Nagato stared at the crumpled piece of paper in his lap. The handwriting was messy, frantic, like the scrawl of a dying man.
"The Seventh Hokage... he never kept his promise. It was all a lie."
Nagato's eyes scanned the lines, his heart sinking with every word.
"He told the world he saved us. But the Five Great Nations just saw an opportunity. They didn't send aid; they sent their garbage. They turned our home into a toxic waste dump for their industrial development. The air burns our lungs. The rain melts our skin. When we went to the Leaf to beg for the help we were promised, they beat us like dogs and threw us out."
The final lines hit him like a physical blow.
"They don't think of us as friends. To the Leaf, Lord Pain wasn't a savior. You were just a monster they defeated. A bad memory to be erased."
Nagato slumped back in his mechanical walker, a confusion warring with his anger.
Who the hell was the Seventh Hokage? Why had he, cooperated with this person? And most importantly, the letter implied that in this future, Nagato had sacrificed his life to revive the people of the Hidden Leaf.
"I... trusted them?" Nagato whispered, his voice rasping. "I chose to believe in a Leaf ninja over my own people? And this... this is the result?"
He looked up at the photos Makoto had thrown on the table.
The evidence was undeniable. The ruins, the sludge, the suffering. It was an absolute betrayal of everything Yahiko had stood for.
"Did we fail?" Nagato clutched his head, his fingers digging into his scalp. "Or does this mean that as long as I don't listen to that boy... as long as I don't get 'Talked no Jutsu'd' by this Naruto kid... we can still win?"
He looked at Makoto. The stranger was leaning against the damp wall, smoking a cigarette with a look of bored detachment.
"What is your goal here?" Nagato asked, his Rinnegan piercing through the smoke.
Nagato had always been a god who needed a prophet.
First, it was Yahiko who gave him a path. Then Obito (posing as Madara). Then, in that other timeline, Naruto.
Nagato had the power to destroy the world, but he always needed someone to point the gun.
Now, faced with a future of absolute failure, he turned to the only man who knew the script.
"Simple," Makoto said, flicking ash onto the floor. "I want a job. I want to be the Akatsuki's strategist. You have the power, but your business model sucks. I'm here to make decisions that actually help Amegakure develop, rather than just collecting monsters."
Konan stepped forward, her face stern. "Letting you advise on village matters is one thing, provided your intel holds up. But the Akatsuki... that is a different matter entirely."
She crossed her arms. "Our members are S-rank criminals, defectors, and psycopath. The members will find it difficult to obey your commands.."
Makoto just smirked. "Is there a gathering coming up?"
Konan frowned. "What?"
"A meeting. Bring me to the freak show. I'll handle the introduction."
....
A Few Days Later Limestone Cavern, Outskirts of Amegakure
The air in the cave was stale and cold, illuminated only by the flickering light of colorful holographic projections and a few physical bodies.
The core members of the Akatsuki had gathered.
However, two silhouettes were conspicuously absent.
Itachi Uchiha and Kisame Hoshigaki.
Makoto had played his cards carefully with Nagato.
He told him bluntly. "Itachi is a double agent for the Leaf. You don't have to kill him yet, but keep him the hell away from this meeting. If he hears my plans, the Leaf will know by morning."
So, the pair had been sent on a wild goose chase to investigate the Hidden Leaf's barrier system.
It was bait Itachi couldn't refuse—a chance to check on his little brother, Sasuke.
Inside the cave, the tension was thick enough to cut with a kunai.
"Oi, Leader!" a loud, abrasive voice echoed off the walls. "Where the hell are the Weasel and the Fish face? Don't tell me they got themselves killed by some no-name ninja? And who the fuck is this fresh meat?"
Hidan stood there, shirtless and arrogant, his scythe resting on his shoulder.
He pointed a rude finger at the only person not wearing a cloak with red clouds—Makoto.
Pain stood on a high rock platform, looking down at his subbordinates like a disappointed father.
"Itachi and Kisame are on a specialized mission," Pain's voice boomed. "This is Makoto. He's here to apply for the position of Akatsuki's military advisor."
Silence.
Then, chaos.
"HAAAHH?!" Hidan threw his head back and cackled. "Military Advisor? You gotta be kidding me! This great Hidan doesn't need some pencil-pusher telling him who to kill!"
Hidan unslung his massive scythe and pointed the jagged tip straight at Makoto's throat. A manic grin stretched across his face.
"Hey, kid! I don't know what rock you crawled out from, but give me one reason why I shouldn't sacrifice you to Lord Jashin right now!"
The other members—Sasori, Deidara, and Kakuzu—watched coldly.
They didn't care if Hidan killed the new guy. In the Akatsuki, if you died, you were weak.
End of story.
