Chapter 12 - The White Thread

It's amazing how much a warm meal can do to brighten one's spirit. I nearly kicked the bucket from hypothermia about a quarter of an hour ago. Yet, here I am with just three spoons of this heavenly dish, and I'm just short of starting to sing. Not that I would, mind you; I'm an awful singer.

The dimly lit dining room is quiet, and though I may be comfortable in nearly any type of silence, that doesn't equate to being oblivious to the mood.

And the room's mood is...

I shot a furtive glance at the middle-aged woman sitting across the low table. The absence of her usual soft smile and the crease of her brows all indicate that she most definitely isn't up for a song, to say the least.

While she hadn't said anything, my aunt is angry. And I think I have an idea as to why... probably.

Taking ice baths wasn't necessary for the treatment the medical-nin proposed. He mentioned in a passing phrase that it may or may not be helpful, and I, without hesitation, decided to try it. Needless to say, the decision met heavy opposition. But I managed to convince them by promising to do it in moderation, specifically for less than two minutes and no more than two times a week.

A promise that I had no intention of maintaining, and a promise that I got caught breaking.

So, it's not unexpected that she is upset.

Sadly, I have no choice either. This body was extremely weak, fragile, and prone to sickness—a condition that was caused, in no small part, by the burden of my soul on it. Hence, as much as I dislike it, I couldn't afford to be gentle in my physical training. The harder it is, the tougher the body gets, hopefully.

Sighing inwardly, I scooped a spoonful of rice mixed with sauce, meat, and a potato chop, then brought it to my mouth. Instantly, flavors exploded in my mouth. The blissful warmth and texture ward off the coldness in my bones.

Sometimes I wonder, really, what's the most magical thing in this world—the chakra or the food?

Sadly, I didn't have as much time as I would like to enjoy this delicacy; it should be past midnight at the moment, and I still have Genjutsu training, which leaves little room for sleep. And I have to be up before seven.

Haah, my sleeping time will take a hit.

"You must be exhausted, Baa-chan," I said suddenly, breaking the silence in the room. "You don't have to wait for me; I will take the dishes to the kitchen when I'm done eating."

She has this habit of waiting until everyone has eaten before she does anything else. It's odd. She should already be asleep at this time, but because I haven't eaten yet, she waited for me. I don't know what to think of that. Part of it makes sense to me; somehow, after all, Izuna is like her son. And she wanted to make sure he wasn't starving, or something like that. Still, isn't it excisive? Are all mothers like that?

Not that I'm complaining. Food, especially beef curry, I like it better warm than cold. It's simply that, well, having someone wait for me is... um, alien.

My aunt gave me a long look, her expression still somber, before she eventually signed heavily. "Alright, Izuna-kun?" Standing, she continued with a strict voice that left no room for argument. "Go to bed right after; you can't stay late; you have to wake up early for school tomorrow."

"... yes." I said after a small pause; thankfully, she failed to notice my hesitation. She nodded and got out of the room.

Why in hell is it getting more daunting to lie to them each time? And why do I feel the need to apologize?

... well, I probably should? I still have a couple more years in this village, and since they are my 'hosts', I should be careful not to sour this odd relationship.

No matter. I will cook a cake for them one of these days; it should be enough as an apology. On the other hand, it would unrust my pastry skills. Besides, I'm quite curious how they would add up to this world's flavorsome ingredients, anyway.

I shook my head and swiftly scraped my plate clean. Next, I swept the table and took the dirty dishes to the kitchen, where I proceeded to wash them. It's an extra step and most likely undue since my aunt would've washed them in the morning anyway, but it still irks me that someone is doing my chores.

After that, I took the candle and then heeded to... not to bed, but to the largest room in the house, which conveniently is the room right before mine and is also...

I slid the door open and stepped into the aforesaid room. The lonely, small candle flame struggled to deter the darkness as it flickered, illuminating only a small part of the space I walked through.

The indoor training room.

Well, Kyouka calls it that, but it's more of a large, empty, and most likely haunted old room that we use whenever it's inconvenient to train in the backyard.

Hung on the left wall, a large covered mirror, and in front of it is a basket filled with rocks of various sizes and shapes.

I put the candle on the ground, uncovered the mirror, and then sat cross-legged facing it. The coldness of the wooden floor barely registered to me since I'm a living and walking ice cube. I exhaled warm breath into my freezing hands before I focused on my reflection in the mirror, specifically my eyes.

The irises are black, but then I blink once, and they turn red with three comma-like symbols surrounding the pupil.

Sharingan.

It had been a long time since I needed hand seals to activate my Dojutsu. Now I barely need a thought; hell, I don't even need to blink. It would be slightly uncomfortable not to do so, however.

I sent more chakra to my retina; my focus stayed on my reflection's eyes, envisioning a floating white thread attached on one end to them, while I concentrated on reaching the loose end and connecting it to my eyes. It's arguably a tricky deal and a frustrating thing to do, like a caffeine addict struggling to insert the end of the thread through the eye of a needle.

It didn't take me much, however, to grasp the dancing white thread, and, instantly, my environment changed drastically.

I'm not in the familiar room, not anymore.

Save for the mirror that was stuck in the air, the once empty, dark room is now a hellscape: black, rocky ground that stretched indefinitely cracked, and caved in long, paths to let rivers of molten, red lava through. The sound of gases bursting from the confines of the earth's crust, mixing with the sounds of intermittent explosions, was deafening and ubiquitous.

