The sun had set several hours earlier. Hayato made his way through the eastern corridor of the palace with a leather case tucked under his arm and a requisition form folded in his pocket. He couldn't shake the feeling that something about the evidence from the third camp was bothering him during the entire journey back. The crescent-shaped cuts followed a distinct pattern that felt oddly familiar, though he couldn't pinpoint why.
Hayato had served under Michikatsu Tsugikuni for five years until the man vanished last winter. In that time, he had seen the former Mifune showcase his sword art multiple times. The patterns at the camp triggered a sense of recognition in him, but he knew he had to confirm his suspicions before bringing them to anyone's attention.
The archives were located away from the main palace and connected by a creaking covered walkway. After showing his authorization to the guard and waiting for the man to confirm the seal, he stepped through the heavy wooden doors.
Inside, shelves filled with scrolls and documents soared two stories high. The room smelled of aged paper and lamp oil, with a narrow staircase leading up to more specialized records.
Once on the second floor, Hayato headed for the section labeled "Mifune Archives - Combat Techniques." Setting his case on a low reading table, he began retrieving scrolls from the shelf until he found what he was looking for.
The scroll was relatively recent, produced during Michikatsu's time less than two years prior. Hayato unfurled it, holding down the corners with smooth stones from the table.
The illustrations depicted crescent-shaped cutting patterns arranged in precise geometric sequences. Each diagram detailed chakra flow direction, blade angles, and the characteristic arc produced by executing the technique correctly. These were training diagrams for Moon Breathing, the advanced sword style Michikatsu had created.
Hayato opened his case and removed the sketches he had drawn at the camp. He had captured the crescent patterns as accurately as possible, marking the angles of intersections and the depth from entry to exit. He placed his sketches next to the official diagrams for comparison.
It was unmistakable; the crescents' angles, their overlaps, and specific curvatures were identical to Michikatsu's techniques.
This is his work. But that's impossible. Michikatsu has been missing for nearly a year.
Hayato leaned back, examining the comparison. His hands trembled slightly, so he pressed them against his thighs and took a deep breath.
The flame from the lamp flickered.
Hayato looked up, noticing that the flame, once steady, now flickered as if caught in a draft. But there were no open windows, and the air remained still.
Suddenly, the temperature dropped. His next breath came out as a faint mist. He felt a chill run up his spine, his body instinctively reacting before he fully understood the danger. His hand instinctively reached for his sword.
"You found out."
The voice came from right behind him. Hayato froze, his fingers just inches away from his weapon. The presence looming behind him felt overwhelming and wrong. His chakra-sensing warned him that the being stood behind him possessed energy beyond anything he had ever encountered. The signature felt distorted, twisted in a manner that screamed danger.
"I knew you would, Shigaraki Hayato."
Hayato's heart raced. Every instinct told him to act, to create distance, to unsheathe his weapon. Yet he understood with certainty that any aggressive move would lead to his demise.
"Michikatsu-sama," Hayato managed to say, surprisingly steady. "You've returned."
"I never truly left. I've been watching."
"The Kamizuru camps. That was you."
"Yes."
He heard footsteps moving behind him, utterly silent. Michikatsu was circling into his line of sight, and the movement was predatory.
"Seventy-two shinobi died in a single night," Michikatsu added. "Those fools never realized why they died. Most passed without even understanding how."
The casual way he spoke tightened Hayato's chest. He turned his head slowly to see a figure in the shadows, just beyond the lamplight. The man was tall with broad shoulders and long hair cascading past his shoulders.
"Why?" Hayato asked. "Those shinobi were acting under official agreements. The Daimyo had given them permission."
The figure shifted; Hayato caught sight of six eyes arranged vertically across the man's face in three pairs, sending a jolt of terror through him.
"The Daimyo is deceitful," Michikatsu replied.
Hayato forced himself to maintain the gaze. "You served the Land of Iron faithfully for six years. Why abandon everything and return like this?"
The figure stepped into the light, revealing flaming patterns in burgundy that adorned his face. The six eyes studied him with unsettling intensity.
"I served the Land of Iron, not the Daimyo. The alliance with the Kamizuru Clan will spell destruction. But you need not worry. The rightful heir has returned."
