All six people were once more seated on the cushions of the Oracle's inner sanctum, comfortably but for the edge of unease stemming from the knowledge that the kitchen, and Hidan's peppermint tea, were only a few steps away.
Itachi flicked a seal through the air, instantly sucking in all the leftover incense smoke. While Hazō's brain copied the design, his conscious mind was arrested by an unfamiliar red scorpion symbol on the back of the sealing tag. Most sealmasters didn't bother signing their work, seals coming (ideally) in many copies, and the majority not being reusable.
"Now," Itachi said, "let us dispense with the somewhat-extended pleasantries. As one last seen beating a giant snake to death with his bare hands and deploying mountain-levelling explosives to solve a problem measured in square metres, I must admit you make me recall happier days. However, you are also more responsible for Nagato's death than any man not wearing a hat. I assure you that the two do not balance out.
"Still… you may speak. For a little while."
"You mind if I start the killing, Itachi?" Hidan asked from the opposite end of the room with a hungry grin that had lasted him the entire day and still not started fading. "I know you said no bloodshed in the village, but…"
Itachi sighed. "I believe we have already established this. I would prefer those three to be kept alive unless they violate their commitment not to interfere with our discussion. Or unless this young man speaks a lie or gives offence."
He turned back to Hazō with a pleasant, neutral expression.
"I believe you had a case to make."
Hazō swallowed. "Sir, would you mind indulging me for just a minute before I move on to the main part? I know I must seem ignorant and arrogant to you right now, and to an extent I am—I'm only just a chūnin, and I am facing one of the most powerful people in the world—but if you could help me…"
There was something about Itachi that reminded Hazō of Lord Shikaku. Interrogation that established a clear intellectual hierarchy. The luxury of playing back and forth with ideas even as the other person's ego was on the line. He'd never beaten Lord Shikaku in a contest of wits, in the office or (memorably) at the gaming table, but at least it had taught him a little about different ways to lose.
"…if you could help me overcome the sin of ignorance, if only a little, I think I could be a lot more use to you in this discussion."
Itachi gave a distant smile that quickly disappeared. "Hidan will inform you that the greatest sin is mercy, and the greatest virtue is conviction. Where, I wonder, does ignorance fall on that scale?"
Was that approval, or at least tolerance? Conviction
was pretty high up on the scale as far as Hazō was concerned—Uplift demanded nothing less—but if conviction was the power to get over the barrier, then ignorance was the barrier itself.
"Could you tell me just a little about Akatsuki? Where do you come from? What brought you together? What does an organisation that calls itself Dawn seek to bring to the world?"
"What indeed?" Itachi said. "We are, it may not have escaped your notice, a handful of relentless murderers and destroyers. Our collective death count, direct and indirect, eclipses that of certain governments and villages. You are not the first to ask about our purpose, though usually it is in tones of helpless incomprehension when a fading mind has nothing left but questions.
"That remains an option here."
"Can I kill them yet?" came a voice in the perfect intonation of a child demanding, "Are we there yet?" during a long cart journey.
"Patience, Hidan. Your lord has already received enough souls today to cover an entire week. Why not do the next best thing and serve them some peppermint tea? While still ready to deal instant death, of course."
"Yeah, and I'll keep breathing too, shall I?"
Itachi turned his attention back to Hazō, something part of Hazō regretted.
"Now consider what kind of man it must have taken to convince each one of us that peace was both desirable and within our reach."
"And that was Nagato?"
The light in Itachi's eyes grew brighter, and not in a good way.
"An outsider like you has no right to speak that name. To the world, to those who knew him not as a man but only through his actions, he called himself Pain. He refused to forget, even for an instant, the price he was forcing them to pay for his ambitions."
"What ambitions?" Hazō asked.
"World peace," Itachi said softly. An end to"—he waved a hand vaguely in the air—"all this. An end to humanity as it saw itself. I doubt you would understand."
Hazō didn't.
"What does that mean?" he pressed. "How did he think humanity saw itself?"
"Humanity," Itachi said, "is an entity that considers Akatsuki to be normal. We should all be up in arms, Nagato said, demanding how the world we know could have given birth to this abomination; how it is possible for so many madmen to have been allowed so much power at the same time, or at all; and what errors we made to bring this about, so that we can prevent it from ever happening again.
"Instead, the streets echo with the same repeated words: 'Of course they murder people. They're missing-nin.' 'If they have that much power, why wouldn't they use it for themselves?' 'They're not like you and me; they're monsters you can't reason with.'
"Nagato was a man who saw humanity with open eyes and did not choose to abandon it or destroy it. That alone tells you everything you need to know."
Hazō didn't know what to say into the sombre silence Itachi's words left behind.
Then, finally…
"So what did he do?"
"Everything," Itachi said. "His failures have shaped much of the world you know. And failures they were. Every single one. Humanity refused to change."
