Naruto: Mixed Heritage(Rewrite)

The twisted world of Renjiro's genjutsu hung heavy in the air. The blood-red sky loomed above, a stark, malevolent void that seemed to press down on everything beneath it. The grey-scale landscape stretched out into an eternity of nothingness, its muted tones robbing the world of all life and vibrance.

Suspended in midair, the five Kumo shinobi were crucified against wooden pillars that groaned under the weight of their unseen torment. The air around them was still, unnervingly so, broken only by the faint creak of the wooden restraints and the distant hum of something—something unnatural—lurking just beyond their senses.

Renjiro stood at a distance, his arms crossed as he regarded his prisoners. The faint glow of his Sharingan cut through the muted darkness, its tomoe spinning lazily. A smirk curled beneath his mask.

'Damn, I wish this was the real deal,' he thought bitterly, the frustration gnawing at him.

The genjutsu was a work in progress—a mimicry of Itachi's Mangekyō Sharingan ability, Tsukuyomi.

Renjiro had poured months into refining it, using his fourth tomoe and an infusion of Yin chakra to create a powerful illusion. But it lacked the fluidity and raw omnipotence of the original.

The world it created was static, unchanging, and Renjiro had little to no control over the events that unfolded within it. Unlike Itachi's technique, this imitation could not compress time to deliver days of torment in mere seconds.

'While it's miles weaker than the original, this should do it,' he thought, his gaze settling on the panic-stricken faces of his captives.

Kanai, the leader of the Kumo team, struggled against the invisible force that bound him to the wooden cross. His body strained, muscles twitching as he tried to release the genjutsu.

'Release. Release. RELEASE!' he screamed internally, his chakra flaring as he cycled through every method he knew.

But the bindings held firm. His breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, the oppressive silence of the world around him only amplifying his mounting dread.

'Is this really a genjutsu?' he wondered, his mind racing.

The crimson sky and drained colours felt too vivid, too visceral. A part of him doubted his reality. Was this an illusion, or had he been dragged into some hellish otherworld? The uncertainty clawed at his sanity.

Then, a sound—soft at first, like the faint crackle of distant embers. Kanai's eyes darted downward, and his heart sank.

A sea of green flames roared to life, spreading out from beneath him. The ethereal fire surged and twisted, licking at the wooden beams that held him and his comrades. The heat was absent, but the sight alone was enough to set his nerves on edge.

"What is this?!" one of the Kumo shinobi screamed, his voice breaking the oppressive silence. His wide eyes darted around frantically, his body trembling as the flames climbed higher.

The green fire seeped into the wood, its glow intensifying as it climbed. Kanai could feel it now—a crawling, insidious sensation that crept along his skin. When the flames touched his body, there was a brief moment of stillness.

Then, the pain came.

"Aaargh!!!"

A bone-deep agony erupted within him, unlike anything he had ever felt. It wasn't the searing pain of flesh burning; it was something far worse. It felt as though his very soul was aflame, each ember tearing through his core with relentless ferocity.

"Agh! Stop it! STOP IT!" Mihara's voice rang out, shrill and desperate. He writhed against his bindings, his face twisted in a mask of pure torment.

Kanai's mind spiralled as the pain wracked his body.

'This can't be real. This can't be real!' he thought, the mantra repeating uselessly as the flames consumed him from the inside out.

But the pain—the pain was undeniable. It was too vivid, too sharp to be an illusion. He tried again to break free, his chakra flaring with every ounce of strength he could muster, but the genjutsu held firm. The futility of his efforts gnawed at him, and cracks began to form in his resolve.

Renjiro stepped forward, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. "How did you know about me?" he demanded, his tone sharp and unwavering. His Sharingan glowed ominously, reflecting the green flames.

Of course, Renjiro adjusted his appearance to only show his normal sharingan. He was using bits of his green flame in the genjutsu. It was a spur-of-the-moment idea that Renjiro was delightfully surprised to see working so well. Even if he couldn't exactly tell how that was even possible in the first place.

