"What? Are you serious?" Hane Genma blurted out, his tone laced with skepticism.
He wasn't a sensory ninja, so he had practically no ability to detect chakra from third parties. His only way to tell if someone was using a genjutsu on him was to rely on his mental feedback.
Right now, though, he wasn't getting any feedback.
"Look into my eyes. Do you think I'm joking?" Uchiha Nanami challenged, her voice tinged with disbelief.
Genma's apparent "immunity" to her genjutsu caught her completely off guard. While her Sharingan wasn't specialized for illusions, as a true Uchiha, her genjutsu skills were far from subpar.
Nanami wasn't arrogant enough to think her illusions were unbeatable, but… if someone fell into her genjutsu and then broke free instantly, that would be normal—a move and counter-move, perfectly reasonable.
But Genma? His reaction suggested her genjutsu didn't even take hold. That was unprecedented.
If genjutsu was like setting a "pitfall trap," most ninja would deal with it by falling into the pit and then climbing out. Genma, though? It was as if the pit was right there, yet he walked over it like it was flat ground.
That defied logic.
Chakra, however, was never so rigid.
After transforming into a White Zetsu, Genma might as well have been crouching at the bottom of the deepest pit imaginable. Digging a smaller pit within that would require boring through the earth's core first.
So, when responding to Genma's doubt, Nanami cast the same genjutsu again. Predictably, Genma showed no reaction whatsoever.
"Alright then… could you try a stronger one?" Genma asked, exhaling a quiet sigh of relief.
He hadn't been affected, which confirmed his earlier suspicions to some extent. If he was immune to standard genjutsu, it only made sense to test a more powerful one. Hence, his new request.
"…Fine," Nanami replied, a hint of stubbornness creeping into her voice.
Faced with this inexplicable situation, she felt a competitive urge to prove herself. Activating her Sharingan, she wove hand signs and unleashed a significantly stronger genjutsu.
Genma… his eyes remained strikingly clear. He stared intently into her Sharingan, noting how Nanami's gaze was unblinking, almost strained. He half-wanted to ask if her eyes were getting dry.
"Still nothing?" Nanami asked, her tone a mix of frustration and disbelief.
This time, she'd used a powerful mental control genjutsu. In theory, her chakra should have infiltrated the target's mind, yanking out whatever information she wanted. Instead, it felt like she'd plunged into an empty void, pulling out nothing but silence.
What was going on? Had genjutsu theory ceased to exist?
When this genjutsu "failed" as well, Nanami gritted her teeth. The three tomoe in her Sharingan began to spin, morphing into a more intricate pattern…
She activated her Mangekyo Sharingan.
With these eyes, even a mediocre genjutsu would achieve top-tier mental control. And yet…
Genma blinked and said, "Fascinating. It's almost heart-stopping just to look at them. Truly worthy of being the Sharingan among Sharingan."
Those eyes symbolized power and peril. Being stared at by them would make any ninja feel an instinctive shudder, as if their life and fate were in another's hands.
"Why isn't my ocular power working?" Nanami demanded.
"How should I know? It's your ocular power. You're the one who should figure that out," Genma replied, his tone casual.
He'd gotten the answer he wanted. Genjutsu had once been his greatest fear, but now he could breathe easy. What a… remarkable Sharingan genjutsu. It made his mind feel sharper than ever.
Nanami deactivated her Mangekyo, studying Genma thoughtfully. His identity and origins had to be extraordinary. He was hiding something—some secret.
No ordinary ninja could face the Mangekyo Sharingan so calmly.
But that made sense. Someone capable of leading a band of rogue ninja in the shinobi world would naturally have their share of secrets—perhaps a shadowy past, a daring plan, or some unspeakable trickery. Or maybe…
An unheard-of secret ninjutsu.
Nanami burned with curiosity about how Genma countered her genjutsu, but such a question, tied to his trump card, wasn't something she could just ask outright.
Caught between wanting to know and being unable to ask, she nearly scratched her head in frustration. Genma, meanwhile, brushed it off and walked away, keeping his secrets to himself.
The next day, the two groups began merging in a small grove.
Given the Fuma Clan's current weakened state, Genma proposed mixed squads to ensure one-on-one "support" within small units. In truth, it was a way to dismantle the Fuma Clan's structure and reorganize them into new teams.
Genma's approach was standard, even transparent.
Cliques were a liability. True unity came from everyone banding together.
As for Fuma Goro, the clan leader, Genma appointed him as his deputy, roughly equal in status to Morinaga Kanzawa and Hayasaka Ryunosuke.
Though their group numbered just over fifty—about the size of two junior high classes—reorganizing them was time-consuming. They stayed put for a full day and another night before order was restored, and they set out again.
