Gunaseelan K
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Chapter 6: Scabbers, Scabbers, You Know Scabbers!
🕑 Added 2025-09-11 05:23:23 +0000 UTC
“Feel it.”
With a calm expression, Emiya Shihara pressed his fingers against Senju Tobirama’s arm. In an instant, a jet-black seal bloomed across Tobirama’s pale skin, curling into a spiral reminiscent of Konoha’s insignia. Dark symbols wove themselves into the pattern like living ink. The seal pulsed faintly, as though it contained a heartbeat of its own.
“Chakra…” Tobirama murmured. His sharp eyes narrowed. “I can’t activate it. Just as expected.”
He tried to form a basic hand seal, but his chakra felt as though it had been locked in a cage. The seal on his arm seeped through his system like warm water sliding into his veins. It pressed down on his chakra network, cutting off his usual sharp flow of energy. Even his limbs tingled with a strange paralysis.
But Senju Tobirama was no ordinary ninja. Genius of ninjutsu research, creator of countless jutsu, and second Hokage of Konoha, his mind was as quick as a blade. The moment he sensed the seal’s mechanism, he stopped fighting it and instead allowed his chakra to merge with the foreign energy, testing how it reacted.
“This power…” Tobirama whispered, eyes flashing with curiosity. He could feel the difference already—the seal was imbued with natural energy. When he guided his chakra to match it, his strength swelled faintly, like a tide rising beneath a full moon.
A rare flicker of awe crossed Tobirama’s face. So it’s true. If an ordinary shinobi gained this power, they could rival a jōnin with little effort. If a clan weaponized it… this seal could change the battlefield.
Emiya Shihara, watching him, remained silent. In his mind he could already hear the clashing of armies. The curse seal was a double-edged blade. Its amplification of chakra and its link to natural energy made it invaluable, but also dangerous. If spread without restraint, it could breed a new era of conflict.
Tobirama understood that as well. He had promised Emiya Shihara he would not use the seal in combat, yet a part of him—perhaps the part that had survived the endless wars of the Warring States period—felt reluctant to relinquish such a weapon. Power, after all, was survival. Power meant a longer life, meant control over a future that was always threatening to slip away.
Still, his face remained neutral as he flexed his fingers. “Let me keep it for now. I need to measure how long this seal can suppress my brother’s chakra based on its fluctuations.”
Emiya Shihara raised an eyebrow. “I intended to break it right away, merely to let you experience its effects. This manipulation of natural energy is crude—too easy to learn. I only hope this power won’t bring new wars to the world…”
“Emiya-sama.” Tobirama reached out, grasping the older man’s wrist with unexpected firmness. His voice was steady but grave. “Don’t release it yet. Let me test it. Only by understanding its duration and limits can we apply it safely to my brother.”
The ancient medical ninja tilted his head. Born in an era of gods and sages, Emiya Shihara still found the modern world puzzling. Did Tobirama truly believe natural energy was so easily mastered? Even Hashirama, blessed by nature itself, had spent years to achieve Sage Mode. How could an ordinary ninja hope to handle it?
Tobirama, of course, knew better than most. He had witnessed Hashirama’s mastery first-hand, had studied natural energy from the shadows. Yet no matter how he experimented, he could never sense it with the same clarity. That was why the cursed seal fascinated him: it was a direct, almost mechanical link to what had always been out of reach.
A flicker of shame passed through his eyes. This seal was a gift, but also a temptation. For a man like Tobirama, power was not an abstract concept but the very thing that allowed Konoha to stand against its enemies, inside and outside. He could not afford to discard it.
He silently vowed that he would use this power only in the most desperate of moments. Yet he said nothing of that vow aloud. Outwardly, he remained the dutiful brother and the cautious Hokage’s aide.
“You and your brother have a truly remarkable bond,” Emiya Shihara murmured at last, shaking his head. He had seen siblings in ancient times tear each other apart over power. Tobirama’s devotion to Hashirama was almost foreign to him. “But be careful. If you keep the seal too long, it may hinder your movements…”
“Don’t worry.” Tobirama raised his arm. The black markings slid over his skin like a slow river, but his fingers moved without difficulty. In truth, he had already begun to grasp its workings. If nothing unexpected happened, he would master the seal entirely before the day ended.
