Naruto didn't care what the Rain ninja thought of his strength. The shattered remnants of their techniques still hung in the air like dust motes, slowly dissipating in the endless drizzle.
He took another step forward.
The earth moved.
Not shook. Moved. A ripple of force transmitted from Naruto's foot through the ground itself, racing outward in concentric circles. The stone beneath him cracked in a perfect geometric pattern, fractures spreading like a spider's web across the entire plaza.
Every Rain ninja still standing felt it hit them simultaneously—a shock that traveled up through their feet, through their bones, into their very nervous systems. It felt like being struck by lightning and dunked in ice water at the same time.
Their bodies seized. Muscles locked. Nerves misfired.
One by one, they collapsed. Not unconscious, but completely paralyzed, sprawled in the mud with rain pattering against their faces. Their eyes could still move, tracking Naruto's group as they walked past, but nothing else responded to their desperate mental commands.
What... what did he do to us?
The last of the cannon fodder, eliminated without Naruto even looking at them.
"Wait." Jiraiya's eyes narrowed at Kakashi, Sasuke, and Black Zetsu. "Why did you three suddenly jump just now?"
All three had leaped into the air the instant before Naruto's foot touched down, landing only after the shockwave passed. It looked ridiculous in hindsight—like they'd seen a mouse.
Kakashi's visible eye twitched. His face flushed beneath the mask.
Sasuke's expression could have curdled milk.
Black Zetsu tried to sink deeper into Naruto's robe and pretend he didn't exist.
The three of them remembered the incident that had traumatized Black Zetsu—when Naruto's casual footstep had created a shockwave that separated the dark entity from White Zetsu permanently. Their bodies had reacted on instinct, muscle memory overriding rational thought.
Except this time, Naruto had controlled the attack with surgical precision. The shockwave only affected the Rain ninja. The three of them had jumped for nothing.
Their synchronized glares at Naruto's back could have burned holes through steel.
Naruto's shoulders shook slightly. He was definitely laughing.
"I hate you," Sasuke muttered.
"You love me," Naruto replied without turning around.
"I tolerate you."
"Same thing."
They crossed the threshold into the core area. The architecture changed here—older stonework, reinforced with steel and covered in sealing formulas. This was the heart of the Akatsuki organization, the inner sanctum where only the true members could tread.
Sasuke's Sharingan caught something as they passed through the entrance. A deep crater in the stone, partially filled with rainwater. His eyes flickered.
That's where Itachi stood, he thought. The streetlamp hole he filled with cement. Someone dug a new one.
His hand unconsciously moved toward the Kusanagi sword at his side, then stopped. Later. First, they had business to conclude.
The tower loomed ahead, its peak lost in the storm clouds. No more foot soldiers emerged. No more traps sprung.
Just the steady patter of rain and the weight of anticipation.
Then the doors opened.
Nagato emerged slowly, his wheelchair's mechanisms whirring softly as it descended a ramp. The black cloak with red clouds hung from his emaciated frame like a burial shroud. His red hair, the same distinctive color as Naruto's mother's, hung lank and wet around a face too gaunt for its years.
But his eyes...
The Rinnegan stared out from behind that thin face—purple, rippled, ancient. Eyes that had seen the cycle of life and death, that had witnessed his best friend's suicide, that had condemned him to playing god while his body withered away.
Deva Path walked beside the wheelchair. Yahiko's corpse, preserved and controlled, wearing the same vacant expression it had worn for years. Behind Nagato, four more corpses stood in perfect formation—Animal Path, Human Path, Preta Path, Naraka Path. The missing sixth, Asura Path, was still destroyed thanks to Naruto's earlier retaliation.
The other core members materialized from the shadows.
Deidara landed on a clay bird, blonde hair tied up, one eye covered by his scope. His remaining visible eye glittered with barely suppressed excitement. "Finally, yeah! I was getting so bored!"
Sasori emerged from within Hiruko, his puppet armor clicking as it moved. Only the tail was visible, curved and deadly, dripping with poison.
