In the Shinobi World, at the very heart of the continent, deep within a forest where thick canopies blocked out the sun—
A young ninja stumbled forward, forcing his way into the uninhabited depths.
He looked no more than fourteen or fifteen years old. His clothes were in tatters, bloodstains covered his chest and back, and his unsteady steps carried a sluggish weight, as though he could collapse at any moment.
Still, in his misfortune there was a glimmer of luck—he had finally shaken off his pursuers, at least for the time being.
His name was Hagumi Genshin, a member of the small shinobi clan known as the Hagumi Gen Clan, and nephew to their previous elder chief. A month ago, that old chief had fallen in battle. A week ago, his cousin—the new clan leader—had also perished in the war. And so, by sheer misfortune, he became the "new new" clan leader.
Three days earlier, in order to protect his kin and buy them time to retreat, Genshin had volunteered to act as bait. After drawing off the enemy and barely escaping, he was now dragging his broken body toward the rendezvous point they had agreed upon.
That was his story so far. Well—there was one more crucial detail:
Besides all that, he was a transmigrant.
A year ago, for reasons unknown, his soul had crossed into this world and taken over the body of this boy named Hagumi Genshin.
When he first arrived in the Shinobi World, he'd thought he was bound for a typical "System Protagonist" path—an overpowered rise to fame through a cheat-like golden finger.
But reality soon slapped him hard—he had no system.
Next, he'd comforted himself: even without a system, his knowledge of Naruto's history and major events might help him pull off the "Genius Flow" route. Yet a year later, his strength had stalled at the level of a Chūnin, with no sign of progress in sight.
And now, he had the sinking feeling that he'd ended up in the long-discarded "Trash Protagonist Abuse Flow."
Actually—no. He was wrong again.
At this very moment, he finally understood: his real path was the Cannon Fodder Flow.
Born ordinary, destined to die gloriously as cannon fodder. His transmigration adventure had barely begun… and it already looked like it would soon be over.
Though he couldn't pinpoint the exact time period, Genshin was almost certain he was living in the Warring Clans Era, before the Hidden Villages were ever founded—a time of raging battles and blood-soaked chaos, where countless minor clans were wiped off the map.
As he trudged onward, his foot suddenly caught on something.
He pitched forward and crashed face-first into the ground.
He hadn't slept for three days and three nights. Hunger and exhaustion gnawed at his very soul.
If he didn't eat something soon, he'd collapse completely.
But he had long since run out of rations.
He forced his head up weakly. Through blurred vision, he thought he saw something sprouting not far ahead.
"…Mushrooms…"
Better mushrooms than tree bark.
He didn't think twice—crawling forward on all fours, he snatched one of the fleshy, king-oyster-like stalks and stuffed it straight into his mouth, chewing and swallowing without hesitation.
Only after he'd eaten it did he notice that the place where the mushrooms grew looked… peculiar.
They sprouted from a half-buried "tree stump," surrounded by clusters of pallid pitcher plants. On top of the stump grew glossy, green, aloe-like leaves, glistening as if coated in oil.
And that "mushroom" he'd just eaten… had been strangely rich and fatty.
"…?"
A chill crawled up Genshin's spine. Something about this scene looked familiar.
He squinted at the "tree stump"—and then froze.
Because there, on the surface of the stump… was a twisted human face.
"Wait… huh? Huh!?"
After coming to this world, Genshin had often complained that his life was too low-level—he'd never met any familiar characters or gotten involved in any major events.
Well, now his wish has been granted.
He had stumbled upon one of the key figures from the original story—
a White Zetsu.
A dead one.
And the "mushroom" he'd just eaten had grown straight out of its eye socket.
Genshin's stomach turned to ice.
Theoretically speaking, he had just eaten the single most unclean, most unsanitary thing in the entire Shinobi World.
No—worse than that. It might not just be unsanitary. It might be fatal.
Without warning, agony exploded through his body.
Every muscle locked up, his limbs convulsed violently, his bones felt like they were being twisted into a corkscrew. Even though he clenched his teeth to the breaking point, muffled groans kept escaping his throat.
The sheer, mind-shattering pain dragged his consciousness into darkness.
"…I should've… at least boil it first…"
That was his final thought before he blacked out.
Ten minutes later, Hagumi Genshin stopped convulsing.
The forest grew quiet again. His body curled up on the forest floor—and at some point, a pale, deathly white hue began spreading across his skin.
He was… changing.
Three hours passed.
The whiteness slowly receded, and his skin returned to normal.
A suffocating heaviness jolted him awake. He shot up, then dropped to his knees, bracing himself as violent coughs wracked his chest.
Thick, whitish fluid—like tree sap—splattered from his mouth, pooling across the ground before him.
When his coughing finally subsided, he could breathe again.
"...Haa…"
He let out a long exhale, clutching a nearby tree as he stood. His face carried a mix of gravity and dazed confusion.
He didn't yet know what had happened to him, but one thing was clear—his body felt different.
Light. Clear-headed. Energized.
Every wound had closed, every ache was gone. His physical and mental states were in perfect harmony.
It felt as if his attributes had just jumped by ten points across the board—"+10 Constitution, +10 Chakra."
Before, he'd been a mere mid-level Chūnin, one among countless nobodies.
Now, he had the illusion that if he just stood on tiptoe, he could touch the "Kakashi Line"—
as in, the Kakashi tier.
Strangely enough, new instinctive knowledge also surfaced in his mind. He couldn't explain it, but he knew he'd gained new abilities.
He raised his left arm, willed it—and his entire forearm turned stark white, the texture like a peeled tree trunk. With another thought, the whiteness spread across his body.
In a way… he had become a White Zetsu himself.
"White Zetsu…"
Genshin could hardly believe it.
Everyone knew that being bitten by a spider could make you Spider-Man.
And now, after eating a mushroom grown from a White Zetsu's corpse, he had transformed into something similar.
So by that logic…
He was White Zetsu-Man.
"Well, what can I say—poor men rely on mutations."
Thanks to his reckless foraging, he'd somehow fused with the remains of White Zetsu.
That fusion had not only strengthened him but also granted him some of Zetsu's original abilities.
It was something worth studying—but now was not the time.
The faint sound of rustling cloth brushed against the leaves nearby. Genshin froze, instantly alert. Judging from the sound, a squad of at least ten shinobi was approaching.
He concealed himself at once.
Fifteen minutes later, the group halted nearby.
At first, he thought it was a coincidence—but when he saw their faces, he immediately revealed himself.
They were his clan members.
Apparently, he had stumbled to the rendezvous point before losing consciousness.
"Chief!"
His sudden appearance startled the group at first, but when they recognized him, their shoulders relaxed in relief.
"Just a few left?" Genshin asked quietly.
Sixteen ninja in total—mostly young men.
As for those who hadn't made it… their fates were obvious.
"Chief, we…" one of them began, guilt etched on his face.
Genshin raised a hand, silencing him. His tone was calm, emotionless.
"It's not your fault. Looks like my diversion didn't work after all."
"Chief, the enemy's numbers were overwhelming. We… we were powerless."
The man lowered his head, crushed beneath the weight of helplessness.
Indeed—whether in numbers or in strength, the enemy had them completely outmatched.
"What about pursuit? Did you lose them?" Genshin asked again.
"No. Four, maybe five hours at most before they catch up… They have tracking nin. We can't escape."
One way or another, every clan eventually met its end.
Life or death for a shinobi clan always came right on schedule—never early, never late.
After everything that had happened, Hagumi Genshin simply sighed, straightened his back, and faced the inevitable once more.