The Genjutsu Devil of Konoha

Hm. The old man knew him.

Or more accurately... he knew the sword.

Seijuro narrowed his eyes, just barely leaning his head to the side as a crescent-shaped wind blade zipped past him, sharp enough to split bone from muscle. That one would've taken his head clean off. Bunpuku wasn't playing around.

He was briefed.

No hesitation. No testing the waters. Just kill.

Which meant one thing—Chiyo told him everything. From his Genjutsu, to the Shunshin tricks, to his sword style, maybe even how he breathed.

Tch. Fine. That just made this more fun.

Without wasting a beat, Seijuro moved through a set of hand seals, faster than most people blink.

"Wind Style: Gale Palm!"

A focused burst of pressurized wind exploded forward—but the Jinchūriki merely raised a sand shield, catching the wind with a lazy flick of his wrist. It was a test, and the monk passed it with barely a blink.

Bunpuku didn't say a word. He just lifted one hand—and that was all the warning Seijuro got before the ground turned into hell.

"Magnet Release: Sand Bullet."

The sky turned beige.

Thousands—maybe tens of thousands—of sand particles fired down like goddamn bullets from a divine turret. Each one pierced with speed, a barrage aimed to turn him into a bloodied rag.

Seijuro moved to Shunshin away—

But.

Too slow.

RATATATATATA

His body lit up with holes. Blood sprayed. He vomited up a thick stream of red. The gleam in his eyes dimmed instantly. His body fell to the sand like a crumpled note.

Silence.

The old monk, face serene, closed his eyes. "Rest well, child. May the Sage of Six Paths receive your soul with mercy."

He turned to walk away—

SCHLICK!

The automatic sand defense he carried activated just in time, forming a tight dome to stop his head from being sliced clean off.

A blur vanished—BZZZT!

Seijuro. Alive.

The boy had reappeared a distance away, arm raised, a cluster of paper bombs already soaring through the air like dead leaves in a storm.

"Kai."

—KRAKOOM!—

The desert detonated. Flames, shockwaves, concussive wind. The whole battlefield shook like it had just witnessed a meteor strike. The sand turned to glass in patches.

Seijuro stood watching the smoke, blade drawn. "Tch... Should've known. If killing a Jinchūriki was that easy, they wouldn't be called nuclear deterrents."

The smoke cleared.

Bunpuku. Untouched.

Standing there, his robes fluttering, sand still whirling gently around him.

In his mind, Chiyo's voice echoed again:

"Do not let your guard down. His illusions are too real."

"If he dies too easily—he didn't."

Looking at the boy again, Bunpuku now realized something deeper. This wasn't just a Genjutsu user. This was a problem.

And Seijuro? He'd already moved.

"Fire Style: Blazing Mirage Prison!"

With practiced efficiency, he fired a fire orb into the sky—roughly 50 meters high—and it detonated into a wave of shimmering heat. The mirage warped light, bending perception, making chakra signatures shift just enough to screw with Shukaku's sand-based targeting.

"Sand Wave," Bunpuku responded immediately.

A titanic mass of sand surged toward the boy, enough to drown a city block.

Seijuro jumped, flipping backwards into the air.

"Sand Bullet."

Again. Thousands of bullets. Trapping him mid-air.

Seijuro grinned. A stupid, reckless grin.

"Wind Style: Gale Palm!"

BOOM—he fired it point-blank behind himself, changing his trajectory mid-air, slamming his body out of the bullet path. He couldn't fly—not yet, not here—but he damn sure could cheat gravity for a second.

He landed—only for the sand to swallow his legs.

A massive claw erupted and crushed down.

CRACK. BLOOD. Silence.

Seijuro's body collapsed under the claw. Blood painted the sand red.

Bunpuku exhaled.

But something—it was too easy.

He turned.

BZZZT—!

Seijuro was behind him. His sword already mid-swing, black steel glinting for the kill strike.

"Not this time, little fox."

Shukaku's voice growled from the sand.

SHUNK!

A sand spear lanced into Seijuro's gut before he could finish the kill. He coughed up more blood, his eyes wide.

But then—

—CRACKLE!

Lightning arced. The body flickered.

—Zzzzt.

The boy exploded into a surge of electricity—it had been a Lightning Clone, and the voltage blasted Bunpuku's nervous system, stunning his arm.

From a distance, Seijuro's voice rang out—

"Now."

—BOOM!—

A coordinated attack. Four Konoha Jounin emerged from hiding, already mid-jutsu. One unfurled a binding seal scroll, another slammed their palm into the sand with chakra-suppressing Fūinjutsu, while the others channeled a combination of fire and lightning attacks meant to suppress the beast's emergence.

Chains of light. Seals glowing. Dust storm thickening.

The trap had been laid from the start.

You see, from the second he had used that fire jutsu, it was nothing more than a decoy. If this man truly was given all the info they needed to know about him...

Then, he must have been wary of the boy's sword. Wary about any jutsu he might use.

So when he used that fire jutsu, for just a split second, the old man looked up at the fireball, trying to determine its effect. This was what the boy needed.

In that split moment, he created a Shadow Clone, while he himself went underground. When the heat waves began to hit, the old man targeted the clone.

Meanwhile, while underground, he created a Lightning Clone, and directed him to go up. The second his Shadow Clone was trapped, from then on, it was just a waiting game.

Hm. This wouldn't be so easy, as if his guess were correct... Shukaku will be breaking out soon.