I knelt beside Michikatsu in the darkness of the cave.
"I need to explain what's going to happen," I said. "Due to some circumstances, I consumed a fruit from a demonic tree and it changed me completely. My body mutated. I gained abilities I never had before."
Michikatsu turned his head toward my voice. "Demonic tree? What kind of abilities?"
"Even I don't know what it was, but it cured me and gave me power. Strength beyond any human. Speed that makes me blur. Perfect vision in darkness. Complete control over my flesh and blood." I paused. "But there's a cost. Sunlight burns me. It would kill me if I stayed exposed for more than a few minutes."
"Is this even real?"
"Yes. I'm what the tree was. A demon."
The word hung in the air between us.
"When I consumed the fruit, the tree's essence entered my body through my blood," I continued. "It rewrote everything about me at a fundamental level. My theory is that I can do the same thing the tree did. I can share my blood with you. Let it change you the way the fruit changed me."
"You've never done this before."
"No."
"You don't know if it will work."
"No."
"You don't know what it will cost."
"No." I met his empty eye sockets. "But you said anything is better than this."
Michikatsu was quiet for a long moment. His chest rose and fell with steady breaths.
"Will it make me stronger?"
"I don't know. Probably."
"Will I be like you after? Unable to walk in sunlight?"
"I think so. The tree couldn't survive in sunlight either. That weakness seems to transfer with the power."
"And if it goes wrong? If your blood rejects me or tears me apart from the inside?"
"Then you'll die."
He laughed. The sound was sharp and bitter. "At least that would be quick. Better than staying like this." He shifted against the wall. "Do it."
I cut my wrist with my nail. Blood welled up immediately. It was darker than normal blood and almost black in the dim light.
I moved closer to Michikatsu and pressed my bleeding wrist against his mouth.
"Drink."
He hesitated for only a moment, then opened his mouth. His lips closed around the wound and he began to swallow.
I felt the blood and massive amounts of chakra leaving my body. The essence flowed into him in steady pulses.
After the fifth swallow, I pulled my wrist away. The wound sealed itself instantly.
"How do you feel?"
"Nothing yet. Should I—"
His body convulsed.
Michikatsu's back arched. His head slammed against the stone wall. His mouth opened in a silent scream.
I watched his body shake and twist. Every muscle tensed at once. His stumps jerked where his limbs had been severed.
Then the changes began.
His skin rippled like water. The texture shifted and smoothed. Old scars faded and disappeared. New tissue grew where there had been only damaged flesh.
His eye sockets filled with red light. It pulsed from deep within the empty space where his eyes had been torn out.
Bone cracked and reformed. I could hear it grinding and snapping as his skeleton restructured itself. His jaw elongated slightly. His cheekbones rose and sharpened.
The stumps of his arms began to extend. Bone pushed out first and gleamed white in the darkness. Then muscle wrapped around it in layers. Tendons connected. Skin stretched to cover it all.
His hands reformed finger by finger. Each one grew from nothing into a complete limb in the span of seconds.
The same process happened to his legs. Bone extended down past his knees. Muscle and sinew built themselves around the new skeleton. His feet took shape. His toes spread and flexed.
The birthmark on his face began to change. The red marking had always been there in a flame-like pattern on the left side of his forehead. All members of his family bore similar marks. They appeared on faces, chests, or arms. They were said to boost the bearer's physical abilities like a bloodline limit. The Tsugikuni family was the only family in the whole Land of Iron to have a bloodline limit, but most bearers died at the age of twenty-five. Few rare cases like Michikatsu stayed alive even after. People said that awakening this bloodline limit caused a disease. The more this ability was used, the faster the user died.
Now the mark expanded. It spread down his left temple in flowing lines. More marks appeared on his right cheek and flowed down his neck. The pattern glowed with inner light before settling into deep crimson against his pale skin.
His hair grew longer. The ends shifted from black to deep red.
Eyes opened in his face. He now had six eyes instead of two.
Three sets of eyes arranged vertically across his face. The middle pair glowed brightest. Yellow irises surrounded by red sclera. Black lines radiated from each iris like spokes. The left eye bore kanji. The right eye bore different characters.
