In the anime club's meeting room, eight students sat cross-legged on the floor, locked in a chaotic free-for-all debate — or, more accurately, a one-against-seven brawl of words.
This was the Naruto Fan Society's weekly gathering.
"Marcus, you're such an extremist," one girl snapped. "You're obsessed with Nagato just because his name sounds kinda like yours, so you think everything he does is valid."
"Yeah, Marcus," another chimed in. "This idea of yours — that Nagato could've ruled the entire Shinobi world — is ridiculous. Everyone knows Naruto and Sasuke are the real main characters. They sealed Kaguya together; that's canon. Without them, the ninja world would've collapsed."
"Marcus, do you realize how absurd you sound?" a third added, exasperated. "You actually believe that when Pain attacked Konoha, if Naruto had lost that fight, Nagato could've become the real Child of Prophecy? Come on! You think Nagato could've killed a full-powered Naruto protected by the Nine-Tails? That's laughable!"
"Marcus, you—"
Their words hit like a firing squad.
If his skin weren't thick enough, Marcus might've been verbally beaten to death already by this pack of so-called fans.
Marcus stood up suddenly, stepping into the center of the room, defiant eyes meeting the circle around him. In that moment, he felt like a lone rebel standing against the entire world.
"'A man who believes everything he reads deserves to be deceived,'" he said firmly.
"You're the shallow ones here."
"All your arguments rely on what's explicitly shown in the manga — how unimaginative can you get?"
"If a story wants to be a classic, it can't just be about what's on the surface."
"Here's the truth — sometimes readers uncover meanings even the author didn't consciously intend. That's what makes it powerful. That's why Naruto became legendary — not just for its fights, but for the ideas we find in it."
"I'll say it again — Naruto's love for the ninja world is small love. Nagato's vision of peace through power — that's true, boundless love!"
He raised his voice:
"Imagine this logically. After the Fourth Great War, hatred between the nations still lingers. With Naruto and Sasuke alive, Konoha dominates completely. But when they're gone? The other villages will unite to crush the Leaf — to destroy the imbalance."
"That's the author's hidden setup! There's never a scene of the Five Kage truly forgiving each other. Naruto and Sasuke can't bring real peace. Once they're gone, before a new hero rises, the Leaf is doomed."
"Think of the bloodshed, the endless wars that follow!"
"But if Nagato — the true Child of Prophecy — had killed Naruto and Sasuke, destroyed Konoha, executed every corrupt Kage, and waged one final war to unify the world…"
Marcus never finished his sentence.
A blur moved from the side — a fist shot forward, filling his vision.
Wham!
The punch caught him under the chin, his head snapped back, and his body flew two yards before crashing onto the floor, motionless.
"I've had enough of your insane rambling!" shouted the club's biggest guy, glaring down at him.
"What kind of delusional crap is that? Think you're the only one who 'gets it'? Gross, man!"
"You think you know more than the creator himself? If you're so brilliant, why not claim you wrote Naruto yourself?"
"I say we kick Marcus out of the club!"
"Wait—"
A girl knelt beside Marcus's body. Her face went pale as she pressed her fingers to his nose, waiting… then froze.
"He's… he's not breathing."
The room exploded in panic.
None of them noticed that Marcus was still there — standing among them, though only as a spirit.
He could see them. They couldn't see him.
A wave of disbelief and dark humor hit him all at once.
Was there anyone in history more pitiful? Beaten to death during a fandom debate?
What was that guy — some kind of One-Punch Man who knocked his soul out of his body?
Wait—what's that?
Marcus froze. Above his head, a crimson rift had opened in midair, spinning violently. A roaring vortex pulled at his soul with overwhelming force. His spectral form had no resistance at all—he was dragged straight into the red whirlpool.
He didn't know how long he was spinning before a low, magnetic female voice whispered beside his ear:
"Nagato… it's time. Open your eyes."
Marcus—no, Nagato—slowly opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw was a woman with short blue hair, a white paper flower tucked above her ear, and a calm, haunting beauty.
It was… Konan.
Impossible.
He snapped his head around, scanning the space. He was inside a dark, cavernous chamber, the walls twisting like the roots of a giant tree. Cold metal restraints pinned his thin, almost skeletal legs to the ground. His ribs showed starkly through his pale skin.
No way…
His hand trembled as he grabbed a lock of hair from the side of his face and held it up to the dim light.
Dark red. Faded. Lifeless.
His body was weak—drained almost to the edge of death. But inside him, something blazed like an erupting volcano.
I've become Nagato Uzumaki.
The instant he thought it, a tidal wave of memories crashed into his mind—visions, voices, emotions flooding in all at once.
He screamed, clutching his head, shaking violently.
"Nagato! Calm yourself!"
Konan's voice cut through the chaos. A cool, tingling energy spread through his neck and temples—her chakra, soothing the storm in his mind.
The tremors stopped.
"Thank you, Konan," he said quietly, rubbing his temples.
No—he wasn't Marcus anymore. The college student was gone. He was now Nagato—heart, mind, and power alike.
He could feel the Rinnegan's energy pulsing behind his closed eyelids. Every memory, every ability of the true Pain was his.
"Your headaches are getting worse," Konan said, frowning. "We should delay the mission. You need to rest."
"No."
Nagato lifted his head. The lavender rings of the Rinnegan opened, glowing with eerie, divine light.
"The plan must go forward."
Inside, his thoughts roared:
My path is his path. My will… is Pain's will.
At last—his moment had come.
"This time," he whispered, a strange calm spreading through his voice, "I won't just capture the Nine-Tails…"
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