Chapter 12 – Riding Solo to the Meeting! This is the rebirth of Akatsuki.
"Nagato, wipe that look of fear and doubt off your face."
Yahiko's broad hand clamped down on his best friend's shoulder, firm and steady, his gaze blazing like fire.
"You're Akatsuki's trump card, the sword of Damocles hanging over everyone's head! Who throws out their ace the moment the game begins?"
Nagato's body trembled slightly; he lifted his head and met those ambition-filled eyes.
"That Masked Man thinks we're useless without the Rinnegan? Hah—then I'll make him widen those dog-eyes and watch clearly: conquering this country doesn't need a 'god.' These two hands of mine are enough!"
"I… " The anxiety in Nagato's heart calmed as if by miracle.
This was Yahiko—the leader who could make you see light even while standing in Hell.
"All right." Nagato clenched his fist, focus returning to his eyes. "I'll listen to you. I'll heal properly until the moment you need a 'god.'"
After soothing Nagato, Yahiko turned; his aura shifted in an instant.
The wildness vanished, replaced by a suffocating calm. Now he looked less like a hot-blooded youth and more like a mafia boss planning moves from the shadows.
Rustle.
A map detailing the power distribution of Amegakure was spread across the table. Yahiko's red pen slashed like a blade, circling several names.
"Konan, take note. That old geezer Hanzou rules with two hands: one is the 'Ninja Corps' for killing; the other is the 'Security Force'—those extortionists we met, led by Kawakura Izumi—for suppression."
The pen tore the paper, finally stabbing hard at a name on the fringe.
"But the old man fancies himself a demigod and has a cleanliness fetish; he looks down on sewer rats. That is exactly our Breakthrough."
A glint flashed in Yahiko's eyes: "The gang boss Maeda controls the black market and casinos. Once I take him, I'll have Amegakure's underworld by the throat."
He drew a letter from his coat and handed it to Konan.
"Deliver this to Maeda. Tell him: tomorrow night at the Night Rain Gambling Den—if he doesn't want to die, come see me."
Konan accepted the letter, her delicate brows knitting. "Yahiko, we're wanted criminals. Would a slippery operator like him offend Hanzou just to meet us?"
"Because he has no choice."
Yahiko gave a cold laugh, his voice grim. "This isn't an invitation; it's King Yama's death notice. He's a clever man, and clever men fear death most."
"Also—"
Yahiko pointed at a brand-new robe in the corner, flames of revenge igniting in his eyes.
"If we're going to make waves, let's make them big. Put that on. Starting tomorrow, let this 'black cloth with red clouds' become the nightmare that haunts every corner of Amegakure!"
...Next morning.
Amegakure's main bridge.
Drizzle fell without end; the air reeked of mold. A long queue lay like a dead snake at the bridgehead, every face showing anger no one dared voice.
In charge of the checkpoint was Security Force captain Kawakura Izumi.
"Move it, damn it!"
Kawakura Izumi kicked over a peddler's crate; precious medicinal herbs spilled everywhere. He slapped the merchant's face with his scabbard, yellow teeth stinking: "Toll's gone up! Nice goods—confiscated!"
"Sir! These are life-saving medicines! Please…" The merchant knelt in the mud, knocking his head until blood ran.
"Save lives? I'm the only life that matters here!" Kawakura Izumi grinned and raised his scabbard to smash down.
"Captain! Look over there!!"
A subordinate's terrified scream rang out, voice cracking.
"What're you howling—" Kawakura Izumi jerked his head up, following the pointing finger.
His movements froze.
At the far end of the bridge a figure approached unhurriedly.
A black robe flapped in the wind; blood-red cloud patterns on its hem seemed to drip like fresh blood—eerie and glaring.
That face… Kawakura Izumi's pupils shrank, his heart clutched by an invisible hand.
The Akatsuki leader—the one who should've died at Lord Hanzou's hands—Yahiko?!
How dare he?!
Alone? Marching straight in single combat?
"That's… Yahiko?!"
"Run! He's here to kill!"
Civilians scattered like startled birds; the bridge emptied in an instant, leaving only the black-robed figure stepping through puddles, advancing step by step.
Clack… clack… clack…
Footsteps counted down like the Reaper.
Thirty metres.
Yahiko stopped and slowly drew the long blade at his waist.
Shing—!
The snow-bright edge sliced the rain curtain; cold light reflected Kawakura Izumi's terror-twisted face.
"Hanzou broke his oath, so Akatsuki crawled back from Hell to collect."
Yahiko's voice wasn't loud, yet its marrow-piercing chill drilled into every guardsman's ears.
The tip rose, pointing at Kawakura Izumi's brow from afar.
"I already paid for your life last night."
"Let your head be the banner raised for this brand-new era."
Under those emotionless amber eyes, Kawakura Izumi felt his blood flow in reverse. Terror pushed him past fear into hysterical madness.
"Bluff… you're bluffing!!"
He yanked out his ninja sword, spittle flying as he roared, trying to drown the tremble in his legs: "Brothers! He's alone! Lord Hanzou said: five million if dead, ten million alive!!"
"Charge! Cut him to pieces!!!"