Naruto: Curse Eater

The wooden planks of the engawa creaked softly as Akai shifted his weight, the midday sun casting dappled light through the eaves. He sat cross-legged, his journal resting on his lap, the warmth of the afternoon air settling around him. Beyond the veranda, the Hyuga compound stretched in quiet order, but Akai's focus remained on his notes, his pen tapping lightly against the paper.

"Dual Subtraction... I should call it that." Akai muttered to himself, tapping his pen against the open pages of his journal. His handwriting was a mix of neat formulas and hastily scrawled notes, some underlined, others crossed out and rewritten in the margins.

Cursed Energy acted like a negative number, while Chakra worked as a positive one. The way they interacted reminded him of simple subtraction.

When you subtract a negative number, the result grows. Just like how taking away a debt leaves you with more money, removing negative energy increases Chakra's strength. If he had 3 Chakra and clashed -2 Cursed Energy to it, the result would be 5. Chakra gets stronger.

But if he subtracted a positive number from a negative, the result would sink further into the negatives. Like someone already in debt losing even more, clashing a small amount of Chakra with dominant Cursed Energy only deepened the negativity. If he had -3 Cursed Energy and subtracted 2 more, he'd end up with -5. Cursed Energy gets stronger.

"The more Cursed Energy that clashes with Chakra, the stronger Cursed Energy becomes. But if Chakra overwhelms the amount of subtracted Cursed Energy, Chakra itself grows instead. It's a constant back-and-forth of which force has dominance."

He scribbled down the formula's examples, some of them hastily jotted with arrows pointing between them:

3−(−2)= 5 → Chakra gets stronger.

-3−2= −5 → Cursed Energy gets stronger.

It was just simple math.

Flipping back a page, Akai reread what he had written earlier. Unlike Chakra, which required a balance of physical and spiritual energy to manifest, Cursed Energy was different. It could be duplicated by clashing against itself, like pressing two magnets of the same polarity together and feeling them repel.

"The more it interacts with itself, the stronger it becomes until it can be released freely," Akai muttered, tapping the page with his pen. "That's the fundamental principle of Cursed Energy."

That led to his new theory.

"Dual Subtraction—when Chakra and Cursed Energy clash in a way that one enhances the other."

If the goal was to enhance Cursed Energy for technique release, the method could simply be called "Regular Subtraction," since Cursed Energy grew stronger when interacting with more negativity.

This can be illustrated with regular subtraction in math:

-2 -2 -2 -2 -2 = -10

So basically, activating your cursed techniques can simply be called "subtraction" and most of the time, activating these subtractions required hand signs, empowered words, or other gestures. But...

"Not all Cursed Energy has to be enhanced through subtraction," Akai murmured, lowering his pen as he considered the idea.

There was another way to use it, one that didn't require hand signs, sudden bursts of power, or cooldown periods.

Rather than clashing energies together to create an explosive effect, Cursed Energy could simply flow through the body, steady and constant, like a stream of water running through a riverbed. But unlike Chakra, there was no fixed path for it to follow. It was more like a flood—unpredictable, shifting, with no natural channels to guide it.

"This method doesn't force Cursed Energy to clash against itself, nor does it build up for a single, powerful release." He exhaled through his nose, fingers tracing the ink drying on the page. 

"Instead, it remains in motion, reinforcing the body in a way that feels natural. Not an explosion, but a steady burn. Keeping the fire alive with embers instead of setting off a sudden blaze."

He tapped the pen once more before writing the final conclusion, this time in slightly bolder letters:

Lapse—the neutral flow of Cursed Energy throughout the body.

Rather than a single, destructive burst, it provided constant enhancement. A quiet but persistent strength.

He set down his pen and closed his journal, satisfied with his notes. But even as he did, other thoughts lingered in his mind—ideas he hadn't written down just yet.

One of those was the question of output. If Cursed Energy was fueled by negative emotions, then in theory, a person who could sustain endless negativity could generate infinite energy. Anger, grief, jealousy—as long as someone kept feeling those things, they would never run out of power.

"But that's the problem, isn't it?" Akai muttered, staring at the ceiling. "How long can a person actually stay angry? How long can someone be consumed by hatred before their mind gives out?"

If someone could keep that negativity burning forever, wouldn't that make them more of a monster than a person?

He let out a short laugh, but there was no amusement in it. "At worst, they'd be incapable of feeling anything else. No joy, no kindness—just endless resentment, trapped in a state of permanent hatred."

A chill ran down his spine at the thought, but he shook his head, pushing it away. "Only Cursed Spirits can maintain that kind of existence. Humans are different."

And yet...

His gaze drifted to the stack of newspapers beside him placed messily on the floor. Despite how peaceful things seemed on the surface, there were still traces of human malice everywhere. The articles told the same story over and over again—strange incidents, crimes, and violence, mixed in with advertisements and mundane news.

And yet, when he looked outside, when he saw people walking through the streets, laughing and going about their day, it was as if none of them had read those papers at all.

"A murder case, for example," Akai muttered, flipping through the headlines. "The moment the culprit is caught, the crowd jeers, shouting things like, 'You don't deserve to live!' or 'You're heartless, cruel!' But give it a few days—or even just a few hours—and those same people will move on."

