Akatsuki Organization Base
"…The resurrection location of the Three Tails has been confirmed. Kakuzu, Hidan, Itachi, Kisame—you four will retrieve it."
The ninja world was already in chaos, and Pain was determined not to let the situation spiral further out of control. The capture of the tailed beasts was to begin immediately. This mission would be the opening strike in a campaign that would reshape the world.
Uchiha Itachi and Kisame nodded silently, accepting the assignment. But just as Pain turned to Kakuzu, the man raised his hand in objection.
"Pain, I'd like to sit this one out. I have… other commissions."
The room grew quiet. All the Akatsuki members turned toward him with puzzled or skeptical looks.
Other commissions?
That was unexpected. Only days earlier, Pain had clearly declared that all members must drop their personal work. Akatsuki would no longer accept outside contracts. No side jobs. No war bounties. All funding was now secured directly through deals with the consortiums of the Five Great Nations. The organization was to focus entirely on the tailed beast capture plan.
Seeing their reactions, Kakuzu remained unfazed. "Don't look at me like that. The commission came directly from one of the consortiums."
Though Kakuzu often spoke and acted like a cold-hearted mercenary, he had been alive longer than anyone in the room. He understood the world far better than most gave him credit for.
The financial backers of the Akatsuki—aristocratic families, nobles, industrial leaders—had poured immense funding into their mission. Now, one of them had made a special request. Refusing it outright would be bad business.
Pain's expression remained unreadable as he stared at Kakuzu for a moment.
"I understand," he finally said. "Deidara, Sasori—you two will replace Kakuzu and Hidan for the Three Tails operation."
With the assignments reallocated, the projections of the Akatsuki members faded one by one.
When the chamber fell silent, Konan approached.
"I looked into it," she said. "It was the consortiums from the Land of Water and the Land of Fire who contacted Kakuzu. But why him? Why not come to you directly?"
Pain didn't look at her, still gazing at the fading glow of the Gedo Statue. "Because of you."
"…Me?"
"Yes. Because you've chosen to listen to Logan's teachings."
Konan paused, then chuckled softly. "Just rumors. Nothing more."
Her laughter stopped abruptly when the implication hit her.
"You mean—they're asking Kakuzu and Hidan to eliminate Logan?"
Pain didn't answer directly. Instead, he walked up to the massive form of the Gedo Statue and looked up.
"Who knows?" he said calmly. "It's just a theory."
Logan's ideals had spread across nations at a remarkable speed. The Land of Water and the Land of Fire had felt the impact first. More and more people were turning to Logan's beliefs. "Believers," they were calling themselves.
And within the companies under those same consortiums, labor unrest was beginning to stir. Workers were demanding shorter hours, better pay. One company even saw a small strike the previous week. Isolated incidents for now, yes—but the signs were there. Something was building. Something large. And for the wealthy elite, it was terrifying.
"A ghost walks among them," Pain said. "A spirit that bewitches minds. They probably fear he will undo everything they've built."
Konan understood what he meant.
"Then why send Kakuzu and Hidan? Are you planning to sacrifice them?"
"Kakuzu has ties to the consortium. Hidan already holds a grudge against Logan. If I forbid them from going, they'll go anyway."
Akatsuki wasn't a place of discipline or order—it was a haven. A place where killers, rebels, and fanatics could thrive. They were here not because they wanted to obey, but because Akatsuki let them be more of who they already were.
"And besides," Pain added, "don't underestimate the power of money—or the families that have held influence for centuries."
He thought of the severed head of a daimyo, once held high above the mist in Kirigakure.
"I want to see if Logan's ideals can stand against the cruelty of reality."
---
En Route to Kyoto
The entourage headed toward Kyoto was modest. Aside from a few civilian Kirigakure staff needed to coordinate with local officials, the primary group included just Logan, Terumi Mei, Kanhara Hayato, and Zabuza.
And one more—a "half-person," as they joked—Chojuro, fresh out of the Ninja Academy, eager to prove himself.
Originally, Sasuke and Momo had wanted to come too, curious to see the fabled capital. But with the Sunagakure teaching delegation having returned home, Kirigakure was short-staffed. The two stayed behind to help run night classes and assist with Kohaku's rehabilitation.
"Brother Logan! If you find anything tasty or cool, bring some back!" Momo shouted.
Logan gave a casual wave. "You got it."
Had it just been the four of them, they could've reached Kyoto in under three days at full speed. But with dozens of support staff and crates of supplies too bulky for even Logan's spatial storage techniques, they had to travel the old-fashioned way—by carriage and boat.
Thankfully, the Suigen Festival was still a month away, giving them plenty of time to arrive. Their wooden transport bore the sunflower crest of the Oda Clan, granting them safe passage and full cooperation from every town along the way.
"That," Logan muttered, seated atop a horse, "is what absolute power looks like."
Terumi Mei glanced over. "Not impressed?"
"No… I just remembered someone."
She tilted her head. "Mayor Morimura?"
"Yeah."
The former magistrate had once crushed his people under high taxes and brutal labor demands—all to please the daimyo. He was like a mountain suffocating the poor under his rule.
And now? A single wooden box with a family crest had more power than he ever did. Governors who once barked orders now bowed in silence.
It was absurd.
When power is in the hands of the righteous, peace and prosperity follow. But when wielded by tyrants, it brings only misery.
As Logan was lost in thought, a cold can of green tea touched his cheek. He turned to see Terumi Mei smiling, her head tilted playfully.
"So? Let's change things—together."
Her voice dropped to a soft whisper. "Since the world has no limit to its evil… we must protect its limit."
Logan looked into her eyes—bright, defiant, like moonlight reflected in still water.
Before he could reply, a shout broke through the quiet.
"Master Logan! Master Mizukage! Something's wrong!"
Chojuro came running from the lead carriage, waving a map frantically.
"We… we're lost!"
"Lost?" Logan blinked and looked around.
He hadn't noticed at first, but about ten minutes earlier, the fog had thickened unnaturally. Now, visibility was under ten meters.
But Kirigakure shinobi—masters of fog—getting lost in mist?
Logan launched into the air, soaring above the fog, and looked down.
A dense, magical fog blanketed several kilometers. Below it, only the faint outline of a town could be seen. The light of the sun fractured into shimmering colors on the mist's surface, making the scene surreal—like a dreamscape.
He descended again and landed near the caravan.
"It's unusual," he admitted. "We'll head to the town ahead."
"But… how?" Chojuro held up a compass. "The fog is confusing our bearings. Our tools aren't working."
Logan smiled. "Then we don't need tools. Stand still."
"Huh?"
Raising his hand, Logan summoned a surge of natural energy. A vortex of wind formed behind them, then exploded forward like a tidal wave, parting the fog with overwhelming force.
The carriages rattled. Papers fluttered. The civilians ducked in alarm.
And then—clarity.
The fog cleared, and ahead of them stood a bustling, vibrant town, untouched by the strange weather.
Chojuro's jaw dropped. He looked at his compass, then back at Logan.
So… if you can see everything, you don't need a sense of direction.
"Let's go," Logan said, clicking the reins as he rode toward the gates.
Ãdvåñçé çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn (Gk31)