Makoto didn't even flinch. He ignored the screaming zealot and walked over to a small easel he had set up.
He slapped a piece of paper onto a blackboard.
"I was wondering," Makoto said, his voice calm and carrying well in the cave. "Which one of you distinct gentlemen handles the organization's finance?"
Hidan blinked, thrown off by the lack of fear.
"The fuck is finance?"
"It's money, you religious nutjob," a deep, gravelly voice grunted from the corner.
Kakuzu looked up. His green eyes, usually dead and cold, showed a flicker of interest. He glared at his idiot partner before turning his gaze to Makoto's blackboard.
"Talk," Kakuzu commanded.
Makoto tapped the paper. "Amegakure is sitting on a goldmine. Under Hanzō the Salamander, this place developed advanced steam technology. The ninja here are mediocre, but the machinery? It's top-tier. We can retrofit these factories to mass-produce light industrial consumer goods—heaters, engines, preservation units."
He looked at Kakuzu. "We sell these to the Five Great Nations. They have the resources; we have the cheap labor and the tech. It's passive income, Kakuzu. Millions of ryo pouring in without you having to stitch a single head back on."
Kakuzu's eyes widened slightly.
"But," Makoto continued, dropping the hook, "I know we need startup capital. So, I have a gift. Detailed intel on the Land of Waves."
"Waves?" Kakuzu scoffed. "A poor island nation. Waste of time."
"Not anymore," Makoto smiled like a shark. "A businessman named Gatō has taken over. He controls the shipping lanes and the bridge construction. The locals are desperate. They're trying to hire ninja to assassinate him, but they're broke. They're going to lie about the mission rank to get a discount."
Makoto leaned in. "We take the job. We charge them pennies—a symbolic one or two ryo. But in exchange, we take the shipping rights once Gatō is dead. The Land of Waves is the chokepoint between the Fire and Water nations. If the Hidden Mist ever wants to expand, they have to go through us. We set up a toll. We control the trade route."
Kakuzu was practically vibrating.
This was a sustainable financial ecosystem!
"Viable," Kakuzu muttered, a rare note of approval in his voice. "Completely viable."
"Hey! Kakuzu!" Hidan shouted, waving his hand in front of his partner's masked face. "Don't let him brainwash you with that nerd talk! Who cares about shipping lanes?!"
Hidan turn around, glaring daggers at Makoto. "So what if you can make a few coins? What gives you the right to order me around? I only listen to Lord Jashin!"
"The Leader's current policy is to collect the nine Tailed Beasts," Makoto said, loudly talking over Hidan again. "The goal is to create a weapon of mass destruction to force peace through fear."
He glanced at Pain. "The logic is sound. Fear is a better motivator than love. However, the execution is messy. Hunting Jinchuriki brings the wrath of the Five Villages down on our heads too early."
Makoto paused for dramatic effect.
"I have a plan that is infinitely easier than hunting Tailed Beasts. It achieves the same level of global deterrence, but with half the risk and double the profit."
"Oh?" Pain leaned forward on his rock perch.
This was the first time Makoto had mentioned a grand strategy.
"Speak."
"Before I do," Makoto said, his face turning serious. "The loud one. The zealot. He needs to leave."
"HAAH?!"
Hidan looked like he was about to pop a blood vessel. "Why do I have to leave?! You got a death wish, kid?! You think you're better than me?!"
"For this plan to work, strict operational security is needed," Makoto said flatly. "And you, have a mouth bigger than your brain."
"That's it!" Hidan roared. "Screw the interview! I'm taking your head!"
SWISH!
Without a hand sign or a warning, Hidan hurled his massive scythe. It spun through the air with a terrifying whistle, aiming to decapitate Makoto in a shower of gore.
Kakuzu didn't move. He wanted to see if the "Military Advisor" was worth the investment.
The scythe closed the distance in a fraction of a second.
CLANG.
Makoto stood rooted to the spot.
His hand was raised, and he had caught the thick metal shaft of the scythe just inches before the blade touched his neck.
The force of the impact had cracked the stone beneath his feet, but his arm didn't tremble.
"Hm?" Kakuzu raised an eyebrow.
To catch Hidan's weapon mid-flight required not just strength, but insane reaction speed.
Makoto's eyes were cold. He gripped the scythe, swung it around with surprising technique, and tossed it back.
It skidded across the cave floor, sparking against the rock, and landed at Hidan's feet.
Makoto dusted off his sleeves, looking utterly unimpressed.
"Like I said, nothing personal," Makoto said, staring Hidan down. "But you really should spend more time training your taijutsu and reading a book instead of praying to your imaginary god."
He smirked, delivering the final blow.
"Keep fighting like an idiot, and one day... you're going to get taken out by a mere Chunin and buried in a hole where nobody can hear you scream."
"YOU LITTLE—!"