(Genma's POV)
Since neither Kurenai nor I possessed any sensory jutsu, we had no choice but to gather intel the old-fashioned way—by observing the target's entourage directly. That's how we found ourselves lounging in the hot springs of the very hotel Mitsuchi and his people were set to occupy. It was a discreet and relaxing method of reconnaissance… and, well, I couldn't exactly complain about the view.
Of course, there was a catch. Kurenai was henged as another woman to avoid drawing attention.
After a while, a commotion stirred just outside. Turned out, Mitsuchi's samurai bodyguards had arrived and were already giving the hotel staff a hard time. That confirmed it—our target was finally here. The next step was to assess his security detail: how many guards, and who exactly was protecting him.
To avoid tipping off the blonde hotel attendant I'd spoken to the night before—especially if she started asking uncomfortable questions—I had Kurenai put her under a subtle genjutsu. Once entranced, she readily gave us the answers we needed.
According to the intel, Mitsuchi's entourage consisted of five samurai and three shinobi. Based on the attendant's own observations and our deductions, the shinobi formed a standard team: one jōnin, one chūnin, and one genin.
Identifying the jōnin was key. We needed to know who he was and what kind of threat he posed, so we waited—biding our time, keeping our cover.
Patience, as it turns out, paid off.
The following evening, the jōnin strolled into the local bar—perhaps to scout the area, or maybe just for a drink. Either way, it was the opening I needed. I managed to get a clear look and match his face to one in the bingo book.
Now we knew who we were dealing with.
—
(Kurenai's POV)
'Knock Knock.'
"Honey, it's me," came Genma's voice through the door, his tone light and familiar.
"Hai, coming…" I called back, already moving to open it.
Once inside, and after confirming the hallway was clear, we dropped the pretense. It was time to talk business.
"Did you manage to identify the jōnin?" I asked, urgency creeping into my voice. Our window was closing fast—the target would be on the move in just a few days.
Genma nodded grimly. "Yeah… it's Ryouhei Kagutsuchi. The Demon Golem."
I swore under my breath. "Shit…"
"Exactly," Genma said, rubbing his temples. "He's one of Iwa's elite. High A-rank shinobi. Specializes in taijutsu and Earth Release. He can encase his entire body in chakra-infused rock armor—makes his skin harder than steel."
"So what's the plan now?" I asked, already knowing our original approach was shot to hell.
"We fall back on the contingency. With Ryouhei here, your genjutsu won't work on the whole team—and I'd never get close enough for a clean kill. I've already planted grade-two explosive tags under the hotel and in Mitsuchi's room. The idea is to take them all out in one coordinated blast. I don't want to take any risks in this mission."
I blinked, stunned. "Wait—when did you even plant the tags?"
Genma gave a sly grin. "What do you think I was doing while the hotel attendant was giving me that 'private tour'? I was planting the exploding tags and used a genjutsu to cover them up."
'Technically, I was distracting her while my clone was busy… but hey, 'teamwork is dreamwork'.'
"…Never mind," I muttered, shaking my head. "What about our retreat? Ryouhei's not someone who'll go down easily—not even with those tags."
"That's the part I'm still figuring out," Genma admitted, his voice low. "The strike has to happen just before dawn tomorrow. I'll come up with an escape route by then… I have to."
(Mitsuchi's POV)
It was 3 a.m., and an uneasy tension gnawed at my nerves. The sun hadn't yet begun to rise, but sleep remained elusive. I tossed and turned in bed, unable to quiet the thoughts racing through my head. The upcoming negotiations loomed large, and my instincts screamed that something was off. I assumed it had to do with some hidden move the Kusa Daimyō was preparing to spring during talks.
And then—
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
—
A chain of thunderous explosions ripped through the silence, shattering the stillness of the night. In mere moments, the once-quiet hotel was consumed by fire and chaos.
From a safe distance, a shadow clone of Genma—disguised as a crow—observed the scene unfold. His task was simple: confirm the elimination of the target and assess the fallout.
Then, just as expected from a jōnin of his caliber, Ryouhei Kagutsuchi emerged from the rubble. He looked battered—especially his left leg—but remained upright, his body refusing to quit. Blood seeped from multiple wounds, the worst being around his ears and that injured leg. And yet, he stood strong.
The crow gave one last look, confirming Ryouhei was alive but not in critical danger, then dropped its transformation and immediately turned and bolted.
But Ryouhei, sharp even in pain, felt the sudden spike of chakra the moment Genma dispelled the henge. Recognition flared in his eyes—the assassin was escaping.
He channeled earth chakra into his damaged leg, reinforcing it with a stone-like shell to minimize further injury, and launched into pursuit.
The night turned into a deadly game of chase through the forests beyond the burning city.
Minutes passed—quick, breathless, tense. And then finally, Ryouhei closed the distance.
The runner ahead had light brown skin and a solid, athletic build. He looked no older than sixteen, with a sword strapped across his back. Notably, he wore no forehead protector.
'Trying to conceal his village's identity,' Ryouhei noted silently.
His adrenaline dulled the pain. His focus narrowed. Whoever this boy was, he wasn't just a wandering ninja—he was trained.
The only thing left now was to capture him… and learn who had orchestrated this assassination.
As soon as Ryouhei closed the distance from the back, the enemy hidden from view was already making handseals. Sensing the danger Ryouhei too slowed down slightly, forming seals of his own.
