Three months of gladiator fighting in front of a crowd for Ring had earned Takuma enough for him to be able to afford a C-rank jutsu. His purchase of Doton: Jihibiki Kansei no Jutsu had been only possible because of the Ring, and Takuma was every bit thankful for that. However, the Ring— err, his LRC course on lockpicking— wasn't Takuma's only income source. He was still a shinobi who earned a proper wage through hard work. His nearly nine months of missions had made him enough for a D-rank jutsu. He saw no use in saving the mission points and spent them.

Takuma stared at the three scarlet D-rank scrolls and the two light lime green handmade scrolls he had made for C-rank jutsu on his living room table.

He cleared his throat as he picked up the scarlet scroll that was in pristine condition, unlike the other two that had gained some wear, like a textbook at the end of the school year. Reading the title still gave Takuma mixed feelings—

[Genjutsu: Kasumi Jusha no Jutsu (Mist Servant Technique)]

His first genjutsu… he had finally bought it.

Takuma hadn't thought much about when the old man at the academy graduation test had pointed out that he was under a genjutsu— he didn't even know that he was under a genjutsu until the old man had informed him. Even then he couldn't actually tell that he was under a genjutsu, and disrupting his chakra had released him from the genjutsu's grasp.

Things had been different when he had fought against Yuhi Kame. That time, he could tell he was under a genjutsu and even partially see-through it, which allowed him to win the fight at the last moment.

Just in case he was overthinking it, Takuma had asked Nenro to cast Genjutsu: Shibari on him. The result was Takuma suddenly finding him in the tight constriction of ropes that had appeared out-of-nowhere and restricted him without any wiggle room… and yet, the very next moment, the ropes felt fake and he didn't need to stare to tell they weren't real. A single pulse of his chakra had undone the genjutsu.

Once he could chalk it up as happenstance, twice he could accept it as coincidence, but for the facts to slap him thrice in the face— Takuma couldn't help but acknowledge the pattern.

Genjutsu didn't work well on him.

Even the devil's advocate's argument of the caster lacking skill didn't hold up— but one of the three was from the Yuhi clan of genjutsu, and the old man was at least a chunin.

Looking into genjutsu seemed like an obvious choice. The purchase of D-rank genjutsu was the result of that.

The source of unease was that he didn't know if his interesting circumstances converted to learning ability. What if genjutsu didn't work well on him, but he had dogshit aptitude towards the field. It wasn't like he could test his genjutsu affinity— and he already knew his elemental affinity. The only way to know was to buy a D-rank genjutsu and try it out. The problem was that mission points were still precious to Takuma. He couldn't afford to make risky investments and buying a genjutsu scroll read like a risk to him.

The safest bet was to buy another Doton jutsu. Logically speaking, genjutsu wasn't even the second choice. His experience with Suiton: Kirigakure Jutsu was immensely positive and Takuma wanted to learn another Suiton jutsu to increase the diversification of his jutsu arsenal. He had even picked out a D-rank Suiton jutsu.

… However, in the end, he took the risk. Thus, the unease.

Takuma sighed. It was already too late to go back on his purchase. On top of that, he couldn't waste time procrastinating about decisions already set in cement.

He had two jutsu to learn.

———.

Fuse, or Slash Baron as he was known in the Ring, sat down in the leather recliner in the VIP with a glass of neat whisky from the bar built as part of the room. Unlike the flat masks that fighters wore in the Ring, Slash Baron wore a mask fashioned closer to venetian masks with pronounced features. The paint on the mask had cracked to cause patterns akin to water-parched lands during droughts, showing the mask's age.

"Is that him?" he said to the only person besides him in the room.

She nodded.

Slash Baron narrowed his eyes at the fight in the arena. He could see where the kid got his name. His entire body, toe to neck, was covered in old and new scars. The new ones told him much about the battles the kid had been in recently. And if he knew Ring fighters, he knew almost all of them were from the Ring.

"Scars, rookie contract, weapons category," she said to him.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

In the arena, Scars moved and skipped on his feet as he ran backward while his hands, wielding kunai, moved in a blur, creating a show of screeches and sparks as his opponent tried to drown him in a flurry of strikes.

Slash Baron noticed the kid was showing the symptoms of someone who had just recently come out of the taijutsu category. The kid wasn't taking advantage of the distance that the standard kit weapons provided. Everyone knew about it, but habit and comfort were tough things for people to break— especially for fighters, when a habit was engraved into the bones, it took breaking those bones to get rid of it.

'And yet he's moving,' he thought.

Scars moved through the arena without stopping. Even though Scar's opponent was on the offense, the direction and motions were being directed by Scars. The combat was being fought on the run, and it was clear that Scars wasn't letting his opponent get a stationary position to get comfortable in.

"Who brought him in?" he asked.

"Enomoto."

