Chapter 24 — The True Purpose Behind Akatsuki's Money
"Konan," came a calm, detached voice from within the tower.
"New guests have entered the Land of Rain."
High above Amegakure, in the shadowed spire that pierced the stormy sky like a needle of steel and chakra, stood Pain — the self-proclaimed god and de facto ruler of the Land of Rain.
Through the technique known as Rain Tiger at Will, he sensed them — a sizable group, moving fast, cutting through the rain like defiant sparks.
The jutsu infused Pain's chakra into every drop of rainfall, turning the endless drizzle into his eyes and ears. As long as it rained — and in the Land of Rain, it always rained — nothing could move unseen. No spy, no intruder, no secret.
It was this vigilance that had kept his borders closed and his rule unchallenged.
"I'll handle it," said Konan.
Her serene voice cut through the hum of the storm. Without waiting for a reply, she turned — azure hair swaying, the paper flower in it trembling gently in the wind.
A pair of enormous wings unfolded from her back, formed from thousands of folded paper sheets. They shimmered under the dim light before she took off, slicing through the gray downpour that had long since lost its beauty to her.
The rain parted as she rose, and within seconds, she was gone — a white silhouette vanishing into the mist.
"Konan…"
Pain's eyes followed her ascent, their ripple-patterns reflecting nothing but control. His voice echoed low within the tower.
"The man I once was — the one who couldn't protect anything — is dead."
The words rumbled through the chamber like distant thunder.
---
Far below, drenched to the bone, Oda Nobunaga and his entourage trudged through the relentless storm. The rain felt alive — heavier than before, deliberate, almost suffocating.
Each drop carried malice.
"It's still not too late to turn back," Kakuzu said flatly, his voice rising above the hiss of rainfall. He had not stopped trying to dissuade Nobunaga since they crossed the border.
Of course, no one else in the group truly understood what they were walking into. But he did. He knew these rains were not mere weather — they were Pain's domain, a living surveillance web.
And Nobunaga — a daimyō, no less — had marched straight into it.
If Pain sees him… if he hears him…
That lunatic won't care about titles or politics. He'll just show him "pain."
"Oh?"
Nobunaga tilted his head slightly, pretending not to notice the edge in Kakuzu's tone. His expression was calm — almost amused.
"Kakuzu, you sound as though you have a grudge against Lord Hanzō of the Salamander."
Kakuzu blinked. "What?"
"Or perhaps," Nobunaga continued, smiling faintly, "you once lost to him? You've faced the God of Shinobi, haven't you? Don't tell me you fear a mere demi-god."
Kakuzu nearly tripped over his own feet.
Damn it, this idiot…!
He clenched his teeth, speechless. Of course, he hadn't lost to Hanzō — nor feared him. But how could he explain that the so-called demi-god had long been dead, and that his killer — the one ruling this land now — was far more terrifying?
And worse, how could he tell Nobunaga that Pain was someone even Kakuzu wouldn't cross lightly?
He sighed in defeat. "Fine. Have it your way. When you're nailed to a wall, don't say I didn't warn you."
He looked up at the darkening sky and gauged the distance. The chakra signatures were close now. Too close.
"She's coming," Kakuzu muttered, stepping in front of Nobunaga. "Stop here. Someone's approaching."
He exhaled slowly, tension coiling in his shoulders. "At least it's Konan. If it had been Pain himself…"
He didn't finish the thought.
"Someone's coming?" Nobunaga's eyes lit up with anticipation rather than concern.
He straightened his robes, brushing the water from his sleeves like a man about to meet an honored guest rather than a death sentence.
At last, he thought, a meeting with the Six Paths of Pain — an epochal moment in shinobi history.
Kakuzu groaned inwardly.
Before long, a white blur cut through the veil of rain. A woman descended gracefully, her paper wings folding in around her as she landed.
"...Kakuzu?"
Konan's expression softened when she saw him. To his immense relief, she was not wearing her Akatsuki cloak. Her civilian garb — plain, pale, and dry despite the rain — made her look almost human again.
She had taken the precaution before leaving — a wise move, in retrospect.
If she was surprised to find him escorting a foreign lord and his entourage through her country, she didn't show it. Only her eyes, the color of calm oceans, flicked briefly between Nobunaga and the group behind him.
