Hane Genma seemed to have no clear starting point, but he believed that as long as he remained patient, he'd soon find an opening.
And sure enough, after staying holed up in the inn for three days, spending each day watching the street from his window, he finally noticed something by the afternoon of the third day—there were shinobi operating in the town.
It wasn't that Genma was particularly skilled at intelligence gathering. It was simply that the ninja he saw made no attempt whatsoever to conceal his identity.
Seeing this, Genma didn't hesitate. He immediately left the inn and quietly began trailing the man.
Out of a desire to keep his trump cards hidden—and also because the purpose of this tail was to eventually be discovered—Genma didn't immediately use Mayfly Technique. Instead, he relied on the town's complex layout and differences in building height to keep track of his target.
The ninja moved swiftly through the town. Just from his movements alone, it was obvious he had been here before—his actions had purpose and direction.
Eventually, the man entered an unremarkable alley and disappeared into a squat building at the far end.
Over forty minutes passed before he emerged again… clearly, this place was worth investigating.
At this point, Genma had two options: continue tailing the ninja, or double back to scout the building.
To play it safe, he chose the former.
He wanted to extract as much information as he could from this individual.
Genma followed at a careful distance. Surprisingly, the ninja left town entirely and began heading north—his pace gradually picking up as he moved.
Genma had a good idea why that was. He heightened his vigilance and stayed close behind.
After leaving the town and passing through a sparse forest, the terrain ahead turned into a marshland shrouded in miasma.
Stagnant, lifeless water and rotting vegetation soaked together in the thick humidity. In the gray-brown puddles, the bleached bones of large animals occasionally jutted out of the murky depths.
One look, and it was obvious—this was the perfect place to bury a body.
"Come out. I knew you were there all along."
The ninja stopped and called out in the direction where Genma was hiding.
That was exactly what Genma wanted.
He stepped into the open without hesitation, walking forward until he stood about ten meters from the other man, who eyed him warily with a hint of smug satisfaction.
Genma paused. The stench of rot was nearly unbearable, and he instinctively raised his left hand to cover his nose and mouth.
That was when things took a dramatic turn. Without a word, the ninja launched an attack—several shuriken flew at Genma in a deadly volley.
The conversation hadn't even started, and it already seemed to be over.
No one in this world puts faith in a silent stalker. To this shinobi, any "hand movement" from a stranger meant "hostile intent."
Roughly speaking, forming hand signs meant attacking. Covering your mouth and nose? Also suspicious. So he struck first.
The truth was, Genma wasn't a native of this world. Often, he didn't fully grasp the local mindset... In this chaotic shinobi world, even those with extreme personalities had been driven to the brink of neurosis.
Despite the suddenness of the attack, the distance was enough for Genma to dodge with ease.
Just as he was about to speak again, a kunai pierced through his chest—from behind.
Surprised, Genma turned his head and saw another ninja behind him.
So it was a two-on-one ambush. Poetic justice for someone who favored backstabbing—turns out, betrayal goes both ways. It was now clear there was more than one enemy.
"Heh…"
The ambusher tried to flash a cruel grin. But the next second, the "stabbed" Genma melted into a pool of clear water.
"A Water Clone?"
A few meters away, Genma reappeared—still calm.
Even though they'd already tried to kill him, he still didn't retaliate immediately.
"I mean no harm. I only wanted to ask you two a few questions."
"No harm? A ninja only says that before they strike," the other replied coldly.
The two exchanged a look—and then rushed at Genma from near and far simultaneously.
Left with no choice, Genma decided to subdue them first and ask questions later.
His hands flashed through a series of hand signs—almost reflexively, he activated his most practiced jutsu:
Fire Style: Great Fireball!
In the past, Genma always opened with a standard Fireball, but now that his chakra reserves had improved, he upgraded to the Great Fireball.
There was no denying the move had a powerful psychological effect. A massive fireball over six meters in diameter hurtled toward the enemies in a wave of heat—enough to shake any average ninja.
Of course, the fireball's speed was limited. Unless it was cast at close range, it was unlikely to land a direct hit, much less be lethal.
Sure enough, the ninja in front managed to dodge by sidestepping.
In the end, Genma's jutsu only served to delay his enemies. However...
Vmm… BOOM!
A deafening explosion suddenly erupted. Genma's Great Fireball had triggered a secondary blast.
Skilled shinobi always factor in the environment during battle, seeking advantages and avoiding dangers. From that perspective, Genma was not a skilled shinobi.
Because he hadn't thought things through at all before using a Fire Style technique here.
The ground beneath them wasn't just swamp—it was practically a methane pit.
The outer flames of the Great Fireball ignited the swamp gas. A blast wave rippled outward like a stone hitting water. In an instant, pockets of gas that had been stewing in the swamp for who-knows-how-long all detonated.
With a thunderous roar, the massive energy brewing beneath the marsh exploded like a volcano. The muddy surface blew apart violently.
For a brief moment, it felt as if the earth itself trembled.
Fortunately for Genma, he had been near the outer edge of the swamp. Even though he was the one who set off the explosion, he had space to retreat once he realized the danger.
His escape speed was top-notch. He dove into the ground and dashed fifty or sixty meters away in an instant. Even so, the blast wave still left him covered in soot and mud.
Temporary hearing loss and a mild concussion were unavoidable.
The two other ninja weren't nearly as lucky. They had been deeper in the swamp—right in the heart of the blast zone.
Genma emerged from the ground, shook his head hard, and staggered to his feet.
Looking ahead, he saw that the swamp had been utterly devastated.
One massive explosion had unearthed layers of sediment buried for who-knows-how-many years. Combined with the acrid smell of incomplete combustion, the air reeked of nausea.
Fires burned all across the swamp.
And then Genma saw a charred, humanoid figure.
There was no doubt—one unlucky shinobi had been killed instantly in the blast.
A clear reminder: those who try to stab Genma in the back will pay the price.
One enemy down. Genma instinctively looked upward—and saw a giant hawk hovering in the sky, with the surviving ninja clinging to its back.
A summoning beast?
This one had quick reflexes. He'd summoned the hawk and escaped into the sky just before the explosion.
Of course, it helped that he had been farther from the blast epicenter.
"Maniac."
Genma's ears were still ringing—he couldn't hear the enemy's voice—but judging by his lip movements, that seemed to be the word.
"I really didn't mean any harm. That explosion was an accident. It doesn't mean I'm a bad guy…"
Unfortunately, none of the three present—Genma, the survivor aloft, or the now-carbonized corpse—could hear his pale, empty explanation over the roaring aftermath.
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