Mastering the Elements - Chapter - 108

The streets of Amegakure were a labyrinth of metal walkways, pipes, and trembling shadows — illuminated only by the flickering neon signs and the endless downpour that rattled across metal rooftops like drumming fingers of a god.

Lightning split the sky as Itachi and Jiraiya ran across a narrow causeway, leaping effortlessly from platform to platform. Though weakened and stripped of chakra by the seals, Jiraiya’s legs were still strong — and Itachi’s hand occasionally guided his shoulder, giving him momentum whenever his breath hitched.

Behind them, alarms had not yet sounded.

But they would.

Any second.

The rain chased them like living sensors.

“Move left!” Itachi hissed.

The two ducked under a rusted balcony as a patrol of Amegakure shinobi swept across the bridge above — their eyes glowing with damp chakra, searching. The men paused, staring over the ledge, frowning at the empty walkway.

The rain around them pulsed once… then quieted.

They moved on.

Itachi exhaled.

“We have thirty seconds before the surveillance resets. This way.”

He leapt down into a narrow alley between two towering structures. Steam hissed from pipes overhead, cloaking them briefly.

In a small clearing behind a massive water tank, Itachi stopped.

“This is far enough,” he murmured.

Jiraiya blinked. “Far enough? For what?”

Before Jiraiya could finish, Itachi reached into a small sealing scroll strapped inside his cloak. With a soft burst of chakra — subtle, almost silent — a compact folded tent landed in his palm.

The tent was small, humble-looking — beige fabric, simple lines, nothing unusual.

Until Itachi placed it on the ground.

He pressed two fingers together, whispered a code phrase, and—

WHOOMPH.

The tent expanded, growing tall and wide like an inflating beast, until it reached nearly the size of a small house. Runes shimmered along the fabric, then disappeared.

Jiraiya whistled.

“Your father’s tent?”

Itachi nodded. “Yes. And you know how he is.”

“Oh, I know,” Jiraiya grinned. “The man could hide a damn castle in a teacup if he wanted to.”

They slipped through the flap.

The moment they entered, the scent of wood polish and warm lantern-light enveloped them.

Jiraiya had seen it before…

But even now, with exhaustion weighing his limbs, it felt like stepping into paradise.

The interior was enormous — impossibly so:

A spacious living room with plush couches,

Polished wooden floors that hummed faintly with chakra,

A wide kitchen stocked with sealed food cabinets,

Three guest bedrooms lined neatly along a corridor and walls adorned with floating orbs of soft golden light.

A flicker of fire crackled in the hearth as if it had been waiting for them.

Jiraiya dropped to his knees dramatically.

“I swear, every time I enter this tent, I forget I’m in a war zone.”

Itachi carefully shut the exterior flap and reinforced the runes with a hand sign.

“No one can detect us unless we allow it,” he said calmly. “The tent bends perception. Even Pain’s rain won’t sense us.”

Jiraiya wiped rain from his face. “In that case… I’m heading straight for the bath.”

Itachi raised a brow. “Are you able to walk straight into it? I recall that being imprisoned for two weeks leaves… persistent odors.”

Jiraiya shot him a glare. “Listen here, brat, you try bathing in god-infused rain for two weeks and see how fresh you smell!”

Itachi didn’t react, but the corner of his mouth twitched minutely — the closest he came to laughing.

“Bathroom is down the hall. The temperature control is on the wall panel.”

“Oh, thank the heavens!”

Jiraiya practically sprinted down the corridor.

He opened the bath door and nearly cried.

Inside was a pristine washroom that looked like it had been imported from a luxury inn:

A steaming bathtub large enough for three people, temperature-adjustable faucets enchanted to warm themselves. Shelves of soaps and oils Harry had brewed personally. Towels so soft they could have been from the Land of Snow.

Jiraiya stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and shouted:

“ITACHI, IF YOU HADN’T SAVED ME, I WOULD MARRY YOUR FATHER FOR THIS BATH!”

Itachi, sitting on the couch as he wrung the water from his cloak, sighed.

“…please do not.”

As the sound of splashing water filled the tent, Itachi allowed himself a rare moment of stillness. He lowered his hood and exhaled, emerald Rinnegan dimming slightly as he suppressed its glow.

He had sensed the entire God Tower's surveillance patterns.

He had anticipated the guards’ rotation.

And he had observed Pain’s movements long before approaching.

But entering Amegakure undetected…

extracting Jiraiya alive…

and avoiding confrontation with the Six Paths…

It had taken every ounce of his skill, focus, and bloodline power.

Yet now, for the first time since he crossed the border…

Itachi allowed himself to relax.

Just for a moment.

Because above them, in the endless storm, Pain’s chakra rippled—

Searching.

And unaware that two deadly shadows hid in a house that shouldn’t exist.

Jiraiya sank into the steaming water, closing his eyes.

He whispered softly to himself:

“Yahiko… Nagato… Konan…

What happened to you three?”

His fists tightened underwater.

