At the same time, many miles from the road where Naruto slept peacefully under Jiraiya's watchful protection, in a location carefully chosen for its isolation and defensibility, darkness gathered in forms both literal and metaphorical.
The Akatsuki hideout was a cave system carved into mountains so remote that most maps didn't acknowledge their existence—partly because cartographers had never ventured this far into hostile terrain, partly because those who had tried to chart these peaks had a disturbing tendency to disappear without explanation. The entrance was concealed by genjutsu layers sophisticated enough to fool even skilled sensor-nin, creating the visual impression of solid rock where actually a passage existed. The interior extended deep into stone that had never seen sunlight, creating chambers where secrecy could be maintained and plans could be made without fear of casual discovery or oversight from the shinobi villages that would very much like to know what Akatsuki was planning.
In one of these chambers—large enough to accommodate a dozen people comfortably but currently holding only two physical presences and several projected ones—a meeting was taking place that would have terrified anyone who understood Akatsuki's true goals and capabilities.
Hidan stood near the center of the chamber, his distinctive three-bladed scythe resting against his shoulder with the casual familiarity of someone who'd killed with that weapon hundreds of times. His silver hair caught what little light filtered through from the chamber's entrance, creating an almost ethereal appearance that contrasted sharply with the violence his weapon represented. His expression carried the particular irritation of someone who'd traveled a long distance for nothing, whose time had been wasted by faulty intelligence or changed circumstances.
"So you're absolutely sure the jinchūriki isn't present in the village?" Hidan's voice echoed off stone walls, carrying accusation and frustration in equal measure. "You could have told us that before we spent three days traveling here! Do you have any idea how boring it is walking through forests with nothing to kill? Kakuzu won't even let me sacrifice the merchants we pass! It's torture! Actual torture! Lord Jashin is probably disappointed in me for not providing proper offerings!"
Beside him, Kakuzu remained mostly silent, his masked face revealing nothing of his thoughts. His green eyes—visible through the mask's openings—tracked the shadowy projections arrayed around the chamber's perimeter with the calculating assessment of someone who valued actionable information over pointless complaint. Unlike his partner, Kakuzu had learned long ago that expressing frustration to Akatsuki leadership was both pointless and potentially dangerous. Better to listen, assess, and plan than to waste breath on protests that would be ignored.
The shadows that represented the other Akatsuki members shifted slightly in response to Hidan's outburst. These weren't physical presences but projections created through a technique that allowed secure communication across vast distances—each member could participate in meetings while their actual bodies remained safe in their individual locations, conducting whatever business they were engaged in while their consciousness attended organizational discussions.
One shadow—larger than the others, positioned at what would be the head of a table if this chamber contained furniture, carrying an authority that made it clearly the leader—spoke with a voice that held multiple tones simultaneously, as if several people were speaking in perfect unison. "The intelligence was accurate at the time it was gathered. The Nine-Tails' jinchūriki was in Konohagakure, residing in the Sarutobi compound under the Third Hokage's protection. However, circumstances changed rapidly. The boy has been removed from the village by Jiraiya of the Sannin. Their current location is being tracked through various means, but intercepting them while they're actively traveling with one of the Legendary Sannin would be... inadvisable at this time."
"Inadvisable," Hidan repeated mockingly, his scythe shifting slightly on his shoulder. "You mean impossible because none of us want to fight Jiraiya directly. Just say it plainly! We're avoiding him because he's actually dangerous unlike most of the targets we hunt! We're being cowards about it!"
"We're being strategic," the leader's voice corrected with an edge that suggested diminishing patience with Hidan's theatrical complaints. "Jiraiya is an S-rank shinobi with decades of combat experience, mastery of techniques we don't fully understand, and the full support of Konohagakure's intelligence network. Engaging him directly would cost resources and potentially lives that we cannot afford to lose at this stage of our plan. We work on timescales measured not days and weeks. We wait. We track. We strike when circumstances favor success."
Another shadow—this one distinctly feminine in silhouette, smaller than most of the others but carrying its own weight of authority—spoke with a voice that carried warning beneath its calm surface. "Hidan, your complaints are noted. You captured the Two-Tails successfully. That operation went exactly as planned and provided us with one of the required targets. That you didn't also capture the Nine-Tails during the same operational window is irrelevant. Your impatience doesn't change the strategic reality that some targets require more preparation than others."
