The conditions Gen had laid out left Fujita Saiyo with no choice but to avoid targeting ordinary, honest civilians.
In a city as chaotic as Uzushio, civilians could disappear without stirring much notice, but they lacked the strength needed for experimentation.
The only suitable candidates were the rougher types, the gangsters, thieves, wanted criminals, ronin, and other drifters living in the gray shadows of society.
But even among them, resources were limited.
There were only so many missing-nin, wandering shinobi, or chakra-using samurai passing through Uzushio.
If the Fujita family tried to seize them all in one sweeping move, it would inevitably draw the eyes of the Five Great Villages. Worse, it would scare off the stragglers who came later, men and women too cautious to fall for such traps twice.
After all, those who had survived the chaos of the ninja world this long were not fools. If entire groups vanished overnight, suspicion would bloom quickly.
Once, perhaps twice, the scheme might hold. Beyond that, it was certain to unravel.
And moving against the major villages' people was even riskier. One missing shinobi would trigger hidden investigations, quiet probes along the trade routes. Perhaps the truth wouldn't be uncovered immediately, but eventually the trail would lead back to Fujita Saiyo.
At that point, Gen would be forced to cut him down as a liability.
No, recklessness would only destroy them. To harvest souls and lifespans, the only path forward was steady, measured work. Quiet and careful. Done properly, the accumulation over years would rival any large-scale massacre and it would leave no trail behind.
Stay alive first. Survive. Stand at the summit. Only then do taboos matter.
Gen's eyes gleamed with quiet certainty.
When the Mangekyō awakened and combined with his other powers, he would rise to the peak. Even if the ceiling of strength kept climbing, he had the foundation to climb with it, to stand among the highest.
For now, there was no need for haste. Even if Shisui and Itachi's paths unfolded as in the original timeline, he would have the strength to shield himself and his family when the night of massacre came.
As for Minato Namikaze's life or death, it mattered little.
If he awakened the Mangekyō in time, he could shatter the battlefield, win glory for himself and the Uchiha, and perhaps even save Minato. If not, then so be it. Minato's fate was his own. Gen's priority was survival, his own life first, always.
And even should Minato fall, Gen was confident the Uchiha would not repeat history's mistakes. Under his hand, they would rise higher and stronger than ever, without leaning on outsiders.
"Do you know how to deal with them once you find your targets?" Gen asked.
Fujita Saiyo bowed his head, voice oily with respect. "I will host a grand dinner in their honor, claim it is a welcome feast… then lace the food and drink with poison. They will die in gluttony."
Gen's lips curved faintly. Cruel, vicious, quick-witted. No wonder he's built such a fortune.
"Clever," Gen allowed. "But poison won't do. Human experiments require living subjects. Just weaken them and leave them powerless."
"I understand, my lord."
"Good. But remember, among wandering shinobi and samurai, many have unique abilities. If you seize the wrong ones without proper preparation, it will cause you great trouble. Screen them carefully."
"I will mobilize the Fujita family's entire network to investigate every detail," Saiyo assured.
"How long for the first batch?"
"Three days at most."
"Very well. I'll return then."
Gen rose from his chair, forming a quick seal. His body blurred, then vanished. The half-open window rattled faintly as if a breeze had passed.
Fujita Saiyo bowed low toward the empty air. "Safe travels, my lord."
Three nights later, the plan unfolded.
Inside one of the Fujita family's lavish villas, a brightly lit hall rang with laughter. Over twenty rogue shinobi, wanderers, and samurai sat at long tables, feasting on roasted meat and rich wine.
The smell of grease and liquor filled the air.
Fujita Saiyo, dressed impeccably in a dark suit and striped tie, his gray hair combed neat, raised a glass with an ingratiating smile.
Then, with a sudden thud, one warrior toppled backward onto the floor. The others chuckled, assuming drunkenness. His friends jeered at his poor tolerance.
But then another fell. And another.
Chairs scraped as men staggered upright, confusion dawning too late. One or two managed to snarl accusations before crumpling, their strength drained.
In moments, the entire room lay silent, bodies sprawled across tables and floor.
Saiyo calmly set down his glass, clapping twice.
Masked and silent, Gen descended the stairs from the second floor, his voice cutting through the stillness like steel.
"Well done."
"My lord flatters me." Saiyo bowed deeply.
The few captives who still clung to consciousness cursed, begged, or threatened. None could move.
"Send them to the outskirts," Gen ordered.
"Yes, sir."
Five minutes later, three carriages bearing the Fujita crest rattled out of the city, wheels crunching gravel as they pushed into the dark countryside.
The sky was heavy with clouds, moon and stars swallowed whole.
At a remote clearing, the carriages halted. Lanterns flared, casting harsh beams across the night. Fujita's core enforcers hauled the unconscious prisoners out, laying them neatly like parcels.
Over twenty men and women lay on the dirt, stripped of weapons.
Gen, arms folded behind his back, gave a single nod. "Good. Search them. Whatever you find is yours."
The thugs bowed gratefully. Though the most valuable items had already been taken, the scraps left behind would still line their pockets.
They eagerly rifled through the captives, ignoring the furious glares burning up at them. Some even struck the helpless shinobi across the face, laughing.
When the plundering ended, the men departed, leaving only Gen and his prey under the cloak of night.
Gen's Sharingan spun beneath his mask. His voice was quiet, almost gentle.
"It's unfortunate for you. But don't fear as this won't last long."
His hands blurred through seals.
Genjutsu: Nirvana Abyss Technique.
The dark sky above them shimmered, filling with drifting, blood-red feathers. They fell silently, mesmerizing. Even those who recognized the illusion were powerless to resist. Fear twisted their faces as the nightmare took hold.
Gen stepped forward, calling upon the power of the Soul-Soul Fruit. One by one, he severed soul and lifespan alike. Breath after breath winked out, leaving only corpses etched with terror.
"Shuryu."
"Yes, Master."
The fiery dragon spirit manifested in a flare of crimson light. With a guttural roar, it unleashed a torrent of golden-orange flame, consuming bodies in seconds.
The firestorm raged until nothing remained but ash.
Gen raised both hands, forming another seal.
Wind Release: Ascending Air Current!
A steady gale swept across the clearing, scattering ashes into the night. No trace remained.
Every movement was smooth, practiced. Efficient.
"Let's return," Gen murmured, voice calm, as if nothing at all had happened.