A talk

"All right, stop~"

Satoru Gojo's voice rang out, cutting clearly through the tension over the Training Ground.

Almost the instant he finished speaking, Madara deactivated his Sharingan.

At the same time, the blue skeleton seemed like a phantom that had lost its support, dissolving from the top down into drifting specks of ghostly blue light.

Within a few breaths, it vanished completely in the gradually brightening morning sunlight, as though it had never existed.

Silence returned to the Training Ground, leaving only the churned, ravaged earth and the slightly labored breathing of the two people in the arena.

Madara panted softly. The wound torn into his left shoulder by the blade's force still throbbed faintly, and warm blood soaked his damaged uniform, staining it a glaring dark red.

He raised a hand and pressed the wound, feeling moisture against his fingertips.

Yuta Okkotsu slowly returned his sword to its sheath, moving a little more slowly than usual, seemingly still caught up in the staggering sight he had just witnessed.

He stepped back and lowered the sword to his side. Its blade seemed to retain the tremor from striking those strange bones, leaving the web of his hand faintly numb.

He looked at Madara, then at the empty ground in front of him, his eyes filled with shock and confusion.

"That was..." Okkotsu's voice was a little dry. He looked again at Madara's eyes, which had returned to black, trying to find an answer in them.

"What was that just now...? A cursed technique?"

Madara remained silent for a moment, seemingly gathering his thoughts and choosing his words.

He looked down at his empty hands, then glanced at the cursed tool dagger lying in two pieces on the ground.

"I don't know." He finally gave that vague answer, his tone calm, offering no indication of whether it was true.

"I could just suddenly do it... when I felt I had to."

His "explanation" was vague, sounding like the uncertain accounts of many jujutsu sorcerers who suddenly awakened a cursed technique in a life-or-death moment.

The High-Grade Cursed Tool Dagger Maki had lent him was now nothing but a hilt and a short length of broken blade, its fracture jagged as it lay silently in the overturned earth.

Madara turned toward the stone steps and dipped his head slightly to Maki Zenin, who was still poised halfway through rushing down. "Sorry. The dagger... broke."

Maki had one foot on the grass and the other still on the stone steps, her body leaning forward. Clearly, she had been about to rush into the arena in her alarm.

She stared fixedly at Madara, her eyes wide behind her lenses, filled with astonishment and a barely perceptible... flutter.

The blue skeleton that had appeared for that instant, seemingly capable of withstanding anything, had struck her no less powerfully than it had Okkotsu.

Only after several seconds did she seem to recover from her shock, slowly easing out of her forward lean.

She planted her Naginata on the ground and drew a deep breath, her voice somewhat stiff with tension.

"...We'll talk about the dagger later." She pushed up her glasses, her sharp gaze still fixed on Madara.

"That thing just now. Was it a cursed technique?"

"Yeah." Madara nodded, still using the same vague explanation. "Probably."

"I'm afraid it wasn't simply a summoning technique." Satoru Gojo's light voice cut in.

He strolled over from the edge of the arena, his steps unhurried, and stopped in front of Madara, tilting his head slightly as his lips curved into their usual smile.

"An excellent 'shikigami.'" Gojo used that word, his tone appreciative.

"Its defense is absurdly strong, it activates almost instantaneously, and..." He paused. "It looks nowhere near its complete form. There's plenty of room for growth~"

Madara met his gaze without looking away and simply nodded calmly. "Is that so?"

"Do your eyes hurt?" Gojo abruptly changed the subject, leaning closer.

"Does your vision get blurry? Did you feel nauseous, dizzy, or like throwing up afterward? Any other discomfort?"

Madara hesitated, seemingly assessing his physical condition, then answered, "...A little."

He deliberately furrowed his brow slightly and raised a hand to rub his temple, putting on a slight show of discomfort.

In truth, apart from the pain in his left shoulder and the fatigue from his physical exertion, using the Mangekyō Sharingan and summoning Susanoo had caused no noticeable adverse effects.

But to avoid appearing too unusual, it was safer to pretend.

"Perfectly normal~" Wearing an expression that said, "Just as I thought," Gojo reached out and patted Madara's shoulder.

That casual gesture made Madara, already physically drained and having lost some blood, sway and nearly lose his footing.

"When you're first mastering a new cursed technique, especially one this powerful and unusual, both your body and your cursed energy circuit need time to adjust. With more practice, the side effects will ease considerably~"

By then, Yuta Okkotsu had put away his sword and walked over to Madara, guilt plain on his face. "I'm sorry, Madara. I hit too hard. Your shoulder..."

He looked at the blood-soaked fabric, his eyes full of apology.

"It's fine." Madara looked down at the wound and moved his left shoulder. A stab of pain followed, but it really did not interfere with basic movement.

"Just a flesh wound."

He was telling the truth.

Okkotsu had clearly held back at the last moment. Though the wound looked gruesome, it had only cut through the skin and shallow muscle.

