Palace Archives
The sun had set hours ago. Hayato knelt on the wooden floor with scrolls spread across the low table before him. The archive building was quiet except for the sound of his breathing and the occasional rustle of paper as he unrolled another document. Warm candlelight filtered through the long shelves and illuminated the dust particles that hung in the still air.
He had recognized the patterns immediately at that third camp. The specific angles of the crescent cuts, the way they overlapped in certain configurations, the depth and precision of the furrows represented not just advanced chakra flow techniques, but a particular style that he had witnessed not long ago. Even then, what he had seen before was not even close to what he had inspected today. But he was sure that he was not mistaken. Throughout the Land of Iron, only one person was capable of doing this.
His hands trembled slightly as he unrolled the scroll he had been searching for. The document was old with paper yellowed with age and ink faded in places where time had worn away the careful brushstrokes. But the illustrations were still clear enough.
The scroll documented Tsugikuni kenjutsu, the personal style developed by the first Michikatsu Clan patriarch during his decades of service as Mifune. But this information was outdated. Someone had pushed the limits of kenjutsu beyond what these records showed. The Moon Breathing sword style had been developed by none other than the previous Mifune, Michikatsu Tsugikuni.
Hayato had witnessed Michikatsu demonstrate these techniques. The memory was burned into his mind with perfect clarity. He remembered the way Michikatsu's sword had moved, the crescents of chakra that had carved through demonstration targets and left deep furrows in the training ground, the absolute precision and control that had seemed inhuman even then.
The patterns at Camp Sixteen matched those furrows exactly. Though they looked stronger and more precise, the angles, depths, and overlapping configurations where multiple strikes had landed in rapid succession could not escape Hayato's eyes. Hayato had measured them with rope and compared them against his memory until he was certain.
Michikatsu Tsugikuni had destroyed those camps. But how was that possible? He had been missing for years.
Hayato set down the scroll and pressed his palms against his knees. His breathing had become shallow, and he forced himself to take slower, deeper breaths. The implications cascaded through his mind faster than he could process them properly.
The lamp flame wavered suddenly, and Hayato looked up from the scroll. The air in the archive had changed. The temperature had dropped several degrees, and his breath came out in a faint mist that should not have been visible in the enclosed space. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as his instincts screamed a warning that his conscious mind had not yet processed.
Someone was in the room with him.
Hayato's hand moved to his sword, but he stopped the motion before his fingers touched the hilt. The presence behind him felt massive and overwhelming, like standing at the base of a mountain and looking up at its peak. His chakra-sensing ability, honed through decades of combat and training, told him that whoever stood behind him possessed reserves that dwarfed anything he had encountered in a living person. The signature was wrong somehow, distorted in ways that made his skin crawl and his heart pound in his chest.
"You found out," a voice said from directly behind him. The words were spoken quietly, almost conversationally, but they carried an edge that suggested the speaker could tear Hayato apart without effort. "I knew you would, Shigaraki Hayato."
Hayato forced himself to remain still. Every combat instinct he possessed told him to move, to draw his weapon, to create distance between himself and the threat. But he knew with absolute certainty that any aggressive action would be his last. The presence behind him radiated power and control that exceeded anything in his experience.
"Michikatsu-sama," Hayato said. His voice came out steadier than he expected, though his hands trembled slightly where they rested on his knees. "You've returned."
"I never truly left." The voice held a note of something that might have been amusement. "I've been watching."
Hayato's mind raced through possibilities and calculations. Michikatsu was standing close enough that Hayato could feel the displaced air from his breathing. The distance was too close for a proper draw and strike, too close for any defensive technique to be effective. If the former Mifune wanted him dead, Hayato would be dead before he could even draw his katana.
"The Kamizuru camps," Hayato said. "That was you."
"Yes." The response came with no hesitation or denial, just simple acknowledgment. "Seventy-two shinobi died in a single night. They never even understood what killed them. Most of them died without drawing their weapons."
The casual way Michikatsu spoke about the slaughter made Hayato's eyes widen in fear.
"Why?" Hayato asked. "Those shinobi were operating under official agreements. The Daimyo gave them permission to establish those camps. You're destabilizing everything we've worked to build."
