In every sense of the word, Hane Genma spoke softly—but his actions were hard as steel.
He might look like a gentleman, but the truth was, the guy metaphorically carried seven blades in his pants.
Fūma Gorō realized now that what he'd previously seen was merely Genma's gentle side. What he was witnessing now was the ruthless edge hidden beneath that calm exterior.
A shinobi who could treat his own hands as expendable… That went beyond mere ruthlessness. It was madness—pure and simple.
Genma raised his arm, displaying the gruesome sight of both his and Gorō's palms pierced and pinned together by a short blade—forcing them into a tight grip neither could release.
The pain from moving the wounded hands made Gorō's mouth twitch involuntarily, but Genma's expression remained completely unreadable, as though he didn't even feel it.
No joke—really, no joke—regardless of how much pain Gorō was in, the rest of the Fūma clan were already stunned by the gesture.
And what followed was a profound sense of sincerity.
A shinobi who was willing to stake his entire career just to show trust in a new ally—how could they possibly object?
Genma cast a brief glance at Gorō, who instantly understood the signal.
He raised their clasped hands high and declared loudly:
"Today, the Fūma clan joins the Ashes. With this blood as witness—we shall never show hostility, and never betray."
"No hostility… never betray…"
The chant started from the Fūma side—at first disorganized, but within seconds, the voices aligned in near-perfect unison:
"No hostility! Never betray!"
They couldn't help it. It wasn't that their faith in the Ashes had skyrocketed—more like, with the atmosphere so charged, what else could they do but shout along?
Seeing their response, Genma finally lowered his arm.
The ceremony, if you could call it that, was simple—but in its own way, terrifying.
From the crowd, Takamatsu-neesan and Chihori quickly came forward. Carefully, they extracted the short blade from the joined hands. Once the grip loosened, they immediately began bandaging the wounds.
If you looked closely, the short blade bore a faint five-ring symbol—an indication that the weapon had been borrowed from the Sarutobi clan.
Though the stab looked severe, Genma's injury required almost no actual care.
Once his right hand was wrapped in bandages, he instantly began "Zetsu-ification" near the wound. The bleeding stopped immediately, and his pain sensitivity dropped drastically once again.
Genma's move was more than a little underhanded. The wounds looked identical on both sides, but their recovery capabilities weren't even in the same league.
It felt like he was taking advantage of the locals' ignorance. Genma thought to himself, Do any of you know a guy named Ethan? They call him "Mushroom Man" or "War God of Hand Soap." We're basically the same type.
His wound would heal in no time. As for seal-based ninjutsu? He'd be casting them again fluently by tomorrow.
Now that the Fūma had realized joining this organization was a deadly serious matter, Genma wondered whether Gorō was starting to regret his decision.
Either way, as clan leader, Gorō should have made such a choice more carefully.
The so-called alliance ceremony held an unspoken implication that was easy enough to grasp:
Blood is shed when you join. If the day comes when you wish to leave, you'll be shedding blood again.
All things considered, Genma had pulled off the recruitment with unsettling success—swift, strategic, and laced with shock value.
Still, bringing people in wasn't like hauling cargo. Everyone came with their own thoughts and motivations. So Genma wasn't in a rush.
For both sides to truly integrate, he had a lot of work ahead of him.
In the short term, the top priority was fair and equal distribution of resources—which, surprisingly, wasn't that hard.
After the ceremony, both sides returned to their respective camps. Peace returned to the surrounding area.
It was late into the night, but Genma didn't rest.
He wasn't thinking about the Fūma anymore. Though he cared about expanding the Ashes, it wasn't his top concern.
Right now, his mind was focused on growing stronger.
Genma was developing new jutsu.
After mastering Water Release, he now had two elemental styles under his belt—but the balance was off. Water Release was versatile, capable of offense, defense, precision strikes, and area attacks. His Fire Release, on the other hand, was clearly weaker in comparison.
So he began studying his Water Release techniques as a reference to create new Fire Release jutsu.
The hand seals were completely different, of course, but the chakra flow patterns in Water Release were worth mimicking.
He already had a few ideas forming for the new Fire techniques.
Aside from that, he wasn't satisfied with how "ordinary" his current abilities were. So he planned to develop even more "ordinary" forms of combat—though that area was progressing slowly.
As Genma pondered in silence, Uchiha Nanami approached.
She had observed the entire recruitment process that day, though she hadn't spoken much. It wasn't really her place to interfere anyway.
"The Fūma you brought in today outnumber your original members. Aren't you worried they might try to seize control?" Nanami asked.
"If they do, that only proves I'm not competent enough. Honestly, if someone else can handle everything with fairness and clarity, I'd be glad to let them take over," Genma replied.
He wasn't power-hungry. In many ways, leading an organization felt more like a burden to him.
Nanami hadn't expected such a reply. For a moment, she didn't know what to say.
Seeing her reaction, Genma added,
"Don't worry. A group—any group—needs a core ideology to function. And to maintain that ideology, you sometimes rely on wisdom… and sometimes on strength."
With that, Nanami seemed to understand.
Genma clearly didn't want to dwell on the topic. Then, as if something occurred to him, he turned to her and asked,
"By the way, can I ask you a favor? I need your help."
"What is it?"
If she could help, Nanami wouldn't refuse. She was someone who believed in repaying kindness.
"I want you to cast a genjutsu on me." As he spoke, Genma moved his injured hand behind his back and extended the Zetsu-ification all the way up his forearm.
"Genjutsu? Are you sure?"
"Very sure."
Nanami wasn't sure what he was planning, but seeing his firm expression, she didn't press further… though the request was strange.
"You think all Uchiha are genjutsu masters or something?" she muttered under her breath—but even as she said it, the tomoe in her Sharingan were already spinning.
And so, they stared at each other—eye to eye.
"Is it starting?"
"It's already over."
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