The first true day of Year Three dawned early. Raizen awoke with a tingle of excitement running through him. In his previous life, the Naruto world he knew never went this far — academy classes stopped at the three basic body techniques. Electives were unheard of.
But here, with these new paths laid out before him, his strength could grow in ways the original story never imagined.
He dressed quickly, straightened his headband, and made his way to the academy. The chatter of students filled the courtyard, but Raizen moved with quiet focus. He slid into his seat, waiting for Takuma to begin.
The jōnin entered with his usual no-nonsense stride, cigarette dangling from his lips. He didn't waste time with greetings.
Takuma: "Listen up. This first week, you won't have homeroom. Your days will be split between electives. If you took a third, those run immediately after school. Dismissed. Head to your first class."
The room stirred. A ripple of surprise moved through the elite students. They had expected sparring or Takuma's usual tests, not a direct push into electives from day one.
Raizen smirked inwardly. So that's it. Homeroom will judge us by how we apply these skills. Giving us more time in electives means the exams will demand real proficiency, not surface knowledge.
He glanced at his schedule. Genjutsu class, first period.
⸻
The hallways thinned as students filed off in different directions. Raizen followed his path until he reached a smaller training room set aside for illusion arts. He slid the door open — and blinked.
The room was nearly empty. Only five students in total, himself included. And of those, the only familiar face was Atsuro, heir to the Kamizuru clan.
As Raizen stepped inside, the others turned to look at him. Surprise flickered across their expressions. A Tsukihana, from one of the oldest and most powerful clans in the village… sitting in on Genjutsu?
Whispers rippled through the small group.
"Why would he waste time here?"
"Doesn't his clan focus on power, not tricks?"
Raizen ignored the murmurs, his expression calm as he walked to a seat near the back. He set his notebook down, back straight, eye fixed forward. He wasn't here to defend his choice.
He was here to prove it.
The room fell into a hushed silence as they waited for their instructor to arrive.
The classroom buzzed with low murmurs as the handful of students waited. Five desks filled the wide space, their occupants shifting uncomfortably under the silence. Atsuro leaned back with his arms crossed, antennae faintly twitching as if sensing something.
Raizen sat near the back, watching. He felt the stillness in the air stretching unnaturally thin, as though each second dragged like an hour. The tap of a pencil from the student across the room echoed far too long, the scratch of breath sounded like a storm. Even blinking seemed… slow.
Something's off, Raizen thought, his eye narrowing. His chakra prickled faintly, as though caught in a net.
The door hadn't opened. No instructor had entered. Yet when Raizen glanced toward the board, a man was already standing there.
Tall, wiry, pale-haired. His eyes were cloud-gray, his expression unreadable. But the strangest part was—Raizen swore the teacher had been sitting in the front row a second ago, hunched like a quiet student.
The figure smiled faintly. His voice was calm, slow, deliberate.
Genzo: "Good. At least one of you has noticed."
The illusion shattered like glass. The heaviness vanished. Students jolted, some gasping as if surfacing from deep water. One boy blinked in confusion, rubbing his eyes, still half-convinced time had actually slowed.
The man stepped forward, his movements now natural, unhurried. He removed a plain Noh mask from his hip and set it on the desk.
Genzo: "Lesson one: you are always in an illusion. The question is not if, but whose. If you cannot feel it, you are already prey."
He scanned the five students, his gaze unnervingly steady. It lingered on Raizen a second longer, as though measuring him. Then on Atsuro, whose antennae still twitched in unease.
Genzo: "This year, I will teach you not to weave pretty tricks, but to rewrite perception. To blind an enemy, to control a battlefield, to survive when strength alone fails. You will learn to cast, to resist, and to deceive."
His hand flicked idly and a phantom kunai shimmered into existence, spinning in the air before dissolving into mist.
Genzo: "For today, we begin with awareness. I will cast simple illusions on each of you, in turn. Your task is to break them — or be humiliated in front of your peers. Genjutsu is subtle. Fail to notice, and you will lose before the fight even begins."
A faint smirk tugged at his lips.
Genzo: "Now… let's see who among you is awake, and who is already dreaming."
Genzo stood before the small class, his pale eyes drifting over each student as if reading more than just their faces. His tone was calm, but there was an edge beneath it — the kind of voice that demanded attention without ever needing to rise.
Genzo: "We will begin immediately. No empty lectures, no wasted time. As some of you already know, your homeroom will place you through challenges and exams designed to test not just strength, but ingenuity. My role is to ensure that each of you can wield genjutsu to turn those tests in your favor. If you cannot deceive, mislead, or shatter perception, then you have learned nothing from me."
He tapped the Noh mask resting on his desk, the hollow eyes staring back at the students.
Genzo: "Understand this: in real combat, genjutsu is rarely about winning outright. It is about tilting the scales. One breath of hesitation, one heartbeat of doubt, and the enemy is yours. That is why we start with the foundation — the triggers."
The students leaned forward, their attention sharp. Even Atsuro's usual cool demeanor cracked with interest.
Genzo: "To ensnare someone in genjutsu, you must inject your chakra into their system. But you cannot simply push it into them raw — that would be like forcing a key into a lock that does not fit. You need an opening. That opening is what we call a trigger. There are five: sight, sound, touch, taste, and smell. The five senses."
He began to pace slowly, each word deliberate.
Genzo:
• "Sight. The most common trigger. A glance, a hand seal, the reflection of light on a blade. If your opponent sees it, your chakra rides along that stimulus into their eyes. Simple… but also the easiest to expect."
• "Sound. A snap of fingers, a whispered word, even the rhythm of footsteps. The ear is more trusting than the eye — and once your chakra slips in through sound, the illusion is harder to doubt."
• "Touch. A strike, a graze, a brush of cloth against skin. Physical contact is one of the fastest ways to transmit chakra. But it requires precision and courage, for you must reach them first."
• "Smell. Often overlooked, yet potent. Smoke, incense, dust. A single breath carries your chakra into their body. Few ever suspect it until the illusion has already taken hold."
• "Taste. The rarest trigger. A poisoned cup, a trick of food or medicine. It demands preparation, but once inside, it binds deeper than any other — for you have laced their very body with your chakra."
Genzo stopped pacing, his gray eyes narrowing, as if daring the students to look away.
Genzo: "Each sense is a door. Genjutsu is not forcing that door open — it is convincing your target to invite you in. Once inside, their mind becomes your canvas. You may paint hesitation. Fear. False allies. False enemies. Even death itself."
A shiver went through the room.
Raizen's fingers curled slightly at his desk. He's right… homeroom isn't just about fighting anymore. It's about showing how well we apply what we learn here.
Genzo let the silence stretch before he spoke again, his voice dropping lower.
Genzo: "Remember this: power can fail. Speed can falter. But perception? Perception is reality. And if you can rewrite reality… then you are already victorious."