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The Land of Rain — Amegakure.
Perched on the borders of three great nations, the Land of Earth, the Land of Wind, and the Land of Fire, the Rain Country had always been a crossroads of war.
Even with Hanzō the Salamander, once hailed as the "Demi-God of the Shinobi," the village had never truly escaped its fate as a battlefield.
To the outside world, Hanzō was still considered Amegakure's ruler.
But Jiraiya knew better.
Standing in the downpour, his cloak heavy with rain, he gazed toward the distant skyline of Amegakure.
This was his destination and his past.
The thick clouds above never parted. The rain here never stopped.
It was the same rain that had once fallen during the Third Great Ninja War, when he and his teammates, Tsunade and Orochimaru, fought Hanzō and earned the title of the Legendary Sannin.
It was here too that Jiraiya had spent months sheltering three war orphans… children he had once believed could bring peace to this shattered land.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
So much began here… and maybe, so much will end here too.
Pulling his straw hat lower, Jiraiya pressed his palms together in a familiar sequence of hand signs.
A burst of chakra. A swirl of smoke.
And then he was gone, swallowed by the storm.
The moment his presence vanished, another figure emerged from the shadows nearby Zabuza.
He gave a quiet sigh, then performed the same summoning technique.
At his side, a masked man nodded.
"Stay in the perimeter," Neji ordered calmly. "Be ready to move at any time."
"Yes, sir."
---
Elsewhere, within the cold darkness of another dimension, Obito sat before a flickering display of chakra-infused monitors.
His visible Sharingan narrowed. One of the screens pulsed a deviation in the plan.
"…So, the timeline changes again," he muttered, before the space around him spiraled and swallowed his body whole.
---
High atop one of Amegakure's towers, Pain stopped mid-stride.
His rippled eyes turned toward the city's edge.
"There's an intruder."
"I'll handle it," Konan said softly.
Pain gave a slight nod. "Once I stop the rain, use your paper jutsu to locate him."
"Understood."
Konan stepped to the window. Pain formed a seal, and the eternal drizzle began to fade.
But even without the rain, the air remained heavy and gray.
The moment the last drop fell, Konan's body began to shift.
Cracks appeared along her porcelain skin, and countless sheets of paper peeled away from her form, spiraling into the air like white petals.
They fluttered skyward, folding themselves into paper butterflies, hundreds of them, scattering across the city.
Each pair of delicate wings carried Konan's chakra, her senses extending through them like nerves.
They took flight beneath the clouds, searching and hunting for the intruder.
Pain turned silently and entered another chamber.
There, rows of motionless bodies lay in suspended animation the Six Paths of Pain.
One by one, their eyes opened.
---
The moment Pain's "Rain Tiger at Will" technique ceased, another figure slipped into the village cloaked, calm, and unhurried.
Neji Hyuga.
Dressed in a raincoat, he avoided the paper butterflies' search patterns with surgical precision.
He stopped before a small food stall, the scent of steaming buns cutting through the damp air.
The old woman behind the counter smiled politely.
Neji adjusted his transformed features, his face subtly altered by the power of [Life Return], and ordered a basket.
He bit into one. Hot broth burst against his tongue, rich with flavor.
"Delicious," he said sincerely. "Your cooking's incredible, ma'am. Business must be good."
The woman smiled faintly and shook her head. "You're not from around here, are you? Strange day — two outsiders visiting in one morning."
Neji's eyes flicked upward. "Two?"
She nodded. "It's rare to see strangers here. But today… We had two. You should be careful, young man. This village isn't safe for travelers anymore."
Her voice carried quiet fear — and wisdom born of survival.
Neji smiled softly, finishing his food. "Thank you for the warning. It'll all be over soon."
As he walked away, the old woman exhaled a heavy sigh.
Peace had been rare in Amegakure. Fragile. And now it was ending again.
She could only pray that whatever storm was coming would pass quickly.
---
In the dim tunnels beneath the city, the paper butterflies reformed, swirling into the shape of Konan once more.
Her expression was calm, but her voice was low.
"It's him. Jiraiya."
Pain's true body — Nagato — fell silent for a long moment.
"Jiraiya-sensei," he murmured. "It's been a long time."
Konan's eyes softened. "What do you want to do?"
"Kill him," Nagato said simply. "There's nothing left to hesitate over. The man who taught me about peace… will die by the god who will enforce it."
His puppet body, the Animal Path, stepped forward. "Lead me to him."
Konan's form broke apart again into countless pages, reshaping themselves into origami birds.
"I'll face him first," she said quietly. "If he's still the man I remember… I want to see him one last time."
Pain's voice followed her into the wind. "If you can kill him, do it. Otherwise, I'll finish it."
---
Through the rippling reflection of the [Tenseigan], Neji observed everything: the silent rain, the shifting paper wings, and the awakening of the Six Paths.
He could see it all, as if watching history unfold in real time.
He murmured under his breath, quoting words that cut deep:
"The world is wrong… not him."
It was bitter irony.
Humans spoke of "choice" and "fate," but what choice truly existed?
Where you were born, when you were born, what kind of world awaited you none of it was yours to decide.
They called it destiny. But destiny was just a cage painted in pretty words.
Maybe, in that sense, Pain was right.
People don't control their circumstances only how long they can endure them.
Hope? Hope was the cruelest illusion of all.
The world didn't give it. It took it.
Pain had stopped hoping long ago.
He no longer prayed for salvation, because he had become the god who would deliver it through pain itself.
There is no hope.
Only resolve.
Only the will to reshape the world by force.
---
Hope never belonged to him.
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