Hazō wanted to ask more, to penetrate into mysteries of the world only Akatsuki could ever tell him, but Kagome-sensei had taught him better. People died if they learned the wrong mysteries. People got killed
by the wrong mysteries. Ask no questions to which you might not be able to handle the answers.
"Was that why he made the ritual?" he asked instead. It should be safe enough to ask something everyone knew about.
"He made the ritual," Itachi said with unexpected ferocity, "because he refused to accept that humanity had signed its own death warrant. Because after we refused to let him save us, he decided that he hadn't given enough, and decided to give us all he had left. All his genius. All his power. All his compassion. And we killed him for it."
Hazō didn't have any words. It didn't feel safe to speak anyway.
"You will never understand what you cost the world when you were complicit in his death. No one ever will."
Itachi fell silent for a while. Shadows flickered across his eyes, then finally faded.
"Nagato forgave even those of Akatsuki. While he was a better man than I, perhaps I should at least give you a little longer."
He glanced behind him, where three people sought to enjoy Hidan's hospitality, with teacups trembling in their hands as he watched them for the tiniest excuse to act.
"I suppose that monologue was cathartic in its own way," Itachi said, relaxing, "but I should stop before I reach the realm of melodrama or Hidan will never let me hear the end of it.
"Now it is your turn to lead the conversation."
Itachi spoke just softly enough that his voice didn't reach Akane and the others.
"Persuade me that you are worth listening to before those cups are dry."
It was a test. A cruel test by a man who held all the cards. Was there the tiniest spark of amusement in Itachi's eyes? Was he really planning to execute four innocents (by shinobi standards, and Hazō must have been forgiven if he no longer had dreams about those flames over the water) based just on how fast Hazō could talk?
Still, it was a test. Anyone who trusted that tests couldn't cause real injuries didn't make it through the Mist Academy.
Hazō took a deep breath which would not be his last. He couldn't take his time, but if he rushed this, it wouldn't be compelling enough to catch the interest of an intelligent man who, if he had any interest in peace at all, might well have had these same thoughts a dozen times.
"I explained the Gōketsu's overall stance before. The purpose of our existence as a clan is to advance humanity towards a better world, and a better world requires effective, original solutions, or others would have already done it."
"That did not last long," Itachi commented. "Hidan—"
"Wait!" Hazō exclaimed. "Please… let me have this one strike. I didn't know about Naga—Pain when I started talking to you, and I didn't update, and I did make Hidan happy earlier. One chance?"
"Lord Jashin doesn't do saving up credit," Hidan said. "But then again, this chick here"—he waved his scythe in the general direction of Akane, coming ever so close to slitting her throat—"passed the Oracle's trial. Since that hasn't paid out yet, it'd leave a bad taste in my mouth if I killed her offhand. I'll just do the guys."
"No," Itachi said firmly. "They are of one clan."
"Tch."
"I don't want to talk about the Gōketsu right now," Hazō pressed on urgently. "I want to talk about an idea I call the Accords. I think we all agree that violence between ninja and between ninja and civilians is one of the main sources of suffering in this world."
Itachi gave him a "you don't say" look.
"Suppose that violence was artificially limited," Hazō said. "Not removed; I'm not
that much on an idealist."
The look changed to one of steel-melting scepticism.
"I must stress that these are preliminary ideas," Hazō said. Behind Itachi, Noburi sipped his tea, back ramrod straight instead of his familiar slouch. "They won't work without discussion, negotiation and refinement."
Itachi nodded. "And so you bring them to us, not as a detailed proposal but as a pipe dream."
"Everything has to start somewhere," Hazō said politely. The ideal scenario was for him to draw a subtle parallel between his own ambitions and Pain's, but without giving the tiniest implication that the two were remotely similar in any way, because that was
certain to give offence. He'd learned that lesson well when he saw Tsunade nearly kill Keiko for implying that they had similar feelings about Jiraiya.
"We need time. I honestly believe that it's possible to mitigate violence, in the long term, given enough time to build solid foundations. Maybe even change shinobi civilisation altogether—there
is historical precedent." Hazō had to tread lightly. The Accords weren't that far off from what the First Hokage had originally envisioned, but any teenager who claimed to be the next Hashirama wasn't going to walk out that door.
"You are implying," Itachi said, "that you can plan and lead a revolution in human thought and political behaviour on the scale of the First Hokage, whose power was born in a world that knew nothing but war, and forged in the crucible of rivalry with the greatest of my own ancestors. Is this going where I think it's going?"
Unfortunately, it probably was.
But Ami had given him the response to this one. A world that had never known anything but war would have no idea what to do with world peace even if it achieved it. Shinobi simply didn't know how to think that way.