"Easy for you to say," Hidan shot back, though his tone carried slightly less venom than when addressing Pain directly. "You're not the one stuck traveling with someone who counts every ryō we spend like it's coming from his own pocket! Who won't let me have any fun or perform proper religious observances! Do you know what it's like being partnered with the stingiest person in the entire shinobi world? It's a nightmare! A nightmare I endure for Lord Jashin's glory, but still a nightmare!"
Kakuzu's response was characteristically blunt and economic with words: "If you'd stop trying to sacrifice every merchant, farmer, and random traveler we encounter, we wouldn't need to discuss budgetary restraint. Your religious practices are expensive, draw unwanted attention, and create complications that cost time and money to resolve. You don't need to practice as obsessively as you do."
"Sacrifices are sacred!" Hidan's voice rose with genuine offense, his grip on the scythe tightening. "Lord Jashin demands blood and pain and proper ritual observance! I can't just skip ceremonies because my partner is obsessed with profit margins! That's blasphemy! That's—"
"Enough." Pain's voice cut through the brewing argument with absolute authority that made both partners fall silent immediately. "Your theological debates and partnership dynamics are not why this meeting was called. Hidan, Kakuzu—you have new orders. Since the Nine-Tails is temporarily beyond reach and pursuing it would be strategically unsound, you'll redirect to alternative targets. We've received intelligence about a potential Three-Tails location that requires investigation and confirmation. You'll proceed there after you've rested and resupplied."
"How long are we supposed to rest?" Hidan asked, his earlier irritation transforming into something more dangerous—boredom combined with combat readiness and religious fervor with no acceptable outlet. "Because if we have free time, I want to vent some frustration on Konohagakure. They made this mission complicated by moving the jinchūriki. They specifically relocated him to keep us from capturing him. I think they deserve some consequences for that decision. A reminder that making our job harder has costs."
"No." Pain's response was immediate and flat. "Attacking Konohagakure directly serves no strategic purpose at this stage and would alert them to our organization's capabilities and intentions before we're ready for full conflict. We are not yet prepared for open warfare with a major village. You will not engage Konohagakure."
"Just a little attack!" Hidan pressed, his grin visible even in the dim light, carrying the manic enthusiasm of someone who genuinely enjoyed violence for its own sake. "Nothing major that would expose us! Just enough to make them nervous, maybe kill a few border patrol teams, leave some bodies arranged artistically as calling cards that remind them they should be afraid. It would be therapeutic! For me! Which improves team morale and combat effectiveness! Which serves the organization's interests!"
The logic was transparently self-serving, built on rationalizations that fooled no one. But before Pain could reject the proposal again, Konan's shadow shifted slightly, her voice measured and calculating in ways that suggested genuine strategic consideration rather than indulging Hidan's bloodlust.
"If they require rest and resupply anyway," she said carefully, "and if they're careful to avoid direct attribution to Akatsuki, a minor border incident might actually serve multiple purposes. Konoha is currently destabilized by leadership transition—their Hokage is dead, no replacement has been formally selected, and internal political factions are competing for influence. Reminding them that external threats still exist and don't pause for their internal drama might accelerate their selection of a new Hokage, which would give us better intelligence about who we're dealing with going forward and how they're likely to respond to future provocations."
Pain was silent for a long moment—long enough that the other shadows shifted restlessly, waiting for judgment from someone whose decisions shaped the organization's trajectory. The silence stretched, filled only by the sound of water dripping somewhere deeper in the cave system.
Finally: "Fine. You have seventy-two hours. Create an incident that appears to be standard border conflict. No use of techniques that could be traced back to us. No leaving bodies arranged in ways that suggest ritual killing rather than combat casualties. Make it appear as opportunistic aggression from minor villages testing Konoha's current weakness, or missing-nin taking advantage of reduced border security, not coordinated attack from an organized force. Is that clearly understood?"
"Perfectly!" Hidan's grin widened with genuine delight. "See, Kakuzu? We get to have fun after all! This is going to be great! Seventy-two hours of proper violence! Lord Jashin will be so pleased!"
