The eerie quiet of the Hidden Leaf Village belied the growing dread that had begun to settle over its foundation. As Hashirama Senju stood atop the Hokage monument, eyes narrowed over the vast expanse of his village, he couldn't help but feel the faint pulse of something unnatural—a darkness that reached beyond chakra, something that coiled like a snake beneath the roots of the forest he cherished.
News had reached his ears from the outer districts—reports of entire patrols vanishing, of villagers turning pale and lifeless with no wounds or signs of struggle. Something ancient, something sinister was moving within the land of fire, and it wasn't the usual rogue shinobi or bandits. No... this was far worse.
Back within the denser edges of the forest bordering Konoha, Muzan's experiments were nearing a terrifying culmination. Hidden within an underground chamber cloaked by dense genjutsu and layers of tree roots he had manipulated over time, he watched as another shinobi, captured during a routine border check, succumbed to his blood. The transformation had become faster, more refined. The subject screamed, eyes dilating, then bursting into veins of black as his skin hardened like obsidian.
Muzan frowned. Another failure.
"Still unstable," he muttered, retracting his claws from the dying shinobi's neck. "I need a host with deeper chakra reserves. This era's shinobi are gifted... but flawed. I need a vessel worthy of perfection."
He turned toward the back of the cavern where three other figures knelt—previous subjects still barely alive, twitching as they tried to hold onto the remnants of their humanity.
But Muzan was patient. Time meant little to a demon who had walked through generations. The era of Hashirama Senju was nothing more than another opportunity to establish his roots in the shinobi world. If he could conquer their chakra system, blend it with his blood, he would transcend demonhood. He would become divine.
Meanwhile, in the central compound of the Uchiha clan, a different kind of tension brewed. Tajima Uchiha, father of Madara, had been disturbed by the news filtering in from the clan's scouts. Their numbers were dwindling, and the suspects remained elusive. Even Madara, as fierce as he was, had returned from a mission unusually quiet.
"Father," Madara said that evening, his tone sharper than usual. "There's a presence out there I cannot read. It's not chakra—it's something else. Something... primal."
Tajima narrowed his eyes. "You felt it too?"
Madara nodded. "It was watching. Not just me—us. The whole forest felt like it was breathing."
Farther south, the Senju compound was no different. Tobirama was already analyzing the residual remains from one of the affected areas.
"This isn't chakra decay," he told Hashirama. "There are biological traces we've never seen. It's almost like the cells were rewriting themselves—and failing. Like someone was forcing a transformation that shouldn't exist."
Hashirama folded his arms. "You're saying this isn't jutsu-related?"
"Not in the way we understand. This is something entirely different."
On the outskirts of the village, a lone wanderer approached—his garments torn, breathing shallow. It was Kagami Uchiha, sent on a deep reconnaissance mission weeks ago. He collapsed at the gates, body twitching, skin ashen and eyes glazed.
As the med-nin rushed to his aid, Kagami's body erupted in black veins. He snarled, eyes flickering between red Sharingan and a sickly golden glow. One of the Chūnin beside him screamed, caught off guard as Kagami sank claws into his neck.
The alarm sounded.
Tobirama arrived first, teleporting into the scene with a burst of water blades, slicing the possessed Kagami clean in two.
"Everyone, fall back!" he ordered. "Do not touch the blood!"
Muzan, watching from the treetop shadows far away, smirked.
"So... the Uchiha almost endured it. Interesting."
Hashirama convened the first Emergency Council that night.
Among those present were Tobirama, Madara, a newly arrived Hiruzen Sarutobi, and Kagami's father.
"We are dealing with a new threat," Hashirama began. "It doesn't answer to chakra logic. It doesn't follow any jutsu theory."
Madara slammed a fist into the table. "What happened to Kagami—what did that to him?"
Tobirama passed around a vial of blood. "We believe it is some form of demonic infection. A tainting agent that bonds with chakra but feeds on something deeper—life essence."
Hiruzen's eyes narrowed. "We're facing an enemy that infects."
"And worse," Tobirama added, "It evolves."
Deep beneath the roots of a corrupted grove, Muzan stood before a large cocoon-like structure. Inside it pulsed a humanoid figure, one of his more successful fusions. A child born of demon blood and chakra—the perfect host.
He turned to a demon kneeling nearby. "Release the others into the southern border. Let them feast. The village needs to fear me before they ever see me."
As the demon leapt away, Muzan whispered to himself:
"Konoha shall be my cradle... and my throne."
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Tobirama stood alone in his laboratory, candles flickering across parchment scrolls filled with anatomical diagrams and bloodwork results. Despite his stoic demeanor, sweat beaded at his brow.
His hands trembled slightly as he laid out the tissue samples taken from Kagami's corpse. Every cell within the sample vibrated—almost alive. He performed a chakra suppression seal, but the cells resisted, adapting to the seal's presence.
That shouldn't be possible.
A knock echoed.
"Enter," he snapped.
Hiruzen walked in slowly. "You've been here all day. We need a strategy, sensei."
Tobirama pointed to the charts. "These creatures—these demons—they're not just infections. They adapt. It's like they have intelligence in their blood. They learn from every host."
"So we're facing an organism that evolves with chakra exposure."
"Exactly. And if we don't stop it now, it won't matter how powerful we are."
Hashirama met with Madara beneath the monument again.
"You felt it, didn't you?" the Senju asked.
Madara nodded. "It's watching. I don't like being prey."
Hashirama turned to face him fully. "I need your help, Madara. This... goes beyond our clans. It threatens everything."
Madara's eyes narrowed. "If I help you, I want full control of the elite units. No more council interference."
Hashirama paused, then nodded. "Agreed."
The southern border burned.
Demons—grotesque amalgamations of human and beast—charged through outposts, tearing shinobi apart with unnatural strength. Their screeches echoed across the valley.
Madara arrived in a blur of flame and steel. His eyes ignited into Mangekyō Sharingan.
"Amaterasu."
Black flames consumed the creatures, but they shrieked and ran, some regenerating as they fell. It took three full squads and Madara's full chakra reserve to push them back.
As the last demon fell, he crouched, panting. Then he heard it.
A voice.
"Impressive. But not enough."
Muzan stood atop the tree line, arms folded.
Madara's eyes flared. "You're the one behind this."
Muzan simply smiled. "Not behind. Ahead."
He vanished before Madara could react.
Madara clenched his fist.
"Hashirama... we're already too late."