“And what is this war you’re planning…?”

Steam still clung to Jiraiya’s skin as he stepped out of the bath, drying his long hair with one of Itachi’s impossibly soft towels. His old, worn face looked ten years younger. The grime, exhaustion, and hopelessness of two weeks in Pain’s prison seemed to melt away.

He let out a long, satisfied sigh.

“I swear,” Jiraiya said, rolling his shoulders, “that bath was divine. If I had this during my travels, I’d never have returned to Konoha at all.”

Itachi, who sat cross-legged on the couch, calmly motioned him over.

“You should sit, Jiraiya-sensei. The suppression seals placed on you by Pain are complex. I need to remove them one layer at a time.”

Jiraiya dropped into the seat with a grunt.

“Do what you must. After two weeks, these seals feel like they’ve grown into my bones.”

Itachi placed his right hand on Jiraiya’s shoulder. The emerald rings of his Rinnegan pulsed faintly beneath his eyelids, though he kept them mostly suppressed.

As his fingers glided over the seals, lines of ink began glowing pale blue, rising to the surface of Jiraiya’s skin. One by one, Itachi tapped and unraveled them.

The air shimmered.

Jiraiya felt the chakra in his body twitch, tremble, then begin to breathe again.

“…ahh, that’s it,” he whispered. “Feels like life’s returning to me.”

He looked down at Itachi’s hands as the younger man worked — precise, delicate, efficient.

He couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You know,” Jiraiya said, “I’m quite the seal master myself… but you’re far beyond me. Feels strange seeing a kid who once cried when Shisui stole his rice cake now break Rinnegan suppressors like scribbles.”

Itachi shrugged lightly. “My father taught me. He understands seals better than almost anyone.”

“That father of yours…” Jiraiya leaned back. “He’s a mystery wrapped in another mystery.”

Itachi didn’t comment. Instead, he peeled away another seal, its chakra snapping like a popped bubble.

A silence hung comfortably between them — until Jiraiya spoke again, voice quieter.

“I never told you this… but I once had a student with the Rinnegan.”

Itachi paused mid-seal.

Jiraiya continued, “Nagato. A Red-Haired Uzumaki boy with the eyes of the Sage. I taught him ninjutsu, how to survive… I taught him to protect his friends. And now… well, I don't want to believe Yahiko killed Nagato for his eyes.”

Jiraiya sighed deeply. “If you need help learning the Six Paths abilities, or how to control—”

“I do not,” Itachi said softly, continuing his work.

Jiraiya blinked. “Huh?”

Itachi finished breaking the seal on Jiraiya’s left shoulder before responding calmly.

“I have already mastered the Rinnegan.”

Jiraiya stared, stunned silent. “…Already… mastered? Itachi, the Rinnegan is the highest eye of divinity. Even Nagato took years to understand it. How…?”

Itachi’s expression remained unreadable behind his calm voice.

“My father helped me.”

“Your father?” Jiraiya whispered in disbelief. “Harry? But—”

Itachi glanced up, and his words fell like quiet thunder.

“My father also possesses the Rinnegan.”

The room went still.

Jiraiya’s jaw dropped.

His eyes widened.

For a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

“Harry Pottaru… has the Rinnegan…?” Jiraiya whispered hoarsely.

Itachi nodded once. “Yes.”

Jiraiya slowly fell back into the couch cushions like a collapsing mountain.

“This… this changes everything. Two Rinnegan users living in Konoha? Two? Itachi, this could start wars just from the rumor alone!”

“It is why,” Itachi said softly, “no one must know.”

Jiraiya swallowed. “Does anyone else…? Does the Hokage know?”

Itachi’s response was immediate.

“No.”

The word cut the air cleanly.

Jiraiya leaned forward, voice low and urgent. “Does your mother know? Tsunade? Kakashi? Anyone?”

Itachi shook his head.

“Not even my mother.

Only me and my father share this secret.”

Jiraiya inhaled sharply.

“That’s… that’s dangerous. If even one foreign village learns—”

“It won’t,” Itachi replied calmly. “The more people who know, the more dangerous it becomes. The Rinnegan draws greed. Obsession. Madness. My father taught me this… and he’s right.”

Jiraiya stared at the younger man, seeing him not as the prodigy of the Leaf, not as the boy who once clung to his teacher’s stories—but as someone older, heavier, carrying secrets the world wasn’t yet ready to bear.

“…You two really are planning something big, aren’t you?” Jiraiya murmured.

Itachi’s eyes softened a fraction.

“No.

We are planning to protect our family.”

Jiraiya let out a long breath, rubbing his forehead.

“Well, Itachi… if there is one thing I’ve learned in this cursed village… gods walk among us now. But at least,” he added, giving a tired smile, “some of them are on our side.”

Itachi finished removing the last seal.

A soft shimmer settled around Jiraiya — and his full chakra returned like a tidal wave.

Jiraiya gasped.

“That—THAT feels amazing!”