With their numbers more than doubled, Genma's supplies were stretched thin. They could no longer avoid towns as they had before; instead, they had to actively seek them out.
Genma needed to buy provisions and gather information.
His earlier experience in previous town involved a mental interference genjutsu. The events he'd experienced before breaking free were a mix of truth and illusion, but thankfully, the money he'd picked up was real.
The problem was, having money didn't mean he could spend it. When Genma halted the group near a town and took two others to buy food, the merchants refused to sell.
As strangers, they weren't trusted. The grain merchants only dealt with familiar faces. In these chaotic times, such restricted trade wasn't entirely unreasonable.
But the frustration of having money and nowhere to spend it gnawed at Genma. He nearly lost his temper and resorted to "picking" something up on the spot.
Fortunately, Genma restrained himself. Spotting another ninja successfully make a purchase, he seized the chance to siphon a bit of their chakra. After transforming into their likeness, he became the perfect "regular customer."
Spending all his money, Genma secured enough food to last a few weeks.
While he worked to complete the transaction, the ninja he'd sent to gather intel returned with valuable news: a daimyo to the west was urgently hiring ninja.
In the ruins of an unremarkable village, a short distance from a town, lay the temporary camp of the "Ashes."
With the food crisis alleviated, morale in the camp stabilized.
Genma, Morinaga Kanzawa, Hayasaka Ryunosuke, and Fuma Goro gathered to hear a ninja's report.
"Word is, the daimyo of Kikyo Castle, the Date Clan, is actively recruiting ninja," the ninja said.
"Kikyo Castle… and the Date Clan?" Genma murmured, the name stirring faint recognition.
"What about the ninja originally affiliated with them?" Kanzawa asked.
For a daimyo—or any secular power—to maintain influence in these times, they needed armed forces, meaning they had to secure a ninja faction. Whether through top-down control, loose cooperation, or outright recruitment, no daimyo could survive without ninja. Ninja didn't always need a daimyo, but a daimyo always needed ninja.
"Rumor has it their ninja were wiped out in a recent mission conflict with another ninja faction. The Date Clan's lost part of their military strength and is desperate to fill the gap," the ninja continued.
The intel was vague, but Genma couldn't expect much more. With an incomplete organization and no familiarity with the area, getting even this much was impressive.
"Sounds like a good opportunity," Kanzawa said.
"But it could also expose us to serious danger," Ryunosuke countered.
"Danger's unavoidable. That's just what it means to be a ninja, isn't it?" Goro added.
Genma remained silent, letting the others weigh the benefits and risks of seeking employment with the Date Clan.
It was simple: accepting a daimyo's contract meant taking on their missions, which could lead to casualties.
"But we're fragile right now. We barely have the capacity to handle risks," Kanzawa pointed out.
"Still, we're ninja. We can't escape the constraints and unspoken rules that bind us," Ryunosuke said.
"Bloodshed is the only way to secure a place to survive," Goro concluded.
"No one can deny that."
The conversation grew heavy.
Genma listened quietly, seemingly weighing the pros and cons, but in truth, he wasn't overthinking it.
Promising to keep everyone safe was something he couldn't say. It was too presumptuous, naively so. Even Senju Hashirama couldn't make such a claim.
The "God of Shinobi" couldn't protect every clansman, let alone now, when he wasn't yet that legend.
To survive in these chaotic times, ninja relied on martial prowess. On this path, victory or defeat was inevitable.
Win and live; lose and die. It was straightforward and acceptable.
Even if there were other things to rely on in this world, Genma would only trust his own strength. Strength was the most dependable.
A ninja's life might seem cheap, but in this era, only ninja could truly control their own fate. Because they were the most dangerous, they were also the safest.
The logic was clear: only those who could kill could protect themselves.
Daimyo, with their vast resources and control over their distribution, might seem like the ninja's superiors. But in reality? The hand holding the blade could be severed at any moment.
The shinobi world operated like this: ninja factions clashed relentlessly, while the ninja class maintained a fragile balance with the daimyo who ruled the common folk.
Ninja were too busy fighting each other to turn on the daimyo. In theory, daimyo wouldn't send ninja to assassinate rival daimyo either, as no one could afford to open that Pandora's box.
But as the chaos worsened, this political understanding wouldn't hold much longer. Sooner or later, someone would be foolish enough to act.
Those holding a hammer always want to smash something.
If there's a button on the table, it'll eventually be pressed.
Genma understood what it meant to be a ninja. He didn't join the debate, but he'd made up his mind: before building something of his own, he'd take a job.
When the discussion wound down, he spoke, his voice calm and resolute:
"Alright. We move out…"
"To Kikyo Castle."
His decision was final.
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