After concealing their injured, defenseless kin deep within the forest, the three remaining members of the clan began moving rapidly in their predetermined directions, making no effort to hide their presence—they were bait.
With the enemy's pursuit drawing near, Yugami Genma intended to isolate and eliminate them one by one. The other two had resolved to sacrifice themselves to buy even a sliver of security for their remaining kin.
Would the enemy split up their forces? Genma was fairly certain they would. Not only because of the tactical situation, but also due to the very nature of the current war.
At this time, wars were fought between shinobi clans. Shinobi trusted only their own blood. Anyone outside that circle was either an enemy or, at best, a hostile neutral.
Under such conditions, survival demanded that any threat be rooted out completely, leaving no possibility for retaliation.
The Yugami Clan was little more than a dying ember. A single breath—not even deliberate—could extinguish them. For an enemy, dividing forces to pursue them posed neither risk nor hesitation.
They were a small clan. No kekkei genkai. No secret techniques handed down. Barely scraping by in the margins of the shinobi world. If they had any distinguishing trait, it was a modest proficiency in Fire Release techniques.
But Fire Release had an enormous gap between the upper and lower bounds of mastery. The Yugami clan could use Fire Release—but so could the Sarutobi and Uchiha clans. And who would dare compare the two?
Their enemies, the Tsugawa clan, were of mid-tier scale, capable of mobilizing over a hundred shinobi—an overwhelming force compared to the dwindling Yugami. It was the Tsugawa who had razed their village to the ground.
Was there some deep-seated grudge between them? Not particularly. The Tsugawa were simply expanding their territory.
Big fish eat small fish. The Tsugawa wouldn't dream of challenging the larger clans for space—they turned their cruelty on the weak instead.
Once Genma had drawn a safe distance from the others, he began leaping between the treetops, moving boldly and deliberately, as if daring the enemy to spot him.
As expected, they did.
From the northwest of the forest, Tsugawa shinobi appeared on schedule.
"Captain, we've spotted three targets fleeing in different directions. One of them appears to be the young clan head who escaped earlier. No other enemies in sight. I suspect these three are trying to draw us away to buy time for the others."
The lead scout quickly reported the situation to his commanding officer.
The captain—tall, broad, and in his thirties—didn't even slow his pace. "Same old trick. Decoys."
"Yes, Captain. It's not the first time they've tried this."
"If I had to guess, the rest of them are hiding somewhere in this forest. They don't have the means to move far. These three are likely all that's left of their fighting force. It's even possible these are the only three still able to move. Once they're dead… the rest will be buried with the trees."
His assessment wasn't wrong. The so-called decoy strategy was merely a dying gasp. The Yugami clan was finished. Whether they died now or later made little difference.
"I remember that young clan head—clever enough to be dangerous, but not strong enough to back it up. I'll take him. Split into three squads of five. Scouts, stay with the long-range team."
"Yes, Captain!"
Without hesitation, the Tsugawa split their forces to eliminate the last of their resistance.
Just as Genma anticipated.
And, even better, the strongest among them—the captain himself—was headed straight for Genma.
A predictable move. Genma was the head of his clan, their symbol. His death would mark the end of the Yugami line. He could not be allowed to escape.
Among the fifteen enemies: one jōnin (the captain), two special jōnin (leading the other two squads), eight chūnin, and four genin for support. More than enough power to wipe out the entire Yugami clan.
"Captain, he's just ahead!"
One of the Tsugawa shouted.
They were closing in fast, while Genma subtly slowed his pace—just enough to allow them to catch up.
"Flank and surround him," ordered the captain.
Five shinobi moved out in separate directions, forming a loose net around Genma. Soon, he was within their striking range.
A sharp whistling split the air—kunai aimed straight at his torso. Mid-leap, Genma twisted, ducked his head, and narrowly avoided the blow.
The kunai missed, but the evasive maneuver cost him his footing. He dropped into the underbrush.
Then—he vanished.
"What?! He's gone?"
