To Deidara, it felt as though he had plunged into a bottomless void, trapped in some unknown, pitch-black dimension.
In reality, to any outside observer, he hadn't moved an inch. He was standing completely frozen, face-to-face with Diarmuid.
Diarmuid, meanwhile, was sizing up the motionless boy, looking at him like a scientist studying a fresh specimen.
"Come to think of it, this is actually the very first time I've ever deployed genjutsu in a real fight. This Deidara kid should consider it a distinct privilege," Diarmuid muttered, stroking his chin as he analyzed the boy's reaction.
After a bit of self-satisfied muttering, Diarmuid extended a hand and poked Deidara on the shoulder.
Deidara remained rigid as a wooden doll, rooted to the spot. His face was entirely expressionless, but his pupils were rapidly dilating and contracting. One could subtly sense that beneath that blank exterior, his mind was gripped by absolute terror, his mental state fracturing.
"So he's completely cut off from external tactile sensations as well?" Diarmuid murmured softly. Reflecting on this for a brief moment, he curled his hand into a fist.
He blew a light breath over his knuckles, pulled back, and punched Deidara square in the eye.
He didn't use too much force, wary of accidentally killing the brat. Even so, the punch instantly left a dark, severe bruise, giving Deidara a textbook shiner.
Yet, despite absorbing the strike, Deidara didn't flinch. He remained completely motionless, as though he hadn't felt a single thing.
Diarmuid's eyes lit up with genuine delight. "Wow, the efficacy of this genjutsu is even more potent than I anticipated. Don't tell me I actually possess a natural affinity for genjutsu?"
The moment the words left his mouth, Diarmuid slammed both hands onto Deidara's shoulders, pinning him downward as he drove a vicious knee directly into the boy's abdomen.
"Cough... ack..." Deidara instinctively spat out a mouthful of blood.
Yet, even a blunt, staggering impact of that caliber failed to break him out of his hypnotic trance through physical pain.
"Fascinating!" Diarmuid grinned. Without further delay, a flurry of fists and kicks rained down on Deidara in a rapid, blurring beatdown.
The strikes weren't lethal, but they certainly weren't light either.
Diarmuid wasn't doing this out of spite, there was absolutely no need to hold a grudge against a child. He was simply collecting precise empirical data on his newly refined technique using Deidara as a punching bag.
After a good while, Diarmuid nodded in thorough satisfaction, talking to himself: "Even internal chakra disruption can't easily break this illusion. It seems that once someone falls victim to my version of the Bringer-of-Darkness Jutsu, it's easily comparable to the Uchiha clan's Tsukuyomi. The target is left completely at my mercy."
Indeed, the Bringer-of-Darkness Jutsu.
This was the specific "genjutsu" Diarmuid had unleashed upon Deidara. To be precise, it was a modified variation he had personally engineered.
Originally, this technique was recorded within the Scroll of Seals, specifically inside the personal journals of Tobirama. When Diarmuid had first read through it, he had naturally assumed it was a technique invented by the Second Hokage. Only upon deeper study did he discover that this particular jutsu was actually developed by Hashirama, the God of Shinobi himself.
Hashirama hadn't earned the title of God of Shinobi solely because he could steamroll any opposition with his Wood Release. From Tobirama's personal journals, it was clear that the younger brother held his elder sibling in exceptionally high regard, at least when it came to raw combat prowess.
In his younger years, before he reached the pinnacle of absolute invincibility, Hashirama hadn't relied exclusively on Wood Release. He possessed a vast mastery over standard ninjutsu and had engineered quite a few techniques of his own.
The Bringer-of-Darkness Jutsu was a genjutsu Hashirama had specifically developed to counter the Uchiha clan. The technique was designed to directly strip away the visual field of the Sharingan, plunging the Uchiha into absolute, unyielding darkness.
On the surface, it might not sound overly complex, but a deeper analysis revealed its terrifying nature. A genjutsu capable of completely blinding the Sharingan was a death sentence for any ordinary ninja; defending against it was practically impossible.
However, the original Bringer-of-Darkness Jutsu carried several glaring flaws. For instance, its duration was relatively brief, and breaking out of it wasn't overly difficult for an elite opponent. This made logical sense given Hashirama's caliber, for a shinobi of his godlike tier, a mere split-second of visual deprivation was more than enough to consign his adversary to oblivion.
