"Pain?!"
"What is that…?"
The audience in front of the televisions froze. The live broadcast, which just moments ago had been filled with golden fields and cheers, was now hijacked by the terrifying figure of Tendo Pain. His sudden appearance sent a ripple of unease through every living room across the Fire Nation.
Those rippling lavender eyes—eyes that did not blink, did not waver—stared coldly into the world. Even though they were seen only through the screen, people felt an indescribable weight pressing down on their chests. Children shrank back, clutching their parents. Old men whispered prayers. Housewives covered their mouths, trembling.
It was as though a god of calamity had descended.
It seemed like every viewer was being targeted by something unspeakably powerful.
"Nii-san! Who is this Pain?"
At the Uchiha residence, Sasuke tugged at Itachi's sleeve, eyes wide with confusion and fear.
Itachi didn't answer immediately. His eyes narrowed, pupils shaking slightly as though recognizing something too dreadful to speak aloud. A bead of cold sweat slid down his neck and dampened the collar of his robe.
His silence only frightened Sasuke more.
…
Hokage's office.
The door slammed open with a violent bang!
"Mirai-kun! Have you seen the live broadcast?"
Orochimaru strode in, pale golden slit-pupils trembling in shock. His voice, usually drawn out and mocking, was uncharacteristically sharp.
Pain.
The leader of the Akatsuki—the shadowy figure who had eluded pursuit for years—had appeared, and he was not merely making a statement. He was attacking Konoha's pride, Experimental Field No. 3.
But when Orochimaru's gaze fell upon Namikaze Mirai seated on the Hokage's throne, he faltered.
The young Hokage was sitting with hands folded under his chin, eyes locked on the live screen. But instead of dread or tension, what shone in his gaze was… exhilaration. His entire body seemed to quiver faintly, like a predator scenting prey after a long hunt.
Orochimaru, who had seen countless cruelties in his lifetime, actually felt his throat tighten.
This… this wasn't excitement over a battle. This was the hunger of a collector who had just found a priceless specimen.
Mirai's lips curved into a grin. His voice, low yet vibrating with excitement, spilled into the room.
"Is this… the Rinnegan? What an exquisite treasure. What a fascinating pair of eyes."
The Hokage leaned forward slightly, his golden hair catching the light.
"To see them so soon with my own eyes… it's beyond expectation. I must get them. With my own hands, I'll take those eyes."
Orochimaru froze. He had faced Pain before. He knew his terrifying strength—strength that bordered on the divine. Yet, seeing Mirai's expression, he realized the man wasn't just unafraid—he was delighted.
"Orochimaru." Mirai said suddenly, standing up. His voice was sharp, decisive. "I'll leave the village to you for the time being. I'm going out."
As he rose, he twisted his neck slowly. Crack… crack… crack. The sound was jagged, like rusted gears being forced to turn, echoing unnaturally through the chamber.
Orochimaru instinctively wanted to protest. He wanted to warn him—about Pain's crushing repulsion, about the legendary eyes, about how entire armies could not withstand him.
But the words never came out. Because the moment Mirai turned his excited gaze toward him, the words shriveled and died in his throat.
"I… understand, Mirai-kun," Orochimaru said instead, almost in spite of himself.
*Boom!*
Glass shattered. The Hokage launched himself straight through the office window, fragments scattering across the floor before dissolving into blue motes of chakra light. In a heartbeat, Mirai vanished into the distance.
Orochimaru stared at the empty window frame, his golden pupils narrowing. For the first time in years, he felt something strange coil in his stomach.
Absurdity.
He knew Pain was monstrously strong, a man wielding the so-called eyes of the sage. Yet… why, deep down, was he praying for Pain's survival instead of Mirai's?
…
Land of Fire.
Experimental Field No. 3.
Chaos ruled. Screams and sobs filled the air as civilians trampled over each other in their desperate flight. Children were knocked down and left crying helplessly in the dirt. Guards scrambled, unable to maintain order.
And in the middle of it all, Tendo Pain stood utterly still. Rain hadn't fallen, yet the world seemed drenched in despair around him. His expression was calm, detached—like a god observing ants.
"Damn it! Who are you? Why did you destroy the ribbon-cutting ceremony of the experimental field!"
Yamato staggered forward, eyes burning. Fury like molten steel surged in his veins. The fields of hybrid rice before him weren't just plants. They represented hope, salvation, and countless days of toil. He had poured everything into their growth.
