The forest clearing held four corpses and the smell of cooling blood.
Muzan wiped his kunai on the Nara scout's jacket and stood. Three minutes from first contact to the last death gurgle. Clean and efficient.
He crouched beside the first body. The one he'd killed with the fireball technique. The man's chest was charred and split open, flesh blackened at the edges.
Muzan glanced around the clearing. Empty.
He bit into the charred meat and ate. The taste was bitter but underneath it energy flooded through him, steady and immediate. His chakra reserves filled and his muscles tightened. He ate without pausing until he was done, then wiped his mouth and formed the hand seals.
"Fire Style: Fireball Jutsu."
The bodies burned. He watched for thirty seconds, then turned and walked back toward camp.
The walk took twenty minutes. His legs moved automatically through familiar terrain. His mind was quiet. A month ago, eating human flesh would have broken something inside him. Now it was fuel. He'd killed twelve people this month across eight missions. Zero failures.
The Uchiha camp sprawled through a cleared section of forest. More tents than last month but fewer shinobi moving between them. Muzan walked the main path and other soldiers nodded at him. Some said his name.
He found Toshiro near his tent, hunched over a map spread across a wooden table.
"Mission went clean?" Toshiro looked up and grinned.
"Four targets. All dead," Muzan said.
The grin faded slightly. "You say it like you're reporting inventory counts."
Muzan didn't respond.
Toshiro sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Briefing's in an hour. Big one. Three full squads."
"What's the target?" Muzan asked.
"A Senju reserve camp." Toshiro tapped the map. "Small one, but deep in their territory. Location got leaked. Lord Urashi wants it wiped before they can reinforce the main force." He traced the approach routes with his finger. "Getting there is dangerous. Getting out is worse."
Muzan studied the marked position. A valley with dense forest on all sides and limited approach routes. Easy to defend if the camp was alert.
"Who's leading?" Muzan asked.
"Miyako's team is confirmed. Us, obviously." Toshiro paused. "And Kenozo-san's team."
"Don't know him."
"He retired five years ago. Came back three days ago after the Senju killed both his sons during a reconnaissance ambush." Toshiro's jaw tightened. "Word is he's not planning to survive this one."
Muzan understood. A man with nothing left to lose would push when he should hold. Would take risks that got everyone around him killed.
"What about our squad?" Muzan asked.
Toshiro looked away. His hand stilled on the map. "You didn't hear?"
Something cold settled in Muzan's chest.
"Masai died last week," Toshiro said, his voice going flat. "Senju patrol caught him during reconnaissance. He held them off so the others could get out." He pressed his palm flat against the table. "They brought his body back. We buried him yesterday."
Muzan stood still. Masai. The one who'd tackled him out of the fireball's path during his first real mission. Who'd joked about Toshiro's feelings for Miyako. Who'd been built like a boulder and fought like one.
"I see," Muzan said.
Toshiro's head snapped up. "That's it? That's all you're going to say?"
"What do you want me to say?" Muzan asked.
"Something!" Toshiro's voice rose. "Masai saved your life. Don't you feel anything?"
"He was a good shinobi," Muzan said. "He died protecting his comrades. That's worth respecting."
"That's not—" Toshiro stopped and took a breath. His hands were shaking slightly. "Forget it. Just don't forget him. Okay?"
Muzan nodded.
Toshiro studied him for a long moment, then shook his head. "Briefing in an hour. Don't be late." He walked away without looking back.
Muzan returned to his tent and sat cross-legged on the floor. He closed his eyes and focused on the steady flow of chakra through his body.
A month ago his reserves had been nearly empty. Now they were adequate. Not exceptional, but enough to use basic fire techniques without strain. His body didn't generate chakra on its own. Every time he fed, his reserves refilled and his body grew stronger. It required constant maintenance, but the system worked.
He'd learned what he could from the Uchiha. He'd grown stronger here than he could have anywhere else. But it was time to return to the Land of Iron and reclaim what belonged to him.
The Uchiha had given him shelter and training when he had nothing. He owed them something for that.
One last mission. Then he was done.
He opened his eyes, checked his equipment, and began to wait.
---
The next evening, Muzan stood in formation with fourteen other shinobi.
Amanai stood at the front of their squad. Muzan, Toshiro, Naroi, and Sayuri formed the rest of the line. Sayuri had joined after Masai's death, two weeks out of the main Uchiha compound. She was young and moved like someone who knew how to fight but had never had to.
Masai's absence sat in the formation like a gap in a fence.
To their left stood Miyako's squad. Five shinobi with the worn edges of people who'd survived too many close calls. Miyako's Sharingan was already active, the tomoe spinning slow and steady as she surveyed the group.
To their right stood Kenozo's squad. Kenozo himself looked about sixty, with gray hair and deep lines in his face. His eyes held nothing but cold, settled purpose. His four younger squad members kept glancing at him with barely concealed worry.
Front Commander Takeshi stood before all three squads. He was a broad man with scarred hands that never quite stopped moving.
"The Senju reserve camp holds twenty shinobi," Takeshi said, his voice carrying without effort. "Supplies for their eastern front. Medical equipment, weapons, food." He unrolled a map and weighted the corners with stones. "Intelligence confirms the location. We strike at dawn."
His finger stabbed the marked valley. "They'll have sentries, but not many. They think the location is secure." He traced three lines across the map. "We approach from three directions. Miyako's squad takes the north. Amanai's squad takes the west. Kenozo's squad takes the south. We hit simultaneously. Fast and clean. No survivors."
Kenozo stepped forward. "What about reinforcements?" he asked, his voice rough and unhurried.
"Nearest Senju outpost is two hours away. We'll be gone before they arrive," Takeshi said.
"And if we're not?" Kenozo pressed.
