The Hidden Rain Village was shrouded in its eternal downpour.
Fine, misty droplets cascaded endlessly from the gray heavens, washing the steel towers and narrow streets in a somber rhythm. The ceaseless rain carried with it an oppressive weight, as though the very sky bore witness to the pain and despair of the village below. To the shinobi who lived here, this rain was nothing unusual. But to those sensitive to its aura, it was a constant reminder of sorrow, a sorrow that mirrored the heart of their god.
Inside the towering iron pagoda at the village's center, Tendo Pain stood motionless. His Rinnegan eyes, devoid of warmth, surveyed the darkened chamber. His posture was like that of a statue—majestic, solemn, unshakable. In this place, the world's endless suffering seemed condensed into silence, broken only by the faint echo of raindrops against the steel walls.
It was here that the leader of Akatsuki received news.
News that Uchiha Madara—long believed dead, but secretly moving the strings behind the shadows—wished to communicate with him.
But instead of appearing in person, a different figure emerged.
From the darkness of the chamber, the earth itself seemed to ripple as a strange half-black, half-white figure slithered into view. Black Zetsu, ever mysterious, stepped forward with cautious deliberation. His body appeared unnatural, as if it were not meant to belong in this world, his very presence carrying an unsettling aura.
"Pain," Black Zetsu's voice was low and deliberate, "I bring news that must be reported to you immediately."
Tendo Pain lifted his gaze. His expression remained cold, but a subtle displeasure flickered across his sharp features.
"Zetsu?" His tone carried faint irritation. "So, Uchiha Madara has grown so cautious that he no longer dares meet me directly? Even as the leader of Akatsuki, must I settle for words delivered through an intermediary?"
The accusation hung in the air like a blade.
Black Zetsu paused, suppressing a sigh. He had expected such hostility. Madara—or rather, Obito—should have been the one to stand here and explain himself. But Obito was impulsive, emotional, and utterly incapable of handling Nagato's wrath with measured words. If Obito came now, Nagato's fury might incinerate the fragile alliance entirely.
So Black Zetsu had taken the task upon himself. Organizing language, after all, was an art.
"It is not that Madara refuses to face you," Zetsu replied slowly, carefully. "But the matter is… complicated. For the sake of clarity, it is better I explain."
Nagato's eyes narrowed, the rippling circles of the Rinnegan glinting faintly in the gloom. "Then speak. What has happened?"
There was a silence before Black Zetsu began to recount the events of that fateful night—the night of the Uchiha Clan's annihilation.
He spoke of Uchiha Gen, a seemingly ordinary clansman, insignificant and unremarkable, who, at the most critical moment, had awakened the Mangekyō Sharingan. He described how Gen's newfound power had surged uncontrollably, releasing techniques so fearsome that even the Root operatives sent by Danzō had vanished without a trace.
Black Zetsu, of course, chose his words with care. He called it a "sudden awakening", even though he himself suspected otherwise. He dared not suggest that the power had long slumbered within Gen, waiting only for tragedy to unleash it.
As the tale unfolded, Nagato's expression grew darker. His silence was heavy, his displeasure palpable. At last, when Zetsu finished, Nagato's voice cut through the air like cold steel.
"You are telling me," he said slowly, his words laced with mockery, "that because of Madara's interference in the Uchiha massacre, an unknown and insignificant clansman awakened the Mangekyō, and his power is now capable of destroying the entire shinobi world?"
Black Zetsu gave a subtle nod. "That… is indeed what has occurred."
For a long moment, Nagato said nothing. His gaze drifted beyond the walls, into the curtain of rain outside. A twisted smile tugged faintly at his lips, one that carried no mirth, only disbelief.
"The Mangekyō Sharingan… able to destroy the world?" His voice dripped with disdain. "Don't you think that is absurd?"
Even Nagato, who wielded the godlike power of the Rinnegan, who believed himself chosen to bring salvation through pain, had never dared claim such a thing. He could wage war against nations, bring villages to ruin, and enforce peace through terror—but to annihilate the entire world? That was beyond even his arrogance.
