Ten days earlier—
In the rocky mountain region of the Land of Rain, heavy clouds and a pale curtain of rain made the barren mountains feel cold and suffocating.
In wartime, aside from the safest western zone, it was hard to spot a single civilian in the rocky ranges outside Amegakure.
Anyone with the means either avoided the battle lines between the Land of Earth and the Land of Fire and fled into neighboring Land of Grass, or crossed mountains from the east/south/north into the west—or escaped the Land of Rain entirely from the west into adjacent Land of Birds.
Those without the means either clung to false hope and stayed in inhabited villages and towns, or hid in the rare deep forests—or in the countless caves scattered across the Land of Rain.
Nagato's family was one of those who went into hiding.
Even so, they couldn't escape disaster.
The Land of Rain hadn't been through the First Shinobi World War and had stockpiled supplies for years—yet it still couldn't hold out for even two years.
And once Konoha's border line advanced into the Land of Rain to fight a war of attrition against Amegakure, it was impossible for every soldier to rotate back for resupply.
A shinobi world war is war between nations. Shinobi and civilians alike can't stay untouched by it.
The only difference is that shinobi have power—civilians are defenseless.
In peacetime, civilians might fund shinobi.
In wartime, they become lambs waiting for slaughter.
Konoha shinobi who couldn't break into Amegakure—and couldn't get back to their own lines for supplies—did what they could: they looted.
They prioritized villages and towns, where supplies were concentrated.
If they ran into an isolated household, what happened depended on the shinobi's situation—and conscience.
Nagato's family's hideout was discovered by Konoha shinobi one night while they were evading an assassin squad. During the search for supplies, they "accidentally" killed Nagato's parents. That shock triggered the Rinnegan's power—Nagato, before losing consciousness, instantly killed the intruders.
When he woke up, his home was gone.
One second he'd had both parents.
The next, he was a war orphan.
His whole mind went blank.
After burying his parents, he wandered through the rocky mountains like a ghost, with no idea where to go.
He drifted for who knew how long. Hunger and the climb drained him completely; even the rain felt like stones smashing into his body. At last, Nagato collapsed on a slope.
Watching from the shadows, Obito—sent by Madara to protect Nagato—couldn't help stepping forward to check on him.
But White Zetsu snapped at him at once.
"Obito, you idiot! Did you forget Madara-sama's warning again? We can't interfere with Nagato's growth!"
"But… won't he die like this?" Obito scratched his head.
"He's someone who awakened Senju and Uzumaki blood. How could he die from something this small?"
"So we just… leave him?"
"For now. Unless he really can't hold on, we'll help in some other way. We absolutely can't reveal ourselves."
"…Fine."
So Obito and White Zetsu kept watching.
After a long time, the half-starved Nagato finally stirred awake.
With what little strength he had, he forced himself up and staggered onward—shaky, unsteady—trying to cross the mountains and find people.
He hadn't gone far before he kicked a raised stone and face-planted into the ground.
He struggled up again and kept walking like a corpse.
Soon he fell again—this time nothing tripped him. He simply didn't have the strength left to walk.
Through hazy, half-conscious vision, Nagato saw a pair of feet appear in front of him.
Then the rain that had been pelting him like gravel suddenly stopped.
Nagato raised his eyes with effort.
A purple-haired girl, a year or two older than him, had crouched down. In one hand she held a paper umbrella; in the other she carried a vegetable basket. Amber eyes narrowed into a smile so gentle it looked almost angelic.
"...Want some?"
Konan took a long loaf of bread from the basket and offered it to him.
That moment would be burned into the red-haired boy's heart forever.
He didn't speak. He just lifted trembling hands, grabbed the bread, and shoved it into his mouth.
The first bite barely went down.
Then, as if something inside him woke up, he found strength out of nowhere and began devouring it like a starving animal.
Konan watched with a soft smile.
Inside, she was stunned.
This boy—nearly dead from hunger—had the same eyes as the Sage of Six Paths from legend.
It was unbelievable.
Thanks to Yoru's warning and training, Konan kept her face calm. Even if someone could sense emotions, all they'd pick up from her was compassion.
An angel's kindness.
Just like Haku with Zabuza—unless it involved Yoru, Konan didn't "spike" emotionally.
As Nagato wolfed the bread down—choking more than once—Konan took an apple and a bottle of milk from her basket and set them in front of him, smiling.
"Eat slowly. No one's going to steal it."
"Th… thank you."
Nagato recovered enough to sit up on his knees instead of lying flat, and finally managed a hoarse thanks.
His bangs still hid his Rinnegan, and his lowered head hid his eyes.
When he finished the bread and clutched the milk and apple like treasure he couldn't bear to eat, Konan seemed to guess why. Her pity deepened—and she asked anyway:
"Are you lost? Can't find your way home?"