Takeshi met his eyes. "Then we fight our way out."
Kenozo nodded once and stepped back into formation. Something in how he moved said he'd already decided this would be his last mission and had made his peace with it.
Miyako spoke next. "Extraction route?"
Takeshi traced the path east through the valley and marked two rally points with charcoal. "Primary here. Secondary three hundred meters back if you get separated." He rolled the map and the stones clattered against the table. "Move out in one hour. Check your equipment. Rest while you can." His gaze swept the formation. "Don't fail."
The formation broke apart.
Muzan checked his gear. Kunai in the thigh pouch. Shuriken at the hip. Explosive tags in the chest pocket. Wire coiled in his left sleeve. Everything was where it needed to be.
Toshiro appeared at his shoulder. "Nervous?" he asked.
"No," Muzan said.
"Liar." Toshiro grinned but his hands were tapping against his legs. "I'm terrified. Twenty Senju. This could go bad in a hurry."
"It could," Muzan said.
Toshiro blinked. "You've really changed. You know that?"
Muzan didn't answer.
Naroi joined them and ran a whetstone along his tanto in slow, steady strokes.
Shhk. Shhk. Shhk.
"You miss him?" Naroi asked quietly, not looking up from his blade.
"Yeah," Toshiro said.
Naroi nodded. "Me too."
They stood in silence until Sayuri approached from the side, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "Miss who?" she asked.
"Masai," Toshiro said. "He was our teammate before you joined."
"Oh." Her face fell. "I'm sorry."
"Not your fault," Naroi said and kept sharpening.
Amanai called them over. "Final check," he said. "Toshiro, sensor range?"
"Fifty meters, maybe sixty if I push it," Toshiro said.
"You detect the sentries first, you call it out immediately." Amanai looked at Naroi. "You take point on eliminating them. You're the fastest."
Naroi slid his tanto into its sheath and nodded.
Amanai turned to Muzan. "Keep watch on Sayuri."
"Understood," Muzan said.
Amanai's expression didn't change but his voice dropped. "This isn't a patrol or an ambush. This is an assault on a defended position. Expect heavy resistance. Expect casualties." He paused. "If things go wrong and we're overwhelmed, you retreat immediately. All of you. Understood?"
They nodded.
"Good." Amanai glanced toward Kenozo's squad. The old man was checking his equipment with slow, deliberate movements, each one exact. "Watch Kenozo's team. A man looking for a place to die will find one and take others with him. Don't let it be any of you."
An hour later they moved out.
Fifteen shinobi slipped through the forest in practiced silence. Muzan ran in formation with his body moving cleanly through the terrain. A month ago he'd struggled to keep this pace. Now it was automatic.
Sayuri ran beside him. She'd been glancing at him every few minutes since they left camp.
"Muzan-san," she said quietly.
"What?" he said without looking at her.
"Is it true you killed a Nara on your first mission?"
"Yes."
"And you've done eight solo missions since then?"
"Yes."
She was quiet for a moment. "That's impressive."
Muzan said nothing. The trees passed in steady rhythm.
"I heard you only trained for a week before your first fight," she continued. "How did you learn everything so fast?"
"Focus on the mission," he said.
"Right. Sorry." She went quiet for about thirty seconds. "Do you think it'll be scary? The assault?"
"Probably," he said.
"Have you been in one before?"
"Once."
"Was it scary?"
Muzan looked at her. She was young, maybe fifteen, with a single tomoe Sharingan that spun in an uneven rhythm that told him the trauma behind it was still fresh.
"Fear keeps you alive," he said. "Use it."
She nodded and bit her lip. "Can I stay close to you during the fight?"
"Stay close to Amanai. He's the squad leader," Muzan said.
"He's intimidating and I—"
"I'm worse," Muzan said flatly. "Amanai is stronger and more experienced. Stay near him."
"Still," Sayuri said softly. Her voice dropped lower. "I'd feel safer near you."
Toshiro, running a few paces ahead, glanced back with a wide smirk.
Muzan ignored both of them and watched the path ahead.
Sayuri tried again after another few minutes. "Muzan-san, can I ask you something personal?"
"No," he said.
"Oh. I just wanted to say that your face is—" She stopped herself. "Never mind."
"My face is what?" he asked.
"Nothing. Forget it."
He'd noticed other shinobi watching him over the past month. The demon blood had changed how he looked in ways that were hard to ignore. Pale skin. Sharp features. Eyes that didn't quite sit right in a human face. It created hesitation in enemies during combat. It was a nuisance everywhere else.
"After this mission," Sayuri said quietly, "maybe we could—"
Muzan raised his fist.
The squad stopped instantly, fifteen shinobi going silent without a sound.
Through the trees ahead, firelight flickered between the trunks. Voices drifted through the darkness, low and unhurried.
The Senju camp.
Amanai moved up beside Muzan without a word.
Toshiro closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. His face went still as he reached out with his senses. "Two sentries," he said under his breath. "One northwest, one south. About forty meters from the perimeter."
Naroi was already gone before Amanai could signal. He slipped between the trees and disappeared into the dark.
Muzan turned to Sayuri. Her face was pale and her hands were tight on the kunai she'd drawn. The single tomoe in her Sharingan spun in that same uneven way, fast and unsteady.
"When it starts, don't freeze," Muzan said quietly. "Don't think too much. Move and stay alive."
She nodded but her breathing was too fast.
Naroi reappeared thirty seconds later with blood on his tanto. He wiped it on his sleeve. "Clear," he said.
The three squads split and moved to their positions. Miyako's team slipped north through the trees. Kenozo's team moved south with the old man at the front, walking like a man who had already said goodbye to everything that mattered to him.
Amanai led their squad west.
Muzan's heart was steady. His breathing was controlled. Tonight he would pay his last debt.