"This is… genjutsu?"
Konan's eyes widened. The scenery before her shifted as if the world itself had overturned. The dark clouds and endless rainfall vanished, replaced by a bizarre space of endless crimson where heaven and earth could no longer be distinguished.
Even stranger, from that crimson void sprouted hundreds of pitch-black cords, binding every figure caught within the space.
Konan's own hands and feet were shackled. Like a puppet on strings, she had lost control of her body.
And it wasn't just her.
All around her, she could see dozens of silhouettes of Gōu and Tōu, all bound by the same black cords, unable to move.
"So this is auditory-type genjutsu? Impressive…" Konan muttered under her breath.
She recalled how, during her training under Jiraiya-sama, he had explained that genjutsu acted through the five senses, and could be divided into five broad categories: visual, auditory, olfactory, gustatory, and tactile.
But gustatory genjutsu existed only in theory—no one ever found real combat value in manipulating taste, and no one had ever developed it.
As for tactile genjutsu, it required direct contact with the enemy. To be frank—if you were close enough to touch someone, it was far simpler to just stab them. Worse still, studies showed that if the opponent used techniques like body hardening, tactile genjutsu was utterly useless.
Thus, like gustatory genjutsu, tactile genjutsu was deemed impractical and withered away before it ever flourished.
Olfactory genjutsu did once thrive, and it certainly had combat applications. But with the invention of tools like gas masks, that once-glorious school of techniques suffered a fatal blow and fell into obscurity.
By the present day, the field of genjutsu belonged almost entirely to two types: visual and auditory. Of these, visual genjutsu reigned supreme—ten out of ten genjutsu-users relied on it. Auditory genjutsu, being far more difficult to master, survived only within a few small, specialized circles.
Memories stirred within Konan's mind.
She recalled Jiraiya mentioning some of those circles that specialized in auditory genjutsu. Among them was a clan from Iwagakure known as the Clan of the Magic Flute—their true name was the Koeda clan. Renowned for using flutes as conduits for auditory illusions, they had earned the nickname Magic Flute.
And then—she remembered where she had heard the name Koeda Yūsuke before. Strictly speaking, she hadn't heard his name directly. Rather, she had heard rumors that the Koeda clan had betrayed Iwagakure and were fleeing together as exiles. That story had spread like wildfire across the shinobi world.
Even though Akatsuki generally paid little mind to affairs beyond the Land of Rain, such gossip traveled swiftly, and even within their organization people had discussed it. She, Yahiko, and Nagato had even spoken of it together…
"To think I'd meet them in person today…" Konan's brows knit slightly.
As her thoughts raced, she kept struggling against the genjutsu. But her weakened state left her powerless to break free. Meanwhile, the silhouettes of Gōu and Tōu around her began to vanish at an alarming rate—bursting apart like popped bubbles, dissolving into nothing within the crimson void.
Had they broken free from the illusion's bindings?
Or—
Had they been eliminated by that boy, Koeda Yūsuke?
Konan narrowed her eyes, thoughts swirling.
But before she could decide what to do next, the entire scene shifted once more. The crimson space receded, the black cords melted away, and in the blink of an eye she was back in the endless gloom of the rainy battlefield.
"Are you all right?"
The voice came from nearby.
Konan turned to see Yūsuke standing five steps away, dragging a corpse. That body—it was none other than Tōu, the shinobi who had been pursuing her relentlessly.
"Of the two Ame shinobi, I only managed to kill this one. The other broke free of my Magic Flute: Black Cords and escaped," Yūsuke explained, noticing her gaze fall on the body.
"...I see. Yūsuke-sama, thank you for your aid."
Konan exhaled softly, relief flickering across her features, and bowed her head in gratitude.
"I only acted for my own survival," Yūsuke waved a hand, dismissive.
It was the truth. Had those Ame shinobi not been so relentless—offering him no path of retreat—he would never have involved himself in such troublesome matters. But life rarely allowed such ifs. In the end, steel had met steel.
What was worse, he had failed to kill both enemies. One had escaped.
Which meant that on their clan's journey, the Koeda would now not only have to fear pursuit from Iwagakure, but also brace for attacks from Ame shinobi.
His eyes drifted instinctively toward Konan. Perhaps… he could find some way to gain support from her against future threats from the Land of Rain.
"By the way, Konan—who exactly are you? Why were the Ame shinobi hunting you?" Yūsuke asked.
"Hmm… have you ever heard of the Akatsuki?" Konan replied after a pause.
"Akatsuki… no, I've never heard of it." Yūsuke shook his head.
The Land of Rain was unfamiliar territory to him. Perhaps Iwagakure's intelligence network had files on it, but the Koeda clan lacked their own channels of information. His knowledge of the Land of Rain was still frozen in the era of the Second Great Ninja War, when the so-called Demi-God Hanzō had stood alone against Konoha, Iwagakure, and Sunagakure.
This "Akatsuki" was something he had truly never heard of.
"I see… then how should I explain…" Konan frowned slightly, gathering her thoughts.
At that moment, figures appeared in the distance, racing toward them at high speed.
Yūsuke immediately raised his flute to his lips, ready to strike.
"Wait—don't attack! They're not enemies!"
Konan's eyes brightened as she recognized the approaching figures. Her tension melted away, replaced with a smile.
"Yūsuke-sama, there's no need to worry. They're not Ame shinobi—they're my comrades!"