Dark clouds hung heavily over Hidden Rain Village, casting the entire settlement into a gloomy, almost oppressive twilight. The fine rain fell ceaselessly, soaking the stone streets and dripping down from every rooftop, creating a symphony of muted splashes and rivulets. Within this perpetual drizzle, Konan stood silently, her hair wet and plastered to her face, droplets tracing the elegant contours of her cheeks.
"For some time now," she began, her voice measured yet tinged with unease, "we have been attempting to establish contact with the Five Great Shinobi Nations."
Jiraiya's eyes, partially hidden beneath his wet hair, remained fixed on her, listening intently.
"Our Akatsuki Organization has already discovered that a planet is rapidly approaching the Ninja World. If action is not taken immediately, this land will face an unprecedented catastrophe," Konan continued. She lowered her gaze slightly, and for the first time, a trace of helplessness seeped into her tone. "Only if the entire Ninja World unites can there be any hope of survival."
She paused briefly, glancing at Jiraiya through the curtain of rain. "To alert the nations, we have even disseminated intelligence through black market channels. Our hope was that even if someone noticed, it would accelerate their response."
A frown crossed her face, subtle but heavy with disappointment. "But the result… apart from Konoha, the other major shinobi villages responded with indifference."
Jiraiya remained silent, letting her words sink in. The rain slid down his face, mingling with the lines of concern etched there.
"They did not take our warnings seriously," Konan continued, her voice quieter, almost a whisper lost in the downpour. "They remain immersed in comfort, blind to the imminent crisis."
Before Jiraiya could respond, a slow, deliberate voice cut through the rain-soaked air.
"Even Konoha Village is not as rational as you might imagine," Nagato said, stepping forward. His Rinnegan eyes, though calm, carried the weight of immense knowledge and experience.
"All preparations Konoha has undertaken are focused solely on the noble families and the Daimyo of the Land of Fire," he explained. "Their underground facilities, strategic reserves, and fortifications are concentrated almost entirely in two areas: Konoha Village itself and the Daimyo's mansion."
Jiraiya's expression grew heavier. He had always been proud of Konoha's resilience, priding himself on the village's comprehensive planning and precautions. Yet, hearing an external assessment, he could not immediately dispute Nagato's words.
"The rest of the Land of Fire, with its tens of millions of ordinary citizens," Nagato continued, his tone neutral yet cutting, "has only crude air-raid shelters hastily dug. They lack food, medical supplies, and proper protection. When the planet descends, these people will be the first to die."
Konan added, her voice soft but laden with criticism, "They have not even issued warnings. The level of inefficiency is staggering."
Jiraiya swallowed hard. He had believed that the village's leadership took the safety of all its people seriously, but now, confronted with this unflinching truth, he could not deny the stark reality. Konoha had prioritized the elite, leaving countless innocents vulnerable.
"I am not accusing Konoha," Nagato said softly, looking directly at Jiraiya. "I am merely stating facts. We have long understood that the root of the Ninja World's system is the extreme inequality in resource distribution. We hope, at the very least, that you can strive to do better, to be less bureaucratic."
The rain fell steadily, a persistent reminder of the world's indifference.
"When disaster strikes, the powerful can hide in the deepest shelters, enjoying their stores for months," Nagato continued, his voice steady yet heavy with gravity, "while ordinary citizens, even if warned, are left to face death unprepared."
Jiraiya lowered his head, feeling the weight of these words. He understood now why his students, Pain and Konan, carried such cold resolve. Every word they spoke cut deep—not out of malice, but truth. They were the living embodiment of the world's unresolved wounds.
"So… you expect the Akatsuki Organization to lead the Ninja World?" he asked finally, his voice low, tinged with disbelief and concern.
Nagato's expression did not change; he merely nodded. There was no pride, no arrogance, only a quiet certainty that the world needed guidance, and that Akatsuki was willing to provide it.
The rain continued to fall, relentless, a muted drumbeat to their solemn conversation. At that moment, footsteps echoed sharply against the flagstone.
A familiar figure emerged from the rain—Kakashi.
"However," he said, stepping forward, "to my knowledge, there is a masked individual in your organization who calls himself Uchiha Madara. He has openly stated that Akatsuki seeks to bring ultimate pain to the Ninja World, and that destruction is your ultimate goal."
His words struck like thunder. Nagato and Konan froze, their expressions shifting subtly at the mention of the infamous name.
"Kakashi?" Jiraiya exclaimed, turning to face him. "Why are you here all of a sudden?"
Kakashi remained calm, his presence firm and unwavering in the rain. "Jiraiya-sama, Uchiha Sasuke has suddenly disappeared. The Third Hokage suspects that this matter may involve the Akatsuki Organization."
The tension in the air thickened instantly. The previously measured and calm discussion was shattered; the atmosphere seemed to freeze.
"So, return Sasuke at once," Kakashi demanded, his tone deceptively calm but carrying the weight of a sharpened arrow. "Otherwise, Konoha will not trust you, nor acknowledge any sincerity from your organization."
He stepped closer, letting his words cut deeper. "If Akatsuki truly wishes to guide the Ninja World, you must understand proper boundaries—especially regarding Uchiha Itachi. His Mangekyo Sharingan is deteriorating due to the bloodline's disease. Sasuke is his only younger brother and the sole potential heir to the eyes that might resolve this affliction."
The gravity of his statement weighed heavily on all present. "If Sasuke was taken deliberately, it raises questions about a plot to provide Itachi with new eyes to achieve the Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan."
Konan shook her head, speaking up for the first time since Kakashi's interruption. "We did not abduct Sasuke. That was not an order from Akatsuki. There was an individual claiming to be Uchiha Madara who briefly cooperated with us, but we never understood his true goals. He appears to be acting independently now."
Kakashi's eyes narrowed. "So within Akatsuki, are you the leaders, or merely manipulated pawns?"
Nagato and Konan exchanged a fleeting glance, momentarily silent. The question left them awkward, a rare crack in their composed demeanor.
"If you wish to be the guiding force of the Ninja World," Kakashi continued, "you must first prove your stance and your sincerity. No one will trust an organization led by a puppet, or one that can be swayed by someone like Uchiha Madara at any time."
From the shadows, Zetsu observed, silent and calculating, his expression unreadable. Did Obito truly abduct Sasuke? What was his aim—provoking Itachi further, or something darker?
Konan spoke softly, her suggestion tentative yet earnest. "Why not contact Uchiha Itachi directly, Pain?"
Nagato hesitated, then nodded in agreement. Slowly, he raised his hand. The ring on his finger glowed faintly, a subtle connection forming across the distance.
"Suzaku," Nagato's voice transmitted steadily. "People from Konoha have arrived at our organization."
On the other end, Itachi paused. His expression was unreadable, a moment of silence stretching taut in the connection.
"They claim that Uchiha Sasuke was taken by a masked individual calling himself Uchiha Madara…"
Itachi's eyes widened slightly. "...?!"
A storm raged on outside, drenching the village, the rain now feeling like a silent witness to the uneasy truths and fragile alliances being tested within Hidden Rain Village.
Every word, every glance, carried the weight of the coming calamity. The world was teetering on the brink, and each decision, each hesitation, could tip the balance toward salvation or utter annihilation.
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