It had not damaged any bones, major nerves, or blood vessels. By a jujutsu sorcerer's standards, it really was only a flesh wound.

"All right, all right, that brings our test to a successful conclusion~" Gojo clapped his hands to draw everyone's attention, his voice returning to its lighthearted lilt.

"Yuta, take Madara to the Infirmary and have Shoko treat his wound. Maki, I'll cover the cost of the dagger-"

He drew out the words, then, just as Maki relaxed a little, added, "-by deducting it from your mission stipend next month."

"Why is it coming out of my stipend?!" Maki immediately protested, a vein bulging at her temple.

"Because you're the one who lent it to him~" Gojo spread his hands as though this were perfectly reasonable.

"When a cursed tool breaks, both the user and the lender bear responsibility. Your teacher is very poor. I can't afford a new cursed tool."

"But you obviously-" Maki wanted to point out that the money in his account could probably buy half a cursed tool storehouse.

"Panda, Inumaki." Gojo cut off her protest and turned toward the two watching from the sidelines.

"Go get breakfast ready. I'm hungry. I'd like special rice balls and miso soup today~"

Panda and Toge Inumaki exchanged a look and sighed in unison.

Panda muttered, "We have to eat your 'special' rice balls again...? That wasabi-filled one last time nearly finished me off..."

Inumaki nodded.

Only then did Gojo look back at Madara. His smile faded a little, but his tone remained relaxed. "Get your wound treated first, then have a good rest. We need to... have a proper 'talk.'"

He spoke the last word very softly, but Madara clearly caught the weight behind it.

A talk.

It probably would not just concern this test, but his cursed technique as well. There was no way Gojo would not be curious, and no way he would not investigate.

"Yes." Madara nodded in agreement, showing no resistance.

Yuta Okkotsu came over and reached out to support Madara's uninjured right arm. "Can you walk on your own? Do you want me to carry you?"

"I can walk." Madara declined his offer and tried taking a step.

The movement tugged at the wound in his left shoulder, sending a distinct pang through it. More importantly, an intense wave of weakness and muscle soreness swept over him.

His legs went weak, and he stumbled, nearly falling.

Tch...

Madara clicked his tongue inwardly. Madara Uchiha's combat experience and skills remained.

But this fifteen-year-old body's basic fitness and endurance fell far short of keeping up with the demands of his mind.

It was like fitting an old engine with a top-tier race car's control system; even slightly aggressive driving brought it to the verge of falling apart.

He still needed time, a great deal of time, to train and strengthen this body.

Okkotsu steadied him without asking anything, merely slowing his pace in silence to match Madara's somewhat unsteady steps.

Supporting each other like that, the two slowly made their way toward the Infirmary.

Maki remained where she stood, watching their retreating figures with her brow tightly furrowed, her earlier shock gradually giving way to deeper misgivings.

"Gojo-sensei." She turned toward Gojo, who had yet to leave, her tone serious.

"What... exactly was that thing? It definitely wasn't an ordinary cursed technique or shikigami."

Gojo stood with both hands in his pockets, also looking in the direction where Madara and Okkotsu had disappeared. At Maki's question, he turned his head.

"I told you, it's a 'shikigami'~ An extremely unusual, extremely powerful shikigami."

"That form, and that oppressive presence..." Maki recalled the blue skeleton that had appeared for an instant.

"Yes, it's probably still incomplete." Gojo nodded, his tone relaxed, though what he said was startling.

"According to my 'observations,' those bones should only be a preliminary form, or rather, its most basic form. If it were complete..."

He did not finish, but Maki already understood what he meant.

"It has that much defensive power even while incomplete..." Maki's voice sank, carrying a trace of disbelief.

"Exactly," Gojo picked up, his tone giving no clue whether it held admiration or something else. "Who knows how terrifying it would be if it were complete~ It might even be able to go up against 'that.'"

He smiled meaningfully.

Maki fell silent for several seconds before asking the most important question. "Is it dangerous? I mean Madara himself, and his cursed technique."

Gojo rubbed his chin and, in a rare moment, gave it some serious thought.

"All power is dangerous, Maki," he said slowly, his gaze seeming to pass through the scene before him toward somewhere farther away.

"Cursed energy, cursed techniques, cursed tools... even our own bodies and skills. What matters is who's using it, and... what they're using it for."

He turned and headed toward the classroom building, casually waving a hand as he walked.

"Go eat, Maki. Today is officially our newcomer's first day. Cheer up~ Don't overthink it. Even if the sky falls, your teacher is still here."

Maki stood where she was, watching Gojo's tall back, which seemed so frivolous and yet somehow capable of shouldering anything.

After a long silence, she finally gave a quiet "Tch," slung her Naginata over her shoulder, and left the Training Ground as well.

A faint smell of disinfectant lingered in the Infirmary, mingled with a certain fresh fragrance. It was not unpleasant.

