Infiltration

People's prejudices are like a towering mountain.

The common view often paints White Zetsu as sinister, cunning, and utterly ruthless creatures who will stop at nothing to achieve their nebulous goals. But what if you set aside those biases and observed White Zetsu without preconceptions?

Couldn't they become noble beings, uniquely devoted to Genma, selflessly sacrificing for his sake?

Though the White Zetsu of this era have been brainwashed into servants of the God Tree, their core essence traces back to the ninja of ancient times. Those warriors endured the Infinite Tsukuyomi, hung upon the God Tree, and withered away for ages before transforming into what they are now… at least, that's the truth as Hane Genma sees it.

In a certain sense, while they can't compare to the true "fruit," they're still something that sprouted from the God Tree.

The God Tree is, after all, a tree. And if it's something grown from a tree, who's to say you couldn't squeeze it for juice—maybe even extract something rich and nutritious?

Having reaped certain benefits—despite the severe stomach upset it once caused—Genma had set his sights on White Zetsu.

In them, he saw a glimmer of hope, a way for ordinary ninja to break free from the shackles of bloodline limits.

It was both tragic and regrettable, but also unavoidable.

As everyone knows, ninja and those with Ōtsutsuki bloodlines are fundamentally different beings.

Without taking extreme measures or radically altering their bodies, the ceiling for an ordinary ninja is both tantalizingly close and utterly insurmountable.

A White Zetsu "experience pack"—if Genma's hypothesis proved correct—could grant him the possibility of shattering that ceiling. White Zetsu might not be born great, but they could die gloriously.

To test his theory, the first thing Genma needed to do was capture another White Zetsu.

But White Zetsu were elusive, slippery things, and catching one alive was no small feat.

Black Zetsu and White Zetsu had lurked in the shadows for a millennium, secretly steering the ninja world's course.

Under their manipulations, the ninja world had never known true peace. Yet despite all their misdeeds and years as puppet masters, no one had ever caught wind of their existence—a testament to how well they could hide.

Fortunately, Genma was different. Now, he was "White Zetsu Man," practically one of them in some respects. He even possessed the ability to sense his "kin." As long as another White Zetsu entered a certain radius around him, they'd detect each other instantly.

The catch was that Genma's body had to maintain a partial White Zetsu transformation for it to work.

"White Zetsu, oh White Zetsu, where can I find a White Zetsu?"

Genma was growing impatient to test his hypothesis. In his envisioned path to power, the roles were clear: White Zetsu would give their lives, and he'd level up—a win-win, a victory piled on victory.

Sadly, deep in these old forests, there were no White Zetsu to be found. They were too busy keeping tabs on the entire ninja world.

Just as Genma was fretting over how to snag a fresh White Zetsu, luck came knocking once more.

On the fifth day after settling into this camp, while practicing the Mayfly Technique, his partially "White Zetsu-ified" body picked up some kind of signal.

He quickly "whitened" his mind, decoding the message. It was a summons—a call for all White Zetsu within a certain range to gather at a specific location.

Talk about perfect timing. The experience packs—er, White Zetsu—were coming, and likely in droves.

This was an opportunity he couldn't afford to miss. Without a second thought, Genma decided to join the gathering.

Even blending in among the White Zetsu, the odds of him being exposed were slim.

Weighing the risks against the potential rewards, there was no room for hesitation.

Genma promptly summoned his two lieutenants.

Morinaga Kanzawa—formerly Hanemiya Kanzawa—and Hayasaka Ryunosuke—once Hanemiya Ryunosuke—arrived at his call.

"The camp's settled for now, but that doesn't mean we can afford to waste time," Genma said. "Next, I'm going to scout the area thoroughly. Ideally, I'll figure out what the Tsugawa Clan is up to. We also need supplies. If I can manage it, I'll bring back some grain. We can't keep relying solely on fishing and hunting for food."

It was a standard, sensible plan—one Kanzawa and Ryunosuke had no reason to oppose.

"Captain, what about your injuries?" Ryunosuke asked.

"They're completely healed."

"Understood. We'll handle things here at the camp. Please make sure to stay safe," Ryunosuke replied.

"Alright, I'm counting on you both. I can't say exactly how long this mission will take, but I'll return as soon as I can."

Genma packed his ninja tools and swiftly departed the camp.

"The clan leader's really changed," Kanzawa murmured, watching Genma's figure vanish into the distance.

"It's 'Captain,'" Ryunosuke corrected immediately, then added with a sigh, "Responsibility shapes a person."

Genma had started as an unremarkable ninja of middling strength, but now he'd become the spiritual pillar for everyone here.

The information White Zetsu transmitted to Genma—whether through instinct or some secret technique—wasn't easy to put into words, logic, or language. He simply knew he needed to head to the gathering.

The signal didn't provide precise coordinates, only a guiding sense of direction: whether he was getting closer or farther, higher or lower from the destination.

Following that guidance, he'd make his way to the meeting point in a somewhat clumsy fashion.

Genma's figure burst through the morning mist. The early sun filtered through the clouds, casting cool speckles of light. A stream wound through the forest, its waters babbling over a rocky bed. Everything brimmed with vibrant green.

The scenery was breathtaking, and his mood matched it.

At that moment, Genma's heart thrummed with restless excitement.

Roughly two days later, following the signal, he arrived at the gathering spot.

Before getting too close, he fully transformed into his White Zetsu state.

After carefully surveying the surroundings, he soon spotted a cave tucked behind a thicket of trees.

Rather than entering through the opening, Genma used the Mayfly Technique, his body slipping silently through the rock layers.

His face emerged from the inner cave wall, and after boldly scanning the interior without bothering to hide, he passed through the stone entirely to step inside.

More than a dozen White Zetsu had already gathered in the cave, looking like a bunch of radishes holding a meeting.

Aside from his full White Zetsu transformation, Genma hadn't even altered his appearance. Yet he was confident it wouldn't raise suspicion.

"What's with your look?"

Sure enough, as soon as he appeared, a nearby White Zetsu turned to him with a question.

There was curiosity in its voice, but no suspicion. Why would there be? Right now, Genma was indistinguishable from any other White Zetsu.

"Bad luck," Genma replied. "I got caught in the blast of a ninja's wide-range jutsu. Nearly died. Managed to parasitize this ninja's body at the last second and used his chakra to cling to life."

"That's pretty unfortunate," the White Zetsu said.

Its tone was flat, unconcerned—neither celebrating a "comrade's" survival nor mourning a potential death. White Zetsu weren't human, after all. Expecting them to show empathy was pointless.

Care about their own kind? That wasn't in their programming. They existed solely to serve the God Tree, sow chaos, and monitor the world, keeping tabs on the Rinnegan and their "vegetables."