The decision was not announced with ceremony.
There were no oaths, no passionate speeches, no beautiful promises that only exist before the first tragedy.
The decision came the same way rain came in Amegakure: inevitable.
They had not confirmed anything with words, but when Konan opened the door of the meeting building that night and found Kuro Senji leaning against the dark corridor—far too dry for someone who should have been soaked—she understood.
He had not come to ask.
He had come because he already knew.
— You took your time — Kuro said, without accusation, as if commenting on the weather.
Konan did not answer immediately. She studied his face, trying to find some sign of genuine emotion. There was none.
— We don't follow strangers — she said at last.
— I didn't ask you to follow me. — Kuro tilted his head slightly. — I asked you to choose.
Konan stepped aside, opening the way.
— Then let's see if your "power" is useful for something other than frightening mercenaries.
A nearly invisible smile crossed the corner of Kuro's mouth.
— It is.
Nagato and Yahiko were already waiting on the rooftop, where the rain made less noise along the corridors and the village felt smaller, distant, almost silent.
Yahiko went straight to the point.
— If this is a proposal… do it properly. What's the mission?
Kuro looked toward the horizon, beyond the dim lights of Amegakure.
— There's a man near the border of the Land of Fire. A war broker. He sells weapons, information, and people to whoever pays the most.
Nagato narrowed his eyes.
— A trafficker.
— A stabilizer of chaos — Kuro corrected. — He keeps conflicts alive just long enough to profit from them. You hate people like that.
Yahiko frowned.
— And why us?
— Because you need a first step that doesn't destroy your ideals. — Kuro turned his gaze to him. — And I need to see how you move under real pressure.
Konan crossed her arms.
— You're testing us.
— Yes.
Yahiko let out a short, humorless laugh.
— Fine. Then we'll test you too.
Kuro did not seem bothered.
— Fair.
They left before dawn.
The journey was fast and quiet, with few words and measured steps. Konan observed Kuro during the trip, trying to understand how someone so young could move with such precision—as if every stone, every shadow, every sound had already been accounted for.
When they crossed a denser stretch of forest, Nagato suddenly stopped.
— There's no chakra nearby — he murmured.
Konan looked around, confused.
— Then why stop?
Nagato frowned.
— Because… I still feel something.
Kuro did not slow down.
— That's not presence. — He glanced back. — That's the shinobi world's habit of believing only what chakra confirms.
He raised one hand calmly.
The shadow of a tree stretched slightly, almost imperceptibly.
— Perimeter.
For an instant, Konan swore she saw subtle distortions in the darkness—silhouettes crouched between the trees, watching. Not people. Not chakra. Something… organized.
Yahiko noticed too.
— How many?
— Enough — Kuro replied. — And you didn't even feel them arrive.
The silence that followed was not uncomfortable.
It was respect, slowly taking shape.
The target was in a transit village, a place where tired soldiers spent what little they had and mercenaries sold their souls for a hot meal.
At the center stood a larger house—almost a makeshift fortress—serving as the base.
— He's not just a trafficker — Konan said, observing. — He has guards. Discipline.
— Because he used to be a ninja — Nagato added, studying their posture.
Kuro nodded.
— Former jōnin from a minor village. He fled with contacts and became a war merchant.
Yahiko took a deep breath.
— Plan?
Kuro spoke without raising his voice.
— We enter. We take the ledger of routes and payments. We eliminate the target. We leave without a trace.
Konan narrowed her eyes.
— Without a trace? You just said "eliminate."
— Death isn't a trace. — Kuro replied. — Investigation is.
Yahiko gave a half-smile.
— You talk like an assassin.
— I talk like someone who wants results.
Nagato stepped forward.
— And if there are civilians?
Kuro looked at him.
— Then you handle that part. I handle mine.
Konan understood immediately.
Kuro wasn't there to "save innocents." He was there to complete the objective. If they wanted to shoulder another responsibility, they would have to do it themselves.
Strangely… it didn't feel cruel.
It felt honest.
The infiltration began with Konan.
Paper emerged beneath her cloak, folding, sliding through cracks, creating a silent path through blind spots. Yahiko followed, light and fast, moving like someone raised in war.
Nagato stayed one step behind, guarding the center.
And Kuro… Kuro vanished.
Not with smoke. Not with speed.
He simply disappeared into the shadow of the eaves, as if the darkness swallowed him.
Konan felt a chill.
This isn't chakra.
She forced herself to focus.
