Hospital, yet again (1)

They called him Shisui Uchiha.

The name alone carried a weight heavy enough to silence a room. Among shinobi, he was known as Shunshin no Shisui — Shisui of the Body Flicker.

In every corner of the village, his moniker was whispered with admiration and a tinge of fear, tied forever to the impossible speed he commanded.

He was a blur on the battlefield, a specter that appeared and vanished before anyone could react.

Some even joked that trying to catch him was like chasing the wind itself. Shisui found those rumors amusing, but he knew better. Being faster than anyone else was both his blessing and curse.

I mean, would you want to be called the fastest man alive by your spouse in bed? I don't think so.

These past few weeks, though, were unusually peaceful — and Shisui had never been happier. No blood, no tears, no missions spiraling into tragedies. And he doesn't need to deal with any tension between his clan and the village, obviously he need to do something about that, but a break from it doesn't seem to be that bad.

Half of his days were spent idly following around a single, peculiar target: Akai Hyūga. A kid rumored to be half-Uchiha, stuffed into the Hyūga branch family like a mistake nobody wanted to acknowledge. Well, the data scroll says his mom was a hyuga, his father is an uchiha, but the details aren't really important now would it?

Originally, the task of monitoring Akai was given to someone else, but about a month ago, it somehow landed on Shisui's lap. Surprisingly, he found himself enjoying it. Akai was, for the most part, quiet, harmless, and easy to trail — until the weirdness started piling up.

Akai Hyuga doesn't seem to like playing, Akai spent most of his time hunched over a binder, constantly scribbling notes like a researcher possessed. He made full binders of what he called "findings," obsessively documenting every strange phenomenon he encountered. Most notably, he seemed fascinated by the Kyūbi's jinchūriki — Naruto Uzumaki.

Shisui had watched, half in disbelief, as Akai taught Naruto how to tree-walk, a basic chakra control exercise, without any hesitation or apparent concern about who might be watching.

And that eye — the red one, always active, always watching — sat unnervingly in his left eye socket. It didn't behave like a Sharingan, though, and Shisui's instincts whispered it was something entirely different.

Lately, Shisui couldn't help noticing how Akai sometimes paused mid-writing to... munch at thin air.

The boy would grab something invisible and shove it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully while scribbling in his binder.

The first time it happened, Shisui blinked and wondered if he was hallucinating. It kept happening. Just casually snacking on... nothing?

Shisui almost thought he should stop him—but decided it was safer to just keep watching.

Later, when Akai actually demonstrated what he had been theorizing in those endless journal pages, things got stranger. Akai formed a series of hand seals—seals Shisui didn't recognize. And that was rare.

With the Sharingan, memorizing hand seals was easy. But these seals... they weren't from any jutsu style Shisui knew. They didn't even move chakra properly.

Shisui had copied the seals instinctively, expecting to feel chakra circulate and gather—but nothing happened.

It was dead.

Empty.

Yet from Akai, something stirred—a feeling like smoke curling from burning paper. No color, no crackle of energy like chakra should have. But undeniable. It was there, doing something.

He didn't even try to pretend it was normal after that.

Even during his training sessions with Naruto, it was clear. Whatever power Akai was using, it wasn't stolen from the Kyūbi.

It lacked the beast's wild, chaotic rampage. Instead, it was subtle, like a quiet crack running through glass, ready to shatter the entire thing with a touch.

Shisui couldn't see it unless Akai merged it with chakra, where it would glow a visible blood-red. But when it stayed hidden, he could still feel it — just barely — humming at the edge of his senses.

Simply put, it wasn't Kyūbi's chakra. No, it doesn't seem to be chakra at all.

Now here he was, standing outside a paper-thin sliding door in the Hyūga compound, still wearing his ANBU uniform.

Shisui leaned casually against the wooden frame, arms crossed. He didn't have to wait long. The door slid open with a sharp shffft, and Akai emerged, expression as deadpan as always.

"You're fast," Shisui stated, lifting a brow. "You didn't change at all..."

Akai blinked at him.

"Lord Hokage and Hiashi-dono are calming down the rest of the compound. We're heading to the hospital," he said, gesturing lazily. "I did tell you to wash up first, you know."

But instead of cleaning himself, Akai had simply grabbed his ever-present binder, still stained faintly with the smell of blood.

Shisui's attention flickered to it. Seriously? No concern for hygiene, no changing clothes — just the binder clutched under one arm like it was a lifeline.

"What is that anyway, a diary?" Unable to help himself, Shisui leaned in. "Hey, let me see that," he teased lightly, expecting some typical childlike resistance.

Instead, Akai, without a flicker of hesitation, clacked the binder open, pulled out a few sheets, re-clipped and shoved the whole binder into Shisui's hand.

