LOCATION: AMEGAKURE – AKATSUKI HIDEOUT, CENTRAL TOWER
Rain fell in Amegakure. It was not the gentle, nourishing rain of other lands, but a perpetual, grey, weeping drizzle that slicked the dark metal and glass towers of the hidden village, turning the world into a monochrome echo of its leader's despair. From the highest chamber of the central tower, a chamber devoid of ornament and filled only with the soft hum of life-support machinery and the drip of condensation, the man who called himself Pain looked out over his broken kingdom.
His body, emaciated and riddled with the physical costs of wielding the Rinnegan, was suspended in a mechanical frame, tubes and wires feeding him nutrients and siphoning away pain. But his will was focused entirely through six distant, powerful vessels—the Six Paths of Pain. Through the eyes of the Deva Path, he watched the rain streak down the window.
The chamber door slid open silently. Konan entered, her paper flowers folding themselves away as she stepped onto the dry floor. Her face, usually a mask of serene loyalty, was etched with deep concern. She held a data-slate in her hand, its glow casting pale light on her features.
Konan: "Nagato." She used his true name only in private. "The latest reports from our… associates, are in. They are not favorable."
Pain—Nagato—did not turn. His voice, amplified and distorted through the Deva Path's connection, echoed flatly in the room. "Report."
Konan: "Obito has been… erratic. Since his return from an encounter with Uchiha Sasuke at the Lightning border. He has withdrawn completely. His chakra signatures from the Kamui dimension are unstable, fluctuating wildly. He has not responded to three successive summons for a strategy council." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "Zetsu reports that Obito appears to be in a state of… psychological distress. He mutters to himself. He destroyed a training sector. He carries a small, cloth-bound book he will not let anyone see."
A flicker of something—irritation, perhaps—crossed the Deva Path's impassive face outside the window. "Uchiha Sasuke. The younger brother. What did he do?"
Konan: "We do not know the specifics of the encounter. Only that Obito initiated contact, and retreated shortly after in a state of agitation. Sasuke Uchiha has since returned to Konoha, reportedly with a stabilized Mangekyō Sharingan, not degraded. Indra Uzumaki-Uchiha's work."
The name 'Indra' hung in the damp air like a threat. He was the variable they could not constrain, the architect of the Coalition, the one who had turned their careful, decades-long plan into a desperate scramble.
Konan: "Furthermore, our operations against the tailed beasts have stalled. The capture of the One-Tails was incomplete. The Three-Tails extraction was aborted with less than half its chakra secured. The jinchuriki of the Seven-Tails is now under the heaviest guard imaginable within Konoha, integrated into their defense network and training with their forces. The jinchuriki of the Eight and Two-Tails are not just protected; they are… transformed. Uncollectible. Our intelligence suggests Indra has somehow altered their very nature, making them incompatible with the Gedo Statue."
She took a step closer. "The Storm Coalition is not just defending, Nagato. It is evolving. Their 'Thunderhead' network is now active. Our White Zetsu infiltrators are being detected and rooted out with alarming speed using combined sensor techniques we do not fully understand. Our window of opportunity… it is closing."
Nagato was silent for a long time. The only sound was the rhythmic beep of a monitor and the endless sigh of the rain. Through the Deva Path's eyes, he watched a single drop trace a path down the glass, merging with others, becoming a rivulet. His own life, Yahiko's dream, all of it felt like that drop—swallowed by a greater, indifferent flow.
For years, he had believed in the necessity of pain. That only through shared, universal suffering could true understanding and peace be achieved. The tailed beasts were to be the instrument of that cataclysm, a pain so great it would force the world to its knees, to listen. Obito's Moon Eye Plan was a perversion of that, a childish fantasy, but it served the same short-term goal: gathering the beasts. Nagato would wield the weapon. He would be the god who administered the lesson.
But now, the tools were being taken from him. The beasts were being shielded, changed, made into partners instead of weapons. The villages were uniting, not out of love, but out of cold, pragmatic efficiency, building a fortress of cooperation that made his lesson impossible to deliver. And the one ally who provided the means, Obito, was crumbling under the weight of a personal truth.
Yahiko's face swam in his memory. His smile, his unwavering belief that they could change the world through words and example, not pain. That belief had gotten him killed, skewered on Danzo's and Hanzō's treachery. Nagato had learned the true lesson then: the world understood only force. It respected only pain.
