Seeing Amegakure with my own eyes was something I had never truly expected. My senses extended beyond the steel, the pipes, and towering walls—I could feel the lives behind them. The souls of the Cibeles pulsed with happiness, a rare completeness. The shinobi too, moved with conviction, as though deeply assured they were serving a greater cause.
Rain veiled the city in a fine mist, but I could perceive the chakra threads infused in every droplet. Amid neon signs flickering behind the grey curtain and pipework twisting through the alleys, one thing was clear: this city was more advanced than most across the continent. For all the rumors of cruelty, Akatsuki took care of Amegakure.
Still, the presence of Black Zetsu's thread was undeniable. I knew I was on the right path. For a moment, doubt crept in—but the memories of Michel, Kaito, and my father silenced it. One breath of focus carried me into the Silver Stage.
I entered without stealth, donning the mantle of the Silver Lady. My presence was felt the moment I crossed the threshold into Amegakure. It was still raining then—fine droplets laced with chakra, part of the city's detection network. But the moment she appeared—wings outstretched, descending through the clouds—the rain ceased. Sunlight pierced the gloom and framed her descent, as though the sky had been awaiting her. Konan, the angel of Akatsuki, emerged not as its detector, but as its answer.
"You have come without invitation, Silver Lady," said Konan—the angel of Akatsuki.
"On the contrary," I replied gently, without fear. "I come under the same invitation extended to me by Kisame and Itachi, members of Akatsuki who visited me in the Land of Iron a year ago."
The people in the streets rushed indoors, not out of fear of me—but as though sunlight itself might mark them for conflict.
"Hard to believe... yet, if what you say is true, then perhaps there is merit in collaboration. It could benefit this world," Konan said, descending gracefully. Though she walked beside me with poise, I could see it—deep in her soul—doubt bordering panic. She feared for her civilians. She knew of the war in Yumegakure and the devastation of the Pure Lands, though she had no knowledge of the concessions granted there. Even so, she led me onward.
"Come. I will take you to see our leader," she said, calm and firm.
We passed through streets bathed in light rain, winding our way to a park nestled among towering structures. A hidden oasis. Water flowed through its paths, and everything—playgrounds, benches, trees—was reinforced with Konan's paper, ready to collapse or defend at her will. Around us, I sensed her clones hidden, paper sigils active. I also sensed puppets—shells of human form—all tethered to a distant source.
And I felt him.
Black Zetsu, hiding beneath the surface. Watching.
And then, at the heart of it all, I saw six figures—six sets of Rinnegan eyes staring at me from across the park. No excitement stirred in me. Their chakra signatures were strange, fractured. But the way Konan's gaze softened on one told me which was the original: Tenzō Pain.
He spoke.
"You are the Silver Lady. Have you come to join Akatsuki?"
There was something eerie about the marionette-like voice. Detached. Unfeeling.
"I've come to collaborate," I replied sincerely. "I believe I hold ideas that could bring your original mission to completion—peace, for all people."
And then I felt it.
Black Zetsu rising from the shadows.
His aura made my breath catch. Twisting inside him were grey threads—Shikashi's corruption.
I refocused. With my mind's eye I traced the flow of chakra from the six avatars toward their origin: Nagato, embedded in a throne of iron and pain, black rods jutting from his flesh. His spirit was drowning, poisoned. Whatever light he once held was nearly gone.
Beside him sat a monk in red, silent, watching me through closed lids. In him I clearly felt something stronger than what I felt when I saw Jiren or Ren... the gray threads that came out of him fed the darkness in Nagato. Then his lips moved.
"She knows. Begin."
Behind me, I felt it—Obito and Deidara arriving.
Shikashi's influence was heavy upon Obito.
Pain moved first. I breathed. My Mirage Breath activated.
They hadn't evacuated the civilians. They were using their presence to limit me.
Deidara's birds came first—clay beasts screaming through the air. One of the Pains launched a missile from its arm.
Mirage Breath – Third Form: Silent Ripple.
The explosion shredded my image into dozens. Some dissolved into mist, others reformed and advanced. A massive lizard was summoned by one of the Pains—it vanished, but I still felt it.
Two of the Pains lunged. I sent mirrored forms toward Obito and Deidara.
Then, like Michel once taught me…
Mirage Breath – Fourth Form: One Thousand Steps in One.
In an instant, I was in front of the 'healer' of the Pains.
Mirage Breath – First Form: New Moon.
I swung with the back of Shinsei. It seemed like a single strike—until the puppet fell in two, bisected cleanly. My threads lashed out, sensing the others. They were circling.
The giant lizard manifested beside me and opened his mouth—and from within, another Pain emerged, next to him was the summoning Pain, the approaching Pain must be the one who absorbs Jutsu and Chakra... his handshands reaching to grab me. But I moved before they could act.
Their actions obscured due to being puppets but their Intent was clear as my actions in response.
Mirage Breath – Second Form: Dancing Embers in the Rain.
With a sweeping motion, my form fractured into dozens of fiery reflections—my blades glinting like falling stars, as if moonlight had caught flame. Each copy flickered unpredictably, surrounding them in a storm of mirrored flame. The Pain skilled in absorption tried to intercept the real strike, but too late—every image was real.
His head hit the ground with a wet thud. The summoner, panicked, tried to flee—but two of my embers pierced him before he could retreat. His heart and skull burst with silver light.
Meanwhile, behind me, the two mirror images I'd sent toward Obito and Deidara advanced. Deidara launched birds, but they only pierced through them, exploded in the air, and landed. Obito impaled his target with Kamui and attacked him from behind, only to find that the image ignored his attack as well as his own. He narrowed his eyes. He gasped.
"These… aren't clones," he muttered. "They feel real, but… I can't touch them."
The image smiled faintly.
"We're more than illusions. We're truths you can't face."
Obito stepped back, disturbed. Even Deidara, arrogant moments before, now paused—watching the threads of silver trail through the air like ghosts refusing to die.
Then, it changed.
Konan and Tenzō Pain retreated.
Obito and Deidara vanished—swept into Kamui space.
Paper swirled, encasing us.
I was surrounded. The four remaining Pains. Myself. Illusions.
A dome of paper rose, inscribed with sealing marks—complex, ancient.
I reacted. Threads burst from my form, physical and radiant. For a moment, they pinned the four avatars and slowed the sealing.
I had a window.
I could attack.
But I felt the civilians.
So close. Too close.
I hesitated.
That was all it took.
The dome is sealed. Light vanished. The battlefield collapsed into silence.
A sphere of folded paper floated unnaturally, layered in symbols and silence.
From afar, Konan exhaled deeply. Tenzō Pain stood beside her.
"The monk's information was accurate. Our greatest obstacle has been contained."
Konan's voice was tired. "Do you really think his technique will hold her...? Her reputation..."
"She could have escaped," Pain replied. "But she didn't. She was weak. She does not understand pain as we do. But when this world truly knows pain… that is when peace will be within reach."
He paused, gaze unwavering.
"The Jutsu will hold. The Red Monk has not failed us yet."