As a Grey Knight In Naruto

Chapter 35 – Hunger of the Bones

The day began like any other, with the golden haze of morning light spilling through the windows of the clinic. Hajime stood by the medicine shelf, methodically restocking vials while mentally cataloging their expiration dates.

His hands moved with practiced ease, each bottle gliding into place with quiet precision.

Across the room, Shizune was organizing surgical tools on a lacquered tray, her brows furrowed in intense concentration.

Tsunade, leaning lazily against the open window with her sake cup half-full, looked up from the scroll in her hand.

"You're quiet today," she remarked without looking directly at him.

"Thinking," Hajime said simply, sliding a tray of scalpels into a drawer.

"That's dangerous," she smirked, sipping her drink.

They exchanged no more words, but the atmosphere was comfortable, charged with a subtle camaraderie. Their interactions had grown more natural over the weeks, occasional teasing from Tsunade, light banter from Hajime, and an amused eye-roll from Shizune in between. The clinic no longer felt like a battlefield of egos. It had become a rhythm.

A life.

By midday, Hajime had already treated a sprained wrist, stitched a merchant's sliced palm, and administered an herbal sedative to a panicked traveler with heatstroke.

He moved with calm assurance, each chakra-assisted motion efficient, clean, and strangely elegant. Shizune watched him from the corner of her eye, noticing the way his fingers glowed faintly when he closed wounds, not quite the Mystical Palm Technique, and not purely chakra either.

Tsunade noticed it too.

But she said nothing.

Not yet.

Evening came, bringing with it the smell of grilled meat from the nearby food stalls. The clinic's doors were shut for the day. Hajime declined Tsunade's offer to drink, claiming tiredness. She shrugged, unsurprised, but her eyes followed him as he left.

He moved swiftly through the quiet streets, past lantern-lit roads and sleeping vendors, until the wall of Tanzaku Quarters vanished behind him. The forest greeted him like an old friend. And beneath the familiar trees, hidden under earth and silence, waited his secret.

His base.

The tunnel opened with a mere thought, psychic energy brushing the soil aside as easily as mist. He stepped into the underground chamber, still pristine, still sealed against all decay. A single pulse of Warp energy sterilized the air, clearing all impurities. He closed the wall behind him.

Tonight was the night.

The Ossmodula.

The sculptor of bones.

Unlike the secondary heart, the Ossmodula was not merely a circulatory organ. It was a regulator, a hormonal crucible designed to override the limits of skeletal biology.

It triggered controlled mutations in the bones, causing them to grow denser, longer, stronger. In the Imperium, it was the second gene-seed organ implanted after the secondary heart.

And Hajime had grown it himself.

Over the last week, using tissue samples from neural and glandular sources, infused with both chakra and psychic control, he had shaped it within a special vat.

The Ossmodula was no larger than a pinecone, twisted, vascular, and pulsating faintly. It throbbed with a strange hunger. As if it too knew what it had been made for.

And it was ready.

Hajime stripped off his shirt and tied his hair back with a simple cord. He stood before a polished obsidian slab and spread his tools out once more. The scalpel. Antiseptic gel. Chakra-threaded needles. And a sealed case containing several of the calcium bars he had made days ago.

He had spent hours preparing those.

Crushed fish bones, animal bones, and calcium-rich mineral powder, all telekinetically refined into soft, chewable bars using low-heat shaping. They smelled terrible, but they were compact, dense, and perfect for skeletal uptake.

He sat cross-legged and let out a breath.

Then, with a flick of psychic will, he silenced his pain receptors. His nervous system went still. Cold and clear. Not numb, but removed, like an observer watching from a distant tower.

With the chakra scalpel lit in his hand, he tilted his head forward, exposing the back of his neck. His fingers traced down to the base of his skull, along the curve of the cervical spine.

C3. C4. Right between them.

He began the incision.

The scalpel parted skin and muscle effortlessly, guided by both chakra and psychic precision. There was no blood, he stemmed it as he worked. His psychic vision lit up the veins and nerves like a glowing blueprint.

He reached the spinal cord. The real danger began here.

A slip could sever his nervous system. One wrong flick of chakra, and he'd be paralyzed.

But his hands did not tremble.

With careful telekinesis, he lifted the Ossmodula from its vat. It hovered in the air like a beating, fleshy jewel. He guided it slowly toward the exposed cavity at the base of his neck. It nestled into place beside the vertebrae, soft tissue connecting instantly to the prepared nerve threads and capillaries.

He inhaled.

The Ossmodula pulsed. Blood flowed through it. Psychic energy flared.

Then the gene-seed stirred.

A command sequence, instinctive, ancient, triggered.

The Ossmodula came alive.

His back arched sharply as a jolt of energy shot down his spine. A heat spread through his entire skeleton, not burning, but aching, stretching. He could feel his bones vibrating, tingling, drinking in calcium from the bloodstream like starving animals.

His jaw clenched.

He staggered, reaching for the nearby slab. His breath grew ragged. His ribs ached. His spine felt thicker, like it was subtly pressing outward. There were no cracks or pops, just pressure. Endless, growing pressure.

He grabbed a calcium bar and bit down.

It crunched like chalk. Dust clung to his lips. He didn't care. He ate another. Then another.

The hunger was insatiable.

He could feel it, the Ossmodula was releasing hormones that stimulated the skeletal matrix. His entire system was shifting into accelerated growth mode. The body he had known for weeks was no longer his baseline.

His bones would change.

His ribs would thicken. His arms would lengthen. His jaw would harden. His skull would subtly reinforce itself. His entire skeleton was being rebuilt.

He slumped back against the wall, covered in sweat. The lights dimmed faintly from the pressure of his own psychic aura. Even now, the Warp bent gently to his will, guiding the healing process, soothing tissue damage, speeding recovery.

He opened his eyes.

Pain was irrelevant.

Fear was gone.

His body had taken another step away from humanity, and into something greater.

And it was only the beginning.

End of Chapter 35 – Hunger of the Bones