Naruto: Curse Eater

Akai slouched in the stiff wooden chair, arms hanging over the armrests, head tilted back. His stomach churned—a dull, uncomfortable ache. Annoying, but not unbearable. He could deal with it.

The real problem was Elder Takahiro.

The old man paced across the hospital lobby, sandals clicking against the floor. His white robes swayed as he spun around to snap at the receptionist—for the third time in five minutes.

"What do you mean we have to wait?! This boy is a walking disaster—he could drop dead any second! Just because he's still upright doesn't mean he's fine! Are you blind? Do your job and take him in already!"

"Elder," the nurse sighed, rubbing her temples, "he is conscious, alert, and not losing blood. If his condition worsens, we will—"

"What kind of nonsense is that?! He's already half-dead! Do you want him to collapse before you help him?!" Takahiro slammed his palm against the counter, making ink pots rattle and papers scatter. A few passing medical-nin turned to stare. "You call yourselves professionals?! I should have you all fired for this incompetence!"

Akai exhaled quietly. His stomach still hurt, but watching Takahiro turn a simple check-up into a battlefield was strangely amusing. The insults were the same—defect this, weakling that—but they didn't bother him anymore.

Not when he could see the worry in the old man's face.

Takahiro's glare was as sharp as ever, but the crease between his brows made his anger look more like frustration than authority. His hands twitched when he glanced at Akai, and even his furious shouting had an edge of something deeper.

Was he always this dramatic?

Akai muttered the thought to himself, watching the old man vibrate with frustration. The nurse, looking close to calling security, kept her voice even.

"Look at him!" Takahiro jabbed a finger at Akai. "He's pale, weak, and sitting there like a pathetic sack of rice! And not even the premium brand! He could collapse any second, and you expect me to just wait?! What kind of idiocy is this?!"

A pathetic sack of rice? That was a new one.

The nurse inhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Elder Takahiro. He walked in here just fine. Yes, he looks exhausted, but that doesn't mean—"

"EXACTLY! He's so used to being a half-dead defect he doesn't even realize when he's actually dying!" Takahiro threw up his hands. "That's why you need to take him in immediately!"

He turned on Akai again, scowling. "Look at him! He doesn't even care that he's suffering! He's just sitting there with that blank stare, like some lifeless—"

Akai tilted his head, meeting Takahiro's furious gaze with an expression that was neither offended nor particularly interested.

"You're being dramatic."

Silence.

Takahiro gawked at him, mouth slightly open, like Akai had just slapped him. The nurse let out a quiet snort before quickly covering it with a cough.

Then—

"You little brat—!" Takahiro stormed over, gripping Akai's shoulder. His hold was firm but careful. "After all the years I've wasted watching you trip over your own feet, you've finally lost your mind, huh?! You think this is funny?! You're sick, you reckless, suicidal little worm! I'm not about to let some insufferable excuse for a Hyuga keel over on my watch!"

Akai blinked up at him, unbothered. The usual insults—defect, useless, pathetic—were all there. But somehow, they felt different now.

Because now, he could hear what was really beneath them.

You look pale.

You're sick.

You need help.

"You worry too much, old man," Akai muttered, leaning his head against the wall. "It's just an upset stomach. I'll live."

Takahiro scowled. "And what kind of idiot eats something so awful it makes them sick for an entire day?! What did you even eat?! Rotten dirt?! The Hyuga clan already has enough embarrassments with YOU—don't you dare add 'food poisoning' to the list!"

Akai paused.

Ah.

Yeah.

About that.

Well, I went crazy and ate cursed spirits—was the honest answer, but he decided to keep that to himself.

Takahiro let out a frustrated huff, muttering something about weak-brained children as he turned back to yell at the medical staff again.

Akai closed his eyes, ignoring the dull ache in his stomach as he listened to the old man rant.

For once, he didn't mind it at all.

.

.

.

Akai glanced to his side, where Elder Takahiro sat slumped over, arms crossed tightly, head tilted downward as soft snores escaped him. Just hours ago, this same old man had been shouting himself hoarse, hurling insults as if berating a broken rice sack. Now, he was dozing off like a war-weary veteran who had spent all his energy on a losing battle.