Footsteps moved behind him with absolute silence. Hayato's enhanced hearing picked up the soft whisper of fabric moving through air, but Michikatsu's feet made no sound against the wooden floor. The former Mifune was circling around to where Hayato could see him, though the movement felt more like a predator positioning itself to observe its prey than any human motion.
"The Daimyo, huh?" Michikatsu said. The voice had moved to Hayato's left now, just at the edge of his peripheral vision. "He is fraudulent."
Hayato turned his head slowly to look in the direction of the voice. A figure stood in the shadows at the edge of the lamplight, tall and broad-shouldered. The darkness concealed most of his features, but Hayato could make out the outline of a katana at his side. The blade seemed wrong somehow, its shape slightly off from what a normal sword should look like.
"You served the Land of Iron for decades," Hayato said. "You trained an entire generation of samurai. Why would you return now to destroy what you helped build?"
The figure in the shadows shifted slightly, and Hayato caught a glimpse of eyes reflecting the lamplight. Six eyes were arranged vertically across the man's face in three pairs. The sight sent a spike of primal terror through Hayato's chest that overrode his decades of combat training. That was not human.
"I served the Land of Iron," Michikatsu said. "I did not serve the Daimyo. The agreement with the Kamizuru Clan will only bring about destruction. But you need not worry. The rightful heir has returned."
Hayato forced himself to maintain eye contact with those inhuman eyes. His mind struggled to process what he was seeing.
"What happened to you?" Hayato asked quietly.
A low sound that might have been laughter came from the shadows. The figure took a step forward into the lamplight, and Hayato saw more details that made his chest tighten with fear. Michikatsu's face was marked with flame-like patterns that spread across his skin in burgundy lines. His hair fell long past his shoulders in a wild mane that gave him an even more inhuman appearance. The six eyes studied Hayato with an intensity that suggested the former Mifune could see directly into his soul and measure everything he found there.
"I was lost," Michikatsu said. "Now I have discovered what true strength means. The limitations I once accepted as inevitable were nothing more than weakness and lack of vision. I have transcended what I was. I have returned to serve the Land of Iron once more."
The words made no sense to Hayato, but the threat in them was clear enough. Michikatsu had undergone some kind of transformation that had granted him power far beyond normal human capabilities. The six eyes, the inhuman chakra signature, the casual way he discussed slaughtering seventy-two people represented not just a master samurai who had continued training after leaving the Land of Iron, but something that had left humanity behind entirely.
"Why are you here?" Hayato asked. "Why reveal yourself to me?"
Michikatsu's expression remained unreadable in the flickering lamplight.
"Because I need your help," Michikatsu said. "Don't tell me you don't know that Shinji will destroy the Land of Iron like this. Can you bear to not save it even after knowing about it? I cannot."
Hayato's throat felt dry. This was not a casual conversation. This was a test, and his answer would determine whether he left this room alive.
"I don't know," Hayato said. The honesty in his voice surprised him, but lying to someone like Michikatsu felt pointless. Those six eyes seemed capable of reading every thought that crossed his mind. "I have been serving the Daimyo for three generations. How can I betray him?"
"Foolish," Michikatsu said. "You are not meant to serve the Daimyo, but the Land of Iron."
The former Mifune moved closer to the table where the scrolls lay spread out. Hayato tensed but forced himself not to reach for his weapon. Michikatsu glanced down at the documents and nodded slightly.
"Can you hear the wails?" Michikatsu said. "The Land is crying and waiting to be saved. Even He has heard it and came to save it. He who was betrayed by the Land has returned. Even then, you who have been favored by the Land for so long would not help it? That seems utterly disgraceful."
Hayato watched as Michikatsu reached out and traced one finger along the illustration of a crescent-shaped chakra flow attack. The gesture was casual, almost affectionate, like someone touching a treasured memory.
"The camps were just the beginning," Michikatsu said. His voice had dropped to barely above a whisper, but the words carried clearly in the silent archive. "The Kamizuru will blame the Daimyo for breaking their agreement. They will prepare for retaliation. The Daimyo will not take the blame. The tension will arise and their flickering alliance will break."
"You want war," Hayato said. The realization settled into his stomach like a stone. "You're deliberately trying to destabilize the entire region."
