The hours in the tent stretched endlessly. Muzan spent the time testing his body's responses, trying to understand the mechanisms behind his transformations. Each time he'd morphed his flesh into whips or claws, he'd felt warmth flowing through specific pathways inside him. The sensation was distinct and traceable, like following the course of a river through his body.
He focused on that warmth now, trying to sense it without triggering any transformation. The energy was there, distributed throughout his system in a network of channels. When he'd changed his eyes to copy the Sharingan, he'd felt the warmth concentrate in his head before the transformation completed. After the change, the energy flow had stopped but the altered structure remained without requiring additional power to maintain it.
That raised an important question about sustainability. He tested small transformations, growing and retracting his claws repeatedly while monitoring the warmth. Each transformation consumed a small amount of the energy, pulling it from somewhere deeper in his system. But once he retracted the claws, the energy didn't replenish on its own. The reserve slowly depleted with each use.
His hunger sharpened in proportion to how much energy he spent. The more he transformed, the more his body demanded flesh to replace what he'd burned. His cells needed raw materials and that concentrated warmth he'd felt in the shinobi he'd consumed. The warmth had to be chakra. When he'd fed on those five Kamizuru clan members, he'd absorbed their energy along with their flesh.
Normal shinobi probably recovered chakra through rest and nutrition. But his body didn't work that way anymore. Rest did nothing because his cells were always operating at peak efficiency. He couldn't eat normal food. The only way to replenish his reserves was to feed on other humans and take their chakra along with their flesh.
The realization settled over him coldly. He would need to feed again soon. The transformations and rapid healing were expensive, and his reserves had limits even if those limits seemed higher than what normal shinobi possessed.
Light filtering through the tent fabric gradually dimmed as the sun moved across the sky. Muzan tracked the changing angle and estimated when sunset would arrive. He remained still to conserve energy, listening to the sounds of the camp continuing its daily routines outside.
Finally, darkness fell completely. Footsteps approached and the tent flap opened to reveal Amanai carrying a small oil lamp. The flickering flame cast shifting shadows across his face as he stepped inside.
"It's night," Amanai said. "Time to begin."
Muzan stood and watched as Amanai set the lamp down and settled into a cross-legged position. The older shinobi gestured for Muzan to sit across from him.
"Lord Urashi ordered me to teach you from the beginning," Amanai said once they were both seated. "That means starting with fundamentals. Tell me what you know about chakra."
"It's energy," Muzan said.
"Partially correct but incomplete." Amanai held up one hand. "Chakra is the fusion of two separate energies. Physical energy generated by your body's cells and spiritual energy generated by your consciousness. When you combine them in specific proportions, you create chakra."
He placed his hand against his chest. "Everyone has these energies but not everyone can utilize them properly. Shinobi are those who've learned to mold, control, and direct their chakra to perform techniques."
Muzan absorbed the information silently. It aligned with what he'd already observed about the warmth in his body.
"Your body contains a network of pathways called the chakra system," Amanai continued. "These pathways function like rivers flowing through your entire structure. Along these rivers are 361 specific points called tenketsu where chakra can be concentrated or released. When you mold chakra, it flows through these pathways. If the pathways are blocked or damaged, you lose the ability to use chakra effectively."
He pointed to several spots on his own torso and limbs. "That's why pressing certain pressure points can temporarily disable a shinobi's abilities. You disrupt the flow through critical pathways."
Muzan thought about the previous night when Amanai had pressed his pressure points. The technique hadn't worked because his transformed anatomy probably didn't match normal human chakra pathways anymore. He kept that observation to himself.
"Shinobi techniques fall into three main categories," Amanai said. "Ninjutsu uses chakra to create various effects and transformations. Genjutsu uses chakra to affect an opponent's mind and senses. Taijutsu enhances physical combat with chakra reinforcement."
He paused and studied Muzan's face. "Following so far?"
"Yes."
"Most ninjutsu requires hand seals to properly shape and direct your chakra. The seals are specific finger positions that help you mold your energy in the correct patterns for different techniques." Amanai raised both hands and brought them together with his fingers interlocking in a particular configuration. "There are twelve fundamental seals, each named after an animal. This is Rat."
He shifted to a new position. "Ox." His hands moved through several more configurations as he spoke. "Tiger, Rabbit, Dragon, Snake, Horse, Ram, Monkey, Bird, Dog, and Boar. Each seal corresponds to certain elemental affinities and technique types."
Amanai demonstrated each seal twice more, moving through them slowly enough for Muzan to observe the exact finger placements and hand positions. "Most techniques require multiple seals performed in rapid sequence. The faster and more precisely you can form seals, the faster you can execute your techniques."
He lowered his hands and looked at Muzan. "Try to copy the Rat seal."
Muzan raised his hands and formed the configuration exactly as Amanai had demonstrated. His fingers aligned perfectly with thumbs crossing right over left.
Amanai's expression didn't change but Muzan noticed his shoulders tense slightly. "Ox seal."
Muzan replicated it without error.
"Tiger."
Again perfect.
"Dragon."
Flawless.
