The Genjutsu Devil of Konoha

Now for another class—a week had passed, and for every singular activity, the name at number one would be Seijuro, except the physical stuff. He would be in the top five for that.

And even then, that felt like an insult to the pride of anyone from a big clan. Seijuro had a weak physique, like his starting point was even lower than a civilian's. So the fact that he could keep up with trained clan kids... yeah.

Anyway, today's assignment was straightforward in description, less so in execution.

"You have five minutes to hide. I have five minutes to find you. If I can't... well, then you've won," said the instructor, a wiry man with sharp eyes and a nose that had definitely been broken at least twice. "Use any method at your disposal—within reason."

The class scattered like startled birds.

Four minutes in, the teacher had already tagged most of them.

"Nawaki, I can see your chakra from here. Get out of the bush."

"Dang it..."

One after the other, they were found—Minato under a pile of logs, Mikoto behind a false wall, Choza inside a half-eaten picnic basket (he wasn't hiding so much as snacking), even Hiashi, who'd cleverly positioned himself between two tree roots, had been caught by the fourth minute and forty-second mark.

"Tch..." Hiashi clicked his tongue softly. He wasn't annoyed he was found—the teacher was an expert in that field. He was more annoyed that Seijuro wasn't in the line of people who got caught.

The teacher, glancing at his list, frowned.

"We're still missing one... Kurama, Seijuro."

Five more minutes passed.

Nothing.

"Alright, impressive. Kurama, reveal yourself."

A small flutter of chakra.

From the ground, a perfectly ordinary tree leaf began to shimmer. It twisted, floated upward, and in the next moment, it shifted into Seijuro, who was crouched low against the dirt, dusting off his clothes.

"Being a tree leaf," he said in a flat tone, "was remarkably uncomfortable. I can still feel the wind brushing my chlorophyll."

Several students blinked.

"Wait, you were a leaf?" Nawaki said, looking at his rival. This rivalry may be one-sided, but oh well. He was Nawaki Senju.

Hiashi looked quietly annoyed.

The teacher raised a brow.

"Kurama, your reasoning?"

Seijuro stood, brushing dirt from his pants. His expression remained unreadable.

"The majority of students will conceal themselves as objects of substantial mass—a rock, a log, a structure. I chose the smallest possible form to limit my chakra signature and blend within naturally shifting environments. Leaves fall, they move with the wind. People do not question them. Additionally, the probability of being stepped on without detection increases dramatically when one does not emit chakra from a static position."

The teacher whistled.

"Noted. Your score for this exercise is the highest. You're all dismissed."

Some groaned. Others murmured. One kid tried to transform into a twig right there and failed.

Later That Evening – Kurama Compound

The sweet scent of warm spices, grilled vegetables, and soft red bean mochi filled the air as Yui placed a tray before Seijuro.

"Your favorite. You've earned it."

He gave her a polite nod, his eyes flicking toward the food.

"Thank you. It looks... excellent."

She sat down beside him, resting her cheek in one hand.

"You've been pushing yourself so hard lately. I can see it in your shoulders."

"Discipline is the price of growth."

She rolled her eyes fondly.

"Just eat before you start quoting scrolls at me again."

He did. The food was warm and delicate—exactly the kind of meal that lulled his body into ease. The sweets were soft and subtly flavored—he liked them more than he'd admit out loud.

But his day wasn't over.

Outside – Training Yard

Under a dim lantern light, Seijuro stood in the courtyard with a wooden training sword, its edges slightly worn from repeated use. It was night. He didn't mind—the moon's reflection could be seen on the water. The water was clear, and thus, so was the reflection. Everything looked just so good.

Tonight, Seijuro was not practicing just any sword style. He was building his own.

Having read over twenty historical treatises and manuals on Kenjutsu, he was piecing together the foundation of a personal system:

Kenjutsu Style – Kyouken no Kage (Mirrorblade of Shadows)

Description:

A deceptive sword style that focuses on misdirection and psychological warfare. The user manipulates the perceived properties of their sword—length, weight, shape, sharpness, even movement speed—through subtle Genjutsu woven into their strikes and feints.

Rather than overpowering opponents, it baits them into making errors—attacking shadows, mistiming counters, or misjudging reach.

A blade that cannot be understood... cannot be blocked.

Seijuro was still in Stage One: Constructing the Illusion—training his ability to synchronize Genjutsu with his sword swings at will. It was meticulous work. Slow. Painful.

But it suited him.

"Faint... pause... misdirect."

He moved, again and again, until his arms trembled and his legs gave out beneath him.

He was trying to max out his illusion skills. If maxed out, he could literally graduate this year. To be fair, in three months, he would be strong enough to graduate—he had spent time in the Chunin area of the library.

Yes. Chunin.

As to how he got there... Genjutsu. Waited for a shinobi to go in there, used a Genjutsu to mask his presence, followed them inside, and learned some jutsu.

The jutsu he had first mastered was the Shadow Clone Jutsu.

Inside Again – Late Night

He dragged himself back inside, arms sore, feet blistered. He sat cross-legged beneath a lantern and opened a thick scroll on chakra theory. His eyes scanned formulae for chakra shaping, the dual-polarity flow through the tenketsu, and how micro-adjustments in chakra output could radically alter technique efficiency.

A steaming cup of tea sat beside him.

The candle flickered. His writing hand never slowed.

Tonight, there were no dreams.

Only the sound of pen scratching paper.

And a leaf resting quietly on the sill.

"Shadow Clone Jutsu"

Three perfect clones of himself appeared.

"You, go to the library, look for better chakra control exercises. Enter the Chunin area, use Henge to hide your identity."

The clone turned into a middle-aged man.

"You, study the books that I brought back from the library," the second clone nodded.

"Practice my swordsmanship."

The third clone nodded, and Seijuro went to bed.

Yes, he was cheesing it.

But hey, it worked.