The rain continued to fall, heavy and endless — the Land of Rain's heartbeat, and Pain's watchful gaze.
And somewhere deep within the tower, that gaze narrowed.
Konan hovered in the storm, rain coursing down her paper wings in silver streaks.
Her expression was cold, calm, yet behind her amber eyes, a hundred calculations flickered.
She had already decided — this trespassing group would not leave the Land of Rain alive.
But caution was her nature. Even now, she refused to risk exposing unnecessary details.
Not even a fragment of information would escape her control.
Her wings flared open like blades, paper talismans shifting along their surface — each one an explosive tag.
A single thought, and she could unleash a storm of fire upon them, a paper rain that would reduce everything below to ashes.
And with Kakuzu — her reluctant comrade — among them, she expected he would cooperate when the moment came.
But before she could move—
A voice rose against the wind.
Firm. Commanding. Human.
"I am Oda Nobunaga, daimyō of the Land of Fields!
I have come to the Land of Rain on behalf of its suffering people — to seek an alliance with the legendary Hanzō of the Salamander!"
Konan froze midair.
For an instant, even the rain seemed to hesitate.
Did he just say… Hanzō?
Her arm lowered slightly, the storm of paper stilled around her.
She hadn't stopped because of his title — a daimyō meant nothing in a world ruled by shinobi.
No, it was the name he invoked, and the tone with which he spoke it.
Hanzō. The man who had once claimed to fight for the freedom of small nations — who had then betrayed that very ideal, and in doing so, had destroyed Akatsuki's first dream of peace.
Hanzō was long dead, reduced to bones beneath the mud of Amegakure.
And yet, here was Nobunaga, speaking his name with reverence, not hatred.
It was absurd.
It was naïve.
And yet… it was painfully familiar.
"I wish to propose an alliance," Nobunaga continued, his voice ringing over the rainfall.
"In exchange for the Land of Fields supplying food to the starving citizens of the Land of Rain, I humbly ask for the protection of the great demi-god, Hanzō of the Salamander."
"He who once defied the Five Great Nations for the sake of smaller lands — I deeply admire such courage.
A man who would bear the burden of war to secure the right of the weak to exist — such a man must surely have been a leader who put his people above all else."
Konan's expression faltered.
The words hit her like echoes from another lifetime.
Once, she and Nagato had believed those same ideals — believed that Hanzō had fought for justice, for equality.
They had admired him too, until the day their admiration cost them everything.
He's just like Yahiko…
That thought pierced through her.
The fire in Nobunaga's eyes, the conviction in his voice — it was the same light Yahiko once carried when he spoke of changing the world.
The same light that had died in the rain with his blood.
And now, this stranger — this foreign lord — was standing in that same storm, speaking of compassion, peace, and hope for the weak.
For a moment, Konan saw the past superimposed on the present: Yahiko's smile, Nagato's belief, her own trembling hands that once folded paper flowers for dreams that never bloomed.
The killing intent drained from her like water.
"...You said," she murmured, her voice barely audible above the rain, "that you want to provide food to our people?"
It was the only excuse she could find — the only reason not to strike him down.
Konan, the Angel of Amegakure, the woman who now held Akatsuki's coffers and the reins of the Land of Rain's economy, searched for any justification to spare him.
Since Pain had sealed the nation off from the world, the Land of Rain had become a prison of perpetual twilight.
The endless storms blotted out the sun, making agriculture nearly impossible.
No crops grew. No trade came in.
Every mouth in the country — every orphan, every refugee, every soldier — was being fed by Akatsuki's underground network.
It was unsustainable.
Even a god, she knew, could not create food from faith alone.
That was the true reason Akatsuki gathered funds across the continent.
Their "money-making missions," the assassinations, the heists — all of it served one purpose:
To feed a nation trapped under endless rain.
The capture of the Tailed Beasts — that was the grand design.
But before ambition could take shape, survival demanded gold.
Without it, there would be no Akatsuki.
No Pain.
No Land of Rain left to save.
Konan's wings slowly folded back, the rain washing over her as she stared down at Nobunaga — the man who spoke of ideals she thought long dead.
For the first time in years, she hesitated.
And for the first time, she wondered —was this man truly just another fool chasing illusions… or was he the beginning of something real?