Amanai worked through the remaining eight seals, calling them out one after another. Muzan copied each one precisely, his muscle memory absorbing the patterns after seeing them only once. When they finished all twelve, Amanai sat motionless for several seconds. His jaw was tight and his eyes had narrowed almost imperceptibly.
"You've never done this before," Amanai said. His tone made it more statement than question.
"No."
Amanai studied him without speaking. His fingers drummed once against his thigh before he stilled the motion. "You learn quickly. Let's continue."
He stood and gestured for Muzan to do the same. "Knowing the seals means nothing without the ability to mold chakra while performing them. Close your eyes and focus inward. Try to sense the energy I described earlier."
Muzan closed his eyes and concentrated on the warmth he'd been studying all day. The sensation became clearer when he focused his attention on it, flowing through defined channels throughout his body.
"Can you feel it?" Amanai asked.
"Yes."
"Gather it toward your core near your stomach. Pull the energy from throughout your body and concentrate it in your center."
Muzan willed the warmth to move and it responded immediately, flowing toward his midsection and pooling there in a concentrated mass. The sensation was surprisingly easy to control once he understood what he was directing.
"You're doing it," Amanai said. His voice had gone flat.
Muzan opened his eyes to find Amanai watching him with an unreadable expression.
"Controlling chakra output is what separates functional shinobi from failures," Amanai continued after a pause. "Too little chakra and your technique won't activate. Too much and you waste energy or create unstable results. Finding the precise balance requires extensive practice."
He bent down and picked up a leaf from a small pile near the tent entrance. "This exercise teaches basic control. You place the leaf on your forehead and emit just enough chakra from that point to create adhesion. Not enough to damage the leaf, not so little that it falls. Just the right amount to maintain contact."
Amanai pressed the leaf to his forehead where it stuck firmly even when he tilted his head at severe angles. He pulled it off and handed it to Muzan. "Your turn."
Muzan took the leaf and pressed it to his forehead. He concentrated on channeling a thin stream of chakra to that specific point, carefully modulating the flow. The leaf adhered to his skin.
"Tilt your head," Amanai said.
Muzan tilted left and right. The leaf remained fixed.
"Walk around the tent."
Muzan walked a circuit around the interior space. The leaf didn't budge from his forehead.
"Jump."
Muzan jumped and landed. The leaf stayed in place.
"Shake your head rapidly."
Muzan shook his head hard enough to blur his vision. The leaf maintained perfect adhesion throughout the motion.
Amanai's jaw clenched visibly. His hand moved to rest on his weapon pouch and stayed there for a moment before he deliberately moved it away. "Move on to the next exercise."
He produced another leaf and pointed to one of the wooden support poles holding up the tent structure. "Walking on vertical surfaces requires constant chakra adjustment. You channel energy to your feet to create adhesion but your body weight demands more power than your forehead needed for that leaf. Too little chakra and gravity pulls you down. Too much and you'll push yourself away from the surface. Most shinobi require days to achieve basic proficiency."
Amanai walked up the pole smoothly until he stood perpendicular to the ground, then descended with the same controlled ease. "Attempt it. Don't expect immediate success."
Muzan approached the pole and placed his foot against the wood. He channeled chakra to his sole, estimating the amount needed based on his body weight and the angle. His foot stuck firmly. He lifted his other foot and placed it higher up the pole. That foot stuck as well.
He walked up the pole steadily until he reached the top where it met the tent ceiling, paused there with his body horizontal to the ground, then walked back down with smooth steps.
Amanai was staring at him with an expression carefully controlled into neutrality. His breathing had changed slightly, becoming more measured as if he was forcing it to remain steady.
"Adequate," Amanai said. The word came out clipped. "You have natural aptitude."
He sat back down in his original position. Muzan lowered himself to sit across from him again, the leaf still stuck to his forehead.
"Before we finish tonight, you need to understand the Uchiha clan," Amanai said. His voice had regained its instructional tone but his posture remained tense. "We're one of the most powerful shinobi clans in existence. Our bloodline ability is the Sharingan, which you possess."
"What does it do?" Muzan asked.
"At its most basic level, the Sharingan enhances your visual perception dramatically. You can track movement with greater precision, see details normal eyes would miss, and predict an opponent's actions based on muscle tension and body language." Amanai activated his own Sharingan and three black comma marks appeared in each red eye, rotating slowly. "As the Sharingan develops and more tomoe manifest, its capabilities expand. With three tomoe you can copy techniques you observe, cast and dispel genjutsu with greater efficiency, and perceive chakra flow directly."
Muzan studied the spinning patterns in Amanai's eyes carefully.
"The Sharingan awakens or evolves during extreme emotional stress," Amanai continued. "Trauma, loss, intense fear, rage. Those experiences trigger the mutation that forms tomoe or advances them to the next stage. You currently have two tomoe, which represents the second stage of development. With sufficient stress or training, you may achieve the third."
