Chapter 10: Infiltration
Prejudice is a mountain.
The common perception of the White Zetsu is that they are sly, deceitful creatures who will stop at nothing to achieve vague and sinister goals. But what if we looked at them without bias?
Could they not, perhaps, be noble beings—loyal only to Hajime, selflessly devoted to him?
In Hajime's view, although modern White Zetsu have been brainwashed into servants of the Divine Tree, at their core, they were once ancient shinobi. These were people who had been trapped in the Infinite Tsukuyomi, hung on the Divine Tree and dried like fruit for ages, until they transformed into what we now call White Zetsu.
In a way, they are byproducts of the Divine Tree—though far from the "fruit" of legends, they did, quite literally, grow from it.
And a tree, by nature, produces sap. If you were to squeeze these things, perhaps you could extract something... nutritious.
Hajime had already gained some benefits from this idea—though it had once caused severe digestive distress—but he wasn't about to let go of the concept. He saw in the White Zetsu a potential escape from the genetic shackles of ordinary shinobi.
It was unfortunate, even tragic, that things had come to this. But in the shinobi world, there were two kinds of beings: those with Ōtsutsuki blood, and those without. For the average shinobi, the ceiling was low—and painfully close. Unless one was willing to go to extremes and brutally remodel their own body, surpassing that ceiling was a fantasy.
But if his hypothesis was right, then White Zetsu could be used as "experience packets"—a way to break through the limits of bloodlines. They might not have been born noble, but they could certainly die with purpose.
To verify this theory, the first step was to catch another White Zetsu alive.
Easier said than done. These things were elusive, popping in and out of places unseen, always operating in the shadows. For centuries, Black and White Zetsu had influenced the shinobi world from behind the curtain, and yet no one had ever managed to uncover them. That alone spoke volumes about their ability to hide.
But Hajime was different now. He was, in a sense, one of them—"White Zetsu Man," if you will.
He had developed the ability to sense his own kind. If another White Zetsu came within range, both parties would instantly be aware of each other. The catch was, he had to maintain a partially transformed state to trigger that awareness.
"Where would a White Zetsu even be right now?" he muttered, a bit impatient to test his theory. His road to power was one of cooperation: White Zetsu would pay the price; he would reap the benefits. A true win-win. Especially for him.
Unfortunately, the deep mountains where he was camping weren't ideal hunting grounds—White Zetsu were too busy surveilling the ninja world to be lurking here.
But just as he was starting to grow anxious, luck came knocking.
On the fifth day after setting up camp, while practicing the Mayfly Technique, his semi-White-Zetsu body suddenly picked up a signal—some kind of summons for nearby Zetsu to gather at a certain location.
It was almost too perfect.
An entire group of White Zetsu in one place? It was an opportunity he couldn't miss.
There was minimal risk of exposure. Blending in would be easy. The reward? Potentially huge.
He quickly gathered his two subordinates.
Yugami Gensukawa had since changed his name to Moriya Gensukawa while Yugami Ryunosuke now went by Hayasaka Ryunosuke.
"The camp's finally stabilized, but we can't afford to waste time," Hajime told them. "I plan to scout the area more thoroughly and see if we can learn anything about the Tsugawa Clan's movements."
He paused, then added, "Also, we need to secure supplies. We can't rely on fishing and hunting forever—I'll see if I can bring back some grain."
Everything he said sounded reasonable and well-planned. Neither Gensukawa nor Ryunosuke had any objections.
"Chief, what about your injuries?" Ryunosuke asked.
"I've fully recovered," Hajime replied.
"Understood. We'll take care of things here. Please stay safe."
"I will. I'm not sure how long I'll be gone, but I'll return as soon as I can."
With that, Hajime packed a few tools and set off.
"Chief really has changed," Gensukawa muttered as he watched him leave.
"It's Captain now," Ryunosuke corrected, before adding with a smile, "Responsibility shapes a person."
Hajime had once been just an average shinobi. But now, he was the backbone of the entire group.
---
The message from the White Zetsu wasn't something that could be expressed in words or logic. It was more of a primal instinct, a sense that said, "Come here." It didn't give coordinates—just vague directional cues, like whether he was getting closer, higher, or lower.
So Hajime followed the feeling, steadily and awkwardly making his way through the terrain.
He dashed through morning mist as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the clouds. A brook meandered through the forest floor, and the air was crisp and green.
The landscape was vibrant, and so was his mood. There was a thrill in his chest—a tingle of anticipation.
Two days later, he arrived near the gathering point.
Before approaching, he fully transformed into his White Zetsu form.
He scanned the area and spotted a rocky cave hidden beneath thick brush. Instead of entering through the front, he activated the Mayfly Technique and phased silently through the rock wall.
His face emerged from the inner wall of the cave, and after a quick, unabashed look around, he passed through fully into the space.
Inside, more than a dozen White Zetsu had already gathered—like radishes at a meeting.
Despite keeping his own face unchanged, Hajime felt no anxiety. He was confident they wouldn't question him.
"You look weird," one of them said, noticing his entrance.
The voice held curiosity but no suspicion. Why would it? Hajime looked exactly like one of them.
"Unlucky," he replied coolly. "Got caught in a wide-range ninjutsu and nearly died. Managed to survive by parasitizing this shinobi and tapping into his chakra."
"Unfortunate," the White Zetsu replied blandly.
There was no joy in his tone, no sympathy or relief. Just a flat acknowledgment.
But that was to be expected—White Zetsu weren't human. Empathy wasn't in their programming. They didn't care about comrades. They existed only to serve their "Mother," cause chaos, and observe the world.
Worrying about teammates? Not part of the job description.