Deep within the dense, leafy forests at the heart of the continent, a young ninja stumbled forward, heading ever deeper into uncharted territory.
He looked to be only about fourteen or fifteen years old, his clothing torn and tattered. Crimson blood stained both his chest and back. Each step he took seemed labored, his movements sluggish and unsteady—as if he might collapse at any moment.
Still, there was a sliver of luck in his misfortune: for now, he had shaken off his pursuers.
His name was Yugami Genma, born into the minor ninja clan known as the Yugami. He was the nephew of the previous clan elder. A month ago, that elder died in battle. A week ago, his cousin—the new clan leader—was also killed. And so, by a cruel twist of fate, Genma became the new-new clan leader.
Three days ago, in a desperate bid to save his people, Genma volunteered to serve as a decoy in battle, luring the enemy away so the others could retreat. After narrowly escaping with his life, he was now limping toward their agreed rendezvous point.
That was his current situation. Oh, and one more thing—something very important: Genma was a transmigrant.
A year ago, for reasons he still didn't understand, his soul had crossed into this world, taking over the body of this young man.
When he first arrived in the world of Naruto, he'd assumed he was destined for the typical "system user" route, rising to power as some game-breaking protagonist. But reality hit quickly—he had no system.
He then hoped his knowledge of Naruto history and plotlines would let him cruise through as a genius. Instead, his strength plateaued at the level of a mid-ranking chunin. The future looked grim.
Eventually, he realized he wasn't a protagonist at all. Not even a side character.
He was cannon fodder.
Just another name in a casualty report.
He had barely begun his "transmigrator" journey, and now it looked like it might end before it had even truly started.
Though he couldn't be sure of the exact timeline, Genma had deduced that he was currently living in the chaotic pre-village era—before the Hidden Villages were founded. This was a savage and brutal period in ninja history, where minor clans like his were slowly being wiped out.
As he trudged forward, his foot suddenly caught on something, and he pitched forward, falling face-first into the dirt.
He had gone three days and nights without food or sleep. Exhaustion and hunger were finally catching up to him.
He needed something—anything—to replenish his strength. But he had long since run out of supplies.
Still, fortune favors the desperate. Forcing his head up, Genma blinked through hazy vision and noticed something growing on the ground ahead.
"Mushrooms...?"
Mushrooms were better than tree bark. Desperation trumped caution. On all fours, he crawled over and yanked a plump, oyster-mushroom-looking thing from the ground, shoving it into his mouth without hesitation.
Only after swallowing did he notice something... off.
The mushroom had been growing out of a partially buried tree stump. That stump was surrounded by pale, grotesque pitcher plants and waxy green aloe-like leaves—like something straight out of a horror movie. Even the mushroom had a slick, fatty texture that felt unnervingly wrong.
Then he saw the face.
A warped, twisted human face embedded in the tree stump.
"…Huh? Wait. What!?"
Genma's thoughts screeched to a halt.
All this time, he'd complained that his life in this world was too low-level, that he'd never encountered anyone from the actual story. No famous names. No plot events.
But now—now, he had finally found one.
A White Zetsu. A dead one, at that.
And the mushroom he had just eaten?
It had grown right out of the White Zetsu's eye socket.
A wave of nausea hit him.
Theoretically speaking, he had just ingested the most contaminated, most cursed thing in the entire ninja world.
No, it wasn't just about hygiene anymore. This stuff was dangerous. It had side effects. It could very well kill him.
Without warning, Genma's body was wracked with searing pain. His limbs convulsed violently. It felt like every nerve in his body was twisting and snapping. He bit down hard, trying to stifle the sound—but choked moans still escaped his throat. The agony was unbearable. His consciousness began to fade.
"If only I'd boiled it first…"
That was his last thought before everything went black.
Ten minutes later, the spasms stopped.
The forest grew quiet again. Genma lay curled on the forest floor. At some point, his skin had turned an unnatural, deathly white.
He was changing.
Three hours passed. Slowly, the pale color faded. His original appearance returned.
Suddenly, he gasped awake.
Gagging and coughing, Genma lurched upright and vomited pale, sap-like fluid onto the ground until it covered the soil in front of him.
"Huff..."
Leaning against a nearby tree, he finally caught his breath. His expression grew dark, clouded with confusion and alarm.
He didn't know exactly what had happened—but one thing was certain.
His body felt... different.
Energized. Clear-headed. The wounds he'd carried had vanished without a trace. And more than that—he felt stronger. Much stronger.
As if someone had just granted him +10 to constitution and +10 to chakra reserves.
Just a few hours ago, he was an average chunin—one of thousands like him. But now... now he felt like if he just stretched his hand a little higher, he might touch the "Kakashi line."
More strangely, he now possessed an instinctive understanding of something new—an unfamiliar knowledge embedded deep in his mind.
He raised his left arm. At a single thought, it turned stark white, the texture shifting to resemble peeled tree bark. Another thought—and the whiteness spread over his whole body.
He had become... a White Zetsu.
"…White Zetsu…"
He could hardly believe it.
Everyone knew the classic story: a man bitten by a spider becomes Spider-Man.
And now? Genma had eaten a mushroom from a White Zetsu's eye socket... and become the White Zetsu-Man.
"Guess this is just what it means to be broke—you mutate instead of level up."
Thanks to his reckless foraging, he had likely undergone some kind of fusion with the White Zetsu. The result: enhanced abilities and perhaps even some of White Zetsu's powers.
It was worth investigating.
But not right now.
He suddenly heard rustling—fabric brushing against leaves.
A group of at least ten ninja was heading in his direction.
Immediately, he slipped into the shadows and watched silently. About fifteen minutes later, the group arrived—and to his surprise, he recognized them.
They were his clansmen.
It turned out that, in his delirium, he had managed to crawl to the rendezvous point after all.
"Clan leader!"
At first, the group braced for a threat. Then they saw his face—and breathed a collective sigh of relief.
"There's only you left?" Genma asked.
Sixteen of them had made it. Most were young men. The others... didn't make it.
"Clan leader, we—" one man began, face full of guilt.
Genma raised a hand and shook his head. His voice was calm, emotionless. "It's not your fault. I suppose I didn't lead the enemy far enough away."
"The enemy's numbers were overwhelming... we couldn't do anything," the man murmured, eyes downcast.
The truth was brutal. The enemy outmatched them in every way.
"What about the pursuers?" Genma asked.
"They'll catch up in four or five hours, tops. They've got sensor-type ninja. We can't outrun them."
In war, no matter who's watching, the moment of truth always comes.
For the Yugami clan, that moment was now.