Black Zetsu melded into a damp, slippery wall covered in moss, his tiny, beady eyes fixed intently on the narrow, filthy alleyway below.
The rain blurred his vision, but it couldn't wash away the rising sense of absurdity in his heart.
The script shouldn't have been like this.
According to his design, once Nagato learned of Jiraiya's infiltration, he should have descended as a god, using a 'Shinra Tensei' powerful enough to level half the village as an opening statement. Then, teacher and student would engage in a life-or-death debate about 'peace' and 'pain' amidst the torrential rain, finally concluding with Jiraiya's death as the answer to Nagato completely severing his ties to the past.
To ensure he could enjoy the show undisturbed, he hadn't even brought White Zetsu with him!
However, reality had just delivered a stinging slap to his face.
The three figures wearing Rain shinobi uniforms were currently surrounding that wretched 'wandering artist.'
"Something is wrong..."
Black Zetsu's raspy voice echoed within the cracks of the wall. 'What are Nagato and Konan playing at? That Transformation Jutsu... though sophisticated, why use such an inefficient method to make contact? Wouldn't it be easier to just kill him?'
He watched helplessly as the three 'Rain shinobi' didn't strike; instead, they patiently listened to the old man's nonsense.
What terrified Black Zetsu even more was that the old man—Jiraiya—despite his humble and fawning smile, seemed to be referencing his hidden presence with every word he spoke.
...
Rewind to five minutes ago.
Deep in the alley, Jiraiya looked at the three Rain shinobi blocking his path.
The leader was the same one who had confiscated his initial draft of 'Icha Icha Paradise' at the village entrance.
"Yo, sirs."
Jiraiya's face was plastered with the fawning smile typical of a commoner. His posture was slightly hunched, making him look completely non-threatening. "What... what's going on? I'm just a law-abiding citizen. Didn't that lord check me earlier?"
As he spoke, he surreptitiously observed the three of them.
Though they wore the signature hooded raincoats and respirators of the Rain Village, and even suppressed their chakra to the level of an ordinary Chunin, such disguises were largely ineffective before a veteran like Jiraiya.
Among the three, only one had a glaring flaw in their Transformation Jutsu, while the other two were so flawless that even he could barely find a crack.
But Jiraiya already had a suspicion.
It had to be them.
Nagato and Konan.
They hadn't sent the killing machines known as the Six Paths of Pain; instead, they chose to approach in disguise.
What did that mean?
Did it mean they still held a shred of nostalgia for their teacher?
Or had they also sensed something was off and wanted to confirm it personally?
"Hey, old man."
The leading 'Rain shinobi'—actually Konan—took a step forward, waving the 'Icha Icha Paradise' manuscript with an unreadable tone. "The plot in this book... did you make it up yourself?"
Jiraiya blinked, then immediately slipped into character.
He rubbed his hands together, his face twisting into a lecherous smile that 'only men understand.' "Hehe, you have a keen eye, my lord. This is all based on real insights I've gathered during my travels. Why? Are you interested in the plot? If you like, I can give you a quick summary..."
"Shut up."
Konan cut him off coldly, but showed no sign of anger. Instead, she tucked the manuscript back into her cloak, appearing to care deeply about this 'contraband.'
Behind her, Nagato—acting through Pain—remained silent, his eyes hidden behind a respirator, staring fixedly at Jiraiya.
Even through the disguise, Jiraiya could feel the complexity in that gaze.
It was scrutiny, nostalgia, and vigilance all at once.
"We found your entry record at the gate,"
Pain finally spoke. "A wandering artist, traveling with a toad, arriving in the Rain Village at a time like this. Don't you think the timing is a bit too convenient?"
"I'm being framed, sirs!"
Jiraiya cried out with exaggerated grievance, his acting enough to make any real beggar blush. "I'm just trying to make a living! I heard that while the Rain Village is secluded, the Great Pain is strict and fair, and won't kill people for no reason. That's why I gathered my courage to come..."
