Toughen [Closed]

Musashi laid in bed, surrounded by white sheets, pillows, and a mattress colored pure snow. The walls were of a slightly duller color, like that of porcelain. Though he was not injured, the elders still wanted to run him through a quick check-up on how his nerves were doing and to assess any psychological trauma. This was standard procedure to see if the village’s only Sannin was fit for duty. Musashi was also being examined for any potential panic or nervous attacks he could have, or suffer from insomnia. The man himself was not worried. He had been killing and seen killing for a long time. He was pass easily, because he could handle this. He was nothing, a dead void of enlightenment. Death could not faze him anymore than it could to a dying dog who has already recognized the insignifiance of its existence and resigned from life. Like dust, he goes wherever the winds carry him, scattering across the sky like leaves at a big push from nature. Musashi slept.

The next day, he woke up with his chakra restored from the pump that stimulated the regrowth of cells. He got out of bed and awaited for the doctors to come by and assess him. After a 20-minute briefing, he was allowed to resume active duty as a shinobi of the leaf. When he left the hospital, he had with him his Takashi blades strapped on him with a sash and the license to kill once more. It was time to do things again.