When jutsu developers create techniques, they tailor them strictly to their own combat needs. As long as it works perfectly for them, why would they care about minor limitations?
In this regard, the Senju brothers shared an identical pragmatic philosophy. It was just like Tobirama inventing the Reanimation Jutsu, he didn't care about perfecting the execution as long as it met his immediate tactical requirements.
Despite its inherent shortcomings, it was one of the few documented techniques explicitly credited to Hashirama's personal invention. Consequently, Diarmuid had dedicated a fair amount of time to studying and researching it during his training.
Yet, practical application soon proved that for someone of his specific power set, the original technique was essentially useless. It offered very little tactical value.
That was until he personally set foot in the Pure Land and experienced that profound, deeply unsettling primordial void firsthand.
It was that specific experience that prompted Diarmuid to revisit the concept of the Bringer-of-Darkness Jutsu. Drawing inspiration from the absolute void of the Pure Land, he systematically overhauled the technique, trimming away the unnecessary fluff and infusing it with his own unique spiritual will.
The end result was the Bringer-of-Darkness Jutsu: Version 2.0.
It remained classified as a genjutsu, but when reinforced by Diarmuid's command over darkness, the sheer potency it exhibited completely eclipsed the original Version 1.0.
Hashirama's technique merely blinded the target's eyes. Diarmuid, leveraging the insights gained from the Pure Land alongside his deep mastery of darkness, had forcefully upgraded the illusion into a total deprivation of all five senses.
He had just delivered a brutal, one-sided thrashing to Deidara, yet the boy had offered no resistance whatsoever, taking the full brunt of the assault like a brain-dead puppet. The root cause was simple: under the influence of this updated Bringer-of-Darkness Jutsu, Deidara possessed absolutely zero sensory feedback. He couldn't even register that he was being struck, making it impossible for the physical trauma to jar his consciousness loose from the illusion.
Standard genjutsu could be dispelled by a minor disruption of one's own chakra flow. This technique, however, required an immense external effort, an outside party had to forcefully inject a massive volume of foreign chakra into the victim to break the hold. Attempting to dispel it from within was an exercise in futility, as the victim couldn't even perceive their own chakra system.
After analyzing the lingering effects on Deidara for a bit longer, Diarmuid let out a highly satisfied sigh.
"Excellent. It looks like I, Diarmuid, am a bona fide prodigy when it comes to the illusory arts. Once Orochimaru's research bears fruit and I finally awaken the Sharingan, heh, I won't have to worry about squandering its latent potential." He grinned, stroking his chin.
Having indulged his ego sufficiently, Diarmuid extended his hand toward Deidara and made a sharp pulling motion through the empty air.
Instantly, visible tendrils of jet-black vapor began to seep out from Deidara's ears, eyes, nostrils, and mouth. The dark mist drifted out from his skull and rapidly dissolved into the rain-slicked air, leaving no trace behind.
Slowly, the dull, vacant look in Deidara's eyes faded, replaced by a sudden spark of conscious awareness.
The illusion had been lifted.
The absolute first thing his eyes locked onto was Diarmuid's face. Panic flared in his chest, and his instincts screamed at him to respond, desperate to leap backward and re-establish a safe distance.
Yet, before his muscles could even twitch, an avalanche of agonizing pain violently detonated across every single square inch of his body.
The collective trauma from the punches, kicks, and knee strikes Diarmuid had systematically inflicted to test the limits of the genjutsu all manifested simultaneously at the exact same microsecond.
The sheer intensity of the agony was overwhelming. Tears and snot instantly burst from Deidara's face as his entire body contorted in a grotesque spasm. He crashed straight into the mud, his limbs twitching violently on the ground.
Yet, despite his tender age, the boy proved to be an absolute iron-willed bastard.
When a cumulative lifetime of physical trauma detonates all at once, any ordinary ninja would have been screaming bloody murder, begging for death. Deidara, however, clamped his jaws shut with a vice-like grip. Even though the tears and mucus flowed uncontrollably down his twisted features, he maintained a fierce, unyielding pride, violently internalizing the agony without allowing a single whimper to escape his throat.
Diarmuid's eyes gleamed with genuine appreciation as he watched the boy writhe in the dirt. "Your mental fortitude is exceptional. No wonder that old bastard Onoki took you in as his prized personal disciple."