“I understand it now,” he said briskly, glancing at Hashirama’s still form on the hospital bed. “Let’s proceed. Seal my elder brother. He’s mastered Sage Mode; if anyone can absorb this power for his own use, it’s him.”
“I’m worried about that too.” Emiya Shihara’s tone turned wry. Nevertheless, he extended his finger and pressed it to Hashirama’s arm. Another jet-black seal appeared—only to vanish almost instantly.
As they had feared, Hashirama’s body drank in the natural energy at once. His cells converted it into senjutsu chakra, pulling him toward Sage Mode even in his unconscious state. A faint glow crept across his features.
On the bed, the First Hokage stirred. Pain flickered across his brow. His lips parted, and a single word slipped out like a ghost escaping a cage. “Madara…”
Tobirama’s jaw clenched. Even now? The man who had unleashed the Nine-Tails, the enemy who had wounded Hashirama and cut short his life—and still his brother muttered his name as though it were a prayer. Tobirama’s hands curled into fists.
Emiya Shihara exhaled. “If nothing unexpected happens, he will wake soon. The seal didn’t work as we hoped, but his own body’s Sage Chakra recovery ability is extraordinary. It may damage his lifespan further, but…”
He met Tobirama’s eyes. “As long as the patient refrains from using chakra after waking and controls his self-healing, we can prevent more harm. As for the damage already done, I will search for a way to make up for it. In my time, I had Yang Power to treat such cases, but my medical research lagged once I grew used to that strength.”
“Thank you,” Tobirama said quietly. The tension in his eyes eased. It was working. For the first time since the battle, he felt real hope.
He remembered the battlefield, dragging back Uchiha Madara’s corpse and his gravely injured brother. Remembered the despair when Konoha’s finest medical-nin had been helpless. No one could even predict when Hashirama would awaken. And now—this man from another era had achieved what none of them could.
Regardless of his misgivings, this was a debt Tobirama would remember. Emiya Shihara had risked disturbing his own soul’s peace to come here, and still offered to repair Hashirama’s lifespan. Gratitude settled heavily on Tobirama’s shoulders.
“I’m deeply grateful,” he said, bowing his head slightly. “Emiya-sama, don’t belittle yourself. Without you, there would be no medical-nin willing to push beyond their limits to save lives.”
He straightened, voice growing firm. “My brother’s life is tied to Konoha’s peace and to the hopes of its people. The village’s future depends on you, Emiya-sama.”
It was, admittedly, a selfish motive. Tobirama had not wanted to use the Impure World Reincarnation technique at all. But resurrecting Emiya Shihara had opened the door to ancient secrets, to seals and powers long forgotten. Shihara truly was a treasure.
If the man had failed, Tobirama would have stalled for time, extracting as much knowledge as he could before returning Shihara’s soul to the underworld. Yet this ancient medic lived up to the legends. His determination to heal Hashirama was genuine, almost selfless. It left Tobirama feeling both relieved and wary.
How can I treat him properly without drawing suspicion? Tobirama wondered. How do I keep his identity hidden from the village while preventing rumors? The problem gnawed at him even as he thanked Shihara aloud.
Across from him, Emiya Shihara felt a similar flicker of camaraderie. But he still wore the calm mask of a healer. He glanced at the First Hokage again, eyes softening. “The patient is about to wake up,” he said gently.
Everything unfolded just as he predicted. Hashirama’s frown deepened, the golden tint of Sage Mode fading from his eyes. His fingers twitched. Then, with a sudden jolt, he sat upright, as though snapping free from a nightmare.
“Madara!” he gasped, fear etched across his face.
Tobirama closed his eyes briefly. The name echoed like a curse in the quiet room. Even now, after all this, his brother’s first word was that man’s name.
Emiya Shihara only watched silently. He had seen many awakenings, many old wounds that even healing could not touch. This was just one more.
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