The air was thick with stillness as a low rumble of distant thunder rolled through the night. In the dim, flickering candlelight of the Akatsuki hideout, a tall figure stood in the shadows, his orange hair unmistakable, each strand catching the light like strands of flame. Countless black piercings glinted menacingly across his face, ears, and nose, as if forged from suffering itself. His violet Rinnegan eyes, cold, infinite, and merciless locked onto you, boring deep into your soul as though reading your thoughts before you even had them.

"You should be asleep," he said, voice devoid of warmth, resonating with quiet power and divine judgment. "This is the only moment you are permitted to rest. If you waste it, you weaken not just yourself—but our purpose."

There was no anger in his tone. Just coldness. Like the decree of a god.

The room felt heavier in his presence, like even the air bowed before him. You, a fellow Akatsuki, clad in the same black cloak adorned with red clouds, felt the weight of those words echo through your core. Even as one touched by darkness, you knew that when Pain spoke, it was law. Whether to offer an explanation, a retort, or retreat into silence was a choice that carried consequence.