Back At U.A
The steady hum of machinery slowly wound down as the last of the scans were completed. The room had been busy for hours. X-rays, MRIs, blood draws, lung capacity testing, bone density checks, even specialized imaging U.A only afforded its top heroes. Now, at last, the equipment powered off one by one, leaving only the quiet beep of the monitors and the faint scent of antiseptic in the air.
Toshinori sat on the edge of the medical bed, shoulders slumped, his gaunt frame silhouetted by the sterile lights overhead. His arms dangled loosely at his sides, as if even lifting them would take more effort than he cared to spend. For once, he looked… tired. None of the polite smile, nor the forced brightness was present just tiredness.
Across from him, Tsunade stood with a thick folder of results tucked under one arm, her other hand resting against her chin as she went over her notes. Beside her, Recovery Girl wore a somber expression, nodding quietly now and then, while Nezu's sharp eyes tracked every word. Aizawa leaned against the far wall still, arms crossed, his usually unreadable face tinged with something new, unease. He had thought the murmured warnings about All Might's health were exaggerated but now, watching Tsunade prepare to speak, he realized they hadn't even scratched the surface.
Finally, Tsunade let out a long breath and closed the folder. "Alright." She said, her voice heavy but steady. "Let's get this all out in the open. You deserve the truth of what we found."
Her eyes flicked to Toshinori, who gave a weary nod.
"First," she began, "your stomach. Or what's left of it." She tapped the scan with one finger. "It's completely destroyed. You've been surviving on supplements and soft foods because you can no longer process solid meals properly. Not to mention your intestines."
She flipped to another image. "Your large intestine is heavily scarred and barely functioning. Your small intestine is partially gone and working overtime to compensate. Frankly, I'm surprised you've managed this long without collapsing from severe malnutrition."
Toshinori offered a wry, humorless smile. "Protein shakes and iron willpower."
Tsunade didn't return the smile. "That malnutrition isn't just weight loss." She said flatly. "It's bone density deterioration. Our scans show early-stage osteoporosis. Your bones are far weaker than they should be for a man your age. One more hard fight could mean fractures you can't afford."
Aizawa shifted uncomfortably against the wall.
"Second your lungs." She didn't soften her tone. "Your right lung is mostly scar tissue and barely functional. The left is operating at maybe fifty percent capacity, and that's me being generous. That's why you're coughing up blood. Your body is struggling to oxygenate itself, and every time you push past your limits, the scar tissue tears."
She glanced at his chest. "Your diaphragm is compromised as well. Every breath you take is harder than you let on."
Toshinori coughed into his fist, as if on cue. A fleck of red stained his knuckles.
"Third," Tsunade continued grimly, "the scarring across your chest cavity. It's extensive it encompasses the sternum, ribs, and diaphragm. It's constricting everything. Your lungs, muscles, and blood vessels. That's the tightness you feel. That's the pain when you transform."
She held up another scan, the black-and-white image a patchwork of ruined tissue. "You also have multiple small diaphragm tears that healed improperly. The entire structure is weakened. Continued strain could cause a catastrophic rupture."
Recovery Girl sighed softly but didn't argue.
"Fourth is your cardiovascular system." Tsunade exhaled through her nose. "Your heart itself is still strong. The arteries around it aren't. They're inflamed and stressed. Forcing oxygen through a body this damaged is putting enormous strain on your circulatory system. It's a miracle you haven't already suffered a cardiac event."
Nezu tilted his head, eyes sharp—but for once, he said nothing.
"And finally," Tsunade said, her voice dropping, "your immune system."
She met Toshinori's eyes. "It's severely compromised. Chronic blood loss, malnutrition, and repeated organ trauma have stripped your defenses down to nothing. A bad flu could hospitalize you. An infection could kill you."
Her gaze hardened. "You've been running on stubbornness, Toshinori. Nothing else."
The room fell silent, her words sinking in. Toshinori's eyes lowered, his skeletal frame sagging further as if the weight of her assessment pressed him down.
"How long?" he asked softly, not looking at anyone.
