Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!
Mū soared through the sky, ten Iwa jōnin trailing behind him like shadows.
He cast a glance over his shoulder. To save time, he had cast his Ultralight-Weight Rock Technique on them, granting them temporary flight. Of course, their movements still required his guidance, but it was more efficient than marching on foot.
No effort was made to hide their approach. Mū cut straight into Kusagakure's patrol zone, brazen as ever.
"Enemy attack! Enemy attack! Hurry, inform the chief!"
One Grass shinobi panicked and sprinted toward the village.
"Lord Mū, should we pursue?" one Iwa jōnin asked cautiously, seeing their commander unmoved.
"No need," Mū waved him off casually. "This is just a minor shinobi village. Let them run."
To him, Kusagakure was nothing but a corrupt backwater, its only "strength" being the way it clung to Konoha's coattails to survive.
---
Inside the village, chaos erupted.
"Chief! Chief, it's a disaster!" A Grass ninja burst in, stumbling over his own feet.
The Kusagakure leader snapped, "Compose yourself! You're a proper shinobi now, not some trembling civilian!"
But the messenger ignored the scolding, gasping, "Iwa! Iwagakure shinobi are here! They're coming to crush us! What do we do?!"
The chief's heart sank. His face twisted.
'Iwa? Now?'
The Daimyō of Grass paled as well, staring at the chief with desperate eyes.
The leader grabbed his subordinate by the collar, demanding, "How many? Who's leading them? What do they look like?!"
The frightened shinobi stammered, "E-eleven in total… the leader, I couldn't see clearly, wrapped head to toe in bandages… and he was flying."
The chief's face drained of blood. His eyes bulged wide.
'It's over. It's completely over.'
Bandaged head to toe. Floating in the sky. Like some damned mummy god.
It could only be one man, Mū of Iwagakure.
The Daimyō of Grass began trembling. He too realized who had come.
"Damn it all!" the Kusagakure chief roared, forcing bravado into his voice. "So what if it's Iwa?! We have over two hundred shinobi in this village, and they're only eleven!"
The Daimyō of Grass nearly fainted.
'Idiot! Don't drag me down with you if you want to die.'
"Ahem… I, uh… need the restroom," the Daimyō muttered, edging toward the exit.
But the chief wasn't fooled. He grabbed the Daimyō's sleeve tightly. "Not so fast! Guard the Daimyō!" he barked.
"All Kusagakure shinobi, assemble!"
---
At the gates of Kusagakure
Under their leader's orders, the shinobi of Grass stood in formation, trying to look fierce.
Mū, floating above, narrowed his eyes.
'Interesting. They know they can't run, so they're bracing for death.'
"Earth Release: Super-Weighted Boulder Technique!"
Gathering all his strength into his leg, Mū dove like a meteor, his heel aimed straight at the enemy commander.
The sheer force of his presence froze the Kusagakure leader in place.
A heartbeat later, Mū's foot slammed into the man's face, flattening him into the dirt like a squashed radish.
"Where is your leader?! Bring him out to face me!" Mū barked, not even glancing at the man he'd just stomped.
The Grass shinobi exchanged horrified looks, their expressions twisted between shock and disbelief.
"O-on the ground, under your foot…" one stammered, trembling.
Mū blinked. Then slowly looked down.
The corpse beneath him was unrecognizable, blood and brains painting the soil.
"…Well, shit," Mū muttered. "Buddy, what were you doing standing so close? I thought you were part of the road."
He almost laughed at his own blunder.
But his remark lit a fire under the dead man's loyalists.
"You bastard! You killed the chief!"
"Kill him! We have numbers, two hundred against eleven!"
"Fire Style! Wind Style! Earth Style!"
A barrage of jutsu lit up the sky, colorful and chaotic.
Mū's expression didn't shift. His hands moved with mechanical precision.
"Dust Release: Detachment of the Primitive World Technique!"
The white cube of Dust Release expanded in an instant, consuming all the incoming jutsu. The brilliant light flashed, and then came the silence.
When the smoke cleared, there was nothing left.
The two hundred Kusagakure shinobi had been erased from existence, reduced to particles smaller than ash.
Not even dust remained.
Mū didn't even raise a brow. Only a flicker of mild surprise crossed his eyes.
