The Genjutsu Devil of Konoha

Seijuro trained and trained. He trained for god knows how long, even using the Shadow Clone Jutsu—making like six clones to help him, though two of those clones were out around the village disguised as random bugs.

As in, currently, one of the clones—which he had barely given any chakra to, like so little chakra the clone could physically not take nor maintain a human shape—was currently a fly right now.

Somewhere in one of the many training grounds, watching some Jounin fight, another was near the red light district. Two clones were studying Nature Transformations and other important info.

He, meanwhile, was just training with two of his clones, so yeah, stuff happened.

He was probably one of the most informed people in the village. If something sus was happening, high chances were—he knew.

Intel was important, after all. Something he refused to do, however, was turn into an inanimate object. He still had chakra, so chances were very high it would be spotted. But a fly?

That was easy. A place he didn't peek was the Hokage Tower. He did peek at the Hyuga Clan compound though... no one saw him. Well, his illusion was OP. Yet the second—the milli-second he stepped foot in the Senju Clan as a bug, his clone died... instantly.

Something in there was dangerous.

Anyway, currently he was in front of his clan leader.

"You've done well," Renjirō said plainly, voice like granite and wind. "Six months. Best in your class. Tireless effort. Honor brought to the clan. You've exceeded all expectations."

Then, from his side, an attendant stepped forward—carrying a long, elegant box.

"I was going to give this to you after the mid-term," Renjirō continued. "But... seeing how hard you've worked... it would be cruel to delay any longer."

He gestured for Seijuro to step forward.

The boy did.

Inside the box, wrapped in silk, was a katana.

It appeared modest at first glance—yet unmistakably elegant. An ordinary-looking steel blade, yes—but the craftsmanship was clearly flawless.

The metallic-gold tsuba was hexagonal, giving the weapon a dignified presence. The tsuka was wrapped in green cord, leaving traditional rhombus-shaped gaps.

The kashira was also gold, the end cap bearing the Kurama Clan's subtle seal. A green saya held the blade in place, polished smooth.

"This sword is forged from chakra-conductive metal," Renjirō explained. "The finest quality available. A weapon meant to resonate with your chakra... I know holders of our clan's Kekkei Genkai cannot hold it well. This sword was made in order to help you control it."

Seijuro ran his fingers lightly over the tsuka.

"...Does it have a name?"

Renjirō shook his head. "No. That honor belongs to you."

Seijuro's eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he studied the weapon. The balance. The form. The feel.

He drew the blade slowly, watching the light catch along the edge. His reflection danced along its length—a shimmer of steel and self.

"...Kyōka Suigetsu," he said softly. "Mirror Flower, Water Moon."

A fleeting thing. An illusion.

Yes. That was right.

"A fitting name," Renjirō said with a small nod. "Now go. Make the clan proud."

Seijuro gave a respectful bow. "I will."

Outside, alone in the training ground, he unsheathed the sword fully. It gleamed—unassuming, but perfect.

He poured Wind Chakra into the blade—light, focused, surgical. The steel hummed faintly, a vibration singing along the edge.

He sliced through a stone dummy in a single motion.

Clean cut. No resistance.

"...Good," he whispered.

Then, something else.

He held the sword upright, channeling his own chakra—alongside activating his clan Kekkei Genkai.

The air around the blade shimmered, like heatwaves over a distant road. His eyes focused.

Then he said the words, quiet yet resonant with intent:

"...Shatter, Kyōka Suigetsu."

At once, his clan's Kekkei Genkai bloomed around him—illusion not just cast, but channeled through the sword itself. Reality wavered for an instant.

The trees appeared to shift. His reflection in the blade twisted into a hundred versions of himself.

"...Oh," he murmured, a faint grin forming. "Very nice."

The sword was a perfect medium. It amplified the illusions subtly, letting him guide the deception with the direction of a slash or thrust. The chakra-metal picked up on even minute fluctuations of his Genjutsu.

He could feel it.

A Genjutsu sword style.

A mental trap in every swing.

A lie in every step.

He began testing his techniques again—this time with the blade.

A swing that seemed shorter—but landed further.

A feint upward—but the illusion showed a horizontal slash.

He even began layering false reflections off the edge of the blade itself.

Seijuro's own style, Kyouken no Kage, now had a fanged extension.

This was good. With this, he was practically the best Genjutsu user in Konoha. His clan Kekkei Genkai did give him a huge buff though. No matter—he could not lose.

He shall win this.

Well, it wasn't like he could lose, he was after all like Chunin level hiding with some academy students, Mikoto was like low Genin, main reason she knew so many jutsu was the fact that she was an uchiha, not just any, apparently her parents were strong shinobi and taught their daughter jutsu.

How nice.