The next few days blurred together.
Every night, Amanai showed up to teach Muzan the basics—shuriken throwing, kunai, taijutsu, the usual stuff.
But there was one thing he hadn't taught yet: ninjutsu. He'd shown Muzan the hand seals once, but that was it. Never said a word about actual techniques.
Muzan didn't push it. Pretty obvious that ninjutsu was reserved for people they trusted.
Meanwhile, he kept poking around with his own body.
He could manipulate it however he wanted—shift and reshape it instantly. That was the core of everything else he could do. After thinking it over, he settled on a name: Blood Demon Art: Biokinesis.
He could stretch his arms into these long, spiked whip-things—pink, flexible, distorted, sharp as hell. Or he could morph his forearms into white, bone-like blades with an armored edge. But every time he shifted his body like that, his chakra dropped. And when his chakra got low, the hunger kicked in.
Another thing he'd figured out: his body didn't run on just one brain and heart. He had seven hearts. Five brains. Those extra organs seemed to be what made him so abnormally durable.
He'd discovered all this because he could literally sense the inside of his own body. No—not "sense," exactly. More like he could just... inspect it. Know what was there.
In a lot of ways, he reminded himself of that ancient tree from the ritual. Which meant, theoretically, he should be able to create other demons like him.
But he wasn't about to test that. Not until he knew more. Couldn't afford to mess around recklessly.
---
Like every other night, Amanai came by his tent.
This time, though, his face was different. More serious.
"No training tonight," Amanai said as he stepped inside. "We're moving out."
Muzan glanced up. "Moving out?"
"To the frontlines," Amanai said. "This camp was always a reserve force. We just got called up. There's a major battle going down near the border between the Land of Fire and the Land of Rivers. The Senju pushed through, and we need bodies to hold the line."
He crossed his arms. "We leave in three hours. Pack what you need. We're marching through the night—should reach the battlefield by dawn."
"What's my role?" Muzan asked.
"Since you can't handle daylight," Amanai said flatly, "you're getting assigned to my squad. We do sabotage, assassinations, scouting—mostly nighttime work, so you'll be fine. On the frontline, stick close to me and do what I say. You try to run, I kill you myself. You fight well, maybe you'll earn some trust."
He paused. "The Senju aren't like training exercises. They'll kill you without thinking twice. And they're good—really good. Some of the strongest shinobi in the world come from that clan."
"Got it," Muzan said.
"Do you?" Amanai's eyes narrowed. "You've picked things up fast the last few days, but learning and doing are two different things. Combat's messy. People die in seconds. One mistake and you're done."
Muzan didn't say anything.
Amanai studied him for another beat. "Three hours. Be ready."
Then he turned and left.
---
Muzan sat alone in the dark after Amanai left.
He could bail right now if he wanted. He'd figured out he was in the Land of Fire. Wouldn't be that hard to make it to the Land of Iron from here. But he wanted to settle the debt first.
Yeah, they'd been watching him. Spying on him. But they'd also given him shelter and taught him things. So he'd pay them back, then go his own way.
He stood and started checking his gear. Standard Uchiha issue—dark blue shirt and pants, basic armor plating on his forearms and shins, a weapons pouch loaded with kunai and shuriken.
He strapped the pouch to his thigh and tested how the armor fit. Everything worked.
Three hours went by fast.
Outside, the camp was waking up. Voices shouting orders. Equipment getting packed. Fires snuffed out.
When Muzan stepped outside, the whole camp was mobilizing. Nearly thirty shinobi forming up, some double-checking their weapons.
Toshiro appeared next to him. "First battle, right?"
"Yeah," Muzan said.
"Well, you won't be on the frontline at least, but assassinations can be riskier than straight combat sometimes. So stay behind me and Amanai-san," Toshiro said. "Don't try to be a hero. Just do what you're told and don't die."
"Got it."
Amanai walked up. Full combat gear now—armor, multiple weapon pouches, a longer sword strapped to his back.
"Line up," Amanai ordered.
Muzan joined the formation, standing shoulder to shoulder with the other Uchiha. Everyone was quiet. Focused.
A figure appeared at the front. Lord Urashi stepped onto a raised platform where everyone could see him.
"Uchiha!" His voice rang out across the camp. "The Senju broke through our eastern defenses. They're threatening to cut off our supply lines. If we don't stop them now, this war turns against us."
He paused. His Sharingan flared red in the darkness.
"We march to the frontlines tonight. We reinforce our brothers already fighting. And we drive the Senju back!" His voice rose. "Show them the strength of the Uchiha clan! Show them why we're feared across every nation!"
The shinobi responded as one: "Uchiha!"
Urashi nodded. "Move out!"
The formation started moving. They left the camp in organized columns, cutting through the forest fast.
Muzan stayed close to Amanai and Toshiro like he'd been told. The march was quick but controlled. Despite the numbers, the Uchiha moved like shadows—barely a sound.