Hatred never stayed. No matter how strong it felt in the moment, it faded, replaced by more immediate concerns. People only remembered their anger when something reminded them—when the news brought it up again, when they saw the culprit's face, when they were forced to confront it.

He leaned back, shifting his weight until he found himself lying fully on the wooden floor of the engawa. With a slow exhale, he murmured, "That's why infinite Cursed Energy is nothing more than a fantasy. For all their flaws, humans simply aren't meant to hate forever."

And yet, a dark thought lingered at the edges of his mind. A contradiction he couldn't shake.

Of course, if there was someone like that, someone who never let go of their hatred, never let it wane, never moved on... then it would be a different story altogether.

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Akai read the journal he had written a few more times, in fact—but there was something oddly comforting about repetition. Satisfied for the moment, he shut the book with a soft thud and rose to his feet. A change of scenery wouldn't be so bad.

Draped in his usual attire, Akai stepped outside. His kimono, nagagi, and hakama were pale in color but undeniably well-made. The fine fabric draped over his small frame, elegant yet impractical for a shinobi. Unlike Neji and Hinata, whose clothes were suited for movement, his were formal, reminiscent of someone who still held claim to a position of importance.

He knew the whispers.

"He's still clinging to his old status."

"He must hate the main family, wearing that as if he is high-ranking while refusing to hide the mark."

"Does he think he's still above us, despite that damn mark?"

In reality, Akai simply had no other clothes. Servants used to change them for him when he was younger, but now that he was five, Elder Takahiro had stopped assigning caretakers to dress him. If Akai had to guess, it was less about his independence and more about forcing him to get used to traditional attire.

That, or Takahiro had just grown tired of dealing with babysitters.

Either way, Akai had long accepted that this was his wardrobe now.

At least the old man had started giving him an allowance.

He strolled through the compound, the wooden floorboards cool beneath his feet. Silent stares followed him. The same elders and servants who had mocked him yesterday now averted their eyes, their gazes flickering away the moment he looked their way.

They remembered.

Akai himself had already forgotten the exact words he spoke, but the weight of his declaration still lingered in their minds—his casual, unshaken promise to devour the caged birds within this suffocating place, branding himself as the caged beast instead.

He shrugged.

It didn't matter.

There were other things to think about.

With that, Akai stepped out of the Hyuga compound and into the village.

The village was lively as ever. Merchants called out to customers, shinobi passed by in quick strides, and civilians bustled between market stalls. It was a different world compared to the quiet suffocation of the compound, but Akai wasn't particularly impressed.

His red eye flitted across the streets, barely paying attention to the people, instead focusing on the creatures that lurked between them.

Curses.

They slithered along rooftops, crawled beneath carts, and perched on the shoulders of unsuspecting villagers. Some were small, harmless things—wisps of resentment, feeding off stray emotions. Others were larger, their twisted forms bloated with lingering negativity.

A fly-headed curse buzzed around the dango stall, its grotesque mouthparts twitching as it latched onto the vendor's shoulder.

Annoying.

With a flick of his wrist, Akai snapped his fingers.

A sharp burst of energy cleaved through the air, invisible to all but him. The fly-headed curse let out a choked, gurgling sound before its form twisted and dissipated, vanishing like mist under the sun.

The vendor shivered but brushed it off as a breeze.

Satisfied, Akai stepped forward and handed over a few coins.

"One order."

The vendor smiled, handing him a bag of dango. Akai took it without a word, biting into the soft, sweet dango as he resumed his walk. In his left hand, tucked securely against his side, was his journal. The plastic bag of extra dango rustled slightly with each step, but he paid it no mind.

After finishing the dango, he stopped at a public trash can and tossed the empty skewer away. Then, he reached into his sleeve and pulled out a pen, slipping on his glasses. His vision was already clear, but the lenses helped him focus, even if his hair obscured most of his face.

Flipping open his journal, he began to jot down notes.

New curses had appeared—strange ones.

He had first noticed them yesterday, but now he had a better look.

Foxes.

No, not quite. Their tails occasionally twisted into chains, heavy and spiked like execution collars. They coiled around people's necks, as if binding them to something unseen.

Was this lingering hatred from the Kyuubi's attack years ago?

Perhaps.

But what stood out the most was their behavior.

They gathered near Konoha's cemetery, particularly around the mourning stones. They only ensnared those who showed grief—locking them in place, wrapping their heavy tails around their throats.

And the victims…

Those who grieved with sadness had their words twisted into anger. Instead of mourning, they cursed the Nine-Tailed Monster that had taken their loved ones.

Akai made a note of it, sketching a rough outline of their form. If he had more time, he would follow one, observe it further…

But he felt too lazy to bother today.

Besides, he had training soon.

Elder Takahiro had informed him that morning—he would be assigned an instructor. Training was supposed to start at noon.

Glancing at the sun, Akai could tell he was already late.

Oh well. With a sigh, he shut his book, tucked it under his arm, and turned back toward the compound, entirely unbothered by his lack of urgency.

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To be continued.