"...Huh." Shisui stared over the top of the binder, mildly thrown off.

Akai had already resumed scribbling madly on another stack of papers, now with a pair of round glasses perched on his nose.

Shisui had no idea where he pulled those out from — he wasn't wearing them a second ago, right?

"L-let's just go to the hospital, alright?" he muttered, tucking the binder under his arm. Akai didn't respond, already walking away without a care, his sandals barely making a sound on the polished floor. 

Shisui trotted after him, still thinking the kid was, frankly, weird.

They moved quickly through the compound, Akai deftly avoiding servants in the hallways with the ease of someone who had mapped every step of this house in his mind. Shisui followed in a lazy gait, boredom setting in. 

To pass the time, he finally glanced down at the binder Akai had given him. Only half of the stack of papers was taken from it, and everything seem to be carefully organized.

The first thing he noticed was the drawings.

Detailed, shaded, hauntingly realistic doodles of grotesque, monstrous shapes — some with too many limbs, others with screaming faces trapped in their bodies, and some with multiple eyes or just one singular cyclop eye. The backs of the pages listed odd notes: habits, feeding tendencies, behavior patterns. Shisui's lips twitched. What even are these?

Then he saw the heading: Cursed Spirits.

He blinked slowly. Cursed? Spirits? He flipped another page, curiosity snagging him deeper.

A line caught his eye: "Other individuals who can see or at least feel them should immediately be recorded."

...What?

His fingers rifled through more pages, landing on something that actually looked like a manual:

Principles of Cursed Energy Activation:

Lapse – The fundamental flow of cursed energy, where subtraction occurs.

Subtraction – Enhancing cursed energy by refining its output, resulting in the manifestation of cursed techniques. Activation of subtraction will happen as Lapse is activated or without, and the Cursed techniques often require hand signs, empowered words or other gestures to activate.

Dual Subtraction – Amplifying cursed energy by integrating it with another energy source, such as chakra.

Multiplication – Generating positive energy from cursed energy's negative nature. This can be used for healing or can manifest in an opposite form of the Lapse technique, known as the Reversal Cursed Technique.

Addition – The fusion of cursed techniques with chakra, or vice versa, is useless. The use of this principle negates both energies since subtraction does not take place, leading to the Nullification Cursed Technique.

Shisui stared at the pages, expression unreadable.

...It's all math? he muttered, a sweatdrop forming at the side of his head.

(A/N: Always has been 🧑‍🚀🔫)

He thought about the over-the-top terminology — cursed energy, cursed spirirts — all the stuff boys Akai's age would come up with when trying to sound cool. He wanted to shrug it off, but something about it lingered, gnawing at him in the back of his mind.

Subtraction... Multiplication... Addition...?

This might just be to much for a childish fantasy. Akai had systematized it.

Shisui was still mulling it over when he noticed the scenery change. They had finally arrived at the hospital, the white-washed walls looming quietly ahead.

"Finally," he exhaled, folding the pages and tucking them into his vest.

"Alright, let's see if anyone here can make sense of you," he muttered under his breath, glancing at Akai — who was still furiously scribbling even as they approached the door.

Another strange day with an even stranger kid.

And somehow, Shisui was sure things were only going to get weirder.

They arrived at the hospital under the dull gray sky, the air sharp with the smell of rain on stone.

Akai trailed a few steps behind Shisui, the hem of his full kimono dragging slightly as he walked. The garment was still the same one from earlier — tattered at the edges, stiff with dried blood, with tears along the sleeves. Akai didn't seem to care in the slightest.

Shisui glanced back once, noting the looks the boy was drawing from the reception staff, but said nothing. He adjusted the mask on his face and shrugged.

"The compound's clinic's closed," Shisui said, voice easy. "So it's the hospital for you. After that, the Hokage and your clan head'll want a little chat. For now? Check-up first."

Akai gave a simple hum in acknowledgment, idly adjusting his sleeves to hide a ripped seam, then walked on without hurrying.

Inside, a senior medic-nin was already waiting. He was a Hyūga — stern-faced, hair tied back neatly. His Byakugan activated briefly at the sight of Akai, then he gave a short, respectful nod.

Akai tilted his head slightly, recognizing him: a branch family member he'd met days ago. Someone who, not long before, had been quietly burdened by unseen curses — and freed from them because of Akai.

The Hyūga's posture stayed polite... until he noticed Shisui pulling down his mask.

For just a flicker of a second, the medic's face tightened. A flash of distaste, aimed at the Uchiha name he represented.

It was brief — professionalism clamped down hard almost immediately, but Akai caught it anyway. He blinked lazily, noting it the way one might note the weather.