"I… I don't have a home anymore… My mom and dad are dead…"
Nagato finally lifted his head. His bangs parted, revealing the Rinnegan. Whether it was rain or tears, something slid from the corners of his eyes.
His voice broke—full of grief and confusion.
Konan's expression went distant for a moment, like she'd been pulled back into last year's memories.
In Nagato, she saw her own reflection.
If she hadn't met Lord Yoru back then, Nagato's future might have been hers.
Maybe worse—because at least Nagato had someone watching him from the shadows. She wouldn't have.
"…Me too," Konan whispered.
Nagato heard it. He froze, staring at her as if he'd finally found someone like him.
Konan recovered and smiled again—an angel's smile—and pointed behind him.
"If you're looking for people, you're going the wrong way. You need to keep heading that direction."
She stuffed another loaf of bread into his arms, then cheered him on.
"Live. If you can make it through, you'll see the world isn't what you think."
Then she turned and walked uphill.
Nagato stared after her umbrella-sheltered back.
And for reasons he couldn't explain, he got up and followed.
Konan noticed the "tail" quickly and stopped, turning back with a weary look.
"I can only give you that much. I still have to live too."
"N-no! I'm not… I'm not following you for food!"
Nagato flailed, panicked at the misunderstanding.
His frail body, unhealthy skin, long bangs, and red hair made him look almost like a little red-haired girl beside Konan—who, though the same age, had been well-fed for nearly two years under Yoru's care and now stood more than half a head taller.
Konan tilted her head, playing innocent.
"If you're not following me for food, then why are you following me?"
"I… can I stay with you?"
Nagato blurted it out, then immediately feared rejection and rushed to add:
"I—I can do anything!"
Konan didn't say yes right away.
"Don't you have anyone else? Anyone besides your parents? Why not go to them?"
Nagato's eyes dimmed.
"My house was in a really remote place. I don't know anyone else."
"I see."
Konan pretended to think, studying him carefully. Then she broke into a bright smile.
"Alright. I'll give you a chance."
"Really?!"
Nagato lit up.
"Just a chance," Konan wagged a finger. "If you don't have the talent, I'll take you somewhere with people. I have more important things to do."
Nagato nodded rapidly, not even understanding what "talent" meant yet.
"Follow me."
Konan waved him on and led him up the slope.
After they disappeared over the ridge, Obito and White Zetsu rose from the ground.
"Not bad," White Zetsu mused. "A lucky kid, chosen by Madara-sama. Even out here he runs into another chakra-user. Looks like we won't need to push him into the shinobi path ourselves."
Obito, still half-buried, folded his arms and nodded.
Konan led Nagato over mountain after mountain until they reached a mid-slope.
She stopped and scanned the cliff face like she was searching for something.
Her eyes settled on a flower-petal symbol carved into the rock.
She handed the basket to Nagato, then pressed her small palm to the symbol.
What happened next made Nagato's jaw drop.
Black lines bloomed across the cliff, forming tall rectangular grids.
The rock texture peeled away, and paper talismans marked with the character for "explosion" slid out from inside the stone—sticking to Konan's body and vanishing one after another.
A sheet of camouflage cloth fell.
And the cliff face became the entrance to a cave.
Konan picked up the cloth—standard camouflage gear—and smiled at Nagato, who was still staring like he'd forgotten how to breathe.
"Come on."
Nagato followed her into the cave.
She lit an oil lamp and resealed the entrance. Nagato's voice trembled with tension and awe.
"Y-you're… a shinobi, ma'am?"
"A shinobi?" Konan smiled. "Not exactly."
She tapped her chin thoughtfully, then gave him a sweet grin.
"According to what I've learned, only someone who comes from a shinobi village, graduates the academy, and receives a forehead protector and registration number counts as a 'real' shinobi. Someone like me, who stumbled into this path by accident… if I'm not part of a village, I'm just a wandering shinobi."
Nagato didn't really understand. The moment he'd confirmed she was "a shinobi," his brain had already short-circuited.
Konan soothed him gently.
"Don't be nervous. If you have the talent, you might become a wandering shinobi too."
"…What?"
Nagato froze. He wondered if he'd misheard.
Then, uncertainly:
"T-the talent you meant… was talent to become a 'shinobi'?"
"Exactly," Konan said, suddenly serious. "I have important things to do. I can't afford to shelter and feed an ordinary person."
"If you want to stay with me, you need to become a shinobi. If you don't have what it takes, you won't be able to help me—and I'll have to bring you somewhere with people."
"I… I'll work hard!"
Terrified of being abandoned, Nagato shouted:
"I'll become someone who can help you!"
"I'm looking forward to it," Konan said with a smile, then introduced herself properly.
