The Mist ninja whose body Gen had hijacked didn't know where Suikazan Fuguki lived. But that hardly mattered.
There were only so many jonin-level chakra signatures among the Mist's frontline forces, and Fuguki's was unmistakable. As a commander, his quarters in the war fortress would also be distinctive, secure, spacious, and set apart.
Filtering through those two criteria, Gen quickly pinpointed his location.
His spirit slipped through the thick walls of the fortress until it reached the highest chamber. A private suite, simple but fully outfitted for long-term command. The only thing missing was a kitchen.
It was deep into the night.
The lamps had long since gone out, leaving only the pale glow of moonlight spilling in through the window. From within the bedroom came the sound of heavy, thunderous snoring.
Passing silently through the wall, Gen entered. On the bed lay a massive, broad-shouldered figure, sprawled on his back beneath a thin blanket; Suikazan Fuguki.
Confirming the target, Gen's spirit turned into a streak of light and plunged into Fuguki's body.
A sleeping body rests; a sleeping mind drifts. Even in dreams, only the subconscious stirs. In that defenseless state, Gen seized control with ease.
Fuguki's main consciousness snapped awake the moment he lost control of his body but his body itself remained locked in paralysis, as if gripped by a nightmare he could not wake from.
Inside the bleak, oppressive space of his inner world, Gen's figure materialized before him.
"We meet again, Fuguki," Gen greeted lightly, a polite smile playing on his lips.
"Uchiha Gen?!" Fuguki's eyes widened, face twitching with disbelief. "How are you here? What have you done to me?"
"Me? I'm only returning the courtesy," Gen replied calmly. "The Mist schemed against me, so naturally, I have to retaliate. And who better than the commander himself?" His smile sharpened. "As for what I've done to you...it's simple. I've taken control of your body."
Fuguki's gut twisted at those words. His body, his strength, no longer his own, how could that be nothing? Panic clawed at him, but instinct drove him to fight.
His orange mane of hair suddenly bristled, expanding into hardened needles, preparing to rain down in a lethal storm.
Gen's eyes spun into a three-tomoe Sharingan. He swept his gaze once.
"Overestimating yourself."
With that, the jutsu collapsed. The hair shrank and fell limp, as if life itself had been drained from it.
Genjutsu: Shackling Stakes!
The gray void bled crimson. A blood-red moon rose behind Gen, casting its glow over the space. Three massive, rusted iron stakes erupted from the ground, piercing through Fuguki's limbs and chest. He howled as agony tore through his very soul, pinning him in place.
In this realm, there were no tricks, no external factors but only three things determined the victor; the strength of one's soul, the resilience of one's will, and the quality of one's chakra.
Gen knew his advantages. His soul and chakra dwarfed Fuguki's. Willpower was the only uncertain factor, and as a transmigrator, Gen admitted he couldn't compare to a lifetime shinobi's grit. But it hardly mattered.
Fuguki writhed and strained, face contorted with pain, but the stakes held. Eventually, the resistance bled from him, and his voice cracked with defeat.
"…What do you want?"
Gen raised two fingers, smiling faintly.
"You have two choices. The first, death. And not just death. You know my power. If I kill you, you won't even make it to the Pure Land. You'll vanish completely, erased from this world."
"The second, submit. Serve me, from this day forward."
His voice dropped into a command. "Choose."
"I—I don't want to die!" Fuguki blurted out, trembling. "I submit! I'll submit!"
Gen's smile widened. Whether Fuguki's words were sincere or not didn't matter. He shifted his focus, and Fuguki's eyes snapped open in the real world.
The hulking jonin sat upright, body moving under Gen's control. His hands formed seals.
In the consciousness space, Fuguki's heart dropped. "What are you doing?" he demanded, trying to mask the dread in his voice. Though he couldn't move his body, he could still feel what it was doing.
Gen arched a brow. "Just putting a collar around your neck."
A pulse of chakra flared in reality. On Fuguki's thick neck, an intricate black seal appeared, strange geometric lines, ominous and permanent. It sank beneath the skin like ink vanishing into flesh.
The Flying Thunder God mark.
A brand that even Obito, master of Kamui, had failed to erase. A brand that had endured from the night of the Nine-Tails attack until the Fourth Great War.
Unbreakable. Unforgiving.
"There," Gen said in both realms, his voice carrying that quiet, assured finality.
He released the shackling illusion. Fuguki staggered free but dared not lash out again.
Far away, in the Konoha camp, Gen's other half as his soul split between bodies felt the mark resonate. He activated the Flying Thunder God. Space folded.
And in an instant, Uchiha Gen appeared in Fuguki's chamber, standing over him in the flesh.
Fuguki froze, staring in disbelief from his mindscape. Had all the Mist's defenses, the fortress barriers, the sealing arrays, meant nothing at all?
Gen smirked. "That mark on your neck? It's my coordinate. No matter where you go, I can reach you instantly. If you try to remove it, you'll only kill yourself. But you're welcome to try."
The meaning was clear. He had Fuguki's life in his palm.
Fuguki's spirit sank into despair. His thoughts raced, loyalty to Yagura, loyalty to the Mist.
For years, he had carried them, even with his flaws. But his nature had always leaned toward self-preservation. If not, he wouldn't one day betray the Mist for his own gain.
After a long silence, he bowed his head. "You win. From now on, I'll obey you."
Gen chuckled. "Don't look so miserable. A wise man bends with the wind. You're a wise man, Fuguki. One day, you'll thank yourself for tonight's choice."
Fuguki exhaled, voice low and heavy. "…I almost believe that." His gaze flicked toward Gen, filled with reluctant awe.
"You hide your strength well. Before, I couldn't understand how an entire reinforced squad was wiped out. But now… the Flying Thunder God, the Spirit Transformation Technique… the two together, no one could guard against that."