The third battle that followed was a disaster for the Akimichi clan. Since Genma had already siphoned chakra from Akimichi Kigetsu and hadn't fully depleted the chakra he'd taken from Akimichi Jinsei, it was as if the eldest and second-eldest brothers ganged up to pummel the youngest.
The outcome was predictable.
The Akimichi clan suffered three consecutive defeats, shaking the confidence of the entire shinobi clan. The three brothers, in particular, were left somewhat withdrawn after the thrashing. They began to question whether they even knew how to fight at all.
Yet, in stark contrast to this grim reality, the crowd that gathered to watch the third battle far surpassed the second. Not only were there shinobi from the Firefly Organization, but even a sizable number from Reito Castle showed up. After all, just as curious as Genma's allies were about how he secured his victories, the people of Reito Castle were equally intrigued by how the Akimichi clan managed to lose so spectacularly.
Watching didn't cost a thing, and it was a chance to broaden their horizons. Theoretically, someone could've made a small fortune selling peanuts, drinks, or bottled water around the arena. The very concept of a "duel" felt inherently unserious, and Genma had taken it a step further by turning it into a spectacle of skill rather than a fight to the death. This greatly reduced the bloodshed, transforming the battles into something akin to a performance.
As a result, both sides began treating this so-called "war" with increasing nonchalance. Or rather, they couldn't take it seriously even if they wanted to. Defeat? What did it matter? The worst outcome was getting a few burns or having some flesh steamed—hardly even a drop of blood spilled.
In short, the entire affair was veering into bizarre territory, and it was exactly the atmosphere Hane Genma needed.
After securing a triple victory, Genma felt the most critical part of this war was complete. The Firefly Organization, a scrappy upstart, had dealt a severe blow to the stock price and morale of the "traditional Akimichi family workshop." Once everything hit rock bottom, acquisition would be ripe for the taking.
Beyond that, Genma reaped some unexpected rewards from these battles. On one hand, his training in manipulating Yang chakra was progressing rapidly through this combat practice. On the other, his repeated displays of Boil Release kekkei genkai bolstered his side's morale. After all, strength was everything, and a leader's power spoke volumes about an organization's potential.
In short, whatever the Akimichi clan lost in these battles, the Firefly Organization gained. While it wasn't yet an unbreakable monolith, the group's internal cohesion was leagues beyond what it once was.
For instance, the Fuma clan had poured their heart into crafting a new weapon for their esteemed leader. Fuma Goro, the clan head, personally presented it to Genma.
"What's this?" Genma asked, slightly puzzled, as Fuma Goro approached with the weapon on a tray.
"Lord Genma," Goro began, "after witnessing your kekkei genkai and the fighting style it enables, we carefully designed this weapon to enhance your strength and make better use of your abilities. We hope it proves useful in your future battles."
"Huh? Designed specifically for me?" Genma eyed the full-sized metal armguard on the tray. Practical or not, he couldn't refuse such a thoughtful gesture.
He picked it up, noting its intricate design. From the inside out, it was layered with silk, cotton, soft leather, hardened leather, metal plates, and interlocking metal scales. The outermost scales were fixed to larger, more cohesive plates. The most sophisticated feature was the network of delicate pipelines embedded within the slender armguard, designed to guide the flow of steam.
Beneath the plates at the forearm, elbow, and upper arm were concealed vents for the pipelines. The elbow guard extended into two long, conical metal tubes shaped like antelope horns, with specially designed openings at the tips. To complement these "horns," the Fuma had carved a stylized ghost face onto the elbow plate.
Genma examined it briefly and found the wearing process straightforward. He slipped his hand into the glove beneath the gauntlet, fastened the straps in sequence, and secured the final metal clasp. The armguard, covering from shoulder to fingertips, fit snugly and comfortably. It was perfectly sized and weighted, and when he tested his arm's movement, the guard didn't hinder his flexibility at all.
Then he activated his Boil Release. Steam surged from the armguard's various vents. After a moment of adjustment, he realized the precise control of the steam's flow allowed him to exert force more effectively. The concentrated, high-speed steam jets even amplified the power of his attacks.
This weapon was both offensive and defensive, a testament to the Fuma clan's exceptional craftsmanship in ninja tools.
Genma, feeling its potential, turned to Fuma Goro. "This is thoughtful work. Thank you. This armguard will significantly boost my combat ability."