Tsunade exhaled. "If you keep going like this pushing, fighting, and ignoring the damage? Three years. Four at most. And those won't be good years. They'll be years of decline. Pain. And struggle."
Even Nezu's usual glimmer of amusement dulled at that.
Aizawa, who had been quiet all this time, finally spoke. His voice was low, incredulous. "…You've been fighting like this?"
Toshinori gave a weak chuckle, but it cracked in his throat. "What else could I do?"
Aizawa stared at him, unable to reconcile the skeletal man on the bed with the towering Symbol of Peace he had seen flatten villains with a single blow. Respect, raw and reluctant, sparked in his chest. For a man so broken to still carry the weight of the world on his shoulders… it was unthinkable.
Tsunade closed the folder with finality. "That's the truth. I won't sugarcoat it. This body of yours is at its breaking point."
The grim silence that followed pressed down on them all. Even Toshinori, who had lived with this reality for years, seemed sobered anew when every failing was laid out at once.
The silence that followed Tsunade's grim declaration was suffocating. The hum of the medical equipment almost seemed louder now, the rhythmic beeping of Toshinori's monitor hammering in the stillness like a countdown. His eyes were fixed on the floor, his gaunt face unreadable, but everyone in the room could feel the weight pressing down on him.
Tsunade let it sit there for a moment, then slowly lowered herself into the chair opposite of him. She rested her elbows on her knees, fingers laced together, and spoke again. This time her voice was calm, almost clinical.
"…Furthermore, I've discovered why Chiyo's Quirk can't heal you."
That got a reaction out of everyone in the room. Recovery Girl's brows furrowed, Nezu's ears perked up, and even Aizawa straightened slightly against the wall. Toshinori lifted his hollow eyes to meet hers, a faint glimmer of curiosity flickering through the exhaustion.
"Have any of you heard of cellular exhaustion?" Tsunade asked. Her tone had sharpened into that of a teacher at the head of a lecture hall. "Or, in simpler terms the Hayflick limit. The point at which cells can no longer divide to regenerate. Every time a wound heals, every time tissue repairs itself, cells divide. But they can only do so a finite number of times before they reach senescence. Once that limit is hit… they stop dividing. They can't heal anymore."
She opened Toshinori's file again, flipping to a scan of his scarred tissue and tapping it with her finger. "That's what's happening here. Your cells have hit their limit. You've forced them to repair again and again, pushed them past their natural capacity. The result is what we see now. Scar tissue piled on scar tissue, organs failing, body systems collapsing. You've spent your body down to the marrow."
Recovery Girl's lips thinned, and she nodded slowly. "Yes… I've known it was something like that. My quirk accelerates natural healing. It forces cells to divide and close wounds quickly. But with Toshinori… it just doesn't take anymore. His body rejects the process. I suspected it was cellular, but I couldn't prove it."
Aizawa, quiet until now, frowned. "So what you're saying is… his body can't heal. At all."
Tsunade gave a sharp nod. "Exactly. It's not negligence on Chiyo's part. It's just simple biology. His cells are burned out. They've reached their end. And as far as conventional medical knowledge is concerned… there's no coming back from that."
The words hit like a hammer. Toshinori closed his eyes, his shoulders sagging even further. "So… that's it, then." His voice was little more than a whisper. "I've known for years, deep down. But hearing it spelled out like that…" He gave a dry, humorless chuckle, though it cracked with something dangerously close to despair. "Guess I should be grateful I lasted this long."
The atmosphere in the room dropped further at his words.
Recovery Girl looked down at her clasped hands, sorrow etched into every line of her face. Nezu, for once, had no clever retort. Even Aizawa's eyes softened, his mind running through the blunt cruelty of what he'd just heard, that the Symbol of Peace wasn't just wounded, he was irreversibly broken.
The weight of finality hung heavy.
Then Tsunade's eyes snapped, bright and fierce. Her tone cut through the despair like a blade.
"…You really are the luckiest bastard alive, you know that?"
Toshinori blinked, his head lifting just enough to look at her in confusion. "…What?"
