A ninja's life, huh? It's true, it's not worth much.
But even lab rats should have some value in their deaths, right? No rat deserves to die in vain.
Fuma Goro, a textbook cold-blooded native ninja, held views so ruthless and extreme that sometimes he genuinely believed the world would be fine if every ninja outside his own people dropped dead.
That's why he had to solemnly thank Genma. Because of Genma, for the first time, he found himself feeling pity for strangers.
Why? Because Genma was kind.
"Could we… maybe pretend we didn't notice this?" Fuma Goro hesitated before speaking.
So what if it was burying his head in the sand? Running away might be shameful, but it was effective. If he accepted Genma's perspective, wouldn't all his hard work up to now feel like a waste?
It wasn't that his work hadn't progressed; it was that Genma's insight made his efficiency look laughably low and his costs outrageously high.
Why hadn't Genma said something sooner? If he had, wouldn't Goro have succeeded ages ago?
The "grudge" in Jigo Yurei's technique stemmed from the resentment of the tragic test subjects—and, frankly, from Fuma Goro's own resentment.
As for the "curse," who knows how many curses Genma had silently endured?
"Of course not. What are you thinking? We can use this experiment to screen out internal ninjas who can adapt to Jigo Yurei's secret technique. If they're willing, it's a chance to become stronger… It's not too late to mend the fence after the sheep's gone."
Discovering a unique mechanism meant they had to exploit it. How could they just ignore it? Where was the scientific spirit in that?
By using a "skin test mechanism," they could identify those who could adapt to the secret technique, sidestepping its risks and making the transplant process targeted and precise. Could there be anything better?
Sure, the "skin test" might sting a bit, requiring a piece of flesh to be cut from the subject, but compared to the massive risks avoided and the potential benefits gained, what was a single cut?
Ninjas get cut every day. It's no big deal.
At this thought, Genma instantly lost interest in the surviving test subjects.
He turned to Fuma Goro and said, "Put the iterative cultivation of the grafts on hold for now. Your focus should shift to identifying cellular changes post-transplant. What changes occur if the transplant succeeds? What if it fails? We need clear answers, and fast."
"This can't be sloppy. The next ones receiving transplants will be our own people."
Such a simple experimental method hadn't occurred to Genma earlier because he hadn't even considered it. Only when it came time to transplant for their own did he have a "eureka" moment.
In truth, he didn't care much about the lab rats' lives.
"I understand," Fuma Goro said, taking a deep breath and nodding solemnly.
Seeing that Genma's discovery could genuinely help their people avoid risks, he quickly forgot about the tragic test subjects. Better to find this out late than never, right? No problem there.
Ahem. Humans are awfully good at convincing themselves.
The test subjects were still valuable, but both felt they'd seen enough. Fuma Goro promptly shifted his research focus, and soon after, he achieved ideal results.
When Jigo Yurei's flesh buds were transplanted onto a person or their tissue, the cellular changes between those who could adapt and those who couldn't were starkly obvious.
For safety's sake, adhering to caution, Fuma Goro conducted multiple experiments and repeated observations before finally confirming the identification method's accuracy.
In essence, Fuma Goro wasn't a true researcher. He lacked the fundamental qualities. His so-called research project was just him being forced into the role.
Why did he seem to do well? Because the "research" was barely more than "dig a hole, bury some dirt." Any random ninja could handle it.
Still, results were results, and they were ready for practical use.
Though Jigo Yurei's transplant grafts weren't fully iterated and couldn't be "completely detoxified," with the screening mechanism fully utilized, they could already serve as a sharp blade for the organization.
After just one day of rest, Senju Tobirama felt his body recover significantly. Judging he wasn't too weak to fight, he decided to leave Kikyo Castle and return to the Senju Clan as soon as possible.
Genma's ideas for developing Flying Thunder God were valuable, but even with a clear direction, space-time ninjutsu wasn't something you could perfect overnight.
Considering the extreme dangers of spatial jumps, Tobirama wouldn't risk his life on reckless experiments without absolute certainty.
Who knew how long developing such a technique would take? He couldn't stay in Kikyo Castle indefinitely.
Last time, when he and Genma worked on Rasengan, he wasted so much time that his prolonged absence caused panic in the clan. In this era, a ninja who didn't return on time was assumed dead.
This time, he wasn't about to cause the same chaos… though, unbeknownst to him, he was already stirring trouble.
In the morning, he discussed matters with Genma, and by evening, he decided to bid him farewell.
Given Tobirama's personality, he should've just left the ward. With his sensory abilities, he didn't need anyone to guide him to Genma.
Yet, for some reason, he didn't. Instead, he dawdled, inexplicably seeking out Chihori first to explain his intent to leave, letting her lead him to Genma… Maybe he was just being civilized and polite.
When Genma saw Tobirama and learned his intentions, he had no objections. To Genma, it only mattered whether Tobirama returned from Kikyo Castle or not—how long he stayed was irrelevant.
Before leaving, Tobirama pulled out a bird from who-knows-where and handed it to Genma, saying it could be used for contact if needed.
Genma accepted the bird calmly. Wherever it came from, it was a good bird. Instant communication? That signified a deepening of their bond.
Go on, Tobirama, leave. The man can go, but the bird stays.
As Tobirama departed Kikyo Castle, at the Sarutobi Clan's village, an uninvited guest who wasn't afraid of walking alone at night arrived.
Sarutobi Sasuke, a renowned figure, personally greeted the visitor. Though not yet the Sarutobi Clan leader, his fame made him more representative of the clan than the actual leader, both within and beyond.
"Hashirama, it's been a while. You look even stronger… What brings you here? Something happen?"
