Chapter 329: Hanzo’s Betrayal

Yet what Yahiko, Nagato, and Konan did not know was that Obito—who masqueraded as Madara—had come to meet them, not with the intent to surrender so easily.

Outside the Akatsuki hideout, where the land of Amegakure was ceaselessly drenched by its eternal rain, Obito stood beneath the heavy, cloud-choked sky. His gaze fell upon the rippling puddles disturbed by endless droplets. The cold silence gnawed at him, but his thoughts churned ceaselessly within—searching for openings, weaving together the strands of a far more devious plan.

As he brooded in the shadows, Obito crossed paths with Black Zetsu and White Zetsu. The two eerie figures emerged from the drenched soil itself, their bodies seemingly one with the mire of Amegakure. The atmosphere grew more suffocating as Black Zetsu’s raspy, sinister tone reverberated, clashing against White Zetsu’s lighter, almost mocking cadence.

There, Obito began a conversation with them, setting in motion the ploy to ensnare Nagato into their schemes. Manipulative words were exchanged—poisoned with conviction, honeyed with false promises. They spoke of “true peace,” of the grand design that Yahiko was far too naïve to ever accomplish.

For long minutes, ideas twisted and tangled between them. And at last, a venomous seed of thought was born: a cunning design that would bind Nagato in chains of tragedy, crushing the spirit of Akatsuki from within.

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Weeks after Obito’s secret meeting with Yahiko, Nagato, and Konan, calamity struck without warning.

Several Akatsuki members were suddenly attacked. The onslaught was as sudden and merciless as lightning crashing in the midst of Amegakure’s never-ending storm.

The surviving members were thrown into confusion and fear. They sprinted through flooded alleyways, water splashing at their feet, their faces tight with panic and disbelief.

Yahiko wasted no time. With a voice sharp and commanding, he ordered every Akatsuki member to remain vigilant, to be on guard. He demanded that all operatives gather in their respective branch hideouts. His words cut through the spreading terror, trying to contain the unraveling chaos with resolve.

At the same time, Yahiko sent one of Akatsuki’s members as an envoy to seek out Hanzo and request his aid.

But what none expected was that the envoy never reached Hanzo. He was slain along the way.

When news of his death arrived, dread gnawed at Yahiko, Nagato, and Konan even deeper. The air around them thickened with unease, as though the downpour itself had grown heavier, pressing relentlessly on their chests.

Then came the devastating truth: each Akatsuki branch was being struck down, one after another.

Anxiety tore through the trio’s hearts. Their expressions hardened, their gazes sank with the weight of inevitability. In the end, Yahiko and Nagato had no choice. They resolved to meet Hanzo themselves, to plead for his intervention, leaving Konan behind to guard the main hideout.

But instead of safety, Konan was assaulted within their own walls. Explosions thundered, shrieks of battle filled the hideout. Sheets of Konan’s paper scattered wildly, fluttering like torn butterfly wings across the bloody chaos. Yet Yahiko and Nagato knew nothing of this betrayal.

When at last they arrived before Hanzo, their eyes froze in horror. For there, bound and held captive by the ninja of Amegakure, was Konan herself.

Both Yahiko and Nagato stiffened, their breath caught in their throats. Shock and rage swirled within them, but Yahiko’s voice trembled only with the strain of holding on to hope. He demanded an explanation.

Hanzo’s reply was merciless. His face betrayed no sympathy as he declared his discontent: he would not allow outsiders—men and women who were not part of Amegakure’s shinobi—to seize control of the nation’s fish trade. Hanzo made it clear that he would rather seize the industry for himself than tolerate their growing influence.

Yahiko and Nagato reeled from his words. The revelation cut deeper than steel.

Yahiko then spoke, his tone earnest, his voice quivering not with fear, but with the fragile hope of peace. “There’s no need for bloodshed. Just say the word, and I’ll give it to you.”

But Hanzo’s expression hardened. His verdict was final. “Akatsuki has become a thorn. I will remove it. I will remove all of you.”

And yet, with venom laced in his tongue, Hanzo offered a cruel bargain.

If Nagato would kill Yahiko with his own hands, then Hanzo would spare both Nagato and Konan, allowing them to walk away alive.

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