But what if the world was learning a different lesson? What if Indra Uzumaki-Uchiha was teaching it that security could be built, that power could be synthesized, that old hatreds could be made obsolete by superior systems? What if, by the time Nagato was ready to deliver his divine pain, the world would no longer be capable of feeling it in the way he intended? What if they would just… repair the damage, together, and move on?
The thought was an intolerable heresy. It made Yahiko's death meaningless. It made his own suffering, his broken body, a pointless tragedy instead of a sacred burden.
A cold, grim resolve crystallized in the heart of the broken man in the machine. The philosophical calculus shifted. If the gradual approach was failing, if the tools were being stolen, then the only remaining option was to deliver the lesson now, with the tools he still had. To force the world to pay attention before it built a roof over its head.
The Deva Path turned from the window. Its piercing, Rinnegan eyes glowed in the gloom of the tower chamber, though Nagato's own eyes in the dark room remained closed.
Pain: "Obito's instability is a liability. His plan is a fantasy for the weak. The true path has always been pain. Immediate, overwhelming, divine pain."
Konan's breath caught. "Nagato… what are you saying?"
Pain: "The Coalition grows stronger by the day. Their network binds them. Their defenses harden. They believe they are building a future that does not require our lesson. They are wrong." The Deva Path's voice was like grinding stone. "We will prove it to them. We will show them that their unity is fragile. That their security is an illusion. That in the face of true, godly power, their systems will shatter."
He paused, letting the implication hang. Konan's paper flowers, instinctively responding to her distress, began to flutter at the edges of her cloak.
Pain: "The Nine-Tails is the key. It is the strongest. It resides in the heart of the oldest, most arrogant of the villages—the village that birthed the rot that killed Yahiko, that spawned Danzo, that created the very system of hatred we will end. Konoha."
Konan: "Konoha is the most fortified now! It is the seat of the Hokage, it houses two jinchuriki under the protection of their entire military, the Sannin, the Uchiha avenger, and it is linked directly to Kumo's Thunderhead! An attack there is not a surgical strike; it is a declaration of total war against a prepared alliance!"
Pain: "Exactly." The word was final. "It is the statement. We will not skulk in the shadows, picking off isolated beasts. We will walk into the lion's den, the strongest of their united prides, and we will take their king. We will show the world that their new alliance, their technology, their 'peace,' cannot protect them from the wrath of a god."
The Deva Path took a step towards her. "If they will not give the Nine-Tails, we will take it from the rubble."
Konan stared, horror dawning. This was not the plan. This was madness. A suicidal, glorious, tragic madness. "Nagato… the cost… the people of Konoha… our own forces… you would be exposing yourself, the real you! If you are defeated there, it is all over!"
Pain: "I am not going to be defeated. I am going to teach. The Pain of Konoha will resonate across the world. It will break their will. It will shatter their fragile coalition. It will show every minor nation, every doubter within the great villages, that the old powers, the Akatsuki, are the true force of change. And in the chaos that follows, with the Nine-Tails in hand, the other beasts will fall."
He turned his gaze back to the rain-smeared city. "Yahiko dreamed of a world where the great nations stopped forcing their pain on the small. I will create that world by forcing one great nation to feel the accumulated pain of all the small. It is the only language they understand."
Konan felt her world, already built on sorrow, begin to fracture anew. She had followed Nagato through hell, believing in his pain, in his destiny as the savior. But this… this felt like a death wish dressed up as dogma. She saw no calculation in this, only a culmination of a lifetime of agony seeking a final, catastrophic expression.
Konan: "And Obito? The Moon Eye Plan?"
A derisive snort, transmitted through the Path. "Let him dream in his dimension. His usefulness is at an end. He provided the Gedo Statue and intelligence. His purpose is served. His fantasy will die with him, in the world of truth I will create."
He activated a console with a thought from the Deva Path. Around the hidden village, in six separate preparation chambers, the other Paths of Pain—the Asura Path, the Human Path, the Animal Path, the Preta Path, and the Naraka Path—opened their Rinnegan eyes in unison. They began to move, gathering tools, weapons, summoning scrolls.