He deactivated his Sharingan and his eyes returned to normal black. "You asked what we're fighting for. The answer is survival and vengeance. The Senju clan has been our enemy for generations. Countries hire us to fight each other because our bloodline abilities make us valuable assets in their conflicts. The cycle continues because neither side can afford to stop. If we refuse contracts, we lose income and our clan starves. And the Senju have killed too many of our people for this to be just business anymore."
His expression darkened and his hands curled into fists against his thighs. "They've killed our children. Our parents. Our brothers and sisters. Every battle adds more names to the list of people we've lost. The hatred runs too deep to end peacefully now."
Muzan absorbed this information without showing any emotional response. He had no investment in this clan war beyond what it could teach him about surviving in this world.
"That's enough for tonight," Amanai said, standing abruptly. "Tomorrow we'll continue with basic techniques. Practice the hand seals until you can form them faster."
He walked toward the tent exit, then stopped and turned back. His eyes locked onto Muzan's face with intensity. "Don't attempt to leave this camp. The guards have orders to kill anyone who tries to escape without authorization. Understood?"
"Understood."
Amanai left, taking the oil lamp with him. The tent plunged into darkness except for the faint moonlight filtering through gaps in the fabric.
Muzan remained sitting in the shadows. His mind worked through everything he'd observed during the training session. Amanai's suspicion had been obvious in the tension of his shoulders, the way his hand kept moving toward his weapons, the careful control in his voice when Muzan performed each exercise perfectly on the first attempt.
The older shinobi thought Muzan had been trained before and was lying about his origins. That suspicion was dangerous but also predictable. Muzan would need to be more careful about demonstrating abilities too quickly. Some mistakes or hesitation would make his story more believable.
But there was another factor working in his favor that Amanai hadn't fully considered. The Sharingan enhanced visual perception dramatically according to what he'd just been told. If Muzan's copied eyes functioned anything like the real version, that would explain his ability to replicate hand seals and movements with perfect precision after seeing them once.
Muzan focused on his eyes. The red coloration and black comma patterns were visible even to him when he looked at reflective surfaces. He'd transformed his eyes to match what he'd seen in Toshiro and Amanai, creating a functional copy of their appearance. But he didn't know if his fake Sharingan actually provided the enhanced perception abilities Amanai had described.
He needed to test that carefully without revealing too much.
Footsteps approached the tent from outside. Quick, purposeful strides that belonged to Amanai. The tent flap flew open and the older shinobi stepped inside carrying the lamp again. His expression was harder than before.
"One more thing," Amanai said. His hand rested on his kunai pouch. "Deactivate your Sharingan."
Muzan couldn't understand what Amanai was testing.
But Amanai had a clear idea. People who stole Sharingan eyes from dead Uchiha couldn't deactivate them. The transplanted organs remained permanently active, constantly draining chakra from the user's system. It was apparently one way to identify thieves who'd killed clan members for their eyes.
"Why?" Muzan asked.
"Just do it." Amanai's fingers curled around a kunai handle without drawing the weapon.
Muzan looked at Amanai for a moment, then focused on his eyes. He willed them to change back to normal black, the same way he'd transformed them to red in the first place. Warmth flowed briefly through his eye sockets as the structure morphed. The red coloration faded and the tomoe patterns dissolved until his eyes appeared completely ordinary.
Amanai stared at him. The tension in his shoulders didn't immediately release. He studied Muzan's eyes carefully, looking for any sign that this was an illusion or trick. Several seconds passed in silence.
"Activate it again," Amanai said finally.
Muzan reversed the transformation. Warmth flowed through his eyes as they shifted back to red with two black tomoe marks appearing in each pupil. The entire change took less than a second.
Amanai's hand finally moved away from his weapon pouch. "Keep it deactivated when you're not training. Even Uchiha experience chakra drain from maintaining the Sharingan constantly. Conserve your energy."
"Understood."
Amanai nodded once and left without saying anything else. His footsteps receded across the camp toward the sleeping quarters.
Muzan kept his eyes black after Amanai departed. He'd noticed earlier that most clan members walked around with normal eyes unless they specifically needed the Sharingan for combat or training. Keeping the red coloration active all the time would mark him as unusual.
The transformation from red back to black had consumed a small amount of chakra when he made the change. But once his eyes were black again, they didn't require any additional energy to maintain that state. The same principle as his other transformations. Use chakra to alter the structure, then the new structure persisted without constant power.
He lay back on the bedroll and stared at the tent ceiling. Amanai had tested him and come away satisfied that Muzan was a genuine Uchiha rather than someone with stolen eyes. That would reduce immediate suspicion, though the older shinobi clearly still had doubts about Muzan's supposed inexperience.
Those doubts would persist but they wouldn't necessarily become dangerous as long as Muzan continued to demonstrate value to the clan. His regeneration and combat potential made him useful despite his sunlight weakness. As long as the Uchiha believed they could use him against the Senju, they would invest in training him rather than eliminating him as a security risk.
The hunger in his chest was growing steadily stronger. He'd burned through chakra repeatedly today with his transformations and tests. His body was demanding replenishment and the only way to satisfy that demand was to feed on human flesh and absorb the chakra it contained.
He would need to plan carefully. Finding an opportunity