Chapter 75: Diseases That Interrupt the Process
The next morning, in front of Kato's small home.
The humble, worn-down house was now sealed off with yellow and black barrier tape. Members of the Uchiha Police Force stood silently under the pale dawn light, their faces grim as they carried Kato's body outside.
The incense burner beside the tatami had long since burned out. The faint traces of smoke clung to the air, as if still performing the man's final ritual beneath the moonlight. Anyone could tell, from the peaceful smile frozen on the dead man's face, that he hadn't died in pain, but that only made it more unsettling.
And the worst part? This wasn't the first case.
Around them, villagers whispered in hushed tones, their eyes flickering with both curiosity and something darker, envy. No one dared to say it aloud, but some seemed jealous of the man's final expression.
Even as the Uchiha officers dispersed the crowd, the stares lingered.
Kato's body was soon handed over to the Byakugan medical division. After a short examination, the Hyuga medics nodded solemnly, gesturing for the transport team to take him away. The truck rolled smoothly through Konoha's streets, heading toward the central hospital outside the village.
Meanwhile, the Uchiha remained to handle the scene. But after so many cases, even they, sensitive and proud by nature, were beginning to feel numb.
"…This is already the seventh household we've found today," one of the Uchiha muttered. "Nearly a thousand people have fallen into the same state. Has the medical corps really found nothing?"
Another sighed. "No clue. They say the victims' chakra automatically stabilizes their bodies, almost like a protective shell. But if this continues, they'll lose human cognition entirely. Eventually, they might transform into trees or plants just to keep existing."
"When will it stop? It has to be the work of another village, right?"
"I heard the same thing's happening in the other lands too."
"Then… this isn't an attack?"
They fell silent. The image of those people smiling blissfully in their sleep lingered in their minds, a peace too perfect to be real.
By all accounts, the Fourth Shinobi World War had been set to begin in July. Supplies had been prepared, alliances arranged, and every major village was poised for conflict.
But that war would never come.
Since the start of the year, a strange illness had spread across the ninja world, a disease no weapon could fight.
It began in the Land of Grass. A genjutsu specialist from Kusagakure, long tormented by his clan's oppression, took his own life, burning his research in despair. From those ashes spread the rumor of Moon Dream, the "Dream of the Moon."
Soon after, reports surfaced of a mysterious condition. People overwhelmed by sorrow or despair would, upon sleeping under the moonlight, fall into a dream so vivid it felt real, a dream where no one suffered, no one cried, and everyone lived in the peace they longed for.
At first, no one believed it. It was just another superstition, another fairy tale from desperate people.
But then, the deaths began.
Whole families, found smiling in their beds. Cities reporting sudden population drops. Refugees claiming to have seen "dreamlight" fall from the sky.
And so the ninja world began to whisper what no one dared to say aloud. The disease was real. And somehow, it was connected to the moon.
By April, Moon Dream had become an epidemic.
In every major nation, the poor, those with nothing left to lose, started buying black-market "dream cigarettes" crafted from condensed chakra residue. They would light them, sit by the window beneath the moonlight, recall their lives, and drift off into that eternal, perfect world.
Those forcibly awakened described it as an illusion woven from their own chakra, a contagious dream. But few were strong enough to resist its pull. Even among the survivors, most were hollow, broken, unable to function.
Records from Konoha's medical department reported 470 confirmed awakenings. Within a week, many of them had taken their own lives. The rest lived in constant torment, begging not to be returned to reality.
And it wasn't just Konoha.
The epidemic had reached the Land of Wind, the Land of Lightning, the Land of Water, and the Land of Earth. Entire villages had fallen into slumber, their people smiling under the moonlight.
Worst of all, some merchants had turned it into profit.
They harvested the chakra "virus" from afflicted victims, refining it into incense and cigarettes. Then they sold it to the hopeless, offering them the illusion of peace for a price.
Any nation would have executed such criminals without hesitation, yet the profit from this business was simply too great to ignore. All it took was finding a sleeping person, placing a single stick of that tainted incense beside them, and within seconds, a Moon Dream was born.
Highly concealed, easily spread, and devastatingly effective. Even the iron-willed Cloud Ninjas, known for their arrogance and greed, had begun discussing the creation of a joint medical task force.
Although the number of reported cases still seemed small, every leader in the ninja world knew what those numbers meant. No one was foolish enough to ignore the data emerging from their own calculations. It was enough to give even the most hardened strategists a splitting headache.