The upper set of eyes sat where his eyebrows should have been. The lower set rested on his cheeks. All six eyes moved independently at first. Then they focused together on me.
The transformation slowed. His body stopped convulsing. His breathing steadied.
I waited.
Michikatsu raised his right hand. He stared at it. He turned it over. He flexed each finger individually. All six eyes tracked the movement.
"I can see," he whispered. "I can see everything."
He stood up from the floor.
He looked down at his legs and feet. He took a step forward. Then another. His movements were uncertain at first as he tested his new body.
"I can walk." His voice was stronger now and deeper. "I can move."
He touched his face with both hands. His fingers traced the expanded marks on his skin. He found the extra sets of eyes.
"What happened to me?"
"You became what I am. A demon. Probably the second one in existence."
Michikatsu's six eyes fixed on me. All of them burned with that same yellow and red light. "I feel it. The power is everywhere inside me. In every muscle. Every bone."
He clenched his fists. The muscles in his forearms rippled. "I'm stronger than before. Much stronger."
"Test it."
He turned to the cave wall. He drew back his fist. He drove it forward.
The stone exploded. Chunks of rock flew across the cave. A crater the size of a barrel appeared where his fist had connected.
He stared at the damage. Then at his unblooded knuckles.
"I have changed! I have improved! I am better!"
"Indeed. But there are costs."
His six eyes narrowed. "What costs?"
"Not much. But you cannot eat human food. The only thing you can consume are humans themselves."
"Living people?"
"As long as it has chakra. Living or dead doesn't matter."
Michikatsu walked to the cave entrance. He stopped just before the light. One hand extended into the sunbeam.
His flesh began to smoke immediately. The skin blackened and cracked.
He jerked his hand back. The damage healed in seconds.
"That would have killed me if I'd stepped out there."
"Yes."
He studied his regenerated hand. "But everything else came back. My arms. My legs. My eyes. All of it."
"Your body is different now. It responds to your will. You can heal almost any injury. You can regenerate lost limbs. You can reshape your flesh if you concentrate."
"Reshape my flesh?"
"Yes."
"Show me."
I morphed my hands into bladed whips. "You want to try?"
"I need to know what this body can do." All six of his eyes burned brighter. "I need to feel it."
He concentrated his mind on the task. Morphing body parts was actually an instinctive and easy thing.
His hand turned into a large katana-like weapon. He smiled as he glanced at it. "Let's spar."
"We're in a cave. There's not much room."
"Then we'll be careful."
I could see the hunger in his expression. He needed to test himself. He needed to prove he wasn't broken anymore.
I morphed my own hands into bladed whips and nodded. "Just don't bring down the cave."
"I don't want to die now."
We moved to the widest section. The space gave us maybe ten meters of clearance. It was enough to test speed and technique without destroying our shelter.
Michikatsu held his blade-hand at his side. The weapon had formed perfectly. The edge gleamed in the dim light. His stance was identical to the one he'd used as a human. His feet were shoulder-width apart. His weight was balanced. His six eyes tracked every part of my body at once.
I kept my whips loose. The tendrils hung at my sides and swayed slightly.
He moved first.
The blade came in a horizontal slash aimed at my midsection. The speed was incredible and far beyond what any human could achieve.
I jerked backward. The blade passed inches from my stomach.
His follow-up came immediately. He made a diagonal cut from shoulder to hip.
I raised my left whip. The tendril hardened and caught the blade. The sound was similar to metal screeching against metal.
He pushed. I slid back two steps.
"You're faster than I expected," I said.
"This body responds differently." He shifted his grip on the blade. "The weight distribution is perfect. No weapon could match this."
He attacked again. He made three cuts in rapid succession at high, middle, and low positions.
I blocked the first two with my whips. The third forced me to jump back.
His blade followed me. He closed the distance with a single step and thrust forward.
I twisted my torso. The blade scraped across my ribs. The cut was shallow but it healed in a blink of an eye.
My right whip lashed out. The tendril wrapped around his sword-arm.
He didn't try to pull free. Instead he let his other hand shift. His fingers elongated into claws.
The claws raked across my shoulder. Four parallel cuts opened in my flesh.