Two guards in the inner corridor. One talking, the other laughing quietly. Konan sent paper to restrain them before any sound escaped.
That was when the first guard stopped laughing.
He looked down.
— …what the fu—
His own shadow rose and suffocated him silently.
The second tried to scream, but the shadow sealed his mouth first.
Konan froze for a second.
Not from fear.
From realizing the brutal efficiency of it.
Yahiko approached, staring at the bodies.
— He killed them without blood.
Nagato frowned.
— This isn't normal.
Konan whispered:
— But it's perfect for a mission like this.
They moved on.
In the main hall, the former jōnin was negotiating with two armed men. A table covered with maps, gold, scrolls. Behind him, a vault far too large for a small village.
Yahiko took a breath and stepped out of cover.
Konan grabbed his arm.
— Wait.
She looked at Nagato, who closed his eyes briefly, sensing the flow around them.
— There's more upstairs — Nagato said. — And one of them is strong.
Yahiko clenched his teeth.
— He's not alone.
Konan was about to speak when a low voice came from beside them.
— I know.
Kuro was there, leaning against the wall as if he had never left.
Konan still wasn't used to that.
— So? — Yahiko asked. — What's your solution?
Kuro inclined his head toward the vault.
— You want the ledger. It's there. The strong one is upstairs. If he comes down, it becomes noise.
Nagato stared at Kuro.
— And if we go up?
— You can. — Kuro replied. — But that increases the risk.
Yahiko exhaled slowly.
— You want this done fast.
— I want it done right.
Kuro raised his hand.
And the floor… grew darker.
The shadows of pillars and chairs stretched, connecting like invisible roots. The two buyers at the table suddenly stopped talking, confused, as if their bodies had forgotten how to breathe.
The former jōnin drew a kunai.
— Who the hell—
His shadow locked around his ankle.
Kuro stepped forward.
— Extraction isn't necessary — he murmured, as if deciding what was worth keeping. — Not this one.
He made a short gesture.
The shadow tightened.
The man collapsed without a scream, eyes wide and empty.
Konan felt her stomach twist but kept her posture. She had seen death before. What unsettled her was the absolute silence, as if reality itself had been erased.
Nagato moved to the vault, breaking the lock with controlled force. Inside lay a thick ledger, several scrolls, and a list of names.
Yahiko grabbed the book, flipping through it quickly.
— Routes, payments… — he murmured. — Big players are involved.
Konan looked at Kuro.
— You wanted this from the start.
Kuro didn't deny it.
— I wanted to see if you'd have the courage to use it.
Yahiko closed the book firmly.
— This could shut down several "small wars."
— Or ignite a bigger one — Nagato said seriously.
Kuro looked at him.
— Depends on how you use it.
Footsteps echoed from upstairs.
Heavy. Fast. Furious.
— Intruders! — a voice roared.
Konan prepared herself, paper forming between her fingers.
Yahiko did the same.
Nagato felt his chakra surge.
Kuro merely turned toward the stairs.
A man leapt down, landing in the hall like a boulder. Broad body, murderous gaze, old scars crossing his face.
— Who killed him?! — the man roared, staring at the corpse.
Then he saw Kuro.
And laughed.
— A kid?
Kuro did not answer.
The man charged.
Fast. A brutal strike, meant to kill.
Konan tried to react, but Kuro had already stepped aside.
The attacker's own shadow rose and locked his arm in mid-air.
The man's eyes widened as he tried to force chakra, tried to cut with a kunai.
It didn't matter.
Kuro approached without haste.
— You have value — he said.
The man growled, struggling.
Kuro raised his hand.
— Extraction.
The shadow waited for the end—one clean, decisive squeeze. When the body fell, the shadow did not return to the floor.
It rose.
It knelt.
Konan held her breath.
Yahiko stared, heart racing.
Nagato felt a strange chill, as if standing before something that should not exist.
Kuro turned to the three of them.
— Now you've seen it — he said. — This is a real mission. And this is what I bring.
Yahiko pressed the ledger against his chest.
— And what do you want in return?
Kuro answered without hesitation.
— The Akatsuki done right.
Konan closed her eyes for a brief moment.
She knew this was the point of no return.
Not because they had killed.
But because they had witnessed a power capable of changing the scale of the world.
They left the village before dawn, without noise, without pursuit, without a trace.
Behind them remained only rain and silence.
And along the road, unseen shadows moved like an escort.
The first mission had been a success.
But what truly changed that night was not the world.
It was the certainty, within the three of them, that a different path now existed.
And that this path… had an owner.