"It's about damn time you learned how my quirk works." Tsunade said, leaning back in her chair. Her voice carried a dangerous edge, but also the first flicker of hope anyone had dared voice all day.
The room stilled again, this time not with despair but anticipation. Even Nezu's whiskers twitched, his sharp eyes glittering with renewed curiosity.
Toshinori, staring at her like a drowning man seeing land, whispered hoarsely, "…Explain."
And Tsunade, for the first time since she entered the room, allowed the faintest smile to tug at her lips.
Tsunade leaned back in her chair, folding her arms beneath her chest. The tension in the room was sharp enough to cut, everyone waiting on the edge of her next words. She let the silence linger just long enough to tighten the coil, then spoke.
"…I'm only going to reveal this because I trust Chiyo and I know the rodent is trust worthy enough. And by extension whoever he feels is trustworthy enough to be in this room is clear to. What I say does not leave here." Her tone was ironclad, brooking no argument. "If it does, there will be hell to pay. Understood?"
Recovery Girl inclined her head immediately, Nezu dipped into a polite bow with his sharp grin muted for once, and Aizawa gave a curt nod from the corner. Toshinori straightened slightly, his sunken eyes locked on her with an intensity that bordered on desperate.
Tsunade took a steadying breath, then began.
"You've all seen my nephew's Quirk by now Life Force. You've seen how it works. Burns fade, cuts vanish, wounds close in seconds. What makes it terrifyingly unique is that it completely ignores the law of cellular division. Every other healing quirk we know follows this biological rule. Push too far, and the body breaks down, the cells reach their limit, and the system collapses. That's why your body, Toshinori, has stopped responding to Chiyo."
All Might nodded faintly. His voice rasped. "Yes… he explained it to me. His healing ignores… all of that."
"Exactly." Tsunade's eyes narrowed slightly, her voice sharpening. "And the reason for that? The Uzumaki line. My family's Quirk runs all the way back to the dawn of quirks. Generation after generation, adapting, changing, evolving. Naruto inherited the purest form of it yet. But mine…" She tapped her chest lightly. "…mine is different."
Her tone softened, though the intensity remained. "I'm only half-Uzumaki. My mother, Mito, carried the same healing strain that Naruto's mother did , weaker than his, but still remarkable. My father, however…" She let the words hang, her eyes flicking toward the floor as if measuring the weight of what she was about to say. Then she looked back up. "…was Senju Hashirama."
The name rippled through the air. Recovery Girl's brows shot up, Aizawa's dark eyes widened a fraction, and even Nezu's whiskers twitched with sudden interest.
"History will remember his Quirk as being able to create and manipulate wood. That was the simple explanation to keep people comfortable. But that wasn't the truth." She leaned forward now, every word deliberate. "His ability wasn't just wood. It was life. He could create it, shape it, bend it to his will. It just manifested in trees and plants because that was what people could accept."
She opened her palm slowly, as if she could feel the echo of that legacy in her blood. "When his gift combined with my mother's… it produced mine. My quirk Vital Creation."
For the first time since she began, her expression softened — not with pity, but with conviction. "Unlike Naruto, I don't heal just myself. My power is outward. I don't force a person's body to cannibalize its cells and divide faster than they're meant to. I create new cells. I replace what's been lost. I can knit together flesh where there's only scar tissue. I can rebuild lungs, restore organs, mend bone. My healing isn't limited by cellular exhaustion because I bypass it altogether."
Tsunade's voice grew firmer, each word ringing out like a hammer driving home nails. "When I heal someone, I don't just trick the body into healing itself. I give it new life."
For a long moment, Toshinori sat frozen. His gaunt body, his hunched posture, all the years of quiet resignation they held him like a shroud. But as her words sank in, he began to rise. Slowly at first, then straighter, until he was sitting fully upright on the table.
His sunken eyes locked onto hers. They were wide, disbelieving, but in their depths something else flickered. Something that had been gone for years.
"You… you can't be serious," he whispered. His voice cracked. "That's… impossible."