Without a word, the medic gestured them inside.

Akai moved first, tattered kimono trailing behind him, leaving faint reddish smudges where the dried blood brushed the white floor. Shisui followed, hands tucked into his pockets like a bored bodyguard.

The check-up was thorough and silent. The medic's Byakugan scanned over Akai's body, his frown deepening every so often. Akai sat still on the examination bed, head tilted slightly, expression unreadable. His clothes looked like they should belong to someone freshly dragged out of a battlefield, but he himself seemed perfectly composed.

When the medic finally finished, he pulled back with a slight frown of confusion.

"Your atrial septal defect..." He paused, studying the clipboard again. "It's completely closed."

Akai blinked slowly. "Oh," he said, voice flat and unimpressed.

The medic looked like he expected a stronger reaction, but Akai simply began dusting off some flakes of dried blood from his sleeves.

"That's, uh... not something that usually heals without surgery," the medic added, glancing between Akai and Shisui as if hoping for some explanation.

Shisui whistled under his breath. "Kids these days," he muttered.

The medic scribbled down the results, shooting Akai an odd look, before setting the chart aside. "You're cleared. I'll forward the report to the Hokage and Hyūga-sama."

Akai slid off the bed, the tattered edges of his kimono fluttering faintly.

As they stepped out, Shisui ruffled Akai's hair lazily, ignoring the boy's half-hearted attempt to dodge.

"Don't wander off," Shisui said. "You've still gotta impress a room full of grumpy old men."

Akai didn't bother thinking about the comment. Instead, he reached out, taking the binder from Shisui's hands without a word. With mechanical ease, he clipped the finished data sheets back into place, stacking the remaining loose papers neatly under his arm as they continued walking.

The sterile scent of antiseptic lingered in the air, even though they had switched to a different ward after Akai's check-up. The hospital was quieter here — the steady beep of monitors and the distant shuffle of sandals against the floor padding the background.

Akai sat cross-legged on the waiting bench, still wearing his tattered, bloodstained kimono like it was the most natural thing in the world. His pen scratched steadily against the surface of a worn notebook, the binder he'd organized earlier resting on his lap. He made no effort to hide what he was writing; in fact, the way he angled himself made it easy for Shisui to peek if he wanted to.

And he did.

Shisui found his eyes drifting back to it again and again, almost like a bad habit. The contents of Akai's pages gnawed at the back of his mind like an earworm — lines of strange theories, weird diagrams, and something he kept calling cursed energy.

Finally, unable to help himself, Shisui leaned back casually against the wall, arms folded behind his head, and asked, "Hey, that 'cursed energy' you keep talking about in that book... Can you show me?"

The pen in Akai's hand stopped mid-sentence.

He turned his head slightly, meeting Shisui's gaze with an unreadable look.

Shisui offered a wide, easy smile — the kind he often used to disarm tense situations.

He wasn't mocking him, not exactly, but there was a clear note of skepticism in his voice, like he was humoring a younger kid's fantasy. 

Boys that age loved coming up with cool names for their power, after all. Cursed energy? Sure, it sounded edgy enough.

But Akai's response wasn't what he expected.

"Are you trying to kill everyone?" Akai asked flatly.

For a second, Shisui just stared at him.

Hah?

Was this one of those "My cursed power is so strong, it could destroy the world!" things?

Yeah, that had to be it. Shisui almost chuckled under his breath.

He'd seen it before — little kids pretending to be the Fourth Hokage, shouting about how they'd wipe out giant monsters with a single punch. It was harmless, really.

Probably just a weird offshoot of Akai's mixed Hyuuga-Uchiha bloodline. That strange red eye and the odd "energy" he gave off could easily be chalked up to some bizarre, rare kekkei genkai no one had documented yet.

Shisui softened, a warm glint flickering in his Sharingan eyes as he looked at Akai like a patient older brother would.

But Akai didn't smile back.

His expression was serious. Dead serious.

No trace of a joke. No spark of childish imagination.

He wasn't being dramatic — he was genuinely warning him.

The truth was, Akai had no real problem showing it off. That wasn't the issue.

The issue was where they were.

The hospital was alive with cursed spirits — half-formed creatures floating along the hallways, clinging to the sick, the wounded, the dying. They squirmed and festered like maggots, and Akai had been ignoring them ever since they walked through the doors. Every fiber of his being wanted to rip them apart, but he restrained himself.

The last time he came here, he had sworn never to return. But here he was again — sitting still, pen in hand, trying to pretend like he couldn't see the monsters writhing just beneath the surface of this "clean" place.

If he let his cursed energy flare now, even for a moment, those things would react.

And this time, there was no telling how much damage would be done.

.

.

.

To be continued.