Far in the distance, a titanic, furious mountain roared and spewed white smoke and ash into the dark, cloudy sky, then back down in the form of ash snow.

It's a horrific scene. Something you only see in movies, and if you are unfortunate enough to experience it in person, it would be your last; people usually do not survive this.

A volcanic eruption, or more specifically an illusion of one; a Genjutsu.

Standing, I pushed the hood back off while ignoring the fact that my reflection in the mirror isn't following; it was still creepily staring ahead, sitting cross-legged, and not moving in the least. I wandered around the infernal place.

As an Uchiha, endowed with the clan's Dojutsu, the art of Genjutsu is like painting, where the brush is the Sharingan and the canvas is the opponent's mind; you could fully paint them in your imagination.

Of course, Genjutsu is way more complicated and involves more entries than a visual painting. You have to take into account all five — sometimes even more — body senses.

... and this painting is lacking and flawed.

There is more than one indication that the hellscape is an immature illusion. Well, to be fair, this painting was yet to be completed.

I kneeled by the bank of a raging river of molten lava, reaching out with my hand to touch the red, molten rock. I hesitated a bit, something I found myself being proud of. I mean, I'm the one who imagined this; it came from my mind, and I am aware it's fake, yet it still caused me to be nervous.

My hand didn't pause for long, however; it drew near the lava, and... it passed through. As if it were a hologram, my hand didn't detect anything—no heat, no pain.

Sighing, I stood. This hellscape painting has a lot of work to be done, and by work, I mean visualizing settings that are realistic enough to fool the human brain. For now, the visuals and sounds are decent. You could still spot some irregularities if you are extremely careful, but for that, you need to have experienced something similar to know what those irregularities are, and good luck with that.

What remains to work on is the smell, taste, and...

I picked up a rock; there is no issue with the interaction in itself; my mind identified the rock and made it possible to pick it. It's a subconscious reaction made, not by the deviser of the Genjutsu but by the target themself.

In other words, the mind is filling in the blanks and deceiving itself.

The rock has the appearance of any normal rock; visually speaking, it has no abnormality. Yet it felt odd to the touch and has no weight; I don't feel like I'm holding anything right now.

... at least I was able to pick, instead of having my fingers go through it like the lava. This is the progress I made yesterday.

Casting away the rock, I walked to my initial position, in front of the floating mirror, and imitated my reflection, sitting cross-legged. Next, I raised my left hand in front of my face, with the index and middle fingers extended and the others curled, preparing the one hand seal to break from the Genjutsu.

The reflection creepily stared back at me, unmoving.

As the originator of the Genjutsu, I could quickly end it with but a thought; however, that would be counterproductive. After all, this is supposed to be training.

I made it a habit, early on, that if I wanted to end my self-inflicted Genjutsu, I had to try to break from it first.

But that would be easy, wouldn't it? That is why, simultaneously as I try to break out of the Genjutsu, I will also fight to keep myself inside of it.

It's an extremely strenuous thing to do; furthermore, acting in both roles of the trapped and the trapper requires an insane amount of concentration that is discouraging. However, the benefits of such exercise aren't slight.

Breaking from high-level Genjutsus alone is life-saving and invaluable, let alone developing the ability to persist a Genjutsu even as the target tries to free themselves—something unheard of as far as my knowledge goes.

I took a deep breath, focused on the white thread linking my Sharingan with my reflections, and began.

"Kai!"

Instantly, my chakra flow raged, trying to break free from the spiderwebs clutching my mind. The reflection in the mirror shook. He then moved the left arm slowly and robotically, struggling to imitate my action of forming a hand seal.

I frowned slightly and directed more chakra to my eyes, causing the reflection to slow even more. Next, while trying not to disrupt the chakra flowing to my eyes, I applied more force to the flow. which made the reflection regain some of its movement faculty. Thus, a strange fight started, where I tried to break free from my Genjutsu while fighting to keep myself in.

The reflection, however, failed each time. He could've tried to close his eyes or even look away, but he didn't. Since, well, the reflection is of the real me, and I know that looking away would change nothing, as long as the thread linking our eyes is still in place, the action won't break the illusion. As for closing the eyes, it certainly could sever the thread and, by extension, the Genjutsu, but it is nearly impossible to do so; as a matter of fact, there is more chance of breaking this self-designed Genjutsu than them closing their eyes.

That's why I'm so proud of this original type of Genjutsu casting. It's not the super realistic and horrifying landscape, nor is it the interactivity or the immensity of the land. No, it's none of that; it's the fragile white thread that's linking our eyes.

That's what is most impressive about this casting type.

And guess what? It was designated and developed by yours truly. Granted, it was an accident, but the results are what counts.

Basically, the white thread is a link; it takes some moments to put in place and could only be used on one person, but once set, the target's ways of freeing themselves are reduced exponentially. Not only would they be unable to close their eyes, but using their chakra to disrupt mine wouldn't be effective. Why? Because I'm linked to their mind, no matter how much they disrupt the chakra I set around it, I can always send more.

In other words, without external interference, the only way to get out of a Genjutsu set by the white thread is by either, me running out of chakra, not replenishing the sapped chakra, or for the victim to apply, on their chakra, a power so strong that it would sever the thread. And good luck with that, since such an action would be referred to as self-explosion, if not that, then mushed brain.

I spent over an hour fighting an unwinnable battle before I decided to continue my painting. Thus, after exiting the Genjutsu, I used the basket full of rocks, feeling their weight and texture, to build a mental image, perfecting the hellscape.

Haah, I don't see myself hitting the bed anytime soon.