Itachi gave him a faint bow. “Your strength has returned, Jiraiya-sensei.”

Jiraiya exhaled deeply.

“And now,” he said, eyes narrowing, “we need a plan. Because Pain won’t stay still. And whatever that boy—whatever Yahiko—has become… he’s going to strike soon.”

Itachi nodded.

“Yes.

And we need to be ready.”

Rain hammered relentlessly against the magical tent’s outer fabric, creating a muted roar that filled the interior like a distant ocean. Inside, the air was warm, lanterns flickered gently, and the scent of freshly cooked rice and grilled fish lingered faintly in the kitchen.

But beneath that comfort, an electric tension pulsed through the walls.

Pain had unleashed Amegakure.

After discovering Jiraiya’s escape, a wave of chakra—cold, furious, divine—had swept across the village.

Itachi felt it the moment Pain realized the prison cell was empty.

A storm of killing intent rolled over Amegakure like a second rain.

And within minutes, the entire village turned into a hunting ground.

Itachi sat on the couch, eyes half-closed, sharingan hidden beneath his lowered eyelids as he sensed the chakra signatures around them.

“Another squad approaching,” Itachi murmured.

Jiraiya paused mid-bite, his chopsticks hovering over a steaming bowl.

“How many this time?” he asked.

“Twenty-three,” Itachi whispered.

“All within two hundred meters.”

Jiraiya whistled. “That boy isn’t leaving anything to chance.”

Itachi leaned back, suppressing his chakra even further.

“He’s not searching for intruders,” Itachi corrected quietly.

“He’s searching for you.”

Jiraiya grunted. “Makes sense. I did kind of escape from a god’s cage…”

The tent shuddered faintly—only enough for someone like Itachi to notice—when another chakra surge passed overhead.

“They’re using rain clones as well,” Itachi added. “They’re combing every inch of the city and surrounding land. Even a lizard scratching on a rock would be noticed tonight.”

Jiraiya gave a dry laugh. “Too bad their raindrops can’t seep through your father’s seals.”

Itachi nodded once. “They will not find us.”

Jiraiya inhaled deeply, savoring his food with an expression bordering on bliss.

“I forgot how good Harry’s cooking are…” he mumbled as he devoured another bowl.

Itachi sat beside him, sipping tea.

“Eat as much as you need. You’ve lost weight.”

Jiraiya snorted. “I was in prison for two weeks! My dinner was a cup of cold rice and a threat!”

Another mouthful disappeared.

With his strength returning and his chakra restored, Jiraiya felt life flowing back into his limbs.

After eating his fill, he wiped his mouth, took a slow breath, and clasped his hands.

“Time to send a message.”

He performed a summoning with a faint whispering puff—just a flicker of chakra. Barely detectable.

A tiny green messenger toad appeared on the table, blinking up at them.

“Yo, Pervy Sage! Haven’t seen you in days—WOAH, you look awful—”

“It’s been a week,” Itachi corrected mildly.

“ITACHI?! WHEN DID YOU—”

“Quiet,” Jiraiya hissed. “We’re in enemy territory.”

The toad’s mouth snapped shut.

Jiraiya wrote a short coded letter to Hiruzen:

I am alive.

Pain = Yahiko.

Rinnegan confirmed.

Akatsuki is mobilizing.

DO NOT send reinforcements.

Will return soon.

He left out the most explosive information:

Itachi’s Rinnegan

Harry’s Rinnegan

He folded the paper and placed it inside the toad’s pouch.

The toad saluted. “You can count on me, boss!”

Poof — gone.

Jiraiya leaned back, crossing his arms.

“These Akatsuki people… they walk around like they own the world,” he muttered. “No care, no caution. It’s not arrogance—it’s confidence. Pure, dangerous confidence.”

He rubbed his chin.

“Even Yahiko walks around with only a couple guards. He believes no one can touch him.”

“He’s not wrong,” Itachi said quietly.

Jiraiya fell silent.

“You don’t deny it,” Jiraiya said finally.

“No,” Itachi replied. “Inside Amegakure, he is a god. The rain itself is his eyes. His men are everywhere. His chakra is infused into every building and wall. Attacking him here would be suicide.”

Jiraiya nodded grimly.

“Exactly what I was telling myself in that prison.”

“But outside,” Itachi added softly,

“his power is dramatically reduced. If he leaves the village—even briefly—he can be intercepted.”

Jiraiya raised a brow. “Interception? You talking about taking him down?”

Itachi didn’t answer immediately.

He simply looked out toward the tent’s sealed entrance, sensing another patrol pass by—fast, frantic, and searching desperately for any trace of a foreign chakra signature.

When the patrol’s chakra faded, Itachi finally spoke.

“I do not seek his death,” Itachi said quietly.

“But I seek to stop him. Forever.”

Jiraiya rested his elbows on his knees.

“And you think we can do it.”

Itachi turned, emerald and crimson swirling faintly in his eyes.

“Together?”

He nodded.

“Yes. We can.”