Naruto: Beyond The Dreamscape

Within two weeks, Mayumi had immersed herself in relentless experimentation, trying to uncover the true nature of the strange ability that had begun to stir within her.

It wasn't like any Genjutsu she had studied.

This wasn't an illusion born of sight or sound. It didn't weave itself into the air with hand signs or chakra flow in battle. No—this was something subtler. Something quieter. A power that moved beneath the surface of consciousness itself.

It worked through dreams.

Mayumi discovered that with the lightest touch—just a brush of fingers, a passing graze—she could leave behind a sliver of her chakra. A mark. So faint that even the target wouldn't notice. Untraceable. Unfelt.

But once they fell asleep… the mark would awaken.

It would open a door.

From that point on, she could enter their dreams freely—not as a presence imposed from outside, but as something seamlessly woven into the fabric of the dream itself. She could walk unseen through their memories, their fears, their fantasies. She could change things—bend their dream world with just a thought—or simply watch in silence from the shadows.

And the most terrifying part?

They never even knew she was there.

As long as she didn't interfere, they never knew.

Mayumi named it simply: Yuin—Dream Seal.

It wasn't perfect. Not yet. But even in its earliest form, it was something undeniably unique.

And it wasn't without limits.

Each seal lasted no more than seven days. Slowly, the chakra would deteriorate, dissolving into nothing unless she actively recharged it through renewed contact.

More importantly, a single mark could only establish one connection.

One chance.

Once she entered the target's dream—even just to observe or nudge the illusion—the mark would collapse, unraveling the link entirely. Whether it succeeded or failed, it could not be used again.

In essence, Yuin was a fragile seal—a single-use key to the unconscious world, fleeting and precise.

Seven days. One use.

That was its current form.

Yet despite its impermanence, it held promise. Immense promise.

Mayumi could feel it—this was only the beginning. In time, she might learn to strengthen the mark, prolong its duration, or place multiple at once. But for now, it remained a delicate art, intimate and secret. A tool only she could wield.

A quiet power blooming between wakefulness and dreams.

And even in its earliest form…

…it was nothing short of fascinating.

---

"Are you sure?" Madara asked, eyes widening slightly. "That's… truly incredible."

Mayumi gave a small, confident nod, her voice calm but laced with excitement. "I've tested it several times already. It's still rough around the edges, but it works."

She had just explained her new ability to her eldest brother—how she could mark someone with her chakra, and once they fell asleep, slip into their dreams unnoticed. A subtle Genjutsu, deeply psychological, and disturbingly quiet in its execution.

Madara was silent for a long moment, processing.

"You're telling me you can enter dreams," he finally said, slowly, "and manipulate them?"

"I've named it Yuin," Mayumi replied.

"It came to me while thinking—if I can combine it with a Genjutsu that puts people to sleep instantly… it could become a real weapon."

Madara blinked, eyebrows lifting. "A Genjutsu like that exists? I've never heard of one."

"Not yet," she replied, her lips curling slightly.

"But I'll create it myself. I've already decided on the name."

Creating a jutsu—did she really think it was that simple?

Madara's gaze lingered on his sister, his expression unreadable, but his mind was sharp with doubt and calculation.

Especially Genjutsu… and not just any kind, but one that touched the soul.

Even seasoned shinobi—masters of the mind—had failed to develop new Genjutsu technique.

Not because they lacked skill, but because the nature of the soul was too elusive, too abstract to grasp through mere chakra manipulation. It required a level of finesse, insight, and spiritual precision that most never attained.

And yet… his little sister had just declared she would create one.

Ordinarily, Madara would have dismissed such ambition as youthful boldness.

But this was Mayumi.

She wasn't like others. She had already restructured a fundamental clan jutsu—the Great Fireball—and turned it into something new. Sharper. Faster. More efficient. A version now spreading among Uchiha warriors on the battlefield.

She had the rare talent not just to learn jutsu… but to refine them. To evolve them.

So as unbelievable as it sounded, Madara couldn't bring himself to doubt her.

His little sister was a genius.

And deep down, he believed—if anyone could do it, it would be her.

---

Mayumi had been inspired by one of her dreams.

In it, she found herself in the heart of a vast arena. The air shimmered with tension, and countless eyes watched from the stands, their voices a low, expectant hum. A competition, perhaps… or something grander. She couldn't recall the details—only the weight of anticipation pressing on the moment.

Then it happened.

A single feather drifted down from the sky.

Then another.

Then dozens.

Soft, pale feathers rained through the air like falling snow, glinting faintly in the light as if time itself had slowed to watch. They floated between breaths, between heartbeats—silent, surreal.

And as they drifted down, one by one, every single person began to collapse into sleep, as if enchanted by the very air.

It was eerie.

Beautiful.

And powerful.

Within seconds, the arena was still. Thousands lay slumped in their seats, caught in the grip of an unseen lullaby. The hush that followed was deeper than silence—like the world itself had exhaled and decided not to wake.

That dream lingered with her—not just the imagery, but the effect. The sheer possibility that sleep itself could become a weapon. A Genjutsu capable of silencing hundreds at once.

And in that silence… an idea began to bloom.

---