He had overestimated Kusagakure. They weren't worth a fraction of the fear they liked to spread. If they truly had any strength, they wouldn't have been reduced to nothing more than pawns and cannon fodder in the wars of great nations.
"Clean up the battlefield. Sweep the village. Anyone willing to submit, keep them alive. The rest, kill."
Leaving those orders behind, Mū drifted off to find the Daimyō of Grass.
Inside a dank cave outside the village, he found the man shackled, guarded by a handful of shinobi.
"Wind Release: Wind Cutter Technique."
With a casual flick, the guards fell in pieces, cut down before they realized what had happened.
"L-Lord Mū! You've come at last!"
The Grass Daimyō scrambled forward, groveling, tears streaking his cheeks. "They forced me! They made me establish this village. I had no choice! Please, beg the Daimyō of Earth to spare me! I was coerced!"
Mū crouched, his voice low, almost gentle.
"…But I don't believe you."
Shhhk!
The man's eyes bulged with terror an instant before Mū's blade of wind cleaved cleanly through his neck.
Blood sprayed. The head hit the dirt with a dull thud.
Killing him was necessary. Leaving the Daimyō alive would only invite displeasure from the Daimyō of Earth. Better to erase Grass's sovereignty altogether and fold it cleanly into Earth's domain.
After wiping out the evidence, Mū took all the treasury and resources, piling them for transport back to Iwagakure.
Meanwhile, the news of Kusagakure's annihilation spread like wildfire.
---
Far away, in the encampment of the Fūma Clan.
"Chief! Chief!" a clansman cried, rushing in. "Kusagakure has been destroyed by Iwa!"
The clan leader froze. "…So, it's come to that."
He sighed heavily. Once, clans could survive alone. But the shinobi era was over. Now, power meant backing, a banner to rally under. A clan without a village was doomed.
"Clan head, why don't we join Iwagakure instead?" another suggested. "I heard they've relaxed their immigration rules. Anyone willing to pledge loyalty can settle there now."
The leader's eyes lit up. "So Iwa has changed? I recall it was near impossible to be accepted before."
The man nodded eagerly. "And I heard just days ago, Lord Mū himself traveled to Konoha, and fought Madara to a draw before walking away alive!"
Excitement surged through the clan. To match the strongest man alive and return unscathed… if that's the power behind Iwa, then joining them is no less than joining Konoha itself.
The Fūma patriarch made his decision on the spot. "Good! Prepare the clan. We march for Grass at once, to pledge ourselves to Lord Mū!"
---
Back in the ruins of Kusagakure, Mū was tallying up plundered treasures when an Iwa jōnin appeared, kneeling.
"Lord Mū, there is a clan outside wishing to join Iwagakure."
"Oh?" Mū arched a brow. "Which clan?"
"They call themselves the Fūma Clan."
At once, an image flickered in Mū's mind, those grotesque faces, twisted into the bodies Pain once used as puppets.
"…Interesting. Take me to them."
At the gates, the entire Fūma Clan knelt in unison. Their patriarch bowed low, voice reverent.
"Lord Mū, the Fūma Clan wishes to pledge ourselves to Iwagakure. We beg you to accept our loyalty."
Mū's eyes swept over them, weighing their worth. The Fūma Clan lacked bloodline limits, but they excelled in chakra control and weapon mastery. They could be useful, particularly as instructors in the shinobi academy he was planning.
"Report your clan's strength," Mū demanded.
The patriarch answered at once, "We have no kekkei genkai, but our mastery of chakra manipulation and ninja tools is unmatched."
Mū thought for a moment. Yes, they would serve well.
"You understand the rules of pledging yourselves to Iwa?"
The patriarch nodded firmly. "We do, and we will obey them without fail."
Mū inclined his head. "Then from this day forth, you are Iwa's people. The Fūma Clan is part of us now."
"Thank you, Lord Mū!" The patriarch kowtowed furiously, followed by over two hundred voices shouting as one:
"We swear loyalty to Lord Mū! We will fight for Iwagakure unto death!"
Mū raised his hand, cutting off their cries.
"Enough. Rise. Return with me to Iwagakure. You'll be given quarters, duties, and purpose."
And just like that, the Fūma Clan's fate was sealed, drawn into the orbit of Iwagakure, their future now tied to the ambitions of one man.