After all, no one understood the principle behind it. All they knew was that it was connected to the moon, that it drew people into a dream of perfect peace, and that it seemed to function like a massive illusion, an illusion with no caster, no end, and no escape.
When the crisis began in the Land of Grass, Kusagakure had immediately destroyed every trace of research and blamed other nations. Their response had been swift, ruthless, and deliberate. If the residual chakra signatures hadn't pointed directly to Kusagakure as the origin, they might have escaped accountability altogether.
But even with the source identified, it was useless. The Grass Village had erased every scrap of evidence, data, notes, samples, everything gone. Several nations had demanded punishment, even threatening to flay the Land of Grass alive, yet all they could do was watch as the death toll continued to rise.
Inside Konoha alone, nearly a thousand villagers had fallen into the same deep, smiling slumber. No one could say how many more lay sleeping beyond its borders.
Whole villages, streets, and alleys had grown eerily silent. Even the personal guards of the Daimyo in smaller nations were said to be succumbing to the Moon Dream. The world no longer needed war. This mysterious chakra-born plague was more than enough to bring civilization to its knees.
Still, despite the fear, humanity clung stubbornly to motion. Complaints spread through every layer of society, but so did action. While some had surrendered to despair, the majority of Konoha's ninja fought to stay awake, to hold onto reality.
The Uchiha Guard, among the first to respond, swiftly reported their findings to the Konoha administration.
Within hours, Konoha's vast machinery of governance stirred into motion. The intelligence networks, research units, and logistics teams aligned seamlessly. Reports were compared with data from other nations, confirming both the spread and nature of the phenomenon.
Among the people, it was known as Sleep.
Among the ninja and daimyo, it had a more haunting name, The Moon Dream.
"…It is now certain that those affected by the Moon Dream can no longer be considered a functional workforce."
Aizen Sosuke's calm, steady voice broke the silence in the conference room. He pushed his glasses lightly and passed the documents in his hand to the researchers seated around the table.
Hokage Hiruzen Sarutobi was absent, currently briefing the Daimyo about the crisis. Elder Danzo Shimura was abroad, touring the other villages and delivering speeches as Konoha's public representative.
Elders Koharu and Homura were drowning under an endless stream of administrative duties, leaving Aizen Sosuke as the only figure truly capable of steering Konoha's response.
He had full control over the emergency.
Everyone in the room understood why. Aizen had been through war, through politics, through the quiet savagery of human nature. In times like this, having too many hands in command could destroy coordination. What they needed was one clear, decisive mind.
And that mind was his.
But the situation they faced was unlike anything in recorded history.
"When we've dealt with epidemics in the past, we built chakra-based quarantine zones, used healing techniques, and controlled the spread through isolation," Aizen said, his tone calm but laced with quiet fury. "But this time… this is different."
He placed his hand on the table. "The Moon Dream isn't a disease. It's a chain illusion, constructed to ensnare the human psyche itself. It's a self-perpetuating genjutsu, woven from the victims' own desires. The illusion doesn't kill them. They kill themselves by refusing to return."
He looked around the room, his gaze sharp. "The real problem isn't the illusion. It's our people."
"In today's world, people would rather surrender to a false paradise than fight through hardship. They willingly choose eternal slumber over reality. That should terrify you more than any genjutsu."
He raised his voice slightly, the faint reflection of moonlight glinting off his glasses.
"Think about it. From a certain perspective, these people would rather die than face the world we've built here in Konoha."
His words struck like shuriken through silence.
"Why?" he demanded. "Why does this happen? How do we stop it? This isn't just a problem of chakra or infection. It's a question of meaning, of how people live, and why they've stopped wanting to."
The other ninjas remained silent, eyes lowered.
Aizen slammed the documents down onto the table, his expression dark. The papers scattered, revealing reports filled with grim details, poverty, inequality, negligence. Pages that painted a picture Konoha's leaders had long ignored.
Entire districts forgotten. Orphans neglected. Families broken by endless duty. The "peaceful village" had turned a blind eye to its own rot.
Aizen's voice dropped to a cold whisper.
"If it were any other village, I could understand. But why here?"
He stepped closer to the table, his presence heavy with quiet anger.
"Konoha, the so-called symbol of peace, the village that claims to protect its people. And yet thousands now choose to dream rather than live."
His gaze swept across the stunned faces before him.
"Can anyone here give me an explanation?"
The room fell silent.
Outside, the faint hum of the village filled the air, unaware, untouched, and quietly trembling beneath the light of the moon.
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