Slash Baron clicked his tongue. He didn't like that name at all. Not at all. The bastard was good at what he did, but the personality behind that skill was just plain awful.

"Are you sure he is worth it?" He didn't know this Scars kid outside the conversations he had with the other members, nor had he observed the numerous fights others had. All he knew was that Scars was being talked about in the circles.

"55-45, fifty-five percent record."

"Nothing special," he said.

"Yes, but you aren't considering the category change."

Slash Baron shook his head. They were shinobi, and every fight they fought was different. On the field, there was no consideration for something like a 'category change.' They needed to be ready for any and all possibilities. A shinobi needed to have adaptation running through their veins more than blood.

But he couldn't discount Scars' age. It was clear from the musculature and frame that the person in question was a kid. There was potential there. The question was if the kid would be a good fit, and more importantly, a good prospect.

"He has shown signs of learning a chakra augmentation jutsu."

Now, that was more like what he wanted to hear.

Suddenly there was activity in the arena. Scars' opponent disarmed one of Scars' kunai and went in for a body stab. Scars' hand that had been forced to part from his kunai turned into a fist, and just the right muscles flexed as Scar placed a hook to the side of his opponent's neck, just below the ear.

The opponent was tough, as the solid hit didn't faze her as much as it should have. She recovered enough just at the moment to deflect the Scars' kunai that would've opened up her like a pig on a butcher's table.

Slash Baron anticipated a brawl coming up—

Scars' opponent leaned forward to reach for a jab, and her front foot was already readying to act as a pivot for a rotating kick. But suddenly, Scars redirected the jab with a quick smack before jumping several meters away from his opponent.

The kid dipped into his weapons pouch and unleashed a salvo of shuriken on his opponent.

The opponent who had already committed to the kick was stuck in her movements. She recovered fairly quickly for 'Ring standards' and tried to jump out of the way, but the flying sharpened metal stars were already upon her.

Ting! Ting! Ting!

Her quick hands deflected three shuriken… a valiant and yet futile effort as six other shuriken pierced her like darts on a dartboard. She dropped to the ground like a marionette without strings, and Scars rushed towards her with two kunai gleaming in his hand.

The opponent, however, raised her hand in a half claw which made Takuma stop.

A forfeit had been called.

"Distance," said Slash Baron, commenting to himself. He sipped on his drink, finding the selection available in the bar to be subpar at best. "Hmm… alright, let's at least see if the kid's interested."

———

.

Takuma was in his locker room changing into his clothes when he heard a knock on his door. He looked up, utterly surprised. In his more than three months using the single-person changing rooms, not once had he heard a knock on the door.

He didn't reply and put his ski mask and the Scars' mask over while attaching his weapons pouch back on.

"Scars," a deep and smooth voice came from outside, "my name is Slash Baron; I was wondering if we could talk about something."

Silently, Takuma took out a kunai and dipped his other hand into his pouch, ready.

"I know you're in there, and I just want a conversation. You have my word that there will be no funny business."

Takuma didn't give two shits about some stranger giving him their word. It literally meant nothing if he didn't know the person.

He looked down at the space beneath the door and could see from the slight shadows that multiple people were outside. The speaker was using 'I' a lot, and yet it was clear that he had company.

But he couldn't stay in the room in case the people outside were malicious. If they decided to kick the door in and blitz, he would be trapped inside a constricted space. He needed to get out or at least create a path of escape in case he needed to.

Shit! This really wasn't a suitable situation for him, thought Takuma.

He unlocked the door, and it opened with a loud creak.

Takuma had to raise his eyes and crane his neck to look at the giant's face that stood in front of him. Three more people accompanied the giant, and every one of them was wearing Ring masks. Except for the giant, who had a type of mask that Takuma hadn't seen before here below the ground.

"Good day to you. My name is Slash Baron. I'm the leader of the Troupe," said the giant.

Takuma had zero idea what that was, but from the context, he deduced that the Troupe was the name of one of the teams in the Ring.

He nodded to them while looking over the group with a critical gaze. Just from their body language and the vibe they were giving out, he could tell they could be problems. But the main problem was Slash Baron— the man was sending his instincts screaming danger and issuing flee signals.

The man was extremely dangerous.

Slash Baron's eyes went down to Takuma's feet. "Ankle weights," his voice carried a smile in it, "an old practice, but effective nevertheless. I haven't seen many youngsters use them these days. I appreciate the effort. They will not disappoint."

Takuma bit the inside of his cheek. The first thing he did after removing his equipment was put on the ankle weight. His feet suddenly felt much heavier. He had been using ankle weights for a little while but not enough that he felt comfortable fighting in them.

"I apologize if this made you uncomfortable," said Slash Baron. "We have been following your fights in the Ring and are interested in offering a spot in the Troupe.

"Can we take this discussion somewhere else?"