Fuma Goro brought back the "bad news" to the camp.
However, the news didn't spark any panic, as everyone had already been nearly certain this would be the outcome.
"Kikyo Castle has given us three days to leave the Land of Rivers… What do we do next?" Goro asked, a trace of worry clouding his face.
It could be said that when Genma first met the Fuma Clan, his initial impression of their leader was spot-on: Goro truly lacked the resilience to handle pressure.
"Of course, we put on a good show of fleeing in disgrace. Pack up what needs packing, and wear your most mournful expressions," Hane Genma said, half-joking, half-serious.
The daimyo of Kikyo Castle had taken a stance of "parting ways peacefully" with the Fuma Clan due to "ideological differences." But if Genma chose to believe that, he'd have to question his own sanity.
Since the crime of assassinating a rival daimyo had been pinned on Genma's group, would their enemies really let them walk away so easily?
The less they defended themselves, the more "credible" the accusations would seem. After all, only the dead don't argue back.
Having unraveled this simple chain of logic, Genma knew exactly what to do.
He could never forget the annihilation of that previous group of Kikyo Castle shinobi.
He could even predict what Kikyo Castle would do next: once word spread of the Reito Castle daimyo's death, and suspicion was cast their way, Kikyo Castle would deny involvement, investigate internally, spread counter-narratives, clear their name, and eliminate any loose ends—all in one seamless operation. In the end, they'd maintain an image of minor oversight but unyielding righteousness.
Kikyo Castle's imagination was, admittedly, quite impressive.
If the daimyo of Kikyo Castle were truly outraged by the Fuma Clan's "reckless actions" and wanted to cast them aside like dog dung stuck to his shoe, his order would've been for immediate expulsion.
Yet, they'd been given three days. Was the daimyo really that kind-hearted?
Quite the opposite—his ill intentions were practically written on his face.
It was clear that not only Genma understood how events could "ferment"; the daimyo of Kikyo Castle was something of an amateur baker himself.
As for Genma's earlier quip about "fleeing in disgrace," it was obviously just a jest.
"There's no need to tell everyone about this just yet. It'll only cause chaos," Genma instructed the group.
Most of the organization's members were unaware that the Kikyo Castle daimyo had ordered the assassination of another daimyo, let alone that Genma had already "delivered the gift" and sent it on its way.
They all believed the group had settled here for good.
Since the end result would still be the organization taking root in this land, there was no need to waste words explaining these minor hiccups along the way.
"You don't need to worry about what comes next. Leave it to me," Genma said, trying to reassure everyone.
After a moment's thought, he added, "The daimyo's had his say. Now it's my turn to reason with him."
Uchiha Nanami seemed to catch his meaning. With a slightly hesitant tone, she asked, "Are you planning to… persuade this daimyo in the simplest, purest, most efficient way?"
Her way of speaking had clearly been influenced by Genma's dark humor—a linguistic contagion, so to speak.
Genma shook his head with a wry smile. "How could I? We're rule-abiding shinobi. The infamy of assassinating an employer will never fall on us."
Everyone understood immediately. The difference between reputation and reality needed no further explanation.
"Go about your tasks," Genma said. "The problem we're facing… well, it'll be resolved before dawn tomorrow."
Though some still harbored doubts, since Genma had spoken, they dispersed to their duties.
However, Genma called out to Uchiha Nanami, who lingered at the back.
"One more thing… While I'm away from the camp, could I trouble you to take responsibility for protecting this place?"
"It won't be long—maybe a few hours. Under normal circumstances, they won't act against us immediately. My move is about striking first."
Genma explained more than necessary this time. Unlike before, he couldn't demand Nanami's help with full confidence. Even if he'd once saved her life, he couldn't keep cashing in on that debt.
In the operation to destroy the Tsugawa Clan, Nanami had played a significant role, more than repaying any favor she owed Genma. Without her help, that mission would never have gone so smoothly.
Now, making this request meant Genma was the one incurring a debt.
