Senju Tobirama was barely holding on. His injuries were severe, and he was relying solely on his last reserves of chakra to keep going.
Under normal circumstances, that remaining chakra would have been enough to handle the situation. But this was far from normal.
Dizziness clouded his senses, and instinctively, he glanced down at the wound on his abdomen. Had he misjudged its severity?
"Too much blood loss… no, that's not it. It's my chakra."
The blood loss was certainly a factor in his weakness, but the real issue stemmed from getting too close to Genma.
It was precisely because of Tobirama's attempt to "control" the situation that they'd ended up in close quarters. That gave Genma the opportunity to drain his chakra.
Endless combat, relentless pursuit, and the steady flow of blood had left Tobirama in a deplorable state. His senses had dulled—a critical mistake. With his chakra reserves depleted, he couldn't react in time. Once that final bit of chakra was gone, maintaining his condition became nearly impossible.
He'd been forcing himself to hold on, but now he simply couldn't.
With a stifled groan, the long blade slipped from his grasp and clattered to the ground.
Genma easily broke free from Tobirama's faltering control. He stood upright, then turned and steadied the swaying "Second Hokage" with a hand on his shoulder.
"You were too careless," Genma said. "Lucky for you, I'm a decent guy, so I won't hurt you. But I know you're stubborn and always assume the worst. So, you don't have to die, but you owe me your life."
Before he could finish, Tobirama's eyes rolled back.
Genma released his grip on Tobirama's shoulder, and the man slumped to the ground, completely unconscious.
Look at that—unconscious Tobirama was probably the most reasonable he'd ever be.
"Get two people over here," Genma called out. "Move him to the side and tend to his wounds."
Two shinobi approached cautiously. They lifted Tobirama with care and carried him to a nearby shack, setting him down gently on a crude wooden bed as if handling something delicate.
To them, a Senju was practically a rare treasure.
Fine, maybe a Senju was a rare sight for them.
The two shinobi worked together to remove Tobirama's armor and clothing, inspecting his wounds before carefully cleaning and bandaging them.
Truth be told, the camp lacked proper medical ninjas, so the aid they could offer was limited. But for someone like Tobirama Senju, basic hemostasis was enough. At this point, they could rely on the famed vitality and resilience of the Senju clan.
"This is really a Senju? I've never seen one alive before," one of them muttered.
"Look at that—such pale skin."
"Yeah, white as porcelain."
"Wait, little acorn?"
…Okay, their conversation was getting a bit weird. Genma couldn't bear to listen anymore and stepped further away.
Hayasaka Ryunosuke followed him, falling into step. "Captain, I didn't expect your technique to actually work on a Senju shinobi."
Genma didn't let it go to his head. "It was just a matter of catching him off guard," he said honestly. "Plus, he was in terrible shape. A move like that only works the first time."
Over the past few days, the changes in Genma had been noticeable to everyone. But matters of personal strength were private, and no one dared to pry.
Still, Genma's growing power was undeniably a boon for them all.
Ryunosuke nodded, then asked, "Captain, is he really a Senju?"
Genma thought for a moment before answering truthfully. "No doubt about it. If I'm not mistaken, his name is Senju Tobirama—the second son of the current Senju clan leader."
"The clan leader's son?" Ryunosuke's expression shifted instantly. "Captain, how do you know him?"
By all accounts, Genma shouldn't have had any connection to the Senju clan.
Genma merely shook his head, offering no explanation.
Questions from below didn't demand answers from above. Some things, whether Genma chose to explain or not, were entirely up to him.
Seeing that Genma wasn't going to elaborate, Ryunosuke didn't press further.
"Captain, is there any way we could use the clan leader's son to build ties with the Senju clan?" Ryunosuke ventured, already considering the possibilities.
His mind was sharp—upon learning Tobirama's identity, he immediately started thinking about "grabbing the big fish."
"Don't oversimplify things," Genma said, shaking his head again. "At his age, Tobirama can't decide anything for the Senju clan. The wool of a great ninja clan isn't so easy to shear."
Ryunosuke looked like he wanted to say more, so Genma prompted, "What's on your mind?"
"How about… an alliance through marriage?" Ryunosuke suggested cautiously.
"…"
Genma had braced himself for a bad idea, but he hadn't expected this level of absurdity.
"Ryunosuke," he said dryly, "the only woman in our camp is Granny Takamatsu."
Takamatsu, in her mid-forties, certainly had the right to pursue love. But the right to love didn't extend to committing crimes.
Tobirama was barely fourteen. They were, to put it mildly, not exactly a match.
Ryunosuke's gaze drifted toward Takamatsu, who was rummaging through the camp for bandages. He couldn't help but wonder if the Senju boy had any… peculiar tastes.
Genma ignored his brooding subordinate and turned to the group, raising his voice. "Anyone want to feel what Senju chakra is like?"
The next day, rain began falling at dawn and showed no signs of stopping.
Tobirama jolted awake, sitting up abruptly and reaching for his weapon.
Unsurprisingly, his hand found nothing. The sudden movement tugged at his wounds, and sharp pain shot through his ribs and abdomen. He sucked in a breath, cold sweat beading on his forehead.
The patter of rain filled his ears, and a cool breeze cleared his mind.
Looking around, he realized he was lying in a drafty shack, covered only by a thin, tattered blanket. Lifting it, he saw he was down to his pants, his upper body wrapped in bandages where he'd been injured.
His forehead protector, ninja tools, and clothes were neatly folded on a wooden stump to his right, his long blade resting beside it.
Memories of the previous day flooded back, hazy but clear enough to piece together what had happened.
The bad news: he'd fallen into the hands of unfamiliar shinobi. The good news: he had no idea they'd treated him like a rare exhibit for everyone to gawk at.
"You're awake."
Sensing movement, Genma appeared immediately, still carrying the large scroll from yesterday.
This wasn't a coincidence. He'd been keeping watch and made sure to show up the moment Tobirama stirred.
Tobirama was still too young, too green. A seasoned Tobirama would've played unconscious longer, subtly assessing his situation or feigning harmlessness to catch the camp's leader off guard.
He'd grow into a cunning old fox one day, but for now, Tobirama was just a young pup with simpler thoughts.
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