The visitor was Senju Hashirama.
Sarutobi Sasuke appeared older, maybe four or five years Hashirama's senior. Their strength was hard to compare, but Sasuke's reputation in the shinobi world slightly outshone Hashirama's.
Age mattered. Sasuke had lived four or five years longer, which meant four or five more years of killing.
Was a ninja's "kill" just a simple takedown? No, it was slaughter.
Hashirama had endured all the pain a ninja should, yet he rarely wore a bitter, vengeful expression. He often seemed like a carefree optimist, but this time, he couldn't muster a smile.
"Sasuke, there's something… Here's what happened. Earlier, my brother Tobirama and another clansman were ambushed by the Hagoromo Clan. My support was delayed, and by the time I arrived, the fight was over."
"I chased down the enemies and learned one of our clansmen died, but Tobirama was saved by a Sarutobi ninja."
Don't ask how Hashirama got the intel—just a gentle tap to awaken sleeping minds, a slow lift of not-so-tough skulls.
"Where?" Sarutobi Sasuke asked.
Hashirama gave the location, but Sasuke shook his head firmly.
"No, that's not right. None of our Sarutobi ninjas have been there recently."
"But I heard the one who saved Tobirama was your brother, Sarutobi Yusuke, a skilled ninja who apparently wields Boil Release kekkei genkai."
"Huh?"
"Is something wrong? Yusuke sounds like your brother's name. Isn't that what he's called?"
"No, I don't have a brother," Sasuke said.
At least, not one still alive.
"No one in the Sarutobi Clan's fighting force is named Yusuke… and Boil Release is rare. No one in our clan has that kekkei genkai."
"Not Sarutobi aid? Then who helped Tobirama? According to the enemies, Tobirama seemed familiar with them." Hashirama was utterly baffled.
"Familiar? That at least means Tobirama was indeed saved and isn't in danger."
Sasuke's expression turned odd, his thoughts veering toward conspiracy. Someone was impersonating a Sarutobi ninja, possibly to stir conflict between the Sarutobi and Hagoromo Clans.
Could Tobirama have staged it? Unlikely, but not impossible.
But Sasuke couldn't press the issue. Whether Tobirama was scheming or not, Hashirama had already cleaned up his brother's mess. No doubt, Hashirama had "handled" the Hagoromo ninjas who believed a "(fake) Sarutobi ninja aided the Senju against them."
Swift Release ninjas were fast, sure.
But they couldn't outrun Hashirama's attack range.
Some ninjas were just that unreasonable.
"So… where's my brother?"
Sasuke was speechless. How am I supposed to answer that?
The "Where's My Brother" saga would soon wrap up. On the third day after Tobirama left Kikyo Castle, the Firefly Organization began a "census."
Genma started searching for ninjas who could adapt to Jigo Yurei's secret technique.
Out of curiosity, Genma took the "skin test" himself. Unsurprisingly, he showed high compatibility.
It made sense—those flesh buds had been cultivated repeatedly with White Zetsu corpses. Genma's adaptability wasn't shocking.
But at this stage, he didn't need techniques like Jigo Yurei's. They offered little boost to his strength and could even interfere with his "White Zetsu evolution path," which relied on composite kekkei genkai to push his limits.
Genma doubled down on this path, abandoning techniques like Jigo Yurei or Di Yuan Yu, as they might disrupt his system.
Besides Genma, the organization's full screening identified five compatible ninjas. Fuma Goro handed the results to Genma.
"Five people? That many? Isn't that a bit much?" It was good news, but for some reason, Genma felt such smooth success was an ominous sign.
The Firefly Organization had about seventy ninjas. Including Genma, the success rate for Jigo Yurei's technique was nearly ten percent… for a half-finished, highly dangerous technique.
After the initial shock, Genma reviewed the list:
"From the Fuma Clan… huh, Fuma Satoshi? Nice name. Sounds like a future top-tier warrior."
"Kiri, Takanotsume."
These two were Genma's clansmen, from the Hanemiya Clan. Genma remembered Kiri—a hotheaded kid who nearly went berserk during the Tsugawa assault operation.
Fate was funny. Two unremarkable kids were compatible with Jigo Yurei's technique, while Hayasaka Ryunosuke and Morinaga Kanzawa, who'd been eager, were rejected.
"Akimichi Chuyu, the youngest of the Akimichi brothers, and… huh, Nara Hideyuki."
The list was diverse, scattered. Genma pondered, then asked Fuma Goro, "What are their opinions? Are they willing to accept the technique?"
Jigo Yurei's technique wasn't exactly appealing. Not everyone could stomach such extensive body modification.
But Genma was naive. For most ninjas of this era, gaining power trumped bodily concerns.
"Nara Hideyuki is still considering. Akimichi Chuyu, after learning the details, refused. The other three are willing," Fuma Goro said.
"What? That high an acceptance rate… What's up with Chuyu?"
Genma wasn't accusing, just curious.
Fuma Goro's expression turned strange. "Chuyu's reason for refusing is… abstract. He said he couldn't handle it psychologically, like there were countless bugs crawling in his body. After seeing the technique's details, his hair practically stood on end in front of his brother. Akimichi Jinsei chewed him out for it."
Seriously? Was Jinsei scolding Chuyu for refusing the technique, or for daring to let his hair stand up in his presence? Or maybe Jinsei was just disappointed he himself wasn't compatible?
If he could, Jinsei would probably plant Jigo Yurei's flesh buds on his scalp to make his "barren land" lush again.
But Genma understood Chuyu. He wasn't just being dramatic.
"I get it. He might have trypophobia or some kind of psychological cleanliness issue."
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