I released his arm and retreated. Both wounds healed in seconds.
"You're adapting fast," I said.
"The movements feel natural." He examined his clawed hand. "Like the body knows what I want before I think it."
He came forward again. This time he mixed sword strikes with claw swipes. The blade came high while the claws went low. Then the pattern reversed with high claws and low blade.
I had to focus on both hands. My whips moved in defensive patterns. I blocked the blade. I deflected the claws. The rhythm was difficult to predict.
His six eyes gave him an advantage I hadn't considered. Each pair tracked different parts of my body. One set watched my feet. Another watched my hands. The third watched my torso.
He saw every telegraph. He saw every weight shift. He saw every muscle twitch that preceded movement.
I increased my speed. My whips became blurs as they struck and withdrew.
He blocked most of them. The few that got through left shallow cuts on his arms and chest. They healed as quickly as mine did.
We circled each other. Both of us were breathing steadily despite the exertion.
"You're not using your full strength," he said.
"Neither are you."
"I'm still learning the limits."
"Then let's test them."
I attacked with both whips simultaneously. One went high and one went low. Both moved at full speed.
His blade caught the high whip. His clawed hand caught the low one. He held both for a moment.
Then he pulled.
I stumbled forward and lost my balance.
His knee came up and caught me in the chest. The impact drove the air from my lungs.
I twisted my whips around his limbs and yanked. He fell with me.
We hit the stone floor together. We rolled. We separated.
Both of us came up in fighting stances.
"Better," I said.
"Your technique is crude." He shifted his weight to his back foot. "You rely on speed and strength. But your movements lack refinement."
"I'm not a swordsman."
"Clearly." All six eyes focused on me. "But you have potential. The body gives you the tools. You just need to learn how to use them properly."
He demonstrated with a series of cuts. Each one flowed into the next. The blade traced perfect arcs through the air. His footwork was precise. Every step positioned him for the next strike.
I watched the pattern. I saw how each movement built on the previous one. I saw how he maintained balance throughout.
"Try to copy it," he said.
I attempted the sequence. My whips followed similar paths. But the movements felt clumsy. My footwork was off. My balance shifted wrong.
"You're thinking too much." Michikatsu circled me slowly. "Your body knows how to move efficiently. Let it guide you instead of forcing it."
I tried again. This time I focused less on the specific movements and more on the flow between them.
It felt better. The movements weren't perfect but they were closer.
"Again," he said.
I repeated the sequence five more times. Each repetition felt smoother. My body began to understand the rhythm.
"Good." He nodded. "Now defend."
He attacked with a basic combination. He made three strikes that telegraphed their intent.
I blocked all three. My whips moved to intercept without conscious thought.
He increased the complexity. He added feints. He changed the rhythm mid-sequence.
I blocked most of them. Two strikes got through and left shallow cuts on my arms.
"Better," he said. "But you're still reacting instead of anticipating."
"You have years of experience. You know everything I'm about to do."
"True. But you can do the same. You could read my intentions." He tapped his own chest. "The body speaks before the mind decides. Learn to see that language and you'll predict attacks before they happen."
We sparred for another twenty minutes. He corrected my form. He showed me how to position my feet. He showed me how to distribute my weight. He showed me how to let one movement flow naturally into the next.
Finally we stopped. Both of us stood in the center of the cave. Our bodies were unmarked despite the dozens of cuts we'd inflicted on each other.
Michikatsu laughed. "It's fun! I never expected to enjoy swordsmanship once again."
"Now you might be the strongest swordsman in the world."
"No. I want to get even stronger, faster, better. Shinobi should fear me like they would fear a devil." He looked at his blade-hand. "For that, I have to become stronger and stronger."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. But Shinji comes first." His six eyes gleamed. "He is not worthy of the throne."
He reformed his hand back to normal. The blade melted away and fingers emerged. He flexed them experimentally.
"But you are worthy," he said. "I don't need to think about it. You shall be the ruler of the Land of Iron and the king of all demons. The Demon King."
"That works for me too."
He sat down against the cave wall. "Tell me about your plan now."
"I don't want to take control forcefully."
He laughed. "That's better. Knowing how to restrain yourself is the best attribute a man could have."