The rain fell in sheets.
It wasn't unusual for Amegakure, but this storm felt different.
Yahiko stood at the window of their temporary hideout, watching the streets below disappear beneath the mist and water. Even with his heightened perception, the city had begun to feel like a maze of shifting shadows—each alleyway a potential ambush, each rooftop a silent threat. The pressure from Hanzo and the village elders had turned their home into enemy territory.
"The meeting with the envoy is in two hours," Konan said from behind him, her voice calm but clipped.
Yahiko didn't turn. "How many of them are we expecting?"
"Three. All Jōnin-level. One of them might be Hanzo's personal shadow."
Yahiko exhaled slowly, fogging up the window. "He's testing us. Gauging whether we'll flinch."
Konan said nothing, but the tension between them crackled like static. She was too intelligent not to see it. Every meeting, every negotiation, was a performance. A test of dominance. Hanzo hadn't outright attacked them yet, but the noose was tightening.
Nagato entered the room, his presence almost unnoticed. His eyes were dimmer today, weighed down by lack of sleep and the constant strain of suppressing his growing powers. Yahiko had given him space after their last confrontation, but time had not eased the Rinnegan's burden.
"I think I saw a scout mark the northwest building," Nagato murmured.
Yahiko looked over his shoulder. "Ours or theirs?"
Nagato hesitated. "Hard to say. The chakra signature was... blurred. Someone's using masking seals."
Konan stepped forward, already calculating. "Then we prepare for an ambush. We control the meeting site, and we lay traps on every exit. If this is the play they want, we give them something to remember."
Yahiko nodded. "We end it clean. No bodies. Just a message."
They moved quickly. Under Konan's guidance, dozens of paper seals were placed across the meeting zone, each infused with explosive tags, sensory blockers, and counter-genjutsu seals. The area would become a deathtrap the moment Yahiko gave the signal.
Yahiko wore a simple black cloak, the Akatsuki symbol etched into the fabric—a quiet defiance. His system pulsed behind his eyes, dormant but present.
System Status: Stable
Chakra Sync: 78%
Vector Core Resonance: Charged (80%)
He was getting used to its rhythm. The strange, alien presence that had once overwhelmed him now beat in sync with his chakra like a second heart. With it, he could feel the tug of the storm in the air, the press of pressure differentials and heat signatures through the wet fog.
He could feel death waiting.
The envoy arrived without fanfare. Three figures, cloaked, masked, stepping lightly across the stones. One of them had a presence like a void—silent, empty, but oppressive.
Yahiko stepped forward alone. Konan and Nagato flanked him from the shadows, unseen.
"Yahiko of the Akatsuki," the tallest of the three said, voice even. "You stand on the edge of treason. Hanzo requests your compliance."
Yahiko gave a half-smile. "And you stand on the edge of irrelevance. What does Hanzo really want?"
The man's chakra flared subtly, a test. Yahiko did not react.
"Your group has grown too quickly. Too visibly. Amegakure is a village of balance. Power like yours disrupts it."
Yahiko took a step forward. The wind shifted.
"Power exists to create change. Balance is a lie told by those who fear losing control."
There was silence.
Then it began.
The attack was sudden—a flicker of motion, a glint of steel, the explosion of paper bombs.
Konan's seals ignited, sending torrents of shrapnel and smoke through the field. Yahiko moved first, chakra surging as he bent gravity to his will, launching himself above the fray. He twisted midair, then sent a vector burst downward—a compressed force wave that shattered the stone beneath the enemy's feet.
One of the enemy jōnin barely rolled aside, already weaving hand signs. A mist of poisoned needles flew toward Yahiko.
He raised a hand, adjusted the incoming vectors, and watched as the needles curved harmlessly into the wall.
Nagato emerged from the fog like a phantom, a single hand raised. Chains of chakra erupted from the ground, ensnaring one of the envoys before he could react. The man's scream was cut short as he collapsed, paralyzed.
The second jōnin leapt high, water-style ninjutsu forming at his fingertips. Konan intercepted, a storm of paper blades slashing through the jutsu mid-cast, then binding him midair in a flurry of seals.
Only the masked one remained—the one Yahiko now knew was Hanzo's shadow.
He moved like nothing Yahiko had ever seen. His body flickered, his form phasing between steps. Yahiko could barely track him.
System Triggered: Enemy movement exceeds base perception threshold.
Activating Predictive Vector Mapping...
Success.
The world slowed. Yahiko saw it—a dozen potential movements, the curve of a blade, the arc of a deadly strike.
He chose one.
The man appeared behind him. Yahiko shifted his vector sideways, moving himself with a burst of force that launched him from danger. The man's blade caught only air.
Yahiko twisted, planting a foot into the wall, then launched himself back with a spin, striking with chakra-infused force. His foot connected with the man's ribs, sending him flying.
But the shadow rolled midair, landing in a crouch. His mask cracked.
Yahiko's eyes narrowed. He pushed forward.
They clashed.
Steel met chakra, blade met palm. The enemy's movements were flawless, but Yahiko bent the very space between them. Each strike he took, he redirected. Each slash, he countered with bursts of pressure.
And then—he opened the Vector Core.
A pulse rippled outward, and Yahiko seized every loose stone, every drop of water, every molecule of force.
He commanded it.
The field responded.
With a roar, he sent it crashing forward, a compressed dome of force that struck the shadow like a sledgehammer. The man slammed into the ground, his body cracking stone.
Still, he rose.
Yahiko moved again, this time focusing. He compressed his chakra into a singular vector—a bullet of force.
And fired.
The blast struck the man center mass, lifting him off the ground. His cloak burned away, revealing scars, armor, and a seal across his chest that began to glow.
A suicide mark.
Yahiko's eyes widened.
"Konan, NOW!"
A wall of paper slammed into the man just as the seal erupted. The explosion tore through the field, smoke and debris blinding everyone.
When the dust settled, only silence remained.
Yahiko stood over the crater, chest heaving.
The envoys were dead. Hanzo had sent assassins disguised as diplomats. The message was clear.
And so was Yahiko's.
Later, back in the hideout, Nagato sat in silence.
"He won't stop," Nagato said. "Hanzo. He sees us as a threat."
Yahiko nodded. "Then we stop being a threat."
Konan looked up. "What do you mean?"
Yahiko's voice was quiet.
"We become a revolution."