The sky over the Land of Rain was filled with an endless, mournful drizzle.
Nagato stood by the window, gazing at the curtain of rain outside. Dusk's damp scent permeated the entire Land of Rain, wrapping the Hidden Rain Village in a cold, somber stillness.
Yet within Nagato's perception, he could still hear the villagers' voices—soft praises offered to Pain and the Angel, Konan.
The Land of Rain had been isolated for far too long. Due to Nagato's Ninjutsu, Umbrella rarely interfered here, and as a result, the villagers knew little of the outside world.
In truth, the Land of Rain's internal economy was not poor. Compared to the endless wars of the past, the current life could even be called stable. Long ago, Nagato might have believed that a world without war—no matter how modest—was already good enough.
But after his journey through Umbrella's territory, Nagato felt something different.
A sense of stagnation clung to the Land of Rain, hidden beneath the fine drizzle. Through Rain Tiger at Will Technique, Nagato could observe every corner of the Hidden Rain Village.
The rain could be withdrawn at intervals—it was never meant to fall endlessly.
If not for Naruto, perhaps such days would still have been acceptable.
Yet now, Nagato's heart had undergone a fundamental change.
The lives of Umbrella's residents were truly peaceful.
Children attended school without fear of enemy attacks, protected by powerful warriors. Life was not suffocating; as long as one worked, food and clothing were never scarce.
In Umbrella's territory, the happiness of ordinary people exceeded that of commoners in the Ninja World by more than tenfold.
"Is this… true peace?"
Nagato murmured as he formed a hand seal.
The rain slowly weakened, then faded. Sunlight pierced through the clouds and once again bathed the land.
Within his perception, Nagato sensed the villagers' emotions shift. Smiles spread across their faces—after all, no one enjoyed living beneath constant rain.
"What's going on? Why did Lord Pain suddenly withdraw his Ninjutsu? Isn't it not time yet?"
"Maybe it's a blessing from Lord Pain and Lady Angel!"
"Hahaha! The sunshine feels amazing!"
The scattered voices reached Nagato's ears, and a faint smile finally appeared on his rigid face.
"Konan… Konan."
Nagato called her name twice.
Shhk—shhk—shhk!
Sheets of paper rustled through the open window, folding and overlapping as they entered the room. In an instant, they transformed into a human figure.
Konan stood before him.
Her skin was fair, her appearance youthful yet mature, like a fully ripened peach. Even the Akatsuki cloak with red clouds could not conceal her graceful figure.
"What is it, Nagato?"
Her voice was calm and cool, carrying the composed detachment of a seasoned kunoichi.
"From now on," Nagato said slowly, "Rain Tiger at Will Technique no longer needs to cover the village. Using it outside the village would be enough."
He walked toward the window. Sunlight fell upon him, warming a heart that had lived in darkness for far too long.
In the Ninja World, windows were dangerous places—ideal positions for assassinations. Ninja were creatures of shadows.
"Ninja are accustomed to darkness," Nagato murmured.
"Blood and death accompany them like a symphony…"
"Perhaps… the era of ninja should come to an end."
Konan heard his whisper and quietly sighed.
Her old companion had truly changed. It was as though a beam of sunlight had pierced the shroud that had enveloped him for so many years.
"Using the technique outside the village will increase your burden," Konan said softly. "The chakra consumption will rise, and your control will weaken."
"It's fine," Nagato replied calmly. "Just send one Pain outside the village."
"But if one Pain is removed—" Konan hesitated, concern flickering across her face.
"No one can defeat me in the Hidden Rain Village," Nagato said flatly.
"If someone believes otherwise, they are welcome to try."
The ripple pattern of the Rinnegan shimmered faintly, releasing an overwhelming pressure. Though his ideals had shifted, the strength and pride forged over years of suffering remained unchanged.
"…Alright. I'll make the arrangements," Konan said at last.
Just as she turned to leave, Nagato spoke again.
"Konan," he asked slowly, "who do you think would be most suitable among the Akatsuki?"
Konan halted mid-step.
Her slender feet rested lightly on the floor, the hem of the Akatsuki cloak failing to completely conceal them. A faint hint of pink polish was visible on her nails as she stood in quiet contemplation.
Konan understood what Nagato was referring to and answered without hesitation.
"Deidara is the easiest to approach," she said calmly. "Hiruko is a pure research fanatic—very similar to Orochimaru—and his mind is far too complicated. Sasori is always acting in secret, doing things no one can quite grasp. As for the others, there's no need to mention them."
She paused briefly before continuing.
"Deidara is relatively straightforward. As long as you approach him through his preferences, it shouldn't be difficult."
Nagato nodded slowly. Konan's assessment aligned closely with his own understanding.
"Then I'll speak with Deidara in a few days," Nagato said.
The reason for waiting was simple—Nagato needed a justification, something that would truly persuade Deidara.
Several days passed in the blink of an eye.
And Nagato finally found what he needed.
"Leader, why did you call for me?"
Deidara stood before Deva Path Pain, who sat quietly at the head of the room. The body used for the Deva Path was Yahiko's—handsome yet cold, radiating an invisible pressure that made one instinctively lower their guard.
Pain's ripple-patterned eyes fixed calmly on Deidara.
"Deidara," he asked evenly, "what do you think true art is?"
The question sounded ordinary—almost casual.
Deidara froze for half a second, then immediately burst into excitement.
"Art? Art is an explosion!" he declared loudly. "The momentary brilliance, the instant beauty—that flash where everything reaches its peak! That is true art!"
He snorted.
"Brother Scorpion always says eternity is art, but how can puppet tricks compare to my explosions?!"
Once the topic turned to his art, Deidara spoke as if a floodgate had opened, his words spilling out without restraint.
"I see," Pain said slowly. "I also believe that explosions are art."
Deidara's eyes widened instantly.
"Leader—you think so too?!" he exclaimed, clenching his fists as though he had just received the highest form of recognition.
Pain did not allow him time to revel in it.
"But," Pain continued in a measured, authoritative tone, "your explosive art does not appear to be the pinnacle. There exists an art far more powerful than yours."
The change was immediate.
Deidara's expression twisted with agitation.
"What?!" he snapped. "Leader, even if you're strong, you can't insult my art! In this entire Ninja World, how could there be an explosion greater than mine?!"
His eyes flushed red, veins bulging faintly at his temples. It was hard to believe that a single sentence could provoke such an intense reaction.
Pain remained calm.
"Then tell me, Deidara," he said slowly, "do you know what a mushroom cloud is?"
The words fell heavily into the air.
Deidara froze.
"Mushroom… cloud?"
His expression turned blank.
Was it some kind of egg shaped like a mushroom?
"…Is it edible?" Deidara asked hesitantly.
For a brief moment, even Pain fell silent.
The room descended into an awkward stillness.
(End of Chapter)
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