Though he didn't know why Nanami had never mentioned leaving—logically, she should've returned to the Uchiha Clan by now—that didn't mean he could treat her like a subordinate. She'd never expressed any intention of joining his organization.
In name, she was only here recovering from her injuries.
Given the delicate balance of their relationship, Genma's request was, frankly, a bit shameless.
He didn't dare ask Nanami to join him on this mission—that would've been pushing his luck too far.
To his surprise, Nanami nodded without hesitation.
"I can only promise that if anything unexpected happens here, I'll do my best," she said.
"Doing her best" meant doing what she could and nothing more. Nanami was being pragmatic, not boastful.
A shinobi's capabilities were limited. They could be ruthless in attack but could only do so much to protect others.
That was enough.
"Thank you so much. Once this is over, I'll owe you one," Genma said.
He wasn't sure what his favor was worth, but for now, he'd owe it.
Nanami waved dismissively. The camp wasn't likely to face trouble today, at least not in her estimation.
She was more curious about Genma's plan.
"You seem confident. Haven't you considered what happens if you fail? I'd wager this daimyo's guards are far from weak."
"It's not confidence," Genma replied. "There's no need to dwell on the consequences of failure. I only need to focus on achieving my goal. If I fail, it just means my time with everyone here has run its course."
Genma—or rather, his organization—had always been teetering on a cliff's edge. All he needed to think about was moving forward. Failure meant falling into the abyss—what was there to consider?
If something happened to him, the organization would simply meet the fate it was always destined for. A tragic end would be regrettable, but it was just the way of the world.
Nanami felt that Genma wasn't just open-minded; there was something almost otherworldly about him.
How does someone so young have the mindset of a sage detached from the world?
Genma ignored the curiosity in her eyes.
Whether he was a sage or not was beside the point, but he was certainly far removed from this world.
The hour reached midnight, and Genma found himself in another daimyo's chambers.
He moved silently through the wall panels, intending to survey the room. But as his gaze swept the area, he immediately sensed something was wrong.
The daimyo of Kikyo Castle wasn't here. The room seemed… empty.
No, not empty. Genma noticed a shadow in the corner.
In the next instant, his body lurched.
When using Mayfly, the surrounding medium felt like deep water, and he moved through it like a fish. But now, the water had frozen solid, forcibly ejecting his body from the wall.
His usually infallible infiltration technique had failed—an outcome completely beyond his expectations.
He'd been confident in this mission. With the infiltration abilities of White Zetsu, he might've doubted his offensive capabilities, but defensively, he was untouchable, as sturdy as a turtle's shell.
Yet, at the very start, his shell had been shattered.
Genma's form was squeezed out of the wall, and he landed awkwardly on the floor, struggling to stay silent while barely maintaining his balance.
But his caution was pointless now. A figure cloaked in a black cape stood quietly a short distance away.
"An infiltration technique beyond imagination—no trace of chakra, no hint of presence. Unfortunately, you ran into me," the figure said. "You're not from the Fuma Clan, are you?"
Genma recognized this person—they'd crossed paths once before. He'd sensed their strength then but hadn't anticipated they could counter Mayfly.
He didn't answer immediately, instead attempting to activate Mayfly again. It still wouldn't work. Scanning the room, he realized he was trapped.
His escape route was cut off.
This was tricky.
"How did you know about my ability?" Genma asked.
"You attacked a minor shinobi clan's village and couldn't silence everyone. Isn't it natural that your intel would leak?" the cloaked figure replied.
Genma nodded. He knew that after the Tsugawa Clan scattered, rumors of his "ghostly" abilities would spread. But…
"I can understand Kikyo Castle confirming the destruction of a clan in another territory. But how did you gather such specific intel so quickly?"
The cloaked figure wasn't in a rush to act. Patiently, they answered, "Gathering intel doesn't require doing it yourself. The shinobi world has specialized groups for that. We just issue the missions."
Genma was silent.
No one told me about that…
In truth, he lacked a full understanding of the current shinobi world.
