Chapter 2: Sacrifice

The earth shuddered, splitting with a bone-rattling crack as the Oni emerged from the shadows. 

Its grotesque form loomed, a towering mass of writhing flesh, stitched together with countless stolen eyes. 

They blinked, rolled, and stared each one a stolen life, glinting with malevolent hunger. 

The air grew thick, heavy with the stench of decay and something far worse: the weight of a thousand gazes boring into Oshimaru’s soul.

He slammed his eyes shut, heart pounding like a war drum. One glance just one and his sight would be ripped away, leaving him an empty husk. 

His fingers tightened around the hilts of his twin blades, the cold steel grounding him against the rising panic.

The Oni’s voice rumbled, a guttural quake that vibrated through his bones. “Open your eyes, boy. Let me see them. Let me take them.”

Oshimaru’s breath hitched. Before he could react, the demon’s fist crashed into his chest like a falling mountain.

 The world spun as he hurtled backward, slamming into a stone wall with a sickening crunch. 

The impact drove the air from his lungs, his ribs screaming in protest. Pain lanced through him, sharp and relentless, as he gasped, “I… can’t breathe…”

The Oni’s footsteps shook the ground, each one a deliberate promise of death. 

Its presence pressed against him, suffocating, like a swarm of invisible hands clawing at his mind. 

The stolen eyes whispered in unison, a chilling chorus that slithered into his thoughts: Look at us. Look. Surrender.

Oshimaru’s jaw clenched, sweat beading on his brow. He forced himself to focus, to drown out the voices. His master’s words cut through the haze: 

“The Eye-Stealing Demon has one weakness. The first eye it ever stole lies buried in its forehead. Shatter it, and its power crumbles.”

But how could he strike with his eyes sealed shut? One wrong move, and he’d lose everything. 

The air grew colder, the Oni’s presence tightening like a noose. He had no time.

“I’ll risk it…” he growled, voice trembling with defiance. “Mujin Yamaju’s power!”

Drawing on the sealed sprite within him, Oshimaru unleashed the forest of illusions. 

The air shimmered as shadows of a hundred Oshimarus flickered into existence, each one darting, weaving, and striking. 

The Oni roared, its countless eyes swiveling in confusion, unable to pin down the real target. 

Its massive arm lashed out, shattering a mirage into wisps of smoke, then another, its fury shaking the ground.

Now.

Oshimaru’s eyes flicked open for a fleeting heartbeat, just long enough to glimpse the chaos. 

Amid the writhing mass of eyes, a single one gleamed on the Oni’s forehead larger, darker, pulsing with a sickly light. 

His twin blades sang, slicing through the air in a deadly arc. Steel met flesh with a wet, sickening crack. 

The forehead eye split, oozing black ichor as the Oni’s roar turned to a scream that tore at the sky.

Its body convulsed, eyes bursting one by one like overripe fruit, shadows unraveling into a writhing mass. Oshimaru didn’t hesitate. 

He slammed his palms together, the air crackling with spiritual energy. 

“Seal!” 

he shouted, voice raw. Spirit fire erupted, coiling around the demon like chains of molten light, dragging its writhing form into the void of his blade. 

The Oni’s final scream echoed, then faded into a suffocating silence. Oshimaru staggered, blood streaming from his eyes, stinging like fire. 

The strain of Mujin Yamaju’s power burned through his veins, but he was alive. He’d won.

Then the screaming began... 

The villagers, once hollow-eyed and motionless, clutched their faces and wailed. Their bodies spasmed, collapsing like marionettes with severed strings. 

Oshimaru froze, his heart lurching as the truth stabbed through him: the Oni had tethered their lives to its own. By sealing the demon, he had severed their thread.

One by one, the screams faded. The village fell silent, a graveyard of crumpled bodies under a cold, unyielding moon. 

Oshimaru stood among them, his swords heavy in his trembling hands. 

Blood dripped from his chin, pooling in the dirt. His chest tightened, not from pain but from the weight of what he’d done.

For a long time, he didn’t move. The wind howled, carrying the faint echo of the villagers’ cries. 

Finally, he spoke, his voice a hoarse whisper carried away by the night: “This path… is nothing but sacrifice.”

Sheathing his blades, Oshimaru turned and walked into the darkness, the weight of the next spirit already pulling at his soul.

End of chapter 2