Kakuzu stepped forward, his mask-covered face expressionless, stitches running across every visible inch of skin. He'd fought the First Hokage and survived. Age had only made him more dangerous, more ruthless.
Hidan twirled his three-bladed scythe, grinning like a maniac. "Fresh sacrifices for Jashin-sama! This is going to be fun!"
The two groups faced each other across twenty meters of rain-soaked stone. Neither moved. Neither spoke.
The silence stretched.
Naruto's group stood in loose formation—Naruto at the center, flanked by Sasuke and Jiraiya, with Tsunade, Kakashi, and Orochimaru spread to either side. Black Zetsu remained hidden in Naruto's robe. Nine-Tails sat on his shoulder, tails swishing with barely contained energy.
Nagato's eyes moved across them one by one.
Sasuke—Uchiha survivor, wielder of Sharingan. Dangerous, but predictable.
Kakashi—the Copy Ninja, legendary but handicapped by poor chakra reserves. A non-factor in extended combat.
Orochimaru—former Akatsuki member, immortal body-swapper. His presence here confirmed much about the current political landscape.
Then Nagato's gaze fell on Tsunade and Jiraiya.
His heart clenched.
For just a moment, he wasn't a god standing in judgment over the world. He was a starving orphan on a battlefield, approaching two legendary ninja with trembling hands, begging for food. He saw Tsunade's kind smile as she handed him rice balls. Heard Jiraiya's booming laugh as he agreed to train three war orphans who had no business surviving.
Sensei, Nagato thought, the word tasting like ash and honey simultaneously. You taught us to value life, to seek peace. And then you left. You went back to Konoha and left us here to drown in this endless rain.
Tsunade met his gaze without flinching. Her jaw was set, golden eyes hard. Whatever sympathy she might have felt for the orphan he'd been, it didn't extend to the mass murderer he'd become.
Jiraiya's expression was harder to read. Pain. Regret. Determination. Guilt. All of it swirling together in those dark eyes.
Nagato looked away first, unable to bear it.
His attention shifted to the figure he didn't recognize initially—black robe, face covered, only the distinctive pitch-black skin visible on exposed hands.
Black Zetsu.
The traitor.
Nagato had suspected for weeks that someone within the organization was feeding information to enemies.
Now he knew.
The plant-like entity had been Madara's—or whoever claimed to be Madara's—right hand. Always lurking, always watching, always whispering in the shadows about the Moon's Eye Plan and eternal peace.
And now here he stood, literally riding on Konoha's Hokage's shoulder like a trained pet.
Deidara noticed too. "Zetsu, you traitorous bastard! I'm going to blow you into so many pieces they'll find bits of you in three different countries, yeah!"
"Calm yourself," Sasori's voice emerged from Hiruko's mouth, scratchy and inhuman. "We'll deal with the traitor soon enough."
Black Zetsu said nothing. What could he say? His presence alone confirmed everything.
But Nagato didn't call him out. Didn't waste words on accusations and recriminations. What did betrayal matter now, with the endgame approaching?
Finally, Nagato's gaze settled on Naruto.
The young Hokage stood with casual confidence, rain evaporating before it could touch him, creating a sphere of perfect dryness in the perpetual storm. His golden hair gleamed despite the grey sky. His blue eyes—Namikaze Minato's eyes—held no fear, no doubt, no hesitation.
Just certainty.
Nagato had read the intelligence reports. Twelve years old. Fifth Hokage of Konoha. Killed the Third Hokage publicly. Executed Danzo Shimura. Crushed the Fourth Mizukage and the Three-Tails simultaneously.
This child has accomplished more in twelve years than most accomplish in a lifetime.
But that wasn't what caught Nagato's attention.
It was the complete absence of immaturity. Looking at Naruto's face, you could almost forget he was barely a teenager. The sharp features, the confident stance, the eyes that had seen too much death—this wasn't a child playing at war.
This was someone who had already walked through hell and come out the other side without flinching.
Of course, Nagato thought. How else could someone become Hokage at twelve? How else could they achieve such power that even Orochimaru follows willingly?
