He couldn’t deny Gengo. Shikamaru was confused by his own heart, swayed and shaken.
He had come to this place with the intention of killing the man. He had thought Gengo was a disturbance for the ninja, who had finally begun to walk a path of peace, which was precisely why he had set out on this journey without telling his friends the truth. And yet as he listened to Gengo’s words, he came to question whether his own thinking was correct.
“Have you ever thought about why the world of war does not end?” Gengo asked, standing before him.
Shikamaru had honestly never considered the question. There had been many other countries since he was born, and they had risen and fallen through one skirmish after another. And in the gaps, in the holes in the relationships among these countries, the ninja had earned their bread selling their own jutsu. Right from the start, this had been his norm, so the idea of calling it “war” had never entered his mind.
Shikamaru was worried about the world of the ninja, not the larger world that Gengo was talking about.
Would the ninja always be able to look toward a harmonious future? What form should the alliance take to ensure they did? And as he juggled these questions, another also came to mind: how was Shikamaru supposed to make Naruto the Hokage and build up his own generation?
Gengo’s words were as wide and deep as these worries of his were small. This man was looking beyond the ninja; he was looking at the world itself.
“Don’t you think this is due to nothing other than the fact that the world is ruled by these daimyo, who have no more power than any ordinary citizen, rather than by the ninja with their superior abilities? War will never end because those without chakra or superior skills are constantly quarrelling with one another. None excel in any real way, so no country ever stands above any other. And because each nation ossifies under stagnant control, the world of war goes on. I intend to stop it. The unification of this continent—a feat none have yet to achieve—that is what I and the revolutionaries will bring about with our ninja powers, Shikamaru.”
“Unify the continent…”
Gengo nodded with satisfaction. “This world is about survival of the fittest, after all. This is the way of beasts, and the beast known as man is no exception; he cannot escape these fetters. So then shouldn’t the ninja—shouldn’t the truly strong—reign at the pinnacle of the power hierarchy? The way the world is now is abnormal. But we will return it to the way it should be. That is the revolution we are trying to start.”
Ninja as the people who should rule this world… Maybe that was true.
“Lord Shikamaru,” came a voice from behind him.
Ro.
Shikamaru turned his head slightly to look back over his shoulder.
“Is the situation not precisely as Lord Gengo has stated? For what reason must the shinobi be used by the daimyo? I myself am a man of the Anbu. Thus, I have witnessed countless times their fell ways. They see the shinobi as merely useful tools. A man who was once my friend was employed in a battle between the Land of Fire and the Land of Wind, and no sooner had the two countries agreed to a cease-fire than he was disposed of as an inconvenience.” Tears spilled from Ro’s swollen eyes.
“I, like, think so too,” Soku muttered, distinctly. Reddish-black bruises blurred the outline of the girl’s still-childish mouth; Gengo had ordered his subordinates to torture them severely and mercilessly. “I agree with this Gengo’s, like, thinking.”
“Hinoko…”
“It’s not just the daimyo. I mean, the people living in the countries they rule, they’re, like, the same.” Soku spoke heatedly, not even noticing that Shikamaru had called her by her real name. “Once people realize we’re ninja, even if they act all cheerful on the outside, you can see this weird suspicion in their eyes, way deep. Those eyes, they’re, like, afraid of us. They doubt us, discriminate against us. I, like, don’t understand why we have to be spilling our blood and sweat for guys like that!” Almost as if she had forgotten that Gengo was the very man who had been torturing her, Soku stared up at the leader of this land longingly.
“Your allies are in agreement. What I am trying to do will have real significance for the shinobi. Shikamaru, come with me. Shall we not rule together?” Gengo offered his hand.
If Shikamaru took that hand, he could never go back. Or maybe even contemplating going back would make him crazy?
If Gengo managed to unify all the lands of the continent, the ninja world would disappear. And if that happened, he’d be able to see Naruto, Choji, Ino, and the others again. Or maybe he could call to them, they could become one, they could re-create the ninja world.
“Come now, Shikamaru. Take my hand.” Gengo’s words pushed at him.
“Ngh…” Part of him wanted to take the hand before him.
But.
There was another part of him desperately rebelling against the impulse to take Gengo’s hand.
“Come.” Gengo thrust his hand forward as Shikamaru agonized.
“W-why…” It was like something hard was stuck in his throat. Shikamaru spat out the stinging lump and continued. “Why the hell should I take orders from you…”
“Oh ho! Still failing to comprehend after I’ve spoken at such length. You are quite the obstinate man.”
