The moment Kakashi's words reached the other end of the link, Uchiha Itachi fell silent.

Long.

Unbroken.

Heavy Silence.

Kakashi's voice lingered in the air: "The Akatsuki's real reason for taking Sasuke is known only to you. And we both know it's about your Mangekyō Sharingan."

It was delivered in the same level, unhurried tone—yet every word struck like a hammer on raw nerves.

On the receiving end, Itachi's composure fractured in ways no one could see.

Kakashi had struck precisely where the armor was thinnest.

His silence was not agreement.

Nor was it denial.

It was the silence of a man suddenly unsure whether his carefully balanced world had just tilted under him.

Were all his past choices—the compromises, the killings, the sacrifices—still justified?

And Sasuke… was he now just another pawn in someone else's hands?

Nagato and Konan were watching too. They didn't need to see Itachi's face to believe Kakashi's words.

If what the Copy Ninja said was true about the Eternal Mangekyō… then Itachi had motive.

And if Itachi had motive, it was all too easy to imagine him asking the masked man to act.

Under the drumming curtain of rain, the atmosphere thickened to the point of suffocation.

Then—A dense, unmistakable chakra signature flared from the outskirts of Amegakure.

Nagato's eyes sharpened. In one smooth motion, he severed the connection with Itachi.

He turned toward the disturbance, his voice flat but edged. "Leaf Village's ANBU?"

Even before his words faded, shadowy figures appeared along the borders—black cloaks, animal masks, precise formations.

Their movements were too disciplined to be regular shinobi.

Root.

Nagato's Rinnegan glowed faintly as he looked down at Jiraiya."This is Konoha's sincerity? We speak of cooperation, and your ANBU encircle my village?"

Jiraiya stiffened, caught between the situation and his own surprise.

He shot a look at Kakashi.

"Kakashi… I thought you were just here to collect me."

Kakashi's brow furrowed. He spoke low and sharp.

"I was. The Third only ordered me to escort you home. As for these Root operatives…"He let the pause draw out, then dropped the name like a stone."…It might be Danzo."

The effect was immediate.

At the name, Nagato's gaze iced over, his killing intent leaking like a crack in a dam.

Rain pooled around his feet, trembling under the pulse of his chakra.

Danzo.

The same shadow who had once meddled in Amegakure's fate, whose whispers had armed Hanzo with treachery, whose schemes had ended with Yahiko's death.

From the darkness, Black Zetsu tensed.

This was wrong. All wrong.

Obito's moves after he went crazy, he could understand.

But this? Danzo's arrival here, now, when tensions were razor-thin—Something was being orchestrated.

And whoever was pulling the strings… knew exactly how deep Danzo's presence would cut.

A soft, measured tap… tap… tap of footsteps emerged from the hiss of rain.

A figure parted the Root formation. Leaning on a cane, his gray robe hanging like a shroud, he stepped forward.

His eyes were cold slits, his expression the patience of a predator.

Danzo Shimura.

The air froze solid. Every gaze locked on him as he scanned the gathering without haste, without fear—until his eyes fixed on Nagato.

"The Rinnegan user," he said at last.

His voice was low, hoarse, and soaked in greed. "I've finally met you."

Chakra surged from Nagato like a sudden storm front. The Six Paths of Pain appeared in unison, stepping forward as one, their killing intent forming a suffocating wall.

"You shouldn't have come."

Kakashi's hand was already on his short sword, body sliding subtly to guard Jiraiya's flank.

"Jiraiya-sama," he murmured, "it seems peaceful words are no longer possible."

"Danzo!" Jiraiya's voice cracked with restrained fury.

"What are you doing here? Are you here to sabotage the talks?"

Danzo's answer was delivered without heat, as if he were simply stating fact."Negotiations? Watch your tongue. I am still the Hokage's advisor. And I say this—Akatsuki does not wish for cooperation. They are buying time to prepare their next blow. The world edges toward ruin. What we need is to seize and consolidate every force we can—not be lulled by the enemy's lies."

Jiraiya barked a mirthless laugh. "So you storm in with Root and invade their territory? That's your diplomacy?"

"If we don't show Konoha's power," Danzo said, unmoved, "they will never choose to cooperate."

The tension between them felt like thin wire drawn to the snapping point—one wrong breath, and the rain would run red.

Nagato's killing intent thickened until it felt tangible, a suffocating pressure that rolled across the rain-slick streets. The brilliance in his Rinnegan flared—cold, absolute, and merciless—while the Six Paths of Pain shifted in unison, each ready to strike without hesitation.

The world seemed drowned in iron-grey shadows, the heavy clouds pressing down until the air itself felt as though it would crack.Raindrops stabbed into tile and stone like a rain of needles, their rhythm growing faster, harsher, as if echoing the tension between life and death.

Danzo stood unmoved within a ring of Root operatives, leaning lightly on his cane. His one visible eye locked on the figure before him—a god in mortal flesh—yet showed no fear.

The Rinnegan glared back at him, ancient and bottomless, the kind of gaze that could strip the soul from the body. Most men would have faltered under its weight. Danzo simply let the corner of his lips curl upward.

"You…" He tilted his head, his tone deceptively casual. "The Rinnegan… how did it end up with you?"

There was a deliberate pause, just long enough to twist the knife."I remember now… Yahiko, wasn't it? The loud little fool who played at being a leader." His voice dropped lower, colder. "So tell me—did you kill Nagato and pluck those eyes from his corpse? Was power really worth betraying your own?"

The sentence struck like lightning in a dry forest.

Nagato's pupils constricted, the fury in them enough to make the rain hesitate mid-fall. The air grew heavy with boiling chakra, a tidal wave straining at the edge of eruption.

Konan stiffened beside him, her breath catching. Her hands curled into trembling fists as she stepped forward, voice raw and breaking:"What… did you just say?"

Danzo didn't look at her. His gaze never wavered from Nagato's, his smirk widening slightly, feeding off the reaction."Hanzo should have finished the job back then. Instead, he let a gutter rat crawl out from under the corpses and play god."

The words were dipped in acid—an open mockery of Yahiko's death, Nagato's scars, and Konan's grief.It was the arrogance of a man from a great nation, looking down on a war-torn land as nothing but a pawn to break and remake.

Tendo Pain moved.

The pressure in the air snapped like a bowstring.

"Shinra Tensei!"

The world convulsed. Space itself seemed to fold inward before detonating outward in a repulsive burst so vast it ripped the rain apart. Droplets flew skyward like reversed waterfalls as a shockwave tore across the street.

Root operatives were hurled like ragdolls, smashing into walls and rooftops, their cries lost in the roar. Stone cracked, metal twisted, and the flagstones beneath Danzo's feet shattered.

Even he couldn't stand unshaken—his cane splintered with a sharp crack as the force drove him stumbling back, boots gouging wet trails into the stone before he steadied himself.

Nagato's voice rumbled through the storm, deep and final:"You dare to stain Yahiko's name… You are not worthy to set foot in this land."

From somewhere in the shadows, Black Zetsu muttered to himself with a weary sigh.This is going to get messy…