Konoha basked in the soft orange hues of the evening sun, a peaceful village still learning the rhythm of unity. Yet within its shadowed corners, something ancient and malevolent stirred—a force out of place even in a world forged by bloodshed and ambition.
Muzan stood upon the Hokage Monument, gazing silently at the youthful face of Hashirama Senju carved into the stone. The First Hokage had achieved what none thought possible—bringing warring clans under a single banner. But Muzan knew better than to trust in peace forged by idealism. He had lived long enough, across realms, to see how fragile such dreams were.
"So this is the village he dreamed of..." Muzan murmured, his eyes glowing faintly crimson. The wind played with the hem of his black and maroon kimono, the only motion in his still, regal form.
Below, the village bustled. Children played, shinobi trained, merchants hawked their wares. Konoha was alive. But its heart, Muzan sensed, was still wounded from the wars. Its soul could still be devoured.
---
Earlier that day, in the Senju Compound, Hashirama Senju met with Tobirama and the elders. The meeting room bore the scrolls of treaties and clan pacts that kept Konoha whole.
"There are whispers," Tobirama said, laying down a scroll. "A strange man with no clan ties. Not a shinobi, yet powerful. People claim he heals without seals, disappears without hand signs."
Hashirama leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "Do we know his intentions?"
"No. But he's been seen in the outskirts. Near the Uchiha compound."
Hashirama stood, arms crossed behind his back. "We should speak with Madara. He may know more."
The name cast a chill across the room.
Madara had distanced himself from the village since his clash with the elders. Though he hadn't left outright, his loyalty was tenuous at best.
---
At the Uchiha compound, Madara stared at a blackened scroll laid across a lacquered table. A messenger crow had delivered it—a warning in a language only a few remembered.
Blood Moon Approaches.
The words made his Sharingan flare. Madara had sensed the shift in the air. The oppressive chakra, foreign and suffocating, did not belong to any known bloodline.
"So you've come here too," he whispered. "You should've stayed in your world, demon."
---
Muzan walked among the trees bordering Konoha's training grounds. A group of young shinobi sparred nearby, their raw talent on full display. His eyes settled on a boy with auburn hair, eyes full of fire.
"He'll make a fine experiment," Muzan muttered, fingers twitching slightly. But he paused.
This world… it had power unlike the one he remembered. Chakra, bloodlines, summoning beasts. If he was to thrive here, he needed to adapt. He could no longer rely on fear alone. He needed strategy.
He returned to his temporary dwelling—an underground lair beneath a forgotten shrine. There, within the shadows, his newest creation stirred.
A failed shinobi, now turned into something else. A prototype.
"Speak," Muzan commanded.
The creature knelt, trembling.
"I saw the Uchiha. One of them… his eyes... they burned red. Like the stories. He sensed me. I fled."
Muzan's expression darkened.
"Then we must act faster. I need to know the source of their power. I need… a blood sample."
He dismissed the creature and turned toward the shrine's alter, whispering ancient words in a forgotten tongue. Glyphs lit up across the floor—symbols of both demonkind and chakra merged into one.
"This world will give me what I was denied."
---
Meanwhile, Madara stood on the Hokage Monument. He and Hashirama hadn't spoken in weeks. But now, as he gazed toward the forests, he sensed it too.
"There's something wrong with the air, Hashirama. The peace we built is under threat."
Hashirama emerged behind him, arms folded.
"I know. Tobirama is already investigating."
Madara's Sharingan flared.
"It's not enough. This… creature… he doesn't follow shinobi rules. He doesn't fight for honor or territory. He's a plague. And if we don't kill him now, he'll consume us all."
---
That night, Muzan entered the Uchiha district under the guise of a wandering merchant. The genjutsu he cast masked his chakra and features. But even illusions couldn't fully hide his sinister aura.
A child ran past him and froze, staring up. Her eyes widened. Muzan crouched beside her.
"What's your name?"
"Aiko," she whispered.
"Pretty name. Want to see a magic trick?"
Her eyes gleamed with curiosity.
Muzan extended a finger. A tiny blood-red flame danced above it. Aiko giggled. He smiled—but in that moment, Madara appeared on the roof behind them.
"Step away from her."
Muzan turned slowly, illusions peeling away like torn parchment. His true form shimmered under the moonlight—pale skin, eyes like crimson pits.
"So the great Madara Uchiha finally appears. I've heard whispers."
Madara landed silently, Sharingan blazing.
"And I've seen nightmares. You don't belong here."
They clashed.
A single strike from Madara's fan sent trees crashing. Muzan's blood tendrils retaliated, slashing through stone.
But both vanished before the killing blow. Civilians were too close. Madara retreated, furious. Muzan grinned.
"Next time, no holding back."
---
In the aftermath, Konoha's elders convened. The threat was real.
Tobirama drafted plans to trap the intruder using forbidden seals. Hashirama began reinforcing barriers around the village.
But deep in his chamber, Madara carved a symbol into stone—the very one from the scroll.
Blood Moon Approaches.
The true war had just begun.