Kakuzu's sigh was audible even through his mask, carrying the long-suffering tone of someone who'd had this exact conversation too many times. "Define 'fun' and I'll define 'disaster waiting to happen and probably costing us money.' Try not to get us killed or exposed before we can collect payment for the Three-Tails intelligence. Also, try to remember that 'no identification' means you can't perform your usual elaborate ritual arrangements."
"Where's your sense of adventure? Your joy in combat? Your appreciation for artful violence?" Hidan spun his scythe in a theatrical arc that would have decapitated anyone standing too close. "You're like a walking calculation. No soul. No passion. Just numbers and money and profit margins!"
"Return within seventy-two hours," Pain's voice cut through their bickering one final time. "After that, you proceed to the Three-Tails location immediately. No delays. No excuses. No extended detours for additional 'therapeutic violence.' The timeline is not negotiable. Understood?"
"Understood," they said in unison—Kakuzu with resignation, Hidan with barely contained glee.
The shadows began to dissipate as members disconnected from the projection technique, their chakra signatures fading as consciousness returned to distant bodies. Within moments, only Hidan and Kakuzu remained in the physical chamber, the meeting concluded and their new orders received.
"Seventy-two hours to cause trouble near Konoha," Hidan mused, already moving toward the cave exit with renewed energy. "That's plenty of time! We can hit multiple border patrol teams, maybe burn down a supply depot, definitely perform at least three proper sacrifices if I'm efficient about it—"
"We're doing reconnaissance disguised as random violence," Kakuzu corrected, following at his own measured pace. "Not conducting a religious festival. Focus. Restraint. Plausible deniability. These are the parameters we're working within."
Their voices faded as they exited the cave, leaving only darkness and the faint chakra traces of the projection technique slowly dissipating into surrounding stone.
The forests surrounding Konohagakure were extensive—miles upon miles of dense woodland that served multiple purposes. Natural barriers against invasion, forcing any attacking force to navigate terrain that favored defenders. Training grounds for Academy students learning survival skills and genin teams developing teamwork. Habitat for wildlife that had learned to coexist with occasional human presence. And inevitably, places where travelers passed through and where those with less innocent intentions sometimes lurked.
Hidan and Kakuzu approached from the northwest, staying just outside the range where regular border patrols operated but close enough to Konoha's territory that any violence they caused would be noticed and reported back to the village. The afternoon sun filtered through the canopy overhead, creating shifting patterns of light and shadow as wind moved branches.
"There," Hidan said suddenly, his voice dropping to something closer to normal speaking volume rather than his usual theatrical projection. He pointed toward a small clearing visible through the trees. "A target. Finally! I was starting to think this forest was completely empty!"
In the clearing, a figure that appeared to be a child—perhaps eight or nine years old based on size and proportions—was engaged in some kind of digging activity. Their back was to Hidan and Kakuzu's position, and their movements had an oddly mechanical quality, lacking the natural flow of human motion. But from a distance that could easily be attributed to focus on their task or physical fatigue from prolonged digging.
Kakuzu watched from behind a large tree, his calculating gaze assessing the situation with the paranoia that came from decades of survival in hostile environments. Something felt wrong about this scenario—wrong in ways his extensive experience recognized even if he couldn't articulate specific reasons. The child's posture was odd. Their movements too regular. The fact that they were alone in a forest this close to a major village without any adult supervision was suspicious.
"Hidan, wait. That's not—"
But Hidan was already moving, his earlier frustration at the wasted trip to find Naruto combining with religious fervor to override any tactical caution. He approached the figure from behind, his scythe held ready but not yet raised, moving with the predatory silence of someone who'd killed hundreds of times and knew exactly how to close distance without alerting prey until it was too late.
"Lord Jashin will appreciate this sacrifice," Hidan whispered, more to himself than to his partner. His scythe rose slowly, positioned for a strike calculated to separate head from shoulders in one clean motion. "Small offerings matter too! All blood is sacred! All pain is prayer! And this one won't even see it coming!"
The blade descended in a silver arc, fast enough that most targets wouldn't have time to register the attack before dying. The trajectory was perfect, the speed impressive, the killing intent absolutely genuine.
But this target was not most victims.
