A secret technique like Jiongu, at its level, would be considered a steal no matter the price if it were ever put up for sale. Under normal circumstances, it's absolutely not for sale—100% non-negotiable.
So when Fuma Goro started advertising it, the effect on other shinobi was like shouting about free eggs and rice in a neighborhood park. Every uncle and auntie within ten miles would have no reason not to show up.
Different perspectives yield different views. When Hane Genma told Fuma Goro that transplanting Jiongu's tentacles could cultivate a "Cursed Jiongu" powerhouse, the latter naturally chose to believe him. Even if the success rate was low, it was just a matter of luck and probability.
Thus, when Fuma Goro laid out his "business principles," the shinobi was thoroughly hooked, facing a situation akin to "pay two thousand bucks to join the club." The terms Fuma Goro offered were too generous: payment only upon success, and if it failed, the buyer's only loss would be a few lives—hardly a steep price.
This shinobi wasn't a fool. He quickly realized that the head of the Fuma Clan must have stumbled upon this secret technique by chance. Powerful as it was, it was still a half-finished product. That's why the clan leader offered such terms—he needed help to complete its development. On the surface, this was a sale of a secret technique, but in reality, they were looking for partners to provide test subjects.
Cheap deals always come with a cost, and the cost here was providing "experimental material" for the Fuma Clan. But that made sense. If the Fuma Clan could mass-produce secret technique powerhouses so easily, why would they ever reveal it to outsiders? Precisely because it was a dangerous, unfinished product, it wasn't treated as a priceless, unsellable treasure.
Would this shinobi, who had originally come to buy ninja tools, refuse such an offer? Of course not. It wasn't exactly a gift from the heavens, but it was close enough.
Just as the Fuma Clan wouldn't use their own people as test subjects, this shinobi felt the same. There were plenty of other shinobi out there—losing a few outsiders didn't hurt. In fact, it felt satisfying.
So the deal was this: the buyer provides test subjects for the Fuma Clan and shares in the experimental results. Thinking it over, this was indeed a promising venture.
"Can I see a sample of the transplanted technique?" the shinobi asked, his mind already leaning toward a decision but wanting final confirmation of its authenticity.
"Of course, please wait a moment," Fuma Goro replied. He stepped away briefly and returned holding a glass container. "Here it is—the transplant sample for the Cursed Jiongu technique. It's extremely rare, so it's for display only." With that, he generously handed the container to the shinobi.
The potential partner examined the long, cylindrical glass tube, about the thickness of a thumb, sealed at the bottom and open at the top. A small white stem sat at the base, sprouting a fleshy bud. From the bud grew strands of white, hair-like filaments, unnaturally long, coiling around the inner walls of the tube in loops.
The sight matched the descriptions in the small booklet perfectly. More importantly, even through the glass, the shinobi could sense the tenacious vitality and an eerie, invasive quality emanating from it. A chill ran down his spine. Staring at the writhing, lifelike filaments, he instinctively touched his neck.
This was no ordinary thing. Seeing it in person dispelled his last shred of doubt.
"You've shown your sincerity," he said. "I think we can try working together." Reluctantly, he returned the "sample" to Fuma Goro. The situation felt urgent—he worried that missing this chance would mean losing it forever. Acting as a mere "procurement officer," he made the decision on behalf of his higher-ups.
"That's wonderful," Fuma Goro said, taking back the sample. Noticing the shinobi's expression, he added half-jokingly, half-seriously, "The sample is precious, but if you want to try a transplant, we can assist immediately… as a show of our 'sincerity.'"
The esteemed guest shook his head like a fan on high speed. He refused outright—he wasn't ready to die. Sincerity? That was the most sinister idea he'd heard. Despite Fuma Goro's polite demeanor, his mindset carried the era's typical traits—like viewing anyone outside his clan as less than human.
They finalized some transaction details, then parted ways, both sides pleased.
Five days later, Hane Genma and Fuma Goro arrived at a remote village. They were familiar with the place—it was where they'd first stopped when entering the Kikyo Castle region. Genma wore a long white coat and a mask, waiting quietly. Fuma Goro stood behind him, holding a black case.
The reason for choosing this village over Kikyo Castle for the transaction and experiment was simple: Genma didn't want to disturb the townsfolk. He had a feeling things might get noisy.