"Lightning Style : False Darkness"
"Earth Style : Rock Gun"
(Ryouhei's POV)
A lightning-style arrow and a boulder the size of two men clashed and negated each other.
"You're a talented one, using a B-rank jutsu right off the bat."
The enemy seemed to be in no mood to reply or fall for his bait to get more information.
The boy charged, fast and aggressive. I caught his movement, spun low, and swept my leg toward his knee. He jumped, evading, and came down with a water bullet jutsu—small, dense projectiles that pelted the ground with destructive force.
One caught me in the shoulder, twisting my stance.
I gritted my teeth and retaliated, slamming my palms to the ground. "Earth Style: Stone Coffin!"
The ground erupted, jagged walls shooting up to trap him. But the boy was slippery—he darted out with an impressive body flicker, reappearing just behind me.
His lightning-infused blade grazed my side. I stumbled forward, narrowly avoiding a lethal hit—but pain exploded down my ribcage.
"That was too close," I muttered, spitting blood.
I turned, launching Earth Spikes from beneath him, forcing him back. The enemy took a hit across the thigh—deep enough to stagger him—but he didn't slow down.
Still no words. Just silence. Efficiency.
A shinobi trained for kills, not questions.
My body screamed at me as I moved. The injuries from the hotel—especially my left leg—were beginning to betray me. The strain from reinforcing it with chakra had worn thin. The dull throb in my head had become a sharp, searing agony with every movement.
This wasn't sustainable.
'I need to escape!!'
With that, I started my trump card jutsu that made me survive the Yellow Flash during the war.
"Earth-style: Subterranean Voyage"
With that, I dove under the earth's surface, deep enough that the lightning wouldn't penetrate, without even uttering the jutsu name. Soon, I felt the tremors of whatever jutsu the enemy was using to flush me out, but I kept increasing the depth and distance in order to escape death. After what seemed to be forever, the attacks finally stopped.
'I need to inform the Tsuchikage that Kumo has fucked us over again…'
—
(Kurenai's POV)
We were a good half hour from the Grass Country capital, hidden in the shade of dense woods beside a shallow stream, its soft gurgling doing little to ease my nerves. The early dawn air still held a chill, dew clinging to the edges of my flak vest.
Genma crouched nearby, resting against a tree with his hands clasped loosely in his lap, but his expression was far from relaxed. His eyes were sharp, watching the horizon beyond the treeline. He was waiting. Listening. Calculating.
I broke the silence.
"Well? Was it clean?"
He didn't look at me immediately. Just exhaled once, deep and steady.
"The target is dead. The building's gone. Our tracks covered. But…" he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ryouhei survived."
A chill ran down my spine. "What?"
Genma finally turned to meet my gaze. There was no panic in his expression—only calm.
"He was injured badly, but he survived. I expected that possibility. That's why I laid additional layers of fail-safes in motion."
I blinked. "what?"
He straightened slightly, speaking with quiet certainty.
"Three clones. Each henged as a crow."
I stared.
"First clone," he held up a finger, "engaged Ryouhei as soon as he emerged from the rubble. Kept him occupied. Gave us time to widen the gap."
"You… sent a clone to fight that monster?"
"Just long enough to slow him down," he replied. "The clone only used lightning and water techniques. Made sure of that. No fuinjutsu, no earth style, no fire style, nothing that could be traced to Konoha, and everything towards Kumo."
I stared at him in stunned silence, but he wasn't finished.
"Second Crow was stationed near the hotel perimeter. Its job was to eliminate any survivors, I didn't want collateral damage, but I couldn't leave witnesses either."
My stomach twisted—not at the morality, but at the precision. This wasn't Genma the trickster or the quietly brooding special jōnin. This was a tactician. A shinobi who understood the weight of a possible war.
"And the third?" I asked, voice low.
Genma's eyes flicked toward the sky. "Third Crow is our eye in the sky. Its task is to observe any pursuit—especially Ryouhei—and dispel the moment it sees them, passing the intel back to me. Speed, numbers, injury levels."
I exhaled slowly, processing. That kind of information relay from a clone—it had to be timed, tuned with precision. Not to mention chakra management.
"Genma…" I said softly, unable to hide the awe creeping into my tone. "When did you become this terrifying?"
He gave me a crooked grin, but there was something else behind it—something weary.
I couldn't help it. I reached over and touched his hand.
"You've changed."
He looked down at my fingers, then back at me, expression unreadable.
"Maybe. But I'm still the guy who liked teasing you during academy lunch breaks. Just… with more backup plans."
A faint rustling above made us both glance skyward. A crow cut through the rising light—sharp, deliberate.
And then—poof.
A surge of memory hit Genma, and his lips pressed into a thin line.
"Ryouhei's injured. His leg's busted, and he took a lightning blade to the side and a concussion. He'll make it back to Iwa… just not anytime soon."
A flicker of relief surged through me—followed quickly by something else. Envy. The mission had succeeded against the odds, and Kumo was now the scapegoat. But my contribution? Barely more than casting a genjutsu to lead the hotel staff away.
"Let's move," Genma said, already on his feet, all business.
I followed him silently into the trees, but my thoughts clung to him like shadows.
The Genma I once knew—the playful troublemaker when we were kids—or the loner from our academy days—he was gone.
The man walking ahead of me now?
He wasn't just becoming a Casanova. He was sharper. More ruthless.
And far more necessary for the currently weakened Konoha.