Shoko Ieiri sat in the swivel chair behind her desk, holding a medical chart without writing anything in it.

Her gaze first settled on Madara Uchiha, who sat on the edge of a bed with his left shoulder a bloody mess.

Then it swept over Yuta Okkotsu, who was wetting a towel at the nearby sink, preparing to help Madara clean the blood around his wound.

Finally, it settled on Satoru Gojo, who lounged against the doorframe wearing an expression that said, "Nothing to do with me."

"So," she said, her voice slightly hoarse from staying up late, with a hint of understanding.

"This is what all that commotion at the Training Ground first thing in the morning accomplished? Did testing the newcomer require tearing up the ground?"

"It was a test, a test~ A very important assessment of our newcomer's abilities!" Gojo came over with a grin.

"You know how it is, Shoko. With a 'special case' like this, you can never be too careful. Right, Madara?"

Madara did not answer. He simply sat quietly, allowing Okkotsu to carefully wipe the dried blood and dirt from around his shoulder wound with the damp towel.

The sting of antiseptic cotton touching the wound made him frown slightly, but he did not make a sound.

Ignoring Gojo, Shoko rose from her chair and walked over to Madara.

She examined him for a few seconds, then reached out with a gloved finger and gently pressed the edge of the wound.

"A sword wound. Clean cut. No damage to major blood vessels, nerves, or bones," she assessed quickly.

"Very little residual cursed energy, almost negligible. Your control has improved, Okkotsu."

That last remark was directed at Okkotsu.

Okkotsu was wringing out the towel. At her words, he smiled a little sheepishly. "Madara avoided most of the force..."

Shoko neither agreed nor disagreed. She straightened, deftly removed her gloves and tossed them into the medical waste bin, then took a fresh pair from the cabinet and put them on.

"Okkotsu, your uniform sleeves are torn in several places too. You aren't injured, but you look quite a mess. Go change. I'll handle things here."

Okkotsu looked at Madara, who nodded to indicate he was fine.

"Then... I'll be back in a bit." With that, Okkotsu bowed slightly to Shoko and left the Infirmary.

The door was gently pulled shut.

Shoko looked back at Madara, her gaze calm and unruffled, yet seemingly able to see through many things.

She picked up the sterilized instruments and spoke in a conversational tone as she prepared.

"I saw the fight just now."

Madara raised his eyes to her. "You saw it?"

"Yes." Shoko's tone remained level as she began cleaning the wound, her movements precise and swift.

Madara remained silent, not asking how much she had seen or what she had discerned.

"Don't be afraid," she said suddenly, her voice soft but reaching Madara's ears clearly.

"Having special powers, or a different sort of cursed technique, isn't a bad thing in this world. Often, it's what allows you to survive."

Madara looked into her calm eyes, then nodded after a moment. "Yes."

Shoko said no more and held her palm, glowing with white light, just above the wound on Madara's left shoulder.

Madara felt a strange warmth and tingling at the wound. It did not hurt; if anything, it was rather comfortable.

He looked down and saw the gruesome wound, still seeping blood, healing at a speed visible to the naked eye!

In just a few seconds, the wound vanished.

"Huh?" In a rare display of surprise, Madara moved his left shoulder. The pain had disappeared completely, and he could move it freely.

"It's really healed... Amazing."

"It's only Reverse Cursed Technique. Nothing special." Shoko withdrew her hand, the white light fading, her tone as level as ever.

"In theory, anyone can learn it if their cursed energy control is precise enough."

"Could I learn it too?" Madara asked instinctively.

The ability to heal instantly could be called a godlike skill in any world.

Shoko had already turned toward the medicine cabinet. At his question, she answered without looking back. "Who knows? It depends on talent, and luck."

She took a bottle of Orange Energy Drink from the cabinet and casually tossed it to Madara.

"Drink it. Replenish your sugar and electrolytes. You've used up a lot of energy."

Madara caught the drink, unscrewed the cap, and took a sip. A slightly sweet, tart flavor spread through his mouth. "Thank you."

Only then did Gojo, who had watched the entire process while leaning against the doorframe, amble inside.

He pulled over a chair and straddled it backward, folding his arms across the backrest and resting his chin on them.

"Well," he began, his voice exceptionally clear in the quiet Infirmary, "everyone who might get in the way is gone for now. Shoko has healed your wound too. Now..."

His lips curved into their usual smile.

"Let's have a little 'chat,' Uchiha."

Shoko tactfully stood and took a cigarette pack and lighter from the pocket of her white coat. "I'm going out for a smoke. Take your time."

She walked to the doorway, opened the door, and glanced back at the two inside. Without saying anything, she gently pulled it shut.

Click.

The door latch clicked softly into place.

Only Satoru Gojo and Madara Uchiha remained in the Infirmary.

It was so quiet that Madara could hear the wind rustling the leaves outside the window, along with his own heartbeat, which had steadied.