Seal-less Self-Healing

Self-healing sounded impressive when you talked about it, but it was exhausting to use.

On the second day after gaining Seal-less Self-Healing, Shinichi came to deeply understand what that meant. It was not that self-healing was ineffective—it was effective, far too effective. So effective that he had no choice but to spend an entire afternoon conducting systematic tests in the orphanage's backyard. The test subject was himself, the tool was the kunai hidden beneath his pillow, and the records filled three full pages of his notebook.

The first test involved a small wound. He lightly sliced the tip of his left index finger with the kunai, making a cut less than a centimeter long and just deep enough to break the skin. Before the bead of blood had fully emerged, the skin around the wound had already begun drawing together. It was not scabbing; it was directly healing—the cells divided so quickly that it was visible to the naked eye. Within seconds, the epidermis had returned to normal, even the patterns in the keratin layer exactly matching how they had looked before the injury. In his notebook, he wrote down the baseline healing speed for small, superficial injuries.

The second test was a slash wound. This time, he went harder, cutting a gash roughly three centimeters long into the outside of his left forearm, deep enough to reach the dermis. This time, it hurt—Shinichi clenched his teeth and made no sound, but his eyes stung. The skin on both sides of the wound began closing rapidly as well, though noticeably slower than the first time. It took nearly eight seconds to heal completely. During the process, the skin around the wound reddened slightly and felt warm to the touch. He pressed the newly healed spot with his finger. The skin retained its normal elasticity, there was no scar, and even the fine hairs had grown back.

He hesitated before the third test. Should he try something deeper? He looked down at the flawless skin on his left forearm, then at the kunai's blade. The image of the matron finding his arm covered in blood flashed through his mind—she would most likely beat him first, then take him to the medical department. The order would not be reversed. So he gave up on continuing the experiment on his arm and switched to the outside of his thigh—after all, the matron was not going to pull down his pants.

The instant the blade pierced muscle tissue, tears shot straight out of Shinichi's eyes from the pain. It was not that he did not want to endure it; the neural reflex was simply beyond his control. After he pulled out the kunai, the wound began to heal, far more slowly than the first two times. He could clearly feel something inside him being rapidly consumed—not chakra, but a deeper reserve of vitality. Although the system panel did not display an exact value, he could sense the "vitality pool" deep within his abdomen, formed jointly by Hashirama Cells and Slug Sage Art chakra, draining away. The vitality required for deep wounds increased exponentially, not proportionally. Small wounds consumed almost nothing, moderate wounds consumed a little, while deep muscle injuries directly caused a visible drop.

That was enough. He wrote down the results in his notebook, drew an exclamation mark beside them, and added a note: "Do not casually test severe deep injuries. They make you hungry." Not hungry in the chakra sense, but physiological hunger caused by vitality depletion. His stomach acid began churning wildly, and every cell in his body screamed for food.

Just then, the matron called everyone to dinner from the kitchen. He put down the kunai and ran into the front hall. The moment he sat at the table, he picked up his bowl and began eating. Rice with radish soup; there was no meat tonight, but there was all the rice he could eat. He finished three bowls. By the time he went for a fourth, the matron's eyebrows had risen to her hairline. Holding a ladle, she stared at him, her expression shifting from confusion to worry, from worry to suspicion, before finally settling on the spot on his left forearm where the wound had completely vanished—the cuff of his sleeve still bore bloodstains he had not had time to wipe away.

"Where have you been running off to again?" The matron tossed the ladle into the pot, came over, and grabbed his left hand for a careful inspection. His skin was smooth and intact, without a single wound. Then she looked down at the bloodstains on his cuff, her brows knitting together.

"I scraped myself during training." Shinichi calmly shoveled rice into his mouth.

"If you scraped yourself, why is all the blood on your left arm?"

"I fell."

"Fell from where?"

"...A tree."

The matron fell silent for a moment. She was probably thinking that this child had been climbing trees since he learned to walk, and of everyone in the orphanage, he was the least likely to fall out of one. But she did not press further. She merely returned to the kitchen, then brought out a grilled fish and set it before Shinichi. Without another word, she left. Her apron brushed the corner of the table, carrying a waft of sauce fragrance with it.

After dinner, he returned to his room and reopened his notebook, adding a more detailed note beside the test records. Small wounds being free was a perk. Moderate wounds having low consumption was a tactical advantage. Only serious injuries on the level of deep punctures or broken bones required drawing on his vitality reserves. Judging by his current reserves, the number of times he could rapidly heal severe injuries was limited. Once they were exhausted, not only would he lose his self-healing, he would also enter a state of extreme weakness and might not even be able to stand. He could not just throw himself onto blades because he had self-healing. That was not bravery; it was paying an idiot tax with his savings.

Closing the notebook, he lay back down on his bed. Moonlight leaked through the hole in the window and shone upon the freshly healed skin of his left forearm. He raised his arm and examined it carefully for a moment—there truly was an extremely faint green glow slowly fading from where the wound had been, gentle and quiet. It was the trace of self-healing left by the dual overlap of Slug Sage Art chakra and the Senju Clan bloodline. It was not an independent skill bestowed by the system, but an ability that truly belonged to his body after he had crossed the initial threshold of a Sage Body.

The moon gradually climbed higher, and the orphanage fell quiet. Even Little Fatty's teeth grinding stopped. Outside the window, the old locust tree swayed its branches gently in the night wind, while several stars twinkled beyond the hole. Shinichi turned over and buried his face in his pillow, which smelled of fresh grass. School started tomorrow. That was the end of the matter regarding his self-healing ability. Unless his life was in danger, he would not show it to anyone again. It was enough for him to know.