Shikamaru didn’t get it. There was still something in the deepest part of his heart that wasn’t completely convinced. And that contrary nature despised the thought of becoming a vassal. He didn’t actually understand why; he just didn’t like it somehow. It was a resistance on this level. Every other part of his heart sang its agreement with Gengo.
“I see. In that case, how about we do this…” With his eyes, Gengo signaled the men holding Shikamaru’s arms. He then took a few steps back to the bottom of the stairs.
The revolutionaries at Shikamaru’s sides removed the handcuffs locking his hands behind his back. At the sudden freedom from long restraint, Shikamaru pitched forward. His forehead about to slam into the floor, he somehow managed to support himself on numb arms and slowly raised his face to look up at Gengo.
Gengo opened his arms and thrust his chest out, looking down at Shikamaru. “If you cannot trust me, then you should kill me right here and now.”
“K-kill you?” Shikamaru’s voice shook.
“With your jutsu to control shadows, there’s no reason you shouldn’t be able to strangle me right here. Come, it’s fine, go ahead.”
How could Gengo stand there so confidently and demand that Shikamaru kill him? The shaken shinobi grew increasingly uncomfortable with this would-be world leader. He had to be misreading something somewhere.
He placed a trembling hand on the floor.
Sunlight poured in through the large windows in the walls of the hall. The dazzling light created a shadow on the floor, from under his arm up to his torso. The inky blackness began to quiver, growing more violent by the moment, becoming a shivering, and finally transforming into a violent shaking.
“Go,” Shikamaru ordered the shadow in a voice lacking power. The shadow of his arm became a lance headed for Gengo.
“Now, don’t let go, Shikamaru!” Gengo said, with delight, a brilliant light shining in his eyes. His voice, full of ambition, pushed against Shikamaru.
Shikamaru’s shadow…
Stopped.
His shadow stopped, painfully close to touching the tips of Gengo’s toes. Shikamaru willed it to keep going, but no matter how hard he pushed, it would go no farther than that.
“What’s the matter? Why don’t you do it?” Gengo asked.
Weird, weird, weird…
Think, think, think, think…
Think, Shikamaru! he yelled at himself. He had taken a wrong step somewhere. Where?
“Hnh!” He felt a small spark popping in his head.
Ro and Soku…
They were the weirdness he felt.
Ro and Soku were Anbu masters, and the Anbu were not so easily dealt with. Why had Ro and Soku so readily accepted Gengo’s words? It should have been impossible for them to be so docile and accepting of their enemy. They appeared to harbor no resentment, despite the fact that this man had so recently tortured them so harshly.
Something was up. And the word for what that was bubbled to the surface of Shikamaru’s mind.
Genjutsu.
Manipulating a person’s thoughts and trapping them within your own jutsu. Genjutsu. Soku and Ro very strongly resembled people under the thrall of genjutsu.
So then was he about to be sucked into the same genjutsu?
Probably.
But genjutsu was a visual jutsu. The representative of visual jutsu was the Uchiha clan of Konohagakure, whose unique sharingan eyes were used to cast their genjutsu on their opponents.
Shikamaru looked back on the incident in the plaza. He had assumed that Ro’s jutsu had been weakened somehow, and Gengo had discovered their presence. It couldn’t have been a visual jutsu; they hadn’t looked into Gengo’s eyes until he called them mice. To cast a visual jutsu, you had to meet the eyes of your opponent. All possibility of a visual jutsu died at that moment.
So then what had brought the genjutsu onto Shikamaru and his companions?
His questions came too late. Once a genjutsu had been cast, you needed someone outside the jutsu to pull you out. But his companions Ro and Soku were already inside. And once you set foot into that bottomless bog, all that was left was to wait for it to reach the top of your head. Soon enough, he’d submit to Gengo.
“I don’t like it.” His thoughts spilled from his mouth.
Gengo looked down on Shikamaru triumphantly.
Shikamaru’s shadow was frozen, trembling at the other man’s feet.
“Isn’t it about time for you to give this up already?” Gengo’s gentle voice warmed Shikamaru. His frozen body melted. His mouth naturally relaxed at how good it felt.
The true nature of Gengo’s genjutsu…
Before the hazy answer floating up in the back of his mind could take a clear shape, Shikamaru erased it of his own will.
It didn’t matter anymore.