The rain never stopped in Amegakure.
It drummed against the rusted metal roofs as I followed Konan through the maze of crumbling alleyways, my bare feet slipping on slick stones. She moved like a ghost—silent, efficient, her small frame weaving through shadows without hesitation.
*This is insane,* I thought, wiping rainwater from my eyes. *I'm being led through a warzone by a future S-rank kunoichi who's currently a malnourished teen.*
Konan paused abruptly, pressing a finger to her lips. In the distance, the *clang* of kunai and shouted orders echoed. My breath hitched.
"Patrol," she whispered. "Hanzo's men."
I nodded, my heart pounding. The real danger wasn't just the enemy shinobi—it was the village's own forces. Orphans like us were either recruited as expendable scouts or "disappeared" to reduce mouths to feed.
Konan's hand darted out, yanking me into a gap between two collapsed walls just as torchlight flickered past. The stench of wet ash filled my nose.
"You're slow," she said flatly once the footsteps faded. "And loud."
I grimaced. *Yeah, because I've never had to dodge military patrols in my past life.*
---
**The Hideout**
We arrived at a sewer grate hidden beneath a derelict watchtower. Konan pried it open with a rusted kunai, revealing a ladder descending into darkness.
"Home," she said.
The space below was cramped—a hollowed-out drainage tunnel with moth-eaten blankets, a dented pot over cold ashes, and stacks of yellowed paper meticulously sorted into piles. A single candle cast long shadows.
Two figures looked up as we entered.
*Oh hell.*
A lanky boy with orange hair and piercing eyes—*Yahiko*. And beside him, a quieter boy with a stoic expression—*Nagato*, his Rinnegan hidden beneath a tattered headband.
My stomach dropped. *The original Akatsuki. Before the tragedy. Before the monster Pain was born.*
Yahiko grinned. "Konan, you brought a stray?"
---
**Fragile Trust**
They didn't trust me.
Nagato's gaze lingered a second too long, as if sensing something *off* about me. Konan busied herself folding paper cranes, her eyes flicking to me whenever she thought I wasn't looking.
"You're not from the slums," Yahiko said bluntly, tossing me a moldy bread roll. "Your hands are too clean."
*Shit.* I forced myself to take a bite, hiding my grimace at the sour taste. "My parents were merchants. Died in the last bombardment."
A half-truth. Yuki's memories confirmed it.
Konan's fingers stilled. "We don't need dead weight."
"I can learn," I said, sharper than intended. "Teach me to survive."
Silence. Then Yahiko laughed. "Alright, rich boy. First lesson—" He flicked a pebble at my forehead. "*Always* watch your back."
---
**The First Lesson**
At dawn, Konan took me to a flooded courtyard.
"Chakra control," she said, placing a leaf on the water's surface. "Without it, you'll die before your first fight."
I stared at the leaf. *I know the theory—but theory doesn't stop kunai.*
Hours passed. My legs went numb. The leaf sank. Again. And again.
Konan watched, arms crossed. "You're thinking too hard."
"Easy for you to say," I muttered. "You're—"
*Prodigy-level talented. A legend in the making.*
She tilted her head. "I'm what?"
"…Nothing."
A beat. Then she crouched beside me, adjusting my stance with calloused fingers. "The rain doesn't stop for anyone. Neither will the war. So *focus*."
For the first time, her voice wasn't cold. Just tired.
I swallowed and tried again.
---