c89: Familiarity with You
The conditions he mentioned essentially prevented Nishiyo Fujita from recruiting ordinary citizens who held a basic sense of responsibility.
In this war-torn city, although the disappearance of commoners wouldn't draw much attention, most of them lacked chakra or combat ability.
Those with physical prowess were generally gangsters, missing-nin (nukenin), black-market bounty hunters, wandering samurai, or other gray-area individuals who lived on the fringes of the shinobi world.
There was no alternative. The number of missing-nin, mercenary shinobi, and freelance samurai who possessed chakra and were active in Uzushiogakure's ruins was limited. If too many were harvested all at once, it would definitely attract the scrutiny of the Five Great Ninja Villages—Konoha, Suna, Kiri, Iwa, and Kumo.
Secondly, such blatant moves would startle new potential victims, making future luring tactics harder to execute.
Those missing-nin, ex-Wave shinobi, and wandering samurai had all survived the ninja world's chaos—none of them were fools. A collective vanishing act involving several dozen people would raise red flags. One or two may slide under the radar, but over time, the pattern would expose their operation.
The major Hidden Villages were already in a fragile cold-war state. If shinobi affiliated with them vanished under suspicious circumstances, ANBU or sensory units would surely investigate covertly. Maybe they wouldn't find anything at first, but sooner or later, the trail would lead back to Nishiyo Fujita and then a cleanup operation would be unavoidable.
So harvesting souls and lifespans slowly and steadily was the ideal path—secretive, sustainable, and safe. Like the Uzumaki's sealing arts, which emphasized patience and accumulation, the value of time-based harvesting was no less than a large-scale massacre.
Not a single soul should be wasted. The practice of soul and life-force harvesting was taboo, reminiscent of techniques like the Reaper Death Seal and Orochimaru's Living Corpse Reincarnation. Until one had reached the level of a demigod like Hashirama Senju or Madara Uchiha, one had to endure and bide time.
When is one strong enough to act freely?
Once the Mangekyō Sharingan is awakened, coupled with the strength he already possesses, he would surely stand among the strongest in the world an existence on par with the likes of Itachi or Obito before their fall.
Even if the overall power ceiling of the shinobi world rose due to figures like Nagato or the Akatsuki if he accumulated enough trump cards, he could always stay on top of the food chain.
There was no urgency to awaken Mangekyō forcibly. Even if the story played out like the original timeline with Uchiha Shisui and Uchiha Itachi fulfilling their tragic fates he was confident he could protect himself and his clan during the massacre night.
Whether Namikaze Minato lived or died was no longer essential.
It wouldn't be a problem if he activated the Mangekyō by force, unleashed its power, altered the course of history, saved Minato from the masked man's attack, and gained immense fame and leverage for the Uchiha Clan.
But if the eye failed to awaken, then so be it one couldn't force destiny.
He would do his best, but ultimately, whether Minato survived would depend on his own fate, reflexes, and Flying Thunder God prowess.
In any case, at this point, it was unthinkable for him to recklessly sacrifice lives just for the sake of Minato's survival. His own progress took precedence.
Even if Minato perished, he had full confidence that he could lead the Uchiha Clan to a new height without depending on any Konoha higher-ups or the Senju legacy.
"Do you know how to subdue your targets once you find them?"
"My men will prepare a banquet disguised as a welcome party. Once they eat and drink, we'll neutralize them no deadly poison, just a disabling agent that leaves them helpless."
Uchiha Gen curled his lips worthy of a man with such a vast hidden fortune. His thinking was fast, vicious, and efficient.
"A good plan, but don't use anything lethal. We need them alive for testing. They only need to be incapacitated."
"Understood, my lord."
"There are missing-nin, wave-nin, and ronin with bloodline limits or forbidden techniques. Be sure to screen them carefully. You don't want someone like Zabuza Momochi or Kakuzu slipping through the net and retaliating."
"Thank you for your reminder, sir. I'll use the entire Fujita clan's intelligence web to ensure we get controllable targets."
"Good. How long until the first batch?"
"Three days at most."
"Then I'll be back."
Uchiha Gen stood from his chair, formed a single-hand seal. His body turned invisible, flickering with a hint of chakra as the window creaked open
"Farewell, Your Majesty." Nishiyo Fujita bowed low before the seemingly empty space.
—
Three days later, at dusk, inside a luxurious Fujita Clan villa, more than twenty missing-nin, rogue samurai, and freelance shinobi gathered in a golden-lit banquet hall. Roasted meats and fine sake filled the air with tantalizing aroma, loosening their guard.
Fujita Nishiyo, dressed in an elegant dark gray suit with a striped tie, groomed to perfection, raised his glass with a charming smile.
Suddenly, one burly samurai slumped backward. The others chuckled, assuming he had simply overindulged. His drinking buddies mocked his poor tolerance.
But when another dropped, then another, the atmosphere changed. Several tried to stand only to find their legs numb, bodies heavy.
The most tenacious among them struggled to speak a warning but collapsed mid-sentence. Within moments, everyone had lost strength, collapsing like puppets with cut strings.
Nishiyo calmly clapped and stood up, his voice humble. "My lord, everything is ready."
From the second floor, a masked figure descended.
Uchiha Gen.
"Well done."
"Your instructions are my honor."
The guests on the floor were not unconscious. They could still hear and think, even if their limbs were paralyzed. Some yelled. Some begged. Some cursed. Others stared silently with killing intent.
But it was too late.
"Have them sent to the suburbs."
"Yes, sir."
Five minutes later, three carriages bearing the Fujita crest rumbled out of the villa. Thirty minutes later, they reached a desolate stretch of wilderness under a sky swallowed by clouds.no moon, no stars.
Torchlight split the darkness. One by one, the unconscious victims were unloaded and lined up neatly like cargo.
Uchiha Gen nodded coldly. "Search them. Whatever remains is yours."
"Thank you, sir!"
The thugs scrambled to loot. Though weapons and headbands were gone, what remained—chakra pills, hidden scrolls, tael pouches was enough to make each of them rich for months.
None of the prisoners resisted. They could only glare with hatred—useless without dojutsu or strength. One thug even slapped a defiant one.
Looting done, the thugs bowed again, then left.
Only Gen and the fallen remained.
"Unlucky, aren't you? But don't worry—it won't hurt…"
He clasped his hands.
Genjutsu: Nirvana Blood Naraku!
Scarlet feathers began to fall from the sky each one glowing with malevolent chakra. Even those with chakra-sensing or genjutsu training couldn't escape. Their minds plunged into illusions hallucinations of their deepest fears.
While they writhed in terror, Gen activated the Soru Soru no Mi, the Soul-Soul Fruit. Life-forces were pulled from their bodies souls drifting into his palm like faintly glowing wisps. Faces froze in eternal expressions of fear.
"Zhu Rong."
"Yes, Master."
In a flash of light, the fire spirit dragon manifested. Zhu Rong took one look and unleashed golden-orange fire from his jaws.
The corpses ignited instantly. The flames devoured everything, refined by spiritual chakra.
In minutes, only ash and scorched earth remained.
"Wind Style: Dancing Air Currents!"
Gen raised his hands. A gust scattered the ashes into the sky.
The operation was flawless seamless.
As familiar as breathing.
"Let's go home and rest."
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