When he mentioned the name 'Pain,' Jiraiya keenly noticed the individual with the flawed Transformation Jutsu react with excitement.
In contrast, the auras of Pain and Konan didn't ripple at all.
"Enough talk."
Pain stepped forward, subtly forming a pincer movement. "The borders haven't been peaceful lately. Many rats are trying to sneak in. For the safety of the village, we need to conduct a more thorough interrogation."
"Interrogation? No problem, no problem at all!"
Jiraiya immediately raised his hands in a gesture of total cooperation. "All I have are these rags on my back and this toad. Oh, right, and a few leftover Food Pills for emergencies..."
As he spoke, he sighed as if by accident, his gaze becoming distant.
"To be honest, sirs, I don't want to hide it. Besides begging for food, I'm actually here hunting an enemy."
"An enemy?"
Konan's brow furrowed slightly. "What kind of enemy?"
The fish bit the hook.
Jiraiya pulled his neck back, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his tattered straw raincoat, looking every bit like a broken artist bent by life's hardships.
Yet, his seemingly cloudy eyes scanned the three through his rain-soaked hair.
The tall 'Rain shinobi' on the left, though bundled up, had a cold temperament and a subconscious stance that protected the person in the middle. It was too familiar.
That was Konan.
The one in the middle, even with a slight scan, was clearly a young girl.
As for the one on the right...
Jiraiya's gaze lingered for a split second before moving on naturally.
Though that person's Transformation Jutsu maintained the shape, the face was too stiff, and the eyes were as lifeless as stagnant water, like a corpse being pulled by strings.
Is that... Yahiko?
His heart twitched violently, as if seized by an invisible hand.
Jiraiya suppressed the bitterness rising in his throat and forced out an even more humble smile.
"An enemy... Hehe, I'm afraid telling you might scare you, sirs."
Jiraiya sniffed and spoke with the exaggerated tone of a commoner. "That guy isn't normal. He's a monster! A complete and utter monster!"
Konan's lip twitched slightly under her respirator.
She had recognized him, of course.
Despite the stubble, the sour smell, and the nearly non-existent chakra fluctuations, the inherent mannerisms—the way he scratched his head when in trouble and the purple toad in his arms...
It was Jiraiya-sensei.
Konan subconsciously looked at Nagato.
Nagato's gaze was deep and complex. Obviously, with the Rinnegan, he had confirmed the other's identity even sooner than Konan.
'Sensei...' Nagato repeated the name in his mind. A long-forgotten pang of sorrow welled up, but it was quickly suppressed by cold logic.
'Why is he here?'
'Is he a spy sent by Konoha?'
'Or is he here to clean house?'
Since his teacher was acting, Nagato wasn't afraid to waste time; he decided to play along.
He wanted to see what this teacher, who had once taught them the 'way of survival,' was trying to achieve.
"A monster?"
Pain intentionally lowered his voice, matching Jiraiya's performance. "What kind of monster is worth a wandering artist like you traveling thousands of miles to find the Rain Village?"
"The guy looks terrifying!"
Jiraiya gestured wildly, spit flying everywhere, while his peripheral vision remained locked on Nagato and Konan's reactions. "Half black, half white, like a... like a pitcher plant that came to life! Especially that black side—it's as dark as ink and can meld into the ground like water. He's everywhere and nowhere. It's enough to scare someone to death!"
Jiraiya's heart was pounding.
He knew they had recognized him, and he knew they were playing along.
That was enough.
As long as they were willing to act, it meant their bond as teacher and students wasn't completely broken.
As long as they were willing to listen, the seed of suspicion could be planted.
"I was so scared my legs turned to jelly, and I accidentally snapped a branch..." Jiraiya shrank back as if still in fear. "The guy found me. If I hadn't run fast and gotten lucky by jumping into a river, this old life of mine would've been over!"
The groundwork was laid. Now was the moment to reveal the dagger.
Jiraiya swallowed hard, glanced around to ensure 'no one' was watching, and then leaned in. In a terrified and mysterious whisper, he squeezed the name through his teeth:
"I even heard his name—Black Zetsu."