Soon, their trading partner arrived as promised, led by the shinobi from before. Behind him were five clan shinobi, who in turn controlled twenty captives. The group was clearly divided into three tiers—Genma could instantly tell who the unlucky ones were.
"Do you think they'll try a zero-yen purchase?" Genma asked Fuma Goro, tilting his head toward him after sizing up the group. With six visible fighters, and possibly more hidden among the "captives" or "slaves," they could easily overwhelm the two of them. Outnumbering them seemed tempting.
Fuma Goro understood the term "zero-yen purchase" and shook his head confidently. "Unlikely." Without seeing results, anyone with half a brain wouldn't act recklessly.
Genma agreed but felt a twinge of regret. If they did try to rob them, he could've gotten free experimental material without the hassle of a deal. Robbery's return rate was, frankly, better than business—a universal truth.
Soon, the group approached. "I haven't introduced myself," the shinobi said. "You can call me Yurei." The name sounded fake, but Fuma Goro had no choice but to use his real identity, as the deal was made under the Fuma Clan's name.
"Fuma Goro," he said, somewhat reluctantly.
Yurei's gaze shifted to Genma, who cleared his throat and said, "I'm Takanotsume." For shady dealings, a disguise was necessary, and Genma's outfit screamed "cosplaying divine healer."
The "divine healer" glanced at the "experimental material." Some were under genjutsu, others bound by basic restraint techniques. He shook his head inwardly—these weren't materials; they were expendables. The control methods were crude, easily broken, but the captives' strength was so pitifully low that it didn't matter. Using low-end methods on weaklings was, in a way, efficient.
"Where's the payment?" Fuma Goro asked Yurei bluntly.
Yurei took a box from a subordinate, opened it to reveal neatly stacked, oval-shaped gold coins. He then pulled a scroll from his chest pocket. "This contains basic medical ninjutsu and training methods." He placed the scroll in the box, locked it, and handed it to Fuma Goro.
This wasn't a transfer of ownership. Per their agreement, Fuma Goro was merely holding the box. If the experiment succeeded, he'd keep the payment; if it failed, the box would be returned.
"Let's begin—one at a time," Fuma Goro said. "Brace yourself. These people are too weak; I doubt we'll get results."
Genma had noticed the same thing—Fuma Goro's eyes weren't blind to it either. Forget chakra strength; their physical condition was so frail they likely couldn't withstand the erosion.
Yurei nodded, saying nothing. He'd brought these people as a test run, fully aware of the likely outcome.
"Can I observe up close?" he asked.
"Of course," Fuma Goro replied instantly. What, did they expect him to reveal some high-tech process?
Genma and Fuma Goro entered a nearby house, with Yurei and the first unlucky test subject following. The dazed subject sat on a chair. At Genma's signal, Fuma Goro made a swift cut on the subject's arm and carefully extracted a fleshy bud from a glass container in his case.
"Careful not to lose your own arm," Genma teased casually from the sidelines.
The comment made Fuma Goro tense up. For some reason, he always felt Genma enjoyed stressing him out. After extracting the bud, he planted it in the wound, pressing one hand on the "graft" site to guide the bud's faint chakra to stimulate growth—the most technical part of the process. Fuma Goro couldn't do this alone; Genma had lent him his chakra beforehand, allowing the bud to grow outward rather than erode the subject inward.
What followed was simple. Once the "seed" exhausted its nutrients, it would root downward, seeking sustenance from the "soil." The bud burrowed into the subject's flesh at a visible rate, drawing on their chakra. The white filaments went wild, proliferating uncontrollably. Within minutes, the bud multiplied.
Agonized screams echoed through the desolate village. The erosion was too fast; the subject had no resistance. Not only did they fail to control the transplant, but they became its nourishment.
"Next," Genma sighed, signaling Fuma Goro to end the subject's suffering.
"This… Doctor Takanotsume has quite the healer's heart," Yurei remarked, unclear if he was praising Genma or mocking his hypocrisy.
Genma felt some pity—seeing life but unable to bear its death. Calling it hypocrisy wasn't entirely wrong. He'd once thought, "If I can't be a great leader, I'll be a great healer." But after the experiment's swift failure, his mindset shifted to "medicine can't save the shinobi world." He couldn't become a cold-blooded scientist like Orochimaru; he wasn't cut out for treating lives so callously.
