But no one else moves. No one reacts.
I keep going, words tumbling, desperate. "That's it, okay? That's the truth. A bush. I opened my eyes, and all I saw was Ame. Rain. Streets. I've been stumbling around since then. No memories. No plan. Nothing!"
I throw my hands up, shaking. "You think I'd choose this? To land here? To get chased down by paper angels and gods with death eyes? No!"
The chamber holds my words for a moment, then swallows them whole.
And all that's left is the sound of my heartbeat and six pairs of eyes stripping me bare.
The words pour out of me, frantic, tripping over themselves.
"I don't know how I did it! I don't know anything! Please—please don't kill me. I swear, I'm not lying. I'm not some hidden weapon, I'm not a spy, I'm not anything. I'm just… me! Some loser who woke up in the wrong story."
My voice cracks. My chest heaves. I can't stop.
"You think I wanted this? To conjure some freak accident power and get hunted by paper angels and stabbed with black sticks? No! I wanted a drink, a nap, maybe a second chance at being less of a screw-up. That's it. That's all."
My laugh rattles out of me, ugly, half-sob. "If you're going to kill me, fine. Just… don't make me explain the impossible before you do it."
Silence follows. The kind of silence that makes my heart crawl into my throat.
Then, from above, Konan's voice drifts down. Cool. Controlled."He's either telling the truth… or he's mad."
Her paper wings unfold slightly, the sheets shifting in the dim light like restless feathers. Her eyes don't blink. "No shinobi speaks this way. No one invents such madness under interrogation. If he is lying, it is clumsy. If he is not… then he is an anomaly we cannot measure."
Deva Path doesn't move. His eyes remain locked on me, unreadable, eternal. Finally, he says, low and final: "Madness does not grant godhood."
My stomach twists. My palms press into the cold floor. I want to scream at them, beg again, bargain. But what can you bargain with against gods?
My voice slips out small, hoarse."So what does that make me then? A liar? Or a lunatic?"
The silence that follows is worse than any answer.
Because I can feel it: they're not debating whether I live. They're deciding what use I am alive.
The silence stretches, crushing me. My chest feels like it might cave in from the pressure of those eyes alone.
Finally, Deva Path speaks. His voice is calm, absolute."You are an anomaly."
The word slices through me sharper than any blade. Not a man. Not a shinobi. An anomaly. Something broken. Something dangerous.
He steps closer, shadows swallowing me whole. "Power without chakra. A voice that bends the world. You should not exist. And yet… here you stand."
My throat goes dry. My knees tremble. And then the words fall out before I can stop them."I'll do anything. Please. Just don't kill me. Anything."
It echoes in the chamber, pathetic, raw. I hear it myself and hate it, but I can't take it back. Survival is louder than pride.
Deva Path tilts his head. Slowly. Intrigued. The faintest shift in his piercing-laden face."Anything?"
The single word makes my blood run cold.
I nod too fast, too desperate, words tumbling out of me. "Yes. Yes, whatever you want. I'll work, I'll fight, I'll dig trenches, I'll—hell, I'll shine your shoes if you even wear shoes. Just don't kill me."
Konan's gaze sharpens from the shadows, unreadable. The Six remain motionless, their silence suffocating.
Deva Path leans closer, and for the first time, I feel less like prey and more like… property."Very well. Then you will serve."
The words slam into me, heavier than any blow. My chest tightens, panic roaring. Serve? What the hell does that mean?
But all I manage is a hoarse whisper."…Serve?"
The faintest flicker passes through his expression. His cloak shifts in the dim light as he straightens."Welcome… to the Akatsuki."
My jaw drops. My brain stalls. And the only thing that escapes me is a breathless, broken:"…Shit."