"I only came here to avenge my village..."
...
Boom!
It was as if a bolt of lightning had exploded in the narrow alley.
Hiding in the crevice of the wall, Black Zetsu, who had been waiting for the show, saw his beady eyes contract to their limit.
He stared fixedly at the loquacious Jiraiya, a sense of unprecedented absurdity and horror surging within him.
'This bastard... what is he doing?!'
Black Zetsu was roaring inwardly.
He knew it was Jiraiya, and he knew Nagato and Konan knew as well.
In his original script, this should have been an awkward reunion or a tragic confrontation.
But he never imagined Jiraiya would just flip the table entirely!
Furthermore, this old fossil had actually revealed his involvement in the attack on Konoha right in front of Nagato!
"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!"
...
"Black Zetsu..."
Nagato mulled over the name, the ripples of the Rinnegan vibrating slightly behind his disguised face.
'Isn't Black Zetsu a member of our organization?'
'What is Sensei trying to say?'
If this were merely a ploy to sow discord, the method was far too crude.
But because it was so crude, it felt exceptionally real.
Nagato recalled Zetsu's recent movements.
Indeed, Zetsu had been disappearing for long periods lately. Was he really off attacking Konoha?
If Zetsu could attack Konoha behind the organization's back, what else was he doing behind Nagato's back?
A seed called 'suspicion' was planted deep in the hearts of Nagato and Konan at that moment, delivered through Jiraiya's mouth.
Konan's gaze became somewhat cold.
She was more sensitive than Nagato.
She had never liked that dark, gloomy creature, Zetsu.
Hearing her teacher say this, she instinctively chose to believe him.
"That guy..."
Konan stared at Jiraiya, her voice dropping lower. Although she was playing along, her chill was directed at someone in the shadows. "Besides the name, what else did he say?"
Jiraiya felt a surge of joy.
She took the bait.
"I... I didn't hear too much.", Jiraiya waved his hands fearfully. "Just something about... the moon... eyes... and saying he was playing those fools in red-cloud cloaks like a fiddle..."
Thump!
Nagato suddenly punched the adjacent wall. The wall crumbled, revealing a person who had been knocked unconscious and fell into a latrine.
"Fools in red-cloud cloaks..."
The red-cloud black cloak was the symbol of the Akatsuki, the battle armor they wore to fight for peace.
In Zetsu's mouth, were they just fools?
"Hey, old man."
Pain questioned him. "If you're making this up, you'll die a miserable death."
Jiraiya looked at that familiar face, into those lifeless eyes, and felt as if his heart were being carved by a dull knife.
That was Yahiko.
The sunny, foolish student who always shouted about changing the world.
Now, he was a puppet controlled by others, unable even to speak with his own voice.
Jiraiya fought back the stinging heat in his eyes, his face showing even more terror as his legs buckled, nearly kneeling on the ground.
"My lord! Give me ten times the courage and I still wouldn't dare lie to a ninja!"
He pulled the small purple toad from his cloak and held it over his head. "If I've told a single lie, let this toad's belly rot! Let lightning strike me! Let me die a horrible death!"
Gamakon: "..."
In his mind, he cursed eighteen generations of Jiraiya's ancestors.
'This old man is addicted to acting, isn't he?'
"Croak!"
Gamakon let out a perfectly timed cry, rolling his eyes with a look that said, 'This old man is hopeless.'
Seeing Jiraiya's ridiculous and humble appearance, the killing intent in Nagato's eyes dissipated slightly, replaced by a deep sense of sorrow.
'Sensei recognized us,' Nagato thought with certainty.
Meanwhile, Black Zetsu watched from the shadows.
This was a silent play where all three parties were in the know. Only Black Zetsu, the fool, thought he was watching a show, unaware that he was the clown on the stage.
"Fine."
Nagato took a deep breath, suppressing the emotions churning in his heart.
He didn't want to strike at his teacher here.
