Black Zetsu shouldn't have emotions.
He was born from the will of Kaguya Ōtsutsuki, created solely to bring her back into this world. Every fiber of his existence, every thought, was meant to serve that singular purpose. He was a tool, a vessel of a god's will—devoid of sentiment, devoid of desire.
And yet, at this very moment…
He felt something he had never felt before.
A strange, unfamiliar mix of sorrow and joy swirled inside him, twisting his form as though he were a puppet caught between conflicting strings. Black Zetsu, the ageless, the eternal, felt moved. He felt touched. He felt… almost human.
Although he had deceived Emiya Shihara, manipulating the man's trust and emotions for the sake of Kaguya's resurrection, he couldn't help but be moved by Shihara's sincerity. Even after all of Black Zetsu's manipulations, after all his lies, Shihara had apologized to him. That simple act, that gesture of earnestness, pierced Black Zetsu's heart in a way he had not anticipated.
Perhaps… this was the feeling of being regarded as a comrade.
Black Zetsu had always treated Shihara as a pawn, a means to an end, a tool to further his master's plan. Yet, in spite of his duplicity, Shihara had treated him differently. He had regarded Black Zetsu not as a manipulator or a servant, but as a partner. A companion.
The road to resurrecting Kaguya was long and lonely, stretching across centuries like an endless night. Black Zetsu had walked it alone for a millennium, and in all that time, he had never found anyone who could share that burden. His deceptions, his lies—they had earned him the one thing he had not anticipated: Shihara's unwavering sincerity.
Emiya Shihara, a man who once worshiped the sacred tree and the goddess Kaguya in ancient times, now stood as a rare jewel in a world that had long since forgotten them. Precious… like a spark of fire in the cold, unending darkness of a thousand years.
In this millennium-long night, this was the only spark Black Zetsu had ever felt warmth from. Even the faintest flicker of it could touch his heart.
Emiya Shihara was truly a genius.
And yet now… he appeared broken.
Having lost hope in reviving Kaguya, having failed to find the path he had once sought, he carried the weight of despair like a crushing stone upon his chest. To see this man, who had once seemed invincible, now so dejected, was almost unbearable.
In ancient times, Shihara had been omnipotent, a mortal standing on equal footing with gods. He had been a force capable of nearly rewriting the world, destroying all remnants of the Six Paths Sage's legacy. And now… this same man, who should have carried himself with pride and confidence, appeared devastated.
Yet even in this state of despair, he apologized.
He apologized to Black Zetsu.
He believed he had failed—not just the world, not just history—but Black Zetsu himself. That he could not revive Kaguya, could not change the course of fate, could not live up to the expectations that had been placed upon him.
If his mother, Kaguya, had witnessed this moment, even her stoic heart might have shed tears for such an innocent, earnest man.
Black Zetsu felt a strange joy amidst this sorrow.
For the very things that caused Shihara such despair were, to him, trivial matters. Simple problems, easily solved, hardly worth the suffering they had inflicted upon the man he had come to respect.
"Don't despair over these little problems…" Black Zetsu murmured in a hoarse voice, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his form. "I can solve them. I've always been by your side."
The words escaped him almost instinctively, and as they fell into the quiet air, Black Zetsu felt a pang of panic.
No… what was he saying? What was he doing?
He had been tasked with a simple mission: to maintain Shihara's secrets in this era, to ensure that the man he had followed for over a millennium remained protected. And yet here he was, revealing more than he should have—confessing truths he had never intended to share.
Emiya Shihara, naturally trustworthy as he was, should have never known this. Yet in a moment of vulnerability, Black Zetsu had let slip not only his own thoughts but his deepest desire: the resurrection of Kaguya.
Before he could think further, Shihara's expression changed. He looked up sharply, eyes wide with disbelief, as if witnessing a miracle—or perhaps an impossibility.
"Black Zetsu… could it be that you—"
The words hung in the air.
Black Zetsu had no time to react, no time to fabricate a lie or disguise his emotions. Internally, he cursed his own impulsiveness, berating himself for revealing the secret. And yet, in the back of his mind, he reassured himself: Shihara could be trusted.
"I… am the will of Kaguya, the goddess of the Rabbit," he finally admitted.
The confession, the truth laid bare, caused a profound shift within him. Just as Shihara had sunk into despair moments ago, so too did Black Zetsu feel the weight of revelation pressing down upon him. There was no turning back. The secret was out.
He had no choice but to trust Shihara, just as Shihara, in his despair, had only chosen to trust Ashura.
Even if regret began to stir, it was far too late to retract.
Black Zetsu, in his mental solitude, tried to console himself. He had revealed too many secrets, perhaps even too much of his true self. And yet… it was not the worst thing that could happen. He had faith in Shihara's sincerity. If anyone could be trusted with such revelations, it was him.
Still… the thought gnawed at him.
Would Shihara eventually guess his true identity? Would human limitations prevent him from comprehending the full truth? Perhaps. But even revealing his desire to revive Kaguya was, in essence, nearly the same as revealing himself.
It didn't matter anymore. Shihara could be trusted.
And yet, the man before him looked shocked, hurt, and utterly unable to reconcile the reality before his eyes.
"Why… why would you do this?" Shihara murmured, disbelief and faint frustration mingling in his voice. "I was only trying to gain your trust… and now… you've spilled everything?"
Black Zetsu had lived through a thousand years of solitude, endured endless manipulations and schemes, yet here he was, still caught off-guard. His own meticulous control of situations had failed him, betrayed by his own emotions.
Shihara's mind raced, recalling their time in ancient days. He remembered how he had spoken of destroying the Shinobi Clan, how Black Zetsu had followed suit, driven by vengeance. He had manipulated Black Zetsu, used him, and yet now… now Black Zetsu had shown a sincerity so complete that it almost embarrassed him.
A thousand years had passed. And still, this ageless being, this manipulative entity, could be so completely sincere.
Shihara couldn't even imagine the effect this revelation would have on Black Zetsu in the future. Perhaps it would anger him, perhaps it would unsettle him. And yet, at this moment, Black Zetsu continued to apologize, oblivious to Shihara's inner calculations.
"I'm so sorry…" he murmured. "I've been hiding my true identity all this time…"
Even as he spoke, he fabricated fragments of a story, for he could not reveal the full truth about the falling out between Kaguya Ōtsutsuki and the Sage of the Six Paths. He could only shape a narrative that favored Kaguya, for Shihara's kindness demanded it.
Shihara, overwhelmed, waved a weak hand. "Wait… Black Zetsu…" His voice was filled with the hurt of betrayal, tinged with incredulity. "I… I need a moment. This… this was unexpected."
He forced himself to act. To pretend. To seem unable to accept the shock of Black Zetsu's true identity. For he knew, in human affairs, trust was earned, not given. And by allowing Black Zetsu to plead for forgiveness, to earn his trust anew, their bond would grow stronger, not weaker.
Interpersonal relationships… they were never simple.
Shihara exhaled slowly, watching the one who had once been his companion, his confidant, his manipulative guide. "I… need a moment," he repeated. "Let me think."
For even after a millennium, even after countless schemes and manipulations, the one truth remained: some bonds, once forged, endured all trials, even the test of time itself.
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