"No. I and He are working to save our land," Michikatsu corrected. "I don't know what the Daimyo wants from the Kamizuru clan. But I do know that the Kamizuru will never comply with him."
Hayato's hands clenched into fists against his knees. Everything Michikatsu was saying rang utterly true.
"The Daimyo has made a mistake," Hayato said. "But how can we be sure the next Daimyo won't be the same or even worse?"
The six eyes fixed on Hayato with an expression that might have been pity or contempt. Michikatsu's voice when he spoke carried a certainty that left no room for doubt or argument.
"Mortals make mistakes. The true heir has transcended mortality. He has returned and no one can stop Him. He shall claim what is his."
The words hung in the air between them.
"Will you be able to handle the Daimyo and Kamizuru clan together?" Hayato asked quietly. "Even with your enhanced abilities, you're still one person. The Land of Iron has thousands of samurai. The Kamizuru clan has hundreds of shinobi. Eventually, someone will stop you."
Michikatsu's expression shifted into something that might have been a smile. The gesture looked wrong on his inhuman face, too wide and showing too many teeth.
"I don't need to win through direct combat," Michikatsu said. "I just need to create enough chaos that the current order collapses under its own weight. The Kamizuru will attack. The Daimyo will defend. All I have to do is provide the initial spark and then watch as everything burns."
Hayato's mind worked through the implications. Michikatsu was cruelly right.
"You will let hundreds of samurai die for your cause?" Hayato asked. "Why tell me all of this instead of just killing me and leaving?"
Michikatsu studied him for several long seconds. Those six eyes seemed to be measuring something that Hayato could not identify or understand. The silence stretched until Hayato's nerves felt ready to snap from the tension.
"Whether they die or live depends on your choice. I want you to make a choice," Michikatsu said finally. "You can go to your superiors and tell them everything you've learned tonight. Tell them that Michikatsu Tsugikuni has returned and is responsible for the attacks. That information won't save anyone, but it will give them a target to focus their fear and anger upon. Or you can come to this side, help us, and watch the revolution. Either way, the outcome will be the same. But I'm curious to see which path you choose."
Hayato felt the weight of that choice settle onto his shoulders. If he reported this conversation, he would be risking the lives of hundreds of samurai. If he kept silent, he would be complicit in whatever chaos the former Mifune planned to unleash.
"Why give me a choice at all?" Hayato asked.
"He needs competent subordinates," Michikatsu said. "Because you are intelligent. I want to see if that intelligence extends to understanding your own limitations."
The former Mifune turned away from the table and moved back toward the shadows at the edge of the room. His movements were fluid and silent, more like smoke drifting than a physical body walking.
"Consider your choice carefully, Hayato," Michikatsu said. His voice seemed to come from multiple directions at once as the shadows swallowed his form. "But don't take too long. Events are already in motion. The Kamizuru are preparing their response. The Daimyo is scrambling to maintain control. You have perhaps three days before the situation escalates beyond anyone's ability to contain it."
The presence in the room faded suddenly, leaving Hayato alone with the lamp and the scattered scrolls. He sat frozen for several heartbeats with his entire body tense and his senses straining to detect any lingering trace of Michikatsu's chakra signature. But the former Mifune had vanished as completely as if he had never been there at all.
Hayato's hands shook as he reached for the lamp. The oil had burned low while he had been studying the scrolls, and the flame was beginning to gutter. He needed to leave the archives and return to his quarters. He needed to think about everything he had just learned and decide what he was going to do with that information.
But part of him wondered if the choice was already made. Michikatsu had appeared in the archives without triggering any alarms or alerting any guards. He had stood close enough to kill Hayato a dozen times over during their conversation. The message was clear enough. The former Mifune could go anywhere he wanted and do anything he chose. Reporting his return would not change that fundamental reality.
Hayato stood slowly and began gathering the scrolls. His movements were mechanical as he rolled up each document and returned it to its proper place on the shelves. The familiar routine helped calm his racing thoughts and allowed him to process what had just happened.
He had spoken with Michikatsu Tsugikuni, the unseen prodigy of the Tsugikuni clan. The former leader of the Land of Iron's samurai was now working to deliberately destabilize the region and trigger a war that would consume thousands of lives.
And Hayato had three days to decide. The fate of hundreds of samurai lay on his shoulders.