The issue with Black Zetsu was more serious than he imagined. If what his teacher said was true, then the very foundation of the Akatsuki... might have been crooked from the start.
"Since you lack strength, stay hidden."
Nagato said coldly, pulling a wad of crumpled bills from his cloak and throwing them into the mud at Jiraiya's feet. "Take the money and leave the Rain Village immediately. Don't wander the streets. If that 'Black Zetsu' finds you, no one can save you."
The bills were the standard currency of the Rain Village.
Looking at the money scattered in the mud, Jiraiya paused.
He bent over, picking up the bills one by one with slow, clumsy movements.
The rain soaked his back, making him look particularly wretched.
"Thank you... thank you, sirs."
Jiraiya lowered his head, his voice raspy. "You lords are truly good people... good people will be rewarded."
'Good people?'
A self-deprecating smirk tugged at the corner of Nagato's mouth under his mask.
'Sensei, is this our final pittance to you?'
'Just like when you left back then?'
But this money felt more like 'payment' for certain information.
"Let's go."
Nagato barked. He turned and led Konan and Ajisai away, vanishing into the curtain of rain.
They left in a hurry.
The name Black Zetsu was like a thorn stuck in their hearts.
They had to go back and verify this immediately.
Within the crack of the wall.
Black Zetsu watched the three of them leave, then glanced at Jiraiya, who was still picking up money. His beady eyes were full of dread.
He knew he was in big trouble.
Nagato's final look, though obscured by rain, was felt—it was suspicion.
"Jiraiya..."
Black Zetsu gnashed his teeth. "Just you wait. I'll remember this debt."
He didn't dare linger. His body sank rapidly into the wall. He had to come up with a perfect excuse before Nagato turned on him, or... drag that lunatic Obito out to take the fall.
As for attacking Jiraiya?
Don't be ridiculous. Striking now would only prove Jiraiya right.
Besides, he couldn't waste his power on an old man.
In the alley, only Jiraiya remained.
He gripped the wet bills in his hand, waiting until the feeling of being watched vanished completely before slowly straightening his back.
The humility and terror on his face vanished instantly, replaced by an unprecedented solemnity and sorrow.
"Are they gone?"
Gamakon poked his head out from his cloak and whispered, "Is that black rat gone too?"
"Yeah."
Jiraiya opened his palm, looking at the money dirtied by the muddy water, his gaze losing focus.
"Nagato... even after becoming like that, he still gave me money."
He gave a bitter laugh and carefully tucked the money into his breast pocket. "That boy was always soft-hearted as a kid. Now, despite the tough talk, his heart is still..."
"Stop with the self-pity,"
Gamakon interrupted heartlessly. "He gave you money because he understood your words. That's 'hush money' and an 'intel fee.' It means he believed you—at least halfway."
"Halfway is enough."
Jiraiya took a deep breath, his eyes becoming sharp again. "As long as that half-suspicion exists, Black Zetsu's days in the Akatsuki won't be easy. Nagato isn't a fool. Once he starts looking, Zetsu's flaws won't be able to stay hidden."
"What's next?" Gamakon asked.
"A play must be performed to the end."
Jiraiya glanced toward the west. "Now that our plan has succeeded, let's leave the Rain Village and head back."
...
The Rain Village Tower.
Nagato and Konan returned to their base, the atmosphere oppressively heavy.
"Konan."
Nagato sat in his wheelchair, his Transformation Jutsu deactivated to reveal his skeletal frame. "Where is Black Zetsu?"
"I don't know."
Konan's expression was icy. "He was nearby just a moment ago, but now his presence has completely vanished."
"Hmph, hiding?"
Nagato let out a cold laugh. "A sign of a guilty conscience."
"Nagato,", Konan looked at him with concern. "Are Sensei's words... truly believable? What if this is a Konoha..."
"A Konoha ploy to sow discord?"
Nagato looked up, a sharp light flashing in his Rinnegan. "Even for a wedge to work, there must be a crack to drive it into. If Black Zetsu were truly loyal, Sensei's words would be nonsense. But Zetsu's reaction now... is too suspicious."
