Naruto: Stormbreaker

Chapter 211: Chapter 211

We settled into a routine.

At sunrise, we stretched and ran light conditioning drills, just enough to wake the body without burning it out. Afterward, we returned home, where I prepared breakfast before resting briefly and heading back out for heavier training. Ninjutsu, taijutsu, kenjutsu. We pushed until our bodies protested, broke for lunch, then spent the afternoon on coordination exercises before the day finally ended at sunset. The rhythm was exhausting, repetitive, and oddly comforting. It left little room for stray thoughts to creep in.

One unexpected development was how both Kaen and Shisui became obsessed with my cooking.

Having unusually large chakra reserves let me use the Shadow Clone Jutsu more often than most people could. I used clones to experiment, refine, and repeat until the results were consistent. Living alone had forced me to learn how to cook properly, and over time it became something I genuinely enjoyed. It was relaxing in a way different from training, a quiet, creative, and pleasant process that helped settle the heavier thoughts that tended to weigh on my mind whenever I stayed idle for too long.

At some point, Kaen gave me a respectful nod after a particularly good lunch. He had never done that before. It was a strange milestone, one I had not expected to reach. Watching him train, I began to understand just how hard he pushed himself. The Sharingan gave him an edge for sure, but his progress came from relentless effort. The less time he spent at his home, the more relaxed he became. Not to mention that my efforts during the ambush, saving his idol’s life, seemed to have earned me a decent measure of goodwill.

A few days before our departure for the Chunin Exams, Shisui decided to change things up.

He assigned Kaen a brutal flexibility routine and pulled me aside for something more specialized. I followed him to the center of the training ground, intrigued. Repetition had settled into our days, and this felt different.

Shisui stood with his hands folded behind his back, posture loose, eyes calm. ”What you experienced on your first day here,” he said, ”was not a powerful genjutsu. It was a careless one. And that is why it worked.”

He turned his head slightly toward me. ”Why did you hit the wall.”

I frowned. ”Because I did not see it.”

”That is the surface answer,” he replied. ”Try again.”

I thought back to the moment. The certainty that the path had been clear. The unquestioning trust I had placed in my senses. ”Because I trusted my senses, even though they had already been compromised without me noticing.”

Shisui nodded. ”Exactly. Genjutsu rarely creates false worlds. Most of the time, it edits the one you already believe in. A missing sound. A blind spot. A step that looks safe when it is not.”

He crouched and picked up a small pebble, rolling it between his fingers. ”There are three things every shinobi must understand about genjutsu if they want to survive it.”

He raised one finger. ”First. Awareness comes before resistance. If you do not realize you are in genjutsu, you are already defeated. That realization does not come from pain. It comes from inconsistency. Something that does not match your instincts, your memory, or your expectations.”

A second finger rose. ”Second. Breaking genjutsu requires chakra disruption, not emotion. You force your chakra out of rhythm. Rough. Uneven. Deliberate. Clean control is useless here. You are introducing noise into a pattern.”

When he raised the third finger, his gaze locked onto mine. ”Third. Breaking free once does not mean you are safe. Experienced users layer genjutsu. The moment you disrupt the first, you may step directly into the second.”

The air felt heavier after that.

”So how do you counter it before it gets that far,” I asked.

”You build habits that make you difficult to deceive,” Shisui said. He tapped his temple. ”Mental anchors. Fixed reference points you check without thinking. Your breathing. The weight of your weapon. The feel of the ground beneath your feet. When those change without reason, you react immediately.”

He paused, then added, ”And against a Sharingan user, avoid their eyes. Peripheral vision. Reflections. Shadows. Anything but direct focus.”

Something felt off.

My eyes flicked to his hand on instinct, searching for the pebble he had been rolling between his fingers moments earlier. For a brief instant, my mind failed to account for it. The gap registered a heartbeat too late.

Shisui smirked.

A sharp knock struck my forehead as the pebble snapped back into my awareness. I groaned, more annoyed than hurt, rubbing the spot as he straightened.

”See how simple genjutsu can be,” he said calmly. ”If that had been a kunai, you would be dead.”

I grunted as he continued. ”First, I need you to be extra observant of your environment and conditions during your exercises. After you give me the signal, I will randomly cast genjutsu on you. Your role is to notice it. In the beginning, I will make it easy enough for you to get a sense of it, but over time it will become harder.” He made sure to look me directly in the eyes. ”You have my word that it will only happen during the times I specify. I do not want you on edge all the time. That would not be good for you, and I do not want you to hate this place.”

He chuckled softly before continuing. ”However, once the Chunin Exams begin, I want you ready to detect anything. Genjutsu is known to be used during the exams to thin the herd.”

I nodded as Kaen finally collapsed to the ground nearby, heaving.

Shisui shook his head. ”You need to be stronger than that, Kaen.”

”I am,” Kaen replied, grumbling. ”But flexibility exercises are brutal. What are you training him with?” he asked, pointing at me.

”How to get out of a genjutsu,” Shisui answered.

Kaen’s eyes widened immediately. ”Can I join?”

”No,” Shisui replied without hesitation. ”Because of your Sharingan, you are already resistant to simple genjutsu. However, I will train you on how to cast genjutsu.”

He then looked back at me. ”Noa, you will join that as well. You will not have time to train casting genjutsu properly, but understanding the process will make it easier for you to recognize how it works and how to disrupt it.”

I bowed slightly. ”Thank you, sensei.”

Shisui smiled as Kaen fumbled to his feet and bowed as well, clearly understanding the weight of Shisui sharing his experience so openly and without reservation.

The day after, Shisui began explaining to Kaen how to use his dojutsu to perform genjutsu. Although it was not similar to non dojutsu based casting, he made sure to highlight the differences to both of us, and how despite that, they worked in largely the same way and produced similar effects. Knowing this precious information gave me a better idea of what I was about to be exposed to.

For the next couple of days, I was put to the test.

While I followed my routine, genjutsu was cast on me at random. Sometimes sound based. Sometimes through Shisui’s hand movements. Once even through a masked Sharingan while he observed my chakra under the excuse of ninjutsu training. Detecting genjutsu was hard, but not impossible. My intuition had always been exceptionally sharp, and thanks to Shisui’s explanations and demonstrations, I had a frame of reference.

At first, falling under genjutsu produced only a faint sensation. A small gut feeling. Like reaching into your pocket and realizing your keys are not there, a brief spike of unease before remembering you had put them somewhere else. Except you did not. That moment of wrongness was the genjutsu. And that initial feeling was what I learned to anchor to.

The first time it happened, the ground beneath my feet felt unusually smooth. Combined with that gut feeling, it was enough. I disrupted my chakra.

Shisui narrowed his eyes, pleasantly surprised. ”Well done, Noa. On your first try, no less. I am impressed. Looks like you have a knack for it.”

I grinned at the praise and kept running, only to slam face first into a small target practice obstacle moments later as Kaen burst out laughing.

From that point on, I stayed careful. I kept my senses sharp, trusted that gut feeling, and refused to let carelessness catch me again.