"Let's get acquainted. My name is Konan. I'm seven. I was born in Amegakure. The Land of Earth's attack made me a war orphan. Right now, I'm wandering."
"…You're only seven?" Nagato blurted, stunned.
He'd thought she was two or three years older—she was so much taller. And yet she was the same age.
Konan's lips curled, quietly pleased—because it meant she shared something with Lord Yoru.
You should see him, she thought smugly.
On the surface, she just laughed lightly.
"Once you can earn money as a shinobi, you'll catch up to me fast."
"Now it's your turn. Introduce yourself."
"Y-yes."
Nagato steadied himself and spoke:
"My name is Nagato. I'm seven. I was born in the south of the Land of Rain. I… I don't remember where I lived before. The house we hid in was somewhere remote. Now… now I'm a war orphan too."
As he spoke, his head dipped.
Even though they were the same age, he and Konan didn't feel like the same species.
Konan walked over and patted his shoulder.
Nagato looked up at her.
Konan smiled brightly—and with a mischievous edge.
"From now on, you're my little brother. My temporary subordinate."
"If you want to become official, then work hard."
Nagato didn't resist at all. The joy of finding someone to cling to outweighed everything.
It was almost funny: the two Uzumaki descendants of this generation both seemed to like attaching themselves to someone.
Kushina did.
Nagato did too.
Konan saw her past self in him again, and her childish sense of mischief swelled.
So she planted her hands on her hips, putting on a fake "boss" face.
"From now on, you call me Konan-sama."
"Y-yes, Konan-sama!"
Nagato snapped to attention like he'd been drilled.
White Zetsu, hidden inside the cliff, wore a rare expression of disbelief.
Obito clapped in exaggerated admiration.
"Konan-sama! So cool!"
If Obito had eyes, they'd probably be sparkling.
White Zetsu sighed.
"Three kids…"
Then he shared everything he'd seen through the network.
Madara learned about Konan quickly.
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"So he found a new bond that fast. Lucky brat."
A White Zetsu clone asked, "Should we check that girl?"
"You don't have mind-reading. No need," Madara replied, eyes closing again. "A war orphan who lucked into chakra training."
"If she has malicious intent, Nagato will trigger the Rinnegan on instinct. And Obito's watching. She can't stir up anything big."
"Let him have a bit of a happy childhood before he grows."
"That girl might become a useful piece later."
Then Madara opened his eyes again, gaze sharp.
"But I'm more curious about that brat in Konoha with Flying Thunder God."
"Did you find out what he did during the time he vanished? Why he came back so drastically changed?"
White Zetsu clone shook his head.
"No. We can only confirm he wasn't in Konoha."
"The formula seals are tiny, and they can stick to people and animals. The marks move constantly. He might not even have been on the shinobi continent."
Madara's eyes narrowed.
"A shinobi's chakra doesn't surge for no reason."
"Either outside influence, or something he experienced that made his internal energy spike."
He was so certain because he'd lived it: the Sharingan's emotional triggers, the flood of Yin chakra, the boost from Hashirama's cells, the eventual Rinnegan.
Gojō Yoru wasn't a Jinchūriki. He hadn't used the Uzumaki "bite healing" to siphon a Jinchūriki's chakra. Yet his chakra reserves had permanently increased.
That wasn't normal.
Especially with his "return," the appearance of "Black Lightning," and growth across multiple domains.
"Reborn," wouldn't be an exaggeration.
White Zetsu asked, "So do we strike him?"
"Not yet," Madara refused. His eyes glinted red. "Keep watching the Uchiha. Find a suitable proxy first."
"If no one in this war uncovers his secret, once I have my 'representative,' I'll deal with it personally."
From inside the Demonic Statue, Black Zetsu listened—and felt satisfied by Madara's caution.
If Black Zetsu had already manifested fully, he'd have told Madara what he suspected:
That brat likely wasn't "Black Lightning."
It looked more like a synthesized bloodline—Storm Release: Black Lightning.
And that would explain the sudden chakra growth and the difference in "Black Lightning's" nature.
A seven-year-old who synthesized a bloodline, mastered Flying Thunder God, developed high-level lightning techniques, and rose to ace-class…
It sounded outrageous.
But Black Zetsu had seen countless "once-in-a-generation" geniuses in a thousand years.
They all ended the same way.
A brilliant flare… and then they became stepping stones for Indra and Asura's reincarnations.
Bloodline sets the ceiling.
If you can't surpass those reincarnations, you can't threaten a complete Madara—let alone Nagato carrying Madara's Rinnegan.
And just one basic move like the Preta Path would make most "genius ninjutsu types" despair.
Your limit is the lower bound of ultimate dōjutsu.
That is the difference between humans and gods.
~~~
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