Akai scoffed under his breath. "Will you look at that? I wonder who's the pathetic sack of rice now..." There was no real annoyance in his voice—just a strange mix of amusement and something else he didn't quite want to name.

His eyes shifted back to the hospital corridor. Nurses walked briskly past, their hands full of paperwork and medical supplies. Patients sat in chairs, waiting their turn, their quiet conversations blending into the steady hum of activity. It was an ordinary scene. Normal. Safe.

But the curses were still there.

They clung to the ceilings, slithered along the walls, and perched on shoulders like unseen parasites. Some had stretched, human-like faces—silent mouths frozen in eternal screams. Others took on jagged, twisted forms, resembling tsukumogami, their bodies flickering between shadow and substance. No one else noticed them. No one reacted.

But the cremation room... that had been different.

The curses there didn't move. They hovered in thick clusters, a writhing mass of darkness pressed against the walls. Unlike the others, these didn't acknowledge Akai. They simply existed—shapeless, nameless, unaware.

Were they lingering remnants of the dead? Faint echoes of something that had once been alive?

He didn't have an answer. And standing there too long felt like inviting something worse. So, he had turned and left.

Now, after what felt like hours of waiting, his name was finally called.

A medic-nin stood before him, clipboard in hand, his face unreadable. Akai followed him into the examination room, settling onto the hospital bed as the check-up began. Standard procedures—pulse check, chakra flow analysis, a brief assessment of his stomach when he mentioned the earlier discomfort.

When he finish the check up, the elder woke up and went inside the examination room with him as his guardian.

The medic exchanged quiet words with an assistant before finally turning back to him.

"We have some good news."

Akai arched a brow. "Good news?"

The medic-nin nodded. "From our examination, there's no sign of internal damage. Your chakra flow is a bit unstable, likely due to exhaustion, but nothing life-threatening."

A brief pause. Then, the medic glanced at him with mild curiosity. "You had a history of a heart defect, correct?"

Before Akai could answer, a gruff voice cut in from behind.

"The brat did," Elder Takahiro grumbled, rubbing his eyes as he stretched, still half-asleep. "That's why he was called a defect so many damn times in the clan."

The medic barely spared him a glance, too familiar with clan politics to bother engaging. Instead, he cleared his throat and continued.

"As I was saying, the good news is... your defect is healing." He flipped through his notes. "The hole in your heart has significantly shrunk. Your blood pressure is stable, and there are no irregularities in your heartbeat. If you'd like, we can run a chest X-ray to confirm—"

He stopped mid-sentence, eyes flicking toward Elder Takahiro.

"Or, if the elder prefers to save some money, he can just check with his Byakugan."

"Hmph, right." Takahiro exhaled through his nose, then turned to Akai, who sat idly in a spinning office chair. With an irritated huff, the elder grabbed the chair and spun it, forcing Akai to face him.

"Byakugan."

The veins around Takahiro's eyes bulged as his gaze sharpened, scanning Akai's body with precision.

He focused on the boy's heart first. It pumped steadily, undisturbed. In the past, the defect had forced Akai's blood pressure dangerously high, making rest nearly impossible. His heart would pound violently through the night—even without exertion—straining itself just to function. But now...

Takahiro's frown deepened. The defect was still there, but it had shrunk.

"You're right," he admitted. "The hole's smaller—less than 8mm now."

"That's great news." The medic skimmed through Akai's medical file. "It used to be around 20mm. There were even discussions of a transcatheter closure procedure if it didn't heal on its own. But at this rate, he won't need further intervention."

The elder remained silent, his expression unreadable.

"Elder?" the medic prompted, noticing his hesitation. Even Akai raised a brow at the unusual reaction.

Takahiro's jaw tensed, then he abruptly dismissed it. "It's nothing. Move along."

But the way his mouth had parted slightly—just for a second, before he shut it tight—did not go unnoticed.

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To be continued