The lounge door closed behind her.
The clamor outside was cut off, leaving only silence.
Ryoko stood by the door, her back against the panel.
Her head was bowed, her shoulders rising and falling slightly.
Then she raised her hand and pressed it against her face.
Chakra began to flow.
Her short, dark blue hair lengthened, turning auburn. Her eyes grew larger and deeper, returning to those two emerald-green pools. Her figure stretched and grew taller, reverting to that woman of peerless elegance.
Mizukage Ryoko disappeared.
Standing there was the Fifth Mizukage, Mei Terumī.
This was her true self.
The one on the spectator stands was the Water Clone.
It had been that way from the start.
She never intended to face him with a clone. That battle, she wanted to participate in personally. To use her own hands, to hold her own blade, and stand before him.
Because some things had to be asked in person.
Some answers had to be heard with her own ears.
She asked. She heard.
And then, what did she get?
Mei Terumī looked up at the ceiling.
The lounge was quiet. So quiet she could hear her own heartbeat.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Each beat made her chest feel heavy.
She opened her mouth.
"Fool."
Those two words were squeezed from between her teeth, so soft they were almost inaudible.
Then she took a deep breath.
"Fool!"
This time her voice was louder, echoing in the empty lounge.
She turned around and slammed a fist into the wall.
Bang.
A fine crack appeared in the wall. Dust trickled down.
She stood there, fist against the wall, head bowed.
"Fool, fool, fool!"
She was cursing Nobunaga.
And she was cursing herself.
What did she want?
She wanted him to bow his head. She wanted him to admit he was wrong. She wanted him to say "I'm sorry, I was wrong" with his own mouth.
And then she could say—she could say—
"It's good that you know you were wrong."
"Then find a way to make up for it."
"Come back to the Hidden Mist Village with me and help me rebuild that broken Village. Use the rest of your life to pay your debt."
That way, she would have a reason to keep him.
That way, she wouldn't really have to kill him.
That way, they could—
Could what?
Mei Terumī didn't know.
She only knew that now, it was all over.
That fool actually said, "I'll wait for you to come and kill me."
He actually said, "Hating me is better than forgetting me."
He actually looked at her with that kind of gaze and said—
"The responsibility of a Kage, I understand."
Mei Terumī closed her eyes.
She remembered his expression when he said those words.
Calm. Relieved. And something else she couldn't quite understand.
It was as if he were truly prepared to die.
It was as if, in his heart, she was nothing more than the "Kage."
It was as if—
He didn't owe her anything anymore.
"What do you know?"
Mei Terumī opened her eyes and spoke to the empty lounge.
Her voice was low, as if she were talking to herself.
"What do you know about the responsibility of a Kage?"
She took a step forward.
"Do you know what I've been through all these years?"
Another step.
"Do you know what I want?"
She stood before the mirror.
The mirror reflected her face. Long auburn hair, emerald eyes, peerless beauty.
But beneath those eyes was a deep weariness.
It was the same weariness she had seen in Nobunaga's eyes that night.
"I told you to apologize, don't you understand?"
She spoke to her reflection in the mirror.
"I told you to beg for mercy, don't you understand?"
Her reflection looked back at her, offering no answer.
"I told you to say 'I'm sorry'—to say 'I was wrong'—to say 'I'll make up for it'—"
Her voice began to tremble.
"If you said it, I would have forgiven you..."
The last few words were as light as a sigh.
She lowered her head, leaning her hands on the edge of the sink.
Her mind was filled with images from the Arena just now.
Nobunaga stood before her, his blade against his heart. He said, "You win." He said, "That day, this blade also pierced my heart." He said, "Your blood and mine flowed together."
He said, "I'll wait for you to come and kill me."
When she asked him, "Then why—" the proctor interrupted her.
But even if she hadn't been interrupted, she wouldn't have known how to finish the question.
Why did he do that back then?
Why did he lie to her for fifteen years?
Why did he want to die with her in the end?
Why—
Why won't he beg for mercy even now?
Mei Terumī looked up at the mirror.
"Do you know why I didn't stab him?"
She asked her reflection.
"Because I didn't want to."
She paused.
"From beginning to end, I never wanted to."
She remembered that night, holding the blade against his heart.
Just one inch further and it would have pierced his heart.
But she didn't.
It wasn't because he hugged her. It wasn't because he kissed her.
It was because she herself... didn't want to.
"I was afraid," she said. "I was afraid that if I stabbed him, it would truly be over."
"I was afraid that after killing you, those fifteen years would truly be left with nothing but hate."
"I was afraid—"
Her voice choked up.
She thought of those images from the other world.
Those days on the Training Ground. Those Grilled fish. Those Rice balls he placed before her.
The person who stood at her door and asked, "How have you been lately?"
The person who, covered in blood in the heavy rain, still said, "As long as you call, I will come."
The person who looked at her at the wedding and said, "Drink less."
The one she wanted was that person.
Not his corpse.
It was her.
"But you fool..."
Her voice trailed off.
"You actually said 'Hate me'..."
She gave a small, bitter laugh.
"I've hated you for fifteen years. Do you know what that feels like?"
"Every morning I wake up, you're the first thing on my mind. Every night before I sleep, you're the last."
"I miss you so much I can't sleep. I hate you so much I can't sleep."
"I chased you all the way here and saw you. Do you know what my first reaction was?"
It wasn't to kill you.
It was, "I finally found you."
It was, "You're still here."
It was, "That's wonderful."
She didn't say it. She held her blade and spoke harsh words.
Because she didn't know how to say it.
Because fifteen years of hatred isn't something that can be easily let go.
Because she was afraid. Afraid that if she softened, she would trust him unreservedly again, just like before.
And then be deceived once more.
So she said those things.
"Come back to the Hidden Mist Village with me." "Otherwise, I'll use Mist Release to make you slowly evaporate." "That little girl named Hinata, I'll start with her first."
She wanted to make him afraid. She wanted to make him anxious. She wanted him to show that "I will protect you" expression.
That way she could stay angry. That way she could continue to hate him. She wouldn't have to face her own true feelings.
And the result?
He did get anxious. He did show that expression.
But not for Hinata.
It was for her.
He said, "With me here, no one can hurt her."
He was talking about Hinata, but his eyes were fixed on her.
She couldn't understand that look.
Then he used Tsukuyomi. He showed her those images.
Seeing him die on the sand. Seeing his blood soak into the sand. Seeing the direction he was looking in his final moments.
That was the first time he had ever shown that kind of weariness in front of her.
He wasn't just forcing himself; he really was at his limit.
She should have been happy. She should have thought, "He deserves it."
But she didn't.
She only felt—
Heartache.