Illegal Akatsuki Gathering

Amegakure.

The sky was as gloomy as ever, heavy, dark clouds pressing down overhead. A fine, continuous drizzle fell without stopping, pattering against the varying heights of the steel structures and emitting a rustling sound.

Two figures pierced through the curtain of rain and walked into the tallest tower in the center of the village.

The one walking in front wore a Black Robe with Red Clouds, his face hidden beneath a tiger-skin spiral mask. Beneath the mask, a single scarlet Sharingan slowly spun. It was Obito Uchiha.

Following closely behind was a young man with a cold expression and calm eyes—none other than Uchiha Itachi.

The two made their way upward along the dim staircase, passing through several iron doors until they finally reached the conference hall at the top of the tower.

The moment Obito pushed the door open, Itachi's gaze swept past his side, scanning the interior of the hall.

The circular hall was quite spacious, with a few dim lighting pearls embedded in the dome. Orange-yellow light spilled down, casting flickering patches of light and shadow against the walls.

A long table sat in the center of the hall, with a few scrolls and a topographical map scattered across its surface.

And around the table sat several people.

A man occupied the head seat.

Orange-red hair, a lean face, and most eye-catching of all were those eyes—ring upon ring of purple patterns, layered one after another, resembling ripples upon the surface of a lake.

The Rinnegan.

Itachi's breathing hitched imperceptibly.

The feeling those eyes gave him was one of bottomless oppression, as if he were gazing into the abyss itself.

Deva Path sat in the principal seat, hands resting on the table, and swept a calm gaze over the two who had entered.

A woman stood