Seeing Fuma Goro adapt well to the task and knowing no results would come soon, Genma left the "slaughterhouse." Sure enough, the second subject met the same fate as the first.
In just two days, the "expendables" were used up, with no successes. Yurei wasn't discouraged. After witnessing the Cursed Jiongu's erosive power, he left early to find more test subjects. He saw it clearly: the harder the process, the more brilliant the eventual results.
Genma didn't stay. His organization was just taking root in Kikyo Castle, and he had many trivial matters to handle. Fuma Goro gradually became the experiment's lead. Two weeks later, Genma received good news: Fuma Goro had found a suitable test subject who withstood the bud's erosion and began controlling its power.
Genma didn't ask how many had died, but Fuma Goro mentioned a success rate of about 0.011%—like the odds of pulling a rare card in a gacha game. After such a cost for a single success, how did Yurei, their partner, feel? Regret? Like he'd boarded a pirate ship?
Quite the opposite. The moment success was achieved, he nearly jumped three feet in the air, endlessly praising Fuma Goro: "Doctor, your skills bring the dead back to life!"
Genma cared only about results, not the process, so he found the experiment surprisingly smooth. This contrasted sharply with Fuma Goro, who'd toiled like a workhorse and doubted success was even possible. Such was the difference between a boss and a laborer—mismatched perceptions were normal.
The experiment lacked a scientific process. It wasn't development but screening for rare individuals who could resist the erosion. Success didn't come from research but from chance—a shinobi whose strength perfectly countered the erosion, gradually merging with the technique to wield its power. That was how "success" happened.
When Genma saw the test subject, he immediately understood their compatibility with Jiongu—more precisely, with the original Jiongu user, Kakuzu. The scars from the transplant matched Kakuzu's exactly in number, shape, and position, as if they were a blueprint of him.
"Any further tests?" Genma asked Fuma Goro.
Looking exhausted and expressionless, Fuma Goro didn't explain immediately. Instead, he demonstrated. The test subject was asleep. Fuma Goro removed one of their arms at a scar site. The process was gruesome—countless white filaments stretched between the severed parts, taut and tough. In the center, they clustered into a cocoon-like mass, pulsing rhythmically.
Only then did Fuma Goro explain, "This is another subject's heart, transplanted here. The Cursed Jiongu's tentacles immediately enveloped it, and now they're fully integrated. With this heart's help, the subject's chakra strength is steadily increasing."
Genma felt this wasn't the technique itself at work but Kakuzu's genetic information embedded within it. Though Jiongu wasn't a kekkei genkai, it acted like one here. The subject's behavior resembled those who'd transplanted a Sharingan or Byakugan—certain traits emerged naturally without training. Chakra carries the original owner's will, and while it sounded far-fetched, it was as if a fragment of Kakuzu had "revived" in this subject through the technique's expression. Not a literal resurrection, of course—just a manifestation of chakra and technique, not a lingering soul like the Sage of the Six Paths.
"Well done," Genma praised, subtly glancing at Fuma Goro, who gave a faint nod. He'd already harvested a new bud from this subject. If Kakuzu's Jiongu was the first generation, Genma's White Zetsu-cultivated version was the second, and this subject's successful assimilation marked the third.
Yurei wasn't foolish. He noticed the clear hierarchy between Genma and Fuma Goro, growing suspicious of the so-called Fuma Clan. The forces in Kikyo Castle were more than just the Fuma.
As Fuma Goro continued examining the subject, Genma sensed something. Discreetly moving beside the subject, using Fuma Goro's body as cover, he whispered, "Keep your wits about you." Then, standing up, he addressed Yurei, "The experiment was a complete success. Our collaboration has been pleasant. You can take him back and train him into a powerful shinobi mastering all five elemental releases."
Yurei nodded with a smile. "Thank you for your help. This was a great success. Once we confirm the technique's strength, we'll definitely visit again." But inwardly, he was scheming. The Fuma Clan seemed less than clever, and if an opportunity arose… he wouldn't miss any weakness.
Shinobi loyalty was worth less than a dog's. If Genma knew Yurei's thoughts, he… wouldn't care. Only those who survived long enough could make grand or sinister plans.
Regardless of what lay ahead for their esteemed partner, Genma had gained much. This single success showed a path to strengthening his organization. But unbeknownst to him, no place in the shinobi world could remain peaceful for long. While Genma wanted steady growth, conflicts were already quietly approaching.
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