Seeing the confusion on Genma's face, the cloaked figure shook their head in disappointment. This was just an ignorant, immature shinobi—talking to him seemed a waste of breath.
"If you won't share your origins, that's fine. Soon, you'll spill every detail," the figure said.
"Hospitality, you know… The host accommodates the guest. Why don't you start by sharing your origins and abilities? Then I'll reciprocate," Genma countered.
"Foolish. Attempting to assassinate the Kikyo daimyo is an unforgivable crime. You'll pay the price."
Genma blinked. The figure's words were almost laughable.
"If you win, I'm the assassin. But if I win, the truth becomes that the daimyo's hired guard was consumed by greed and betrayed his master. Simple enough, right?"
The cloaked figure paused, then nodded. "True. Shinobi don't prove the truth with words… I won't let you die easily."
Genma's body tensed, his chakra condensing. His eyes locked onto the figure.
Without Mayfly, his strongest card was gone. He was reduced to an ordinary ninjutsu-type shinobi, while his opponent was likely far stronger.
Why couldn't he phase through the room? A barrier? No, there were no chakra signatures… Genma searched for a way to break through.
Both sides fell silent, the dim room growing tense as their battle intent rose.
In a flash, lightning crackled around the cloaked figure, and they vanished.
Genma's eyes couldn't track them. Before he could react, a sharp pain seared through his neck.
The enemy's fingers clamped around his throat like a vice, and an overwhelming force sent him crashing backward, slamming into the wall with a boom.
"Cough…"
Blood trickled from Genma's mouth. The pure physical blow had nearly displaced his organs.
Worse, he felt his throat being crushed.
His gaze dropped, and for the first time, he noticed the figure's extraordinary physique. The arm protruding from the cloak was thicker than Genma's thigh.
In a single exchange, Genma realized the gap between them was insurmountable.
Physical ability, chakra quality, and quantity—they were worlds apart.
So, the fate of cannon fodder has always been with me…
The enemy's grip tightened, more blood spilling from Genma's mouth as his consciousness began to fade.
But for some reason, a faint smile curled on his lips.
Truth be told, there was a reckless streak in him. After a life of calm, a brush with the extreme was oddly exhilarating.
An uncontrollable force suddenly surged, disrupting the cloaked figure's chakra. The energy suppressing Genma was drained in an instant, causing the iron grip to falter.
In that fleeting moment, before the figure could retract their hand, Genma's hands came together.
Water Release: Water Severing Wave!
A razor-sharp blade of water shot from his mouth. The enemy's best move would've been to crush his throat, but they couldn't.
However, the grip still restricted Genma's neck, limiting the water blade's angle.
Still, he had Tobirama Senju's ancestors to thank. The lethality of this advanced Water Release was undeniable. Even in this situation, it cleanly severed the enemy's right arm at the shoulder.
The figure recoiled swiftly.
The hand on Genma's neck released, and the severed arm hit the floor.
Genma slid down the wall, half-kneeling, coughing violently. Blood, flesh, and tissue sprayed onto the floor.
His breathing sounded like a broken bellows. For an ordinary shinobi, this would've been a death sentence.
He quickly "White Zetsu-fied" his neck and shoulders, channeling chakra to the wounds. In this life-or-death moment, his survival instincts kicked in, and the wounds healed at an unprecedented rate.
Moments later, his throat reconnected to his lungs.
"Ha…"
Genma exhaled, no time to savor his survival.
His eyes dropped to the floor, and his pupils constricted.
The ground was soaked with his blood, yet the enemy he'd wounded hadn't shed a single drop.
In the next instant, the severed arm sprang to life, its fingers forming a blade that effortlessly pierced Genma's abdomen.
Agony nearly shattered his resolve, but his eyes locked onto the arm's "wound."
It wasn't a wound. Black threads writhed wildly, like flowing black hair.
Genma's ragged voice rasped out, "Earth Grudge Fear…"
The enemy before him wasn't some legendary foe like the First Hokage's rival.
But the secret technique they wielded needed no further explanation.
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