His face slicked with tears and rain, Deidara locked a venomous, unblinking glare onto Diarmuid. He kept his teeth gritted tightly, refusing to utter a syllable out of fear that the moment he parted his lips, a pathetic cry of agony would slip out.
He spent a grueling three minutes thrashing and wrestling with his own nervous system before the concentrated waves of pain finally began to recede into a dull, manageable ache.
Deidara was thoroughly caked in thick, wet mud, but he couldn't care less. He forcefully dragged his arm through the muck, wiped the filth from his face with a savage swipe, and stood up on trembling legs, panting heavily. He looked up at Diarmuid, who was standing a mere few paces away—flawless, immaculate, and entirely unblemished by the storm.
The contrast between the two was staggering. One was a broken, mud-drenched wreck; the other was a picture of effortless tranquility.
"What... what kind of jutsu was that?" Deidara gasped out, his very first question bypassing his injuries entirely.
"Genjutsu," Diarmuid replied with a cheerful smirk. "Want to learn it? Well, you don't have the specific genetic traits required for the advanced version, but I suppose I wouldn't mind teaching you the baseline standard edition."
Version 2.0 obviously required an absolute, instinctual mastery over darkness, rendering it impossible for someone like Deidara to wield. Version 1.0 of the Bringer-of-Darkness Jutsu, however, was perfectly viable for any elite shinobi with sufficient chakra control.
Deidara's cheek twitched violently. He shook his head, pushing past the temptation. "You won this round! But that was only because I didn't get to use my full power! I am incredibly strong!!! My explosive clay—"
"Alright, alright. I have zero interest in your clay, so spare me the lecture," Diarmuid interrupted, waving his hand dismissively.
Clay, art, explosions… he genuinely couldn't care less about any of it.
Deidara's expression darkened into pure rage. If he weren't painfully aware that he was completely outclassed, he would have attempted to blow them both to hell right then and there!
No... my art cannot endure this level of disrespect! It looks like it's time to develop a supreme technique... a final masterpiece that is ruthless beyond measure. The next time someone dares to mock my art, if I can't beat them, I'll just force a double suicide and blow us both to kingdom come...
A double suicide... wait? That... actually sounds like an incredible concept!
Isn't a martyr's sacrifice the ultimate, definitive expression of explosive art? Why haven't I realized this until now?! The absolute romance of dying for one's craft... columns of fire consuming everything... just the thought of it makes my blood boil with excitement, un!
Art is an explosion... I am art... therefore, I am the explosion itself?!
Diarmuid watched in mild alarm as the boy's depressed expression suddenly gave way to a manic, wild brilliance. What the hell is wrong with this kid? Is he some kind of closet masochist? I just kicked the living shit out of him, so why is he looking more euphoric by the second?
He had no way of knowing that a few casual, dismissive remarks had forcefully catalyzed Deidara's mindset, causing him to start drafting the blueprints for his ultimate suicide bomb technique years ahead of schedule.
"Hey, brat?" Diarmuid called out, seeking to snap Deidara out of what looked like a dangerous mental spiral.
Deidara blinked, violently wrenching his consciousness away from the profound philosophical breakthrough of 'I am the explosion.' He looked up at Diarmuid and declared loudly, "You really are monstrously strong, un! Since I lost the wager, I'm not the type of guy to go back on my word. Per our agreement, this great master will officially join your Yorozuya!"
Diarmuid cast a thoroughly unimpressed look at the arrogant youth, scoffing lightly. "Keep dreaming, kid. You're nowhere near qualified to be an official member. But, considering you provided some highly valuable testing data for my new technique, I don't mind granting you the status of an apprentice."
"An apprentice? Me?!" Deidara barked, his brain short-circuiting.
"That's right. Though if you're desperate to become a full member, it's not entirely impossible," Diarmuid chuckled, a devious glint in his eye. "The Yorozuya only has a handful of official staff members. You can pick any one of them you like. The day you manage to defeat one of them in a fair fight, you get promoted. Otherwise, keep your head down, do your chores as an apprentice, and build up enough merits before you even think about full employment."
As if the kid could actually pull that off, Diarmuid thought merrily. Even Kabuto, currently the lowest-ranked official member of the Yorozuya roster, possessed a terrifying arsenal of subversion, medical ninjutsu, and physical mastery that would leave Deidara utterly dead in the water.
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