"Was it a clone? No, it couldn't be…"
The sudden disappearance caused momentary confusion. But the captain remained calm.
"Get to higher ground. No more moving around unnecessarily. Stay alert. Don't doubt yourselves. That rat's still here—he can't escape."
Under normal circumstances, if they kept their formation tight, Genma wouldn't stand a chance of getting away.
But…
The Mayfly Technique—Zetsu's signature jutsu. It allowed him to merge with the terrain itself—trees, soil, water. With all chakra signatures suppressed, he could move undetected through underground root systems and water veins.
A perfect assassination technique.
And it didn't even require hand signs—it could be activated instantly.
Now, even with only moderate proficiency, Genma could use this jutsu in combat.
The captain stood calmly on a thick branch, eyes scanning the undergrowth. A seasoned warrior, veteran of dozens of battles, he would not be tricked by appearances. Sooner or later, a flaw would show.
In terms of strength, experience, battlefield judgment—the captain outclassed Genma in every way. To him, Genma was just a child playing at war.
But what he didn't know was that conventional experience could only predict conventional warfare. And precision meant nothing if the rules suddenly changed.
War does not allow for second chances.
Genma emerged silently behind the captain. His form was clearly visible—yet had no presence. The enemy's sharpened senses didn't register him at all.
Time seemed to freeze.
Even Genma's heartbeat halted. In that sliver of stillness before his heart pumped again, the boundary between life and death was drawn.
His right hand drove a kunai into the enemy's lower back, blade sinking in to the hilt. His left hand followed with a short sword, thrust cleanly into the back of the captain's neck, slicing through spine and throat as easily as paper.
The Mayfly Technique was nearly flawless—but Genma only had one assured use in this fight. He aimed it at the most dangerous target.
And succeeded.
It was a perfect kill. The enemy never even made a sound.
But one of the nearby shinobi, hyper-alert and watching the ground, turned the moment the strike landed.
"Enemy attack!"
The shout rang out—and a storm of shuriken and kunai rained toward Genma, heedless of friendly fire.
He ducked behind the falling captain's body.
What had given him away?
Then he realized—it was the captain's breathing. When stabbed, his breath faltered. That subtle disruption, in a still forest, had been enough.
Veterans, indeed.
A second ambush would be difficult now. But that was fine. Genma wasn't disappointed—he had already completed his main objective. With the captain gone, he was halfway to victory.
The kunai and shuriken tore into the corpse. Blood spattered. The remaining shinobi, cold and ruthless, launched indiscriminate attacks once they confirmed their leader couldn't be saved.
Well—maybe Genma had overestimated them. This barrage was more reflex than discipline. A kind of panic.
Their commander had just been assassinated before their eyes. And they had no idea how it happened. No idea how Genma moved behind him. No idea why the captain never reacted.
Water Style: Water Bullet Technique!
One of them completed a set of hand signs. A huge sphere of water crashed forward.
Genma released his kunai, letting go of the blade buried in the captain's kidney. Chakra flared beneath his feet as he leapt aside, right arm hooking the short sword still lodged in the neck.
He twisted the hilt as he moved, finishing the job—completely severing the captain's head.
Always good to make sure your enemies are truly dead.
Genma flipped midair and landed lightly on the ground.
The captain's head rolled slowly from his neck and dropped at Genma's feet like a heavy ball.
Thud.
It hit the dry forest floor with a soft, sickening sound.
The enemy froze.
Genma's lips curled upward. His tongue pressed against his dry lower lip. His expression looked… unhinged.
In his past life, he grew up in a peaceful world. He hadn't even been in a fistfight since elementary school. Kind, gentle, and honest—he never thought himself capable of such violence.
But never showing it doesn't mean it's not there.
A person is shaped by their environment. And different surroundings reveal different faces.
Ninjutsu came in all forms—bright, dazzling techniques. Genjutsu, subtle and fatal. Taijutsu, raw and brutal. But strip all that away, and beneath every system of power, war reveals its coldest truth:
Iron and blood.
Whether in the shinobi world or elsewhere, war is always iron and blood.