The child's back erupted—not with blood or flesh or any normal human reaction to sensing danger, but with wood. A spike of living timber burst from between their shoulder blades with explosive force, growing with impossible speed, extending toward Hidan's face with clear intent to impale rather than merely defend. The wood was dark, almost black, and moved with purpose that suggested conscious control rather than automatic defense.
Hidan's eyes widened with surprise rather than fear—his immortality made fear of death mostly irrelevant—but before the wooden spike could pierce his skull, fire erupted between him and his target.
Kakuzu had moved with the speed of someone who'd been anticipating trouble, his hands completing seals even as he'd watched Hidan's attack begin. "Fire Release: Burst!"
The flame technique crashed into the wooden spike mid-extension, engulfing it in fire that should have incinerated plant matter instantly. The wood burned, catching fire with a sound like paper being crumpled, flames spreading along its length toward the child's back.
But there was something different about this exchange. Something wrong that both Akatsuki members registered simultaneously. The child hadn't moved. Hadn't turned. Hadn't performed any hand seals or given any indication of consciously activating a defensive technique. The wood had simply emerged as if it was part of their body rather than a jutsu they'd performed.
Hidan landed several feet back from his original position, having aborted his attack and retreated when Kakuzu's fire had intervened. He looked toward his partner with genuine irritation, his scythe still ready but his expression annoyed rather than grateful.
"It's my prey!" he snapped. "Did you forget that nothing can actually kill me? I don't need help from you to take care of even a bug, let alone a child!"
Kakuzu's eyes never left the figure in the clearing, watching as the burning wood retracted back into the child's body, disappearing as if it had never existed. The child still hadn't turned. Still hadn't acknowledged their presence beyond that single defensive response.
"I think you will need my help," Kakuzu said flatly, his tone carrying certainty born from extensive combat experience and pattern recognition that had kept him alive for decades.
The figure in the clearing finally turned, and what they saw wasn't entirely human—or at least, wasn't entirely natural. The face carried features that were almost right but subtly wrong, like a skilled artist had carved a human child from wood and then animated it without fully understanding how humans actually moved or expressed emotion.
Konoha - The Hokage's Office
The scene shifted abruptly, miles away from the forest encounter, to the center of Konohagakure where power and politics intersected in ways that shaped the village's future.
The Hokage's office felt different without Hiruzen Sarutobi's presence filling it. Danzo Shimura sat behind the desk that had been his teammate, his one visible eye scanning through reports with the kind of meticulous attention that had made him one of Konoha's most effective administrators. His role as acting Hokage was temporary—at least officially—but he was using the position to maximum advantage, reviewing intelligence and making decisions that would shape policy long after a formal Hokage was selected.
A new report had just arrived, delivered by an ANBU operative who'd left as soon as the sealed scroll was handed over. Danzo broke the seal with practiced efficiency, unrolling the document and beginning to read with the speed of someone who processed information for living.
His expression, already stern by default, darkened with each line. By the time he finished reading, something close to genuine anger showed in his visible eye—a rare display of emotion from someone who'd spent decades perfecting political neutrality.
"Still nothing," he muttered, his voice carrying frustration that would have surprised anyone who thought Danzo was incapable of being bothered by subordinate insubordination. "Jiraiya has been gone for over a week now. Not a single report. Not even a basic status update. He's moving independently, making his own decisions, taking the Nine-Tails jinchūriki, and apparently feels no need to keep the village informed of his actions or locations."
He set the report down with controlled force—not quite slamming it, but close enough to convey his displeasure. The acting Hokage's hands folded on the desk, and for a moment he simply stared at the map of the Fire Country mounted on the wall, considering options and implications.
Jiraiya's independence was both expected and infuriating. The man had never respected authority structures, had spent decades doing exactly as he pleased while nominally serving Konoha. But taking the Nine-Tails jinchūriki out of the village without maintaining regular communication? That crossed from acceptable eccentricity into genuine security risk.
And if Jiraiya thought he could simply do as he pleased without consequence, without oversight, without any accountability to the village that had raised and trained him... well, that was a miscalculation that would need correction.
Danzo's hand moved toward another stack of documents, pulling out papers that represented different options, different ways to address Jiraiya's insubordination and the risk it posed to village security.
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