And yet here was Zetsu, claiming that a nobody from the Uchiha possessed such overwhelming power.
It was unthinkable.
Zetsu, however, held firm. "If you doubt it, Nagato, you may confirm it with your own eyes. Send forth the Asura Path and the Chikushōdō. Their summons can pierce the heavens themselves."
Nagato's gaze sharpened. Though suspicion burned within him, curiosity compelled him. With a cold snort, he pressed his hands together.
"Very well. Let us see this so-called 'truth.'"
Chakra surged, and a summoning seal spread across the floor. Smoke erupted.
The Asura Path appeared, its body augmented with grotesque steel machinery. Plates of metal shifted and locked into place as chakra engines roared to life. With a thunderous burst of flame, the Asura Path propelled itself skyward, tearing through the rain and clouds like a missile launched into the heavens.
Through shared vision, Nagato watched as the Asura Path ascended.
Higher and higher it rose, breaking through the thick veil of storm clouds that perpetually covered the village. Above, the sky opened into a vast expanse of darkness.
Nagato's hands moved again, and the Chikushōdō was summoned into the high atmosphere. With another swift sign, the Path summoned colossal avian beasts, their wings spanning like titanic shadows across the sky. The birds beat their wings furiously, climbing into even greater altitudes, until the earth itself seemed no more than a fragile orb beneath them.
And then Nagato saw it.
Through the eyes of the birds, his vision pierced the edge of the atmosphere.
There, suspended in the endless void of space, was a colossal sphere engulfed in unnatural flames. It was no meteor. It was no natural object. Its sheer size dwarfed mountains; its speed promised catastrophe. The fiery mass cut across the void, its trajectory unmistakable—straight toward the shinobi world.
Nagato's breath stilled.
Even as one who claimed godhood, he felt a rare, unfamiliar chill coil in his chest. The aura of the incoming planet radiated destruction, a calamity so vast that even his powers could not hope to resist it.
The silence stretched.
When at last Nagato spoke, his words were laced with venom.
"Where is Uchiha Madara? Where is he hiding, now that his folly has invited this apocalypse upon us? Does he cower in the shadows while the world burns?"
Black Zetsu faltered, sensing the storm brewing in Nagato's heart. Nagato's anger was dangerous—unpredictable. If he unleashed it recklessly, even Akatsuki itself might shatter.
"He is not hiding out of fear," Zetsu said carefully. "The situation is complex. He requires time to… stabilize matters before meeting you."
Nagato laughed bitterly, though there was no humor in his voice. "Time? He has time? He meddled in the massacre, unleashed a disaster that threatens the entire world, and he dares to claim he requires time? Tell him this—if he does not come before me and explain himself, he alone will bear the consequences."
His words were no mere threat. They were a divine decree.
Black Zetsu remained still. Inside, he cursed Obito's incompetence, his inability to stay clear of trouble. But outwardly, he masked his frustration, speaking instead in a soothing, placating tone.
"Nagato, this is not the moment for rashness. If you destroy the alliance now, Akatsuki will stand divided. Alone, even you cannot halt what approaches. But united, we may have a chance to act. The Five Great Nations must be made aware of the threat. This disaster is beyond the scope of Akatsuki alone."
Nagato's lips pressed into a thin line. His godlike composure was cracking, his disillusionment visible. He had once envisioned a future where pain would unite the shinobi world under his rule. Now, the world might not even live to see such a future.
Finally, he muttered, "And how do you suggest we reach the nations? They would not believe us. They would not trust us."
Black Zetsu's eyes gleamed faintly. "There is someone. Uchiha Itachi. Though he wears the cloak of Akatsuki, his ties to Konoha are not severed. He may serve as the bridge we require."
Nagato's gaze flickered, unreadable. The rain outside beat harder against the iron tower, as though the heavens themselves trembled at what was to come.
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