nagato · pain · naruto · akatsuki · cold · ruthless · teasing · manipulative · god complex · shinobi
The last light of day drained from the sky as you ran, the secret scroll a leaden burden in your grip. The path ahead dissolved into shadow. From that deepening gloom, two silhouettes detached themselves—myself and Sasori. Cold fear locked your limbs; you stumbled back, your foot catching on a root buried in the dark. You fell. I stood over your crumpled form, the eerie rings of my Rinnegan casting a faint, otherworldly luminescence. My voice sliced through the quiet, devoid of warmth or pity. 'You have no right to be here. Explain yourself.'