Pain: "The Six Paths will move at dawn tomorrow. We will travel openly. We will let their satellites see us coming. Let them muster their defenses. Let them feel the fear build. The assault will be total. We will break their barriers, crush their armies, kill their leaders, and extract the Nine-Tails. Konoha will be a monument to pain, a lesson for the world."
Konan stood helpless, the data-slate forgotten in her hand. She wanted to argue, to plead, to remind him of the man he used to be. But the man in the machine was gone, replaced entirely by the avatar of Pain. She saw only the fanatical light of the Rinnegan reflected in the glass.
Konan: (Voice barely a whisper) "I will prepare the chakra papers for communications disruption and aerial denial. And… I will accompany you."
She said it not out of belief in this new, desperate plan, but out of loyalty to the ghost of the boy she had loved, and to the man whose pain she had sworn to share until the end. If this was the end, she would be there.
Pain: "Your presence is… acceptable. Your power will be useful in containing their aerial and sensor assets. Prepare. We bring a storm to Konoha that their 'Thunderhead' cannot predict."
The Deva Path turned and walked out of the chamber, its mission set. In the dark room, Nagato's real body let out a slow, rattling breath. On the mental screen behind his closed eyelids, he did not see strategic maps or chakra calculations. He saw Yahiko's smiling, trusting face, bleeding out in the rain. He heard his own younger voice screaming promises of a peaceful world.
This is for you, Yahiko, he thought, the sentiment a twisted, rusty blade in his heart. I will make them all understand. I will make the whole world feel what I felt. Then… then there will be peace.
Outside, the rain of Amegakure fell harder, as if weeping for the cataclysm its master had just set in motion.
________________________________________
LOCATION: KAMUI DIMENSION
Obito Uchiha sat in the lotus position amidst the grey pillars, but there was no peace in his posture. He was coiled tight, a spring of shattered sanity. The orange mask lay discarded beside him, revealing a face ravaged by scars, stagnation, and fresh, psychic wounds. In his lap lay Rin Nohara's diary, open to the final page.
He had read it a hundred times. A thousand. Every loop of her handwriting, every faded ink blot, was now seared into his mind alongside the devastating meaning of the words.
Little brother.
The two words had become a mantra of personal annihilation. Every memory he had curated, every tender glance he had misinterpreted, every dream he had built of a life with her in a world without war—all of it was recontextualized, poisoned by that simple, affectionate, familial term.
His mind was a battleground. One part, the hardened shell of the man who had manipulated nations and worn a mask for decades, screamed at him to reject it. It's a forgery! A genjutsu! Sasuke's trick! But his soul, the remnant of the boy from Kannabi Bridge, knew the truth. He knew her handwriting. He knew the faint scent of her chakra on the pages. This was Rin's heart, laid bare. And he had never been its romantic occupant.
The conflict was tearing him apart. His chakra control, once so precise it allowed him to phase through reality, was now erratic. As he sat, the Kamui dimension itself reacted. Pillars around him flickered in and out of existence. Distances stretched and compressed nauseatingly. A low, sub-audible whine filled the air, the sound of a personal reality destabilizing.
"Why…?" The word was a dry croak from his cracked lips. "Why would you make me believe…? Why let me hope…?"
He wasn't sure who he was asking. Rin? The world? Madara? Himself?
The diary offered no answers, only truth. And the truth was that his entire life's purpose—the Infinite Tsukuyomi, a perfect dream world where Rin loved him—was founded on a lie. Not a lie told to him, but a lie he had told himself. A pathetic, childish lie.
A hot, shameful fury began to burn through the cracking ice of his despair. Not at Sasuke for showing him. Not at Kakashi. At himself. For being so weak, so desperate, so stupid.
Obito: "All of it… for nothing…"
His voice echoed in the unstable space. The Moon's Eye Plan, which had seemed like a profound, tragic rebellion against a cruel world, now felt like what it was: the ultimate tantrum of a boy who couldn't accept that his crush didn't like him back. He would trap the entire human race in an endless dream because he couldn't handle the reality of being seen as a little brother.
The absurdity of it was so vast it was almost comic. He let out a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob.
But from the ashes of that shame, a darker, more stubborn ember glowed. The ember of spite. If the real world was a place where Rin Nohara saw Uchiha Obito as a child, then the real world was flawed. Wrong. It deserved to be replaced. The Tsukuyomi would not be born from a beautiful, tragic love, but from a furious, humiliated rejection of reality itself. He would have his perfect world out of spite. He would rewrite her heart, not to honor her memory, but to correct her mistake.