Her gaze did not waver. "It's not impossible. It's what I was born to do. I've already healed things no one else dared try. And you…" Her hand clenched into a fist on her knee. "You're not beyond me. It'll take time. Maybe a year, maybe longer. But I can heal you, Toshinori Yagi. You're going to be all right."
The room seemed to hold its breath. Recovery Girl's lips parted in awe, Nezu's eyes glittered with cunning satisfaction, and even Aizawa's habitual scowl softened into something more solemn.
But Toshinori… he stared at her, his whole frame trembling, disbelief and longing warring across his ruined features. Slowly, tears welled in his eyes.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, the Symbol of Peace let himself believe.
"…So that's it." Chiyo's voice was hushed, reverent almost. She pressed a hand to her chest as her eyes softened. "That explains everything. Why I could never quite understand how you managed to heal injuries that should have crippled people for life. Why you surpassed even those with decades more experience. I always thought you had a knack, some special touch I lacked. But no… it was this. Vital Creation."
Her lips curved into a tired smile. "I should've known, back then. You always carried an edge no one could match."
Nezu tilted his head, eyes glittering with sharp intrigue. "Fascinating… absolutely fascinating. I'd long suspected that the Senju and Uzumaki bloodlines carried something unique. But this… this is a revelation. Not simply healing, not acceleration, but creation itself." He steepled his paws together, voice quiet but heavy with meaning. "With an ability like this, you were destined to alter the landscape of medicine, and perhaps hero society itself."
From the corner, Aizawa finally pushed off the wall. His expression was still half-shadowed beneath his messy hair, but his eyes narrowed. "Then I've got a question. How is it possible that you've gone under the radar this long? A quirk like that…" He paused, his tone edged with suspicion. "There's no way the government wouldn't have noticed. The HPSC would have had you under their thumbs before you could blink. Someone with your ability? They'd have turned you into their golden tool years ago."
Nezu gave a quiet nod, his voice carrying a grim edge now. "He's not wrong. The Hero Public Safety Commission doesn't ask politely. They would've dragged you into their fold, broken you down, and rebuilt you into whatever weapon they needed. For someone like you, indoctrination would've been the first step. Then control." His dark eyes gleamed with rare honesty. "And if you resisted… they'd have found another way to silence you."
The words hung heavy in the air. Toshinori looked up sharply at that, a surge of protective anger in his gaze, but Tsunade only smirked.
"Well, lucky for me." She said, her tone dry. "I didn't grow up without protection. Comes with belonging to an old and powerful family. Everyone's heard of my father, the great Hashirama Senju, activist for forest preservation, forever preaching balance between civilization and nature. He played the part so well no one thought to look deeper."
Her lips quirked into a wry smile. "The truth of his quirk stayed in the family. When it came time when mine manifested, we gave the HPSC the same treatment. A half-assed explanation about enhancing natural healing, nothing more. They bought it. They wanted to believe it. And we made sure they never saw more than we allowed them to."
She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. "Sometimes survival isn't about fighting harder. It's about knowing how to hide in plain sight. Sadly we couldn't do the same with Naruto's."
Aizawa studied her for a long moment, then grunted quietly. "…Makes sense."
Nezu chuckled softly, the sound deceptively light. "Clever. Very clever. A lifetime of downplaying brilliance until the world looks the other way. It explains how you've managed to live without a target painted on your back. And now… here you are, revealing it at last."
The room went quiet again, but the energy had shifted. Where despair once lingered, there was now awe, and the fragile, flickering light of hope.
And Toshinori, eyes locked on Tsunade, whispered again, his voice raw and shaking with emotion. "…You can heal me."
Her gaze was unwavering, fierce as iron. "Yes. I can. It'll take time. But I'll rebuild you from the ground up, Toshinori. You will stand again, whole. That's my promise to you."
Tsunade allowed the room a moment to breathe after her reveal. Then, as was her nature, she shifted gears with decisive clarity. Her voice sharpened into the steady cadence of a surgeon preparing for an operation.
"Now that you understand what my quirk can do, it's time to explain what comes next." She placed the folder of scans on the table and tapped it once, drawing every eye back to her. "I'm not going to sugarcoat this. Healing you, Toshinori, won't be fast, and it won't be easy. Not for me. And not for you."