"Investigate."
Nagato issued a strict order. "Use all our channels in the black market to track Black Zetsu's movements. Especially for the recent period—I want to know exactly where he was and what he was doing."
"And..."
Nagato paused, his gaze drifting to the rain outside the window. "Send a Paper Clone to watch Sensei."
"Should I kill him?" Konan asked.
"No."
Nagato closed his eyes, his voice low. "Protect him. If Black Zetsu is plotting something, he will surely try to silence him. Sensei is now... our key witness to verifying the truth."
"Understood."
Konan nodded, her body dissolving into countless sheets of paper.
Nagato sat alone at the empty top of the tower, staring at the expressionless face of Deva Path Pain.
"Yahiko..."
He whispered, "Were our dreams really being used?"
Events began to connect in Nagato's mind.
At this moment, his intellect had finally reclaimed the high ground.
Konan walked down from the tower, her paper wings retracted, returning to the solemn red-cloud black cloak.
Ajisai, who had been waiting below for a long time, hesitated to speak.
As one of the most outstanding ninjas of the Rain Village's new generation, Ajisai held a near-fanatical adoration for 'Lady Angel.'
In her eyes, the Angel was the messenger of God and the hope of saving this weeping nation.
But everything that happened today gave the young girl a sense of dissonance.
That wretched wandering artist, that lecherous old man full of nonsense—he didn't seem like a harmless soul at all.
"Lady Angel."
Ajisai finally couldn't help it. She hurried forward, stopping half a step behind Konan, her voice crisp but tinged with urgency. "I don't understand."
Konan's footsteps paused slightly, but she didn't turn around. "Don't understand what?"
"Why not lock that performer up for interrogation?"
Ajisai frowned, her hand instinctively resting on her ninja tool pouch as she recalled the scene. "That old man seemed humble and weak, but I felt something was off. His reaction to ninjas wasn't quite right."
Konan stopped walking.
She turned around, quietly observing this subordinate who was full of vigor and sharpness.
Ajisai was perceptive, which was both a blessing and a curse.
In this shinobi world full of lies and betrayal, the overly perceptive often didn't live long.
"Ajisai.", Konan's voice was light, like raindrops hitting paper. "Do you think it's easy for an ordinary person to survive in this country?"
Ajisai was stunned.
She hadn't expected Lady Angel to ask such a strange question.
"It's... it's not easy.", Ajisai answered hesitantly. "War, famine, internal strife... just surviving is difficult enough."
"Yes, it's very hard."
Konan turned her head, her gaze passing through the stairwell window toward the eternal rain outside. "To survive, ordinary people must learn to wear masks. Beggars must act more piteous, merchants more shrewd, and even the stray dogs on the street must learn to tuck their tails between their legs."
She reached out, catching a drop of cold water leaking from a pipe.
"That man might have some street smarts or secrets we don't know. But the way he knelt in the mud to pick up those bills..."
The image of Jiraiya's hunched back flashed through Konan's mind. The heartache she felt in that moment hadn't been an act. She closed her eyes, pushing the surging emotion back down.
"That was an ordinary man doing everything he could to survive. In this world, an ordinary person often has to work much harder than we ninjas just to stay alive."
Konan didn't answer Ajisai's query directly, giving instead an ambiguous reply. "Since God decided to let him go, there's no need to ask further. Sometimes, knowing too much is a danger in itself."
"...Yes, I understand."
Ajisai nodded, though she only half-understood. Despite her lingering doubts, since it was Lady Angel's word, she chose unconditional obedience.
"You may leave.", Konan waved her hand. "Notify the patrol to increase security around the tower. Tonight... will not be peaceful."
"By your command!"
Ajisai bowed and vanished into the dark corridor.
Once her subordinate had left, Konan raised her right hand. Countless white sheets of paper converged in her palm, eventually forming delicate paper cranes.
"Go."
Konan commanded softly.
The paper cranes seemed to come to life, flapping their wings as they flew silently out through the ventilation ducts.