And now, this intruder—this so-called god—dared to trample it all.
Pain's gaze shifted lazily toward him.
"Konoha's sins have drawn divine judgment." Pain intoned. "We are here to pass that judgment."
God? Judgment?
Yamato's fists trembled. His anger threatened to burn him alive.
"If you were truly gods," he roared, "you'd understand how many starving mouths this rice could feed! Yet you come here to destroy it? What kind of god commits such cruelty?!"
With a snarl, Yamato charged, wooden chakra bursting from his arm to form a sharpened spear. His palm thrust forward, aiming directly at Pain's chest.
But just as the tip neared those rippling eyes—
It froze.
The wood spear hung suspended, locked in place by an invisible force, mere centimeters away. Yamato's eyes widened in horror.
Pain's lips parted. His voice was soft, but it shook the heavens.
"Shinra Tensei."
*BOOM!*
An overwhelming repulsion exploded outward. The wooden spear shattered into splinters. The very air warped into a visible shockwave. Yamato's body was lifted like a ragdoll and flung backward, tumbling helplessly before smashing into the earth with a bone-crunching thud.
The crowd screamed. Dust and wheat scattered in the air.
Pain didn't even glance at the broken man on the ground. His gaze turned back to the golden fields. Slowly, he raised his palm again.
"Shinra Tensei."
BOOM!
The earth itself groaned. Wheat flattened in waves before being ripped violently from the soil, lifted skyward in a shimmering storm of gold. Grain rained down like meteors.
Pain's voice carried over the destruction.
"Banshō Ten'in."
The grains and stalks he had cast away moments earlier reversed course, sucked back toward him by a crushing gravitational pull. The air shimmered with golden arcs as the rice gathered into a towering heap before him.
The other Paths moved methodically. The Animal Path and Human Path hefted massive sacks, while the Hell Path crouched low, scooping bundles of rice with cold precision. Sack after sack filled, stacked like a grotesque parody of a harvest.
Every movement was captured by the news cameras.
Across the Land of Fire, families stared dumbfounded at their screens.
"Pain… is he… packing rice?"
It was surreal. Just moments ago, this man had hurled aside a living ninja as though he were nothing. Yet here he was, harvesting rice like a seasoned farmer.
Viewers were divided between terror and bewilderment. Some villagers, especially grain merchants, even leaned forward unconsciously, fascinated by the sheer efficiency of Pain's technique.
"Such control…!" one farmer muttered, eyes sparkling. "Why didn't we think of using repulsion and attraction for harvesting?"
"This is… revolutionary." another whispered.
In living rooms and market stalls alike, countless rice growers unconsciously admired Pain's unorthodox "farming". For them, he looked less like a god of destruction and more like a divine harvester.
But Pain himself did not care.
The Land of Rain was starving. As its god, he would not watch his people wither while others thrived. This rice would be seized and carried home—distributed to those who had nothing.
…
On the battlefield, Yamato stirred. His lips bled, his vision swam, but his will refused to break.
'These fields… this rice… I can't let him take it all.'
Struggling, he forced himself to his knees. His arms shook violently, yet he pushed against the ground, dragging his battered body upright.
Pain noticed. His expression shifted slightly—mild surprise.
"You can still stand?"
That last repulsion had been no small blow. That Yamato survived it spoke to the sturdiness of his Wood-style.
The Asura Path paused its work, gears whirring as it turned toward Yamato. Metal clinked as panels slid aside, revealing rocket launchers bristling from its arm.
Yamato's eyes widened in despair. His legs buckled. His chakra was nearly spent.
'Am I… going to die here?'
Shame hollowed his chest. He had failed. He could not protect the harvest, could not uphold Konoha's hope. His teacher's face flickered in his mind, and tears stung his eyes.
"Forgive me… sensei." he whispered.
*BOOM!!!*
The earth split. A thunderous crash resounded as a new figure descended from the heavens, landing squarely atop the Asura Path's back. The mechanical body crumpled beneath the force before erupting into a spray of metal and gears.
Dust billowed. Sparks danced in the air.
Yamato's fading vision cleared just enough for him to see a golden mane swaying in the electric air, a familiar back standing firm in front of him.
His pupils quaked.
"S… Sensei!?"
*****
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