He wasn't stingy with praise. The Fuma had clearly put in immense effort, and this was no mere decorative trinket—it was a practical tool.
"No, no, no need for thanks," Goro replied with a smile. "We're just glad it's useful."
Amid such mutual praise, the atmosphere grew warm and harmonious.
They were standing in a newly constructed building, which Genma had designated as a wartime command center. As his conversation with Goro wrapped up, he caught the sound of excited chatter from the shinobi outside the corridor.
Curious, he stepped out and found Uchiha Nanami among them.
"What's going on?" he asked.
A shinobi with a slight accent and somewhat slurred speech eagerly replied, "Lord Genma, because of your string of victories, we heard Reito Castle has given you a title. They're calling you the 'Blaze Shadow'!"
The title stemmed from the way Genma's battles produced vast clouds of steam. When sunlight pierced the clear air, it cast the steam's shadow onto the ground, flickering with his movements like the shadow of a massive flame. It also implied that, despite his smaller stature compared to the Akimichi shinobi, Genma's performance made him seem like a giant. His shadow was that of an intangible colossus.
The title's origin was clear and its imagery evocative, but the shinobi's accent muddled things slightly…
"Flame Shadow," Uchiha Nanami thought to herself. Not a bad title. As the leader, it suited Genma and aligned with the Firefly Organization's theme of rising from ashes to embers.
"Blaze Shadow," Genma mused, frowning. That doesn't sound right. The "God of Shinobi" is the Hokage—Fire Shadow—with one "fire." My title, with three "fires," makes it seem like the Hokage's my subordinate. When Konohagakure is founded, how's Senju Hashirama supposed to handle that? Would the First Hokage have to step aside and say, "This old man yields the way, let him take the lead"?
No, no, that's too arrogant.
The Akimichi clan only admired him a little—they weren't ready to bow down in worship. Both Genma and Nanami were clearly overthinking a simple nickname, each adding layers of drama in their heads.
Two days later, after the first phase of combat—three "duels"—Reito Castle and the Akimichi clan had virtually no chance of victory. Some pessimists were already pondering the consequences of defeat. Though their enemy seemed to display surprising patience and mercy, no one was naive enough to expect that mercy to last forever.
They couldn't win in duels or outwit Genma. Was a desperate, all-out battle their only option left? Yet, after clashing with Genma, Akimichi Jinsei and the others strangely began to buy into his philosophy. Duels weren't so bad—just the three brothers taking turns getting beaten up. No clan members died on the battlefield. What could be luckier than that?
Maintaining the status quo seemed like a solid choice. Even if Genma was trying to steal the Akimichi clan's secret techniques, let him learn slowly. What could he do with them?
However, not everyone shared this doubt-filled outlook, least of all Daimyo Shimizu Kisuke. He had his own uncertainties, but they diverged from the norm.
That night, after returning to his chambers alone and stationing his security shinobi at a distance, Kisuke opened the window, gazing at the night sky and the moon in a quiet trance. Winter was nearly over, but the night remained silent, the songs of birds and insects still weeks away.
A little more time…
Kisuke suddenly spoke softly, "Mr. Genma, are you here?"
"Lord Daimyo, you need me for something?" A voice emerged from behind, startling Kisuke so badly he flinched.
I was just asking casually—you're actually here? Coming and going like you own the place—do you even respect privacy?
Truth be told, Genma understood privacy but didn't always respect it.
"Mr. Genma, your infiltration skills are impressive, but… you know, scaring people like that could give someone a heart attack," Kisuke said, his tone more teasing than upset. He seemed to have been waiting for a chance to talk.
"Sorry, habit," Genma replied. "I usually deal with shinobi, and most of the time, I don't need to consider their feelings." In every sense, he was being honest.
Fair enough. Aside from being a bit too cavalier, there was nothing wrong with that.
Kisuke understood. He stepped aside from the window, gesturing for Genma to sit behind a low table. Once Genma was seated, Kisuke took the host's position opposite him. By moonlight, he poured Genma a cup of tea.
Kisuke carried no air of superiority, treating Genma like an ordinary guest. Of course, this friendliness was selective—a daimyo wouldn't be this cordial with just anyone. In the presence of a capable shinobi like Genma, Kisuke maintained a clear sense of his own position, which already made him far wiser than the late Kikyo Castle daimyo, who'd clearly wasted his years.