"What happened to you?" Hayato asked quietly. "You vanished without explanation. Now you return like... this."
A sound that might have been laughter bubbled up from Michikatsu's throat. He leaned closer to the table, surveying the scroll and sketches.
"I was lost. Now I've discovered what true strength is. The limitations I once accepted were mere weakness and narrow vision. I have transcended what I was."
"Why are you here?" Hayato asked. "Why reveal yourself to me?"
"Because I need your assistance."
Surprised by the unexpected request, Hayato almost laughed. "My help?"
"The Daimyo will ruin the Land of Iron with these agreements. Can you witness this unfold? I cannot."
Hayato's throat felt constricted. "I've served the Daimyo for years, just like you did. How can I betray him?"
"Foolish. You're not meant to serve the Daimyo, but the Land of Iron itself."
Michikatsu traced a finger along the illustrated crescent in the scroll, the gesture almost tender.
"Can you hear the wails? The Land is crying, waiting for salvation. He who was betrayed by the Land has heard it and returned to save it. And yet, you, favored by the Land for so long, won't help?"
"The camps were only the start," Michikatsu added. "The Kamizuru will blame the Daimyo for breaking their agreement. They will prepare to retaliate. The Daimyo will reject responsibility, and tensions will rise until their alliance collapses."
"You want war," Hayato said.
"No. I strive to save our land. I don't know why the Daimyo seeks the Kamizuru Clan, but I do know the Kamizuru will not comply."
Hayato's fists clenched. Everything Michikatsu said resonated true. The Kamizuru had been demanding increasingly aggressive terms, and tensions had been rising for months.
"The Daimyo has erred," Hayato admitted. "But how can we be assured the next Daimyo won't be worse?"
The six eyes focused on him, perhaps with pity. "Mortals make mistakes. The true heir has transcended mortality. He's returned, and no one can stop Him."
"Who is this 'He'?" Hayato pressed. "Can he confront both the Daimyo and the Kamizuru Clan? The Land of Iron has thousands of samurai, while the Kamizuru possess hundreds of shinobi."
Michikatsu's expression shifted into a semblance of a smile that seemed wrong on his uncanny face, revealing too many teeth. "I need not win through direct combat. I need only incite enough chaos for the current order to collapse. The Kamizuru will attack, the Daimyo will defend, and all I require is to create the spark."
"You'll sacrifice hundreds of samurai for your cause?" Hayato asked. "You trained many of these men yourself. Why not simply kill me instead of telling me this?"
Michikatsu regarded him for a long moment. The six eyes adjusted, each focusing separately before aligning once more. "Whether they live or die rests on your choice. You can report everything you've learned tonight. That will not save anyone, but it will give them a target for their fear. Or you can join us and help shape what follows. Either way, the outcome remains the same. I'm merely curious to see which path you will choose."
The weight of that choice settled heavily on Hayato's shoulders. If he chose to report what he had learned, hundreds of samurai would be mobilized against Michikatsu. If he remained silent, he would be complicit in whatever chaos the former Mifune was planning.
"Why give me a choice at all?" Hayato asked.
"He needs capable subordinates. You are intelligent. I seek to understand if your intelligence extends to recognizing your limits."
Michikatsu turned and blended back into the shadows. His movements were fluid and silent, more like smoke than a physical body. The lamplight illuminated his face briefly, allowing Hayato to see all six eyes clearly.
"Consider your decision with care, Hayato. But don't take too long. Events are already unfolding."
Abruptly, the presence in the room vanished. Hayato was left frozen, straining to detect any trace of Michikatsu's chakra, but it had disappeared as completely as if he had never been there.
His hands shook as he reached for the scroll. Slowly, he stood and began to roll it up. His fingers moved mechanically as his mind raced through potential outcomes.
He returned the scroll to its shelf, gathered his sketches, extinguished the lamp, and navigated through the darkness toward the stairs using memory alone.
When he reached the ground floor, the guard looked up. "Did you find what you needed, sir?"
"Yes. Thank you."
He exited into the night, retracing his steps along the covered walkway back to the palace. The stars twinkled overhead, and the air had turned crisp enough that his breath misted in the coolness.
Three days. What will I do? And who is this 'He' that Michikatsu mentioned? Who is the rightful heir?