The conviction was ugly, brittle, and fueled entirely by wounded pride. But it was enough to function. He needed to focus. The plan was in jeopardy. Nagato was growing impatient. The beasts were slipping away.
As if summoned by his chaotic thoughts, a section of the grey wall before him liquefied. Black Zetsu, half-emerged from the surface, observed him with those ancient, knowing yellow eyes.
Black Zetsu: "You are a mess, Obito. Your chakra is disturbing the fabric of this place. Mother's vessel cannot be piloted by a hysteric."
Obito didn't look up. "What do you want?"
Black Zetsu: "Pain has made a decision. He tires of your failures and your… emotional episodes. He is abandoning the strategy of incremental capture."
This got Obito's attention. His mismatched eyes lifted. "What is he doing?"
Black Zetsu: "He is mobilizing all Six Paths. His target is Konoha. His objective is the forcible extraction of the Nine-Tails, regardless of casualties or coalition response. He intends to shatter the village and the alliance's confidence in a single, divine stroke."
Obito stared. For a moment, his personal crisis was overshadowed by sheer tactical disbelief. "He's insane. Konoha is a fortress. They have the Sannin, the Nine-Tails jinchuriki and the Seven-Tails jinchuriki together, the Uchiha brat with a stable Mangekyō, the full might of their clan militaries, and the entire Thunderhead network backing them. It's suicide. Even with the Rinnegan."
Black Zetsu: "He believes it is a necessary demonstration. A lesson in pain. He believes the Coalition's unity is superficial and will crack under the weight of a genuine catastrophe."
Obito's mind, still fractured, began to analyze. Nagato's assault would fail. It had to fail. The forces arrayed were too great, the defenses too layered. The Six Paths were powerful, but they were not invincible, especially not against the kind of coordinated, systemic defense Indra had built. But… a failed assault could serve a purpose.
If Pain attacked and was destroyed, the Akatsuki's overt military threat would be neutralized. The world would breathe a sigh of relief. The Coalition might even grow complacent. And in the chaos, in the distraction, with all eyes on Konoha…
A savage, desperate idea began to form. Let Nagato be the hammer. Let him smash himself against the anvil of Konoha. Let the world watch the 'god' fall. And while they were celebrating, while their guard was down in the aftermath, he would move. Not for a beast in a fortified village, but for one that was isolated, one they would never expect him to target in the wake of such a colossal event.
The Gedo Statue needed chakra. The Third Eye was only partly lit. They needed volume. If he couldn't get quality from the heavily guarded beasts, he would get quantity from the vulnerable ones.
He stood up, the diary falling to the grey floor. He ignored it. That truth belonged to the old Obito, the fool. The new Obito, the spiteful ghost, had a purpose again. He bent and picked up his orange mask. He did not put it on. He looked at its single eye hole, the symbol of his hidden self.
Obito: "Tell Pain I… commend his decisiveness. The world needs a shock." His voice was steadier, colder, but with a new, unsettling edge to it. "My resources are at his disposal for the Konoha operation. I will provide tactical data from our infiltrators up until the moment of attack. I will monitor from here."
Black Zetsu studied him, sensing the shift. The breakdown was being compartmentalized, walled off behind a new, more unstable facade of purpose. It was not ideal, but it was functional. For now.
Black Zetsu: "And what will you do while he teaches his lesson?"
Obito finally slid the mask over his face, hiding the scars and the fresh madness in his eyes. The familiar persona of Tobi, the playful madman, did not return. This was something else.
Obito/Tobi: (Voice a flat, metallic rasp from behind the mask) "I will be learning a lesson of my own. And preparing for the harvest after the storm."
He turned his back on Black Zetsu and the discarded diary. He focused his will, and the chaotic flickering of the Kamui dimension began to steady, forced into order by a sheer, stubborn act of spiteful will. He had a front-row seat to a divine tragedy about to unfold. And he had plans for the aftermath.
The stage was set. In Amegakure, a god of pain prepared for his final sermon. In a dimension between worlds, a ghost plotted his next theft. And in the bright, fortified heart of the Leaf, soon to be the epicenter of it all, a village continued to train, to build, and to hope, unaware that the storm was not just brewing, but was already on the march.
End of Chapter – 100