But if you turned that thought around, if you
used the cynicism…
"You're absolutely right," Hazō said. "The First had to make peace out of a world of eternal war, and many people, especially the strong, wouldn't even have wanted it, much less believed it was possible. It's a miracle he got as far as he did. I couldn't do that—I don't know if anyone since him could."
"None of us shall ever know, now," Itachi said coldly.
Hazō shivered.
"We don't have to!" he exclaimed before Itachi could have time to explore that thought and its relevance to Hazō personally. "The First
succeeded. He and Lord Uchiha did bring peace to a world of eternal war. We don't have to do that again. All we have to do is stand on the shoulders of giants. All we have to do is make people want the peace that he's already given them, and I think the Accords can buy us time to make that happen."
"You have piqued my curiosity," Itachi admitted. "Hidan, would you kindly offer our guests a second helping of tea? Half the amount this time—we wouldn't want them to grow bored with the flavour."
"Thank you, sir," Hazō said fervently, choosing not to dwell on the fact that Itachi could tell, while listening to Hazō, that three people some distance away had just finished drinking their tea in tense silence.
"The Accords would be an international agreement," Hazō said, "signed by all major villages, to limit warfare to certain acceptable limits that we can agree on through negotiations. If any defects from the agreement, the other signatories commit to declare war on them. It's a simple but effective deterrent."
"A number of trivially obvious questions rival each other over order of expression," Itachi commented coolly. "Let us set aside for the moment the question of the economic benefits of such a pseudo-alliance, and what a world of war would use them for if not to fuel more war. Why would the villages commit their military power to enforce it? The present status quo is stable, if only because at present Rock's incompetence nearly balances out Leaf's. To disrupt their equilibrium is a complex and dangerous feat. You came here from a Leaf tottering on the edge of annihilation, preserved only by Rock's inability to press their advantage, all because you committed more forces to the Battle of Delusions than your allies. And yet you invite each of the villages to risk becoming the next Leaf.
"Do not take me for a fool. There is a reason you chose to bring this idea to us first, without, I note, the Hokage's seal of approval. You want Akatsuki's cooperation. No, you believe it to be a precondition before you so much as begin discussing the matter with your superiors.
"We do not serve as enforcers. Do not believe the idea original to you. A world peace enforced by Akatsuki, by a handful of relentless murderers and destroyers who only recently killed the greatest and most revered men in the world seemingly without provocation, would be a peace founded on hatred and fuelled by hatred. We would be seen as tyrants even if we never gave a single order, nor spoke a single word of policy. It would be the world Senju Hashirama feared most.
"You are not here to seek our guidance on crafting peace," Itachi said ironically. "No one would commit that folly. Nor will we lend you our arms for war. I see no further path for this conversation."
"That's not why I'm—"
Lies are death.
"Like I said," Hazō replied, "these are just preliminary ideas. You don't have to agree to anything. I'm just asking you to hear me out, and hoping you'll have some suggestions for improvement, or at least find room for discussion."
"I think not," Itachi said. "I grant the nobility of your motivations, but we have long since rejected the idea of using war, or the threat of war, to bring about peace. There is a reason we, who could defeat the villages in detail and achieve absolute rule within weeks at most, confined ourselves to minor acts of devastation. There was no room for ambiguity in Nagato's words, nor did I feel the need for any."
"But what else is there?" Hazō exclaimed. "Either you trust people to achieve peace through reason and common sense—"
Itachi gave a brief, bitter laugh.
"—or you impose it on them from outside. The Accords do both. That's why I think they can succeed where everything else has failed."
"Or they will fail in both," Itachi replied. "The first defection—and it is naïve to the point of insanity to think that there will never be a single defection for any reason—will result in a convergence of destruction that will free itself from the shackles of mercy and utterly destroy the defecting village. Unless you are optimistic enough to believe that four forces, with their ancient enemy utterly helpless before them, will smile and quietly retreat after an arbitrary amount of damage has been dealt? I assure you, the impossible fortune of Leaf's almost-fall will not repeat itself.
"With four villages remaining—plus whatever minors have urgently flocked to the banner—you have now attained rule through fear. Reap the benefits of the Accords; be cooperative and friendly. Assent to the decisions of the majority, for it is they who decide whether you are following the rules.
"Even after he saw the consequences of a demigod's extremism first-hand, Nagato did not propose a tyranny of the masses."
Itachi rose from his seat.
"A pity," he muttered. "For a moment, I almost thought…"
He shook the thought away.
"On consideration, I believe it would be best for someone to report your clandestine activities, and their outcomes, to the Hokage."
He stepped back so as to be able to see the entirety of the room.
"In deference to your courage, I will allow you to choose which one."
-o-
You have received 1 + 1 = 2 XP.
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The rifts are... well... let's just say that none of the islanders intend to go investigate what happened for quite a while.
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What do you do?
Voting closes on Saturday 25th of April, 9 a.m. New York Time.