Age meant nothing. Strength was all that mattered.
A paper butterfly descended, landing beside Nagato's wheelchair. It unfolded, transformed, became a slip of paper. The paper shifted again, taking on color and dimension, until Konan stood there—blue hair, paper flower in place, amber eyes wary.
She'd been coordinating the village defenses, watching from above as Naruto's group carved through their forces like a knife through silk. Now she stood beside her oldest friend, ready to fight or die together.
"Nagato," she said softly. Her eyes hadn't left Jiraiya.
"I know."
The standoff continued. Rain fell. Hearts beat. Fingers twitched toward weapons.
Then Naruto spoke.
"Surrender, Nagato. You're surrounded by me."
The words hung in the air for three full seconds.
Then Deidara burst out laughing. "Surrounded? By YOU? There's eight of us and seven of you, yeah! Can you even count?"
Hidan grinned wider. "I like this kid! So confident! Makes it more fun when I sacrifice him to—"
"Silence," Nagato said, and both men shut their mouths instantly.
The leader of the Akatsuki organization studied Naruto with those ancient, rippled eyes. He'd heard arrogance before. Hell, he'd been called a god so many times he'd almost started believing it.
But this wasn't arrogance.
This was simple statement of fact.
"Interesting," Nagato said, his voice carrying despite the rain. "You claim we're surrounded. By what? Your reputation?" His lips twitched, not quite a smile. "I'll admit, I'm curious. Show me how one person surrounds eight."
"Sure."
Naruto didn't move. Didn't gesture. Didn't weave hand signs.
He just... multiplied.
One moment, seven people faced the Akatsuki organization.
The next, the entire core area was packed wall-to-wall with identical blonde boys in Hokage robes.
They appeared in waves, shadow clones materializing in perfect synchronization. Ten. A hundred. A thousand. Ten thousand. Twenty thousand. They filled every rooftop, every balcony, every doorway, every inch of available space. The crowd extended up the tower walls, clinging to windowsills and drainage pipes. They stood shoulder to shoulder in the plaza, packed so tightly you couldn't see the ground between them.
All of them were Naruto.
All of them smiled the exact same smile.
All of them stared at Nagato with those same blue eyes.
The core area, which had seemed so vast and imposing moments ago, suddenly felt claustrophobic. Suffocating. Like standing in the center of a stadium filled with copies of the same person, all of them focused on you with absolute, unwavering attention.
Deidara's jaw dropped. "That's... that's impossible, yeah! Nobody has that much chakra! Not even a jinchūriki!"
Sasori calculated rapidly. Twenty thousand shadow clones. Even if each only has one percent of the original's power, that's still... we're outnumbered two thousand to one per person.
Kakuzu's eyes, visible through the slits in his mask, widened fractionally. In all his decades of life, bounty hunting across the entire ninja world, he'd never seen a chakra reserve like this.
Hidan stopped grinning.
Even the Paths of Pain shifted slightly, their synchronized movements betraying Nagato's shock.
Konan took an involuntary step back, her body already starting to break into paper—a defensive reflex she hadn't used in years.
Only Nagato himself remained still, though his knuckles had gone white where they gripped the wheelchair's armrests.
"Twenty thousand, three hundred and forty-seven," one Naruto said cheerfully. "I would've made more, but I didn't want to crush anyone. That would make negotiation harder."
"Negotiation," Nagato repeated, voice flat.
"Yep!" All twenty thousand Narutos spoke in perfect unison, their voices overlapping into a sound like thunder. "We're here to talk. The army is just for... ambiance."
Orochimaru stared at the impossible crowd of clones, then turned to the original Naruto—at least, he assumed it was the original, standing in the same spot as before.
"Naruto-kun," Orochimaru said mildly, "you still claim you don't know ninjutsu?"
The real Naruto shrugged, somehow visible despite being surrounded by thousands of copies of himself. "Refining chakra is troublesome." He gestured vaguely at the clone army. "Making this many took me more than ten minutes."
Ten minutes.
TEN MINUTES.
To create over twenty thousand fully-functional shadow clones.