"Mr. Genma, we're not far apart in age. Can you guess what I've feared and pondered since I was old enough to understand the world?" Kisuke asked.
Genma thought for a moment before answering naturally, "Surviving in a chaotic world?"
"Hah, exactly. That sums it up perfectly." Kisuke nodded.
Genma thought to himself, That's enough for you, but for me, I'd add, 'without seeking fame among foolish daimyo.'
"I know my circumstances are better than most commoners and even many shinobi," Kisuke continued. "But no matter how good my situation is, I can't escape the reality of living day to day, never knowing what tomorrow brings." His eyes held a glint of reminiscence.
The higher one's status, the more they clung to life. Genma couldn't fully empathize, but he could guess at Kisuke's mindset. A daimyo's suffering might seem trivial compared to a commoner's, but to someone of his status, it was monumental. Kisuke's childhood fears might seem minor, but his worries were far from baseless.
Genma listened, half-amused, unsure how much of Kisuke's words were genuine and how much were posturing.
"As a daimyo, I'm keenly aware of Reito Castle's position," Kisuke said, shaking his head. "This is just a remote outpost with limited strength. My shinobi are capable but not top-tier. The harsh reality is that Reito Castle lacks the power to change its environment. We're so weak that we can only drift along in this chaotic world, waiting for the day the tide swallows us."
Young as he was, Kisuke's grasp of the world was remarkably clear. He didn't delude himself with notions of divine destiny. Perhaps this clarity explained why Reito Castle had always maintained a defensive stance. But if so, why had they launched a military operation against Kikyo Castle? Wasn't that contradictory?
"Though your words are grim, they're hard to argue with," Genma replied. "Barring any surprises, most daimyo will likely meet the fate you describe."
He could only agree—comforting the man wasn't his job, was it?
"Yes, and I have a feeling the chaos will end soon," Kisuke said.
That caught Genma off guard. It was an astute judgment, not something you'd expect from a small-time lord stuck in the boonies.
"Why do you say that?" Genma asked.
"The fighting among shinobi is escalating. These past few years, the wars have grown fiercer, with far more deaths than before," Kisuke explained. "Like a fire burning through oil, it's at its peak and will soon decline. I'd wager a few more years, and the shinobi will be too exhausted to keep fighting."
A solid analysis. If you ignored the influence of figures like Black Zetsu, Kisuke's perspective aligned well with the historical trajectory.
"Lord Daimyo, I agree with your view, but… I'm still not sure what you're getting at," Genma said. He sensed Kisuke was circling around his true point.
"What I mean is, driven by a basic sense of caution, I've been searching for the right… someone to surrender to," Kisuke said.
Wait, what? That was a quick shift.
But for a daimyo, the idea of surrendering when outmatched wasn't unreasonable. Kisuke believed the chaos was reaching its climax, and soon a victor would emerge in the shinobi world. That victor clearly wouldn't be him, so planning his surrender early, picking the right winner, and betting it all might even secure him a founding role in the new order.
It wasn't profound wisdom, but it was clever. It showed Kisuke's clear understanding of the shinobi world and his own precarious position.
"Surrendering is a technical skill—not just anyone can pull it off," Genma remarked.
"Exactly. Easier said than done. I don't even know who I should align with," Kisuke admitted.
"In times like these, choosing late is better than choosing wrong," Genma offered.
"You think so too?" Kisuke asked.
Genma nodded. "Until the shinobi world's situation becomes clearer, it's best to keep watching."
Kisuke fell into thought.
Then Genma continued, "I have a suggestion, if you're willing to hear it."
"Please, speak freely. Tonight, we're just having a casual chat."
"My suggestion is… I align myself with you, Lord Daimyo."
"Hm… what?"
"Then, the Akimichi clan surrenders to me."
"What?!"
Kisuke's mind short-circuited, struggling to process Genma's leap in logic. Wait, your ideas are jumping faster than mine!
Surrendering was indeed a high-skill maneuver.
Genma needed Kisuke's shinobi. Taking the daimyo as an incidental acquisition posed no issue, and it would smooth the political integration of the Firefly Organization and the Akimichi clan. Genma's group would grow stronger, and Reito Castle's shinobi forces would swell dramatically—a win-win.
A world where no one got hurt was achieved.
Well, except maybe for a certain Date fellow, who might start singing about "selling my love, bearing the debt of conscience."
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