Kanai barely registered the words. The pain consumed him, drowning out everything else. Renjiro's voice sounded distant, like it was coming from the other side of a vast chasm.

He could see the ANBU operative standing before him, but the sight blurred and wavered, distorted by the haze of his agony.

Renjiro frowned beneath his mask. 'They're not responding.'

He channelled more chakra into the genjutsu, amplifying the flames. The emerald fire roared to life, its intensity doubling. The Kumo shinobi screamed, their voices raw and guttural.

"Answer me!" Renjiro barked. "How did you know about me and my mission?"

Kanai's mind teetered on the edge of collapse. The flames tore through his psyche, unravelling his sense of self.

'What mission?' he thought, his consciousness fraying. 'Who am I?' The pain was so all-encompassing that it obliterated everything else. Memories blurred, thoughts fragmented. He couldn't even comprehend the words Renjiro was saying anymore. All he knew was the fire—the unrelenting, soul-searing fire.

Renjiro's frustration mounted as the shinobi remained uncooperative. "Still nothing?" he muttered. His fingers twitched as he considered his options. "Fine." He poured even more chakra into the genjutsu, pushing the Kumo shinobi to their breaking points.

"MAKE IT STOP!" one of them screamed, his voice hoarse and desperate. "PLEASE, MAKE IT STOP!"

"Then tell me what I want to know," Renjiro demanded coldly.

But the shinobi could no longer form coherent sentences. Their minds were broken, their voices reduced to incoherent wails. Kanai's vision darkened, the edges of his consciousness fraying.

'Is this how it ends?' he thought, despair gripping him. 'Weeks? Months? How long have I been here?'

Then, just as suddenly as it began, the pain ceased.

The green flames vanished, the crimson sky faded, and the grey-scale world dissolved into darkness. Kanai gasped as he felt the cold night air against his skin. He was back in the forest, the familiar scent of smoke and scorched earth filling his lungs. But something was wrong.

He looked around, his body trembling from exhaustion. His comrades lay in crumpled heaps, their bodies unmoving. Kanai's heart sank as he realized they weren't breathing.

He tried to call out to them, but his voice failed him. His eyelids grew heavy, and he fought to stay conscious, knowing that if he closed his eyes, he might never open them again.

Renjiro stood nearby, his gaze fixed on the fallen shinobi. "It looks like the pain was too much for them to handle. I should have been more careful," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

He turned to Kanai, who met his gaze weakly before his head slumped forward, his life extinguished.

The whole point of Genjutsu was to trick the enemy's mind and while Renjiro did use his flames on the kumo shinobi, his genjutsu managed to trick their minds that everything was real, further magnifying their pain. This ultimately resulted in their deaths.

But Renjiro was not happy. He clenched his fists, frustration bubbling within him.

'Damn it,' he thought bitterly. 'I didn't get any useful information out of them.'

His mind raced as he considered his next move.

'Now it seems like the only option I have is to read their memories,' he thought grimly. The idea unsettled him. Memory-reading was a delicate process, fraught with risks.

The last few times he had attempted it, strange and unsettling things had happened.

And there was always the chance that the Kumo shinobi had countermeasures in place, traps woven into their minds to protect their secrets. Even, Kurogane Ohashi, who wasn't from a minor shinobi village employed such techniques; Kumo was bound to have something more sophisticated.

Renjiro sighed and knelt beside Kanai's body. "Let's hope this doesn't backfire," he muttered.

Placing a hand on the man's forehead, he closed his eyes and channelled his chakra. The world around him faded as he delved into the labyrinth of Kanai's memories.

Fragments of information flickered before him—conversations, orders, the faces of those who had sent the team after him. Renjiro's eyes snapped open as a chilling realization hit him.

"Someone from Konoha sold my information to the other villages?" he yelled, his voice echoing through the empty forest. His fists clenched as anger surged through him.

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