Toshinori straightened, his sunken features grim. "I… expected as much. What will it take?"
Her gaze locked on his. "Commitment. Stamina. And patience."
She spread the scans across the table, pointing to them as she spoke. "We start with the most dire. Your stomach is gone. That's our first priority. Without it, your entire digestive system is hanging on by threads, forcing your body to cannibalize itself for fuel. That stops now. Rebuilding it will take a full day of work, maybe more. And here's the part you need to understand. My quirk doesn't just drain me. It draws on the patient's stamina too. Your body will need to endure the reconstruction, cell by cell, tissue by tissue. That means it'll exhaust you to your bones. You'll need recovery time afterward."
She leaned back, folding her arms. "So here's the plan." Her voice was steady.
"Once a month, we do a full-day treatment. During each session, I rebuild what's most critical, piece by piece." She began counting it off. "First, your stomach, followed by the rest of your digestive tract. Full reconstruction. You need a body that can properly process nutrients before anything else matters. Next, your lungs. After that, the scarring across your diaphragm and the rest of your chest cavity, so you can breathe properly again without pain or strain."
She didn't pause for more than a quick breath.
"Then we address your cardiovascular system. I'll heal the damaged vessels, clear the inflammation, and reduce the stress you've been forcing your heart to operate under."
Her arms tightened slightly. Finally, your bones and immune system. The bones are straightforward. I can restore them like everything else. The immune system is trickier. I can reinforce it, but long-term correction depends on having a healthy, functional body. Once the constant trauma and malnutrition stop, it should recover on its own."
She then looked Toshinori squarely in the eye. "Overall, this will take a year at minimum."
The room was silent except for the steady beep of a monitor. Aizawa's expression had hardened, watching her with the same intensity he reserved for battlefield assessments. Recovery Girl nodded slowly, her respect evident. And Nezu… his beady eyes gleamed, as though he were already calculating the implications of every word.
Toshinori drew in a shaky breath. "…A year."
"At least." Tsunade's tone softened, but her resolve did not waver. "This isn't a miracle pill, Toshinori. It's a war of attrition. There will be pain. There will be days you hate me for pushing you through it. And when it's over, you won't be twenty again, but you'll be alive. Whole. Able to live and fight without your body tearing itself apart with every breath."
He was quiet for a long moment. Then he gave a small, almost incredulous smile. "Pain, I can handle. I've been doing that for years."
Her lips curved into the faintest smirk. "Then you'll do just fine."
Nezu finally broke in, clapping his tiny paws together. "Remarkable. Simply remarkable. I take it you'll need the private wing each month, then? I'll have it reserved and secured for as long as you need."
Tsunade gave him a curt nod. "Good. We'll schedule the first session for next week." She turned her eyes back to Toshinori. "That gives you time to rest, prepare, and build up whatever strength you can before we start. I won't take risks with this."
Toshinori exhaled, his chest trembling with the weight of it all. Slowly, he bowed his head. "Thank you. Truly."
Her response was simple, fierce, and absolute.
"I'm not doing this for thanks. I'm doing it because you're needed, and because you damn well deserve the chance to live."
The words hung heavy, resolute. The plan was set. The path was clear. For the first time in years, Toshinori had a future to walk toward.
Tsunade gathered the scattered scans, her practiced hands moving with clinical precision even as her thoughts churned. For a man who'd resigned himself to death by inches, Toshinori Yagi had just been handed something unimaginable.
Nezu, perched neatly on the corner of a counter, tapped his claws together in a rhythm that could only mean one thing, scheming. His black eyes glittered with possibilities. A healed Symbol of Peace, restored by a hidden power that could rewrite the very limits of medicine? The ramifications rippled through his mind like concentric waves in still water.
Recovery Girl, however, smiled faintly, her wrinkles deepening around her eyes. "I'll admit, Tsunade, I didn't think anyone could take him farther than I already have. But you… you've opened doors I thought were sealed for good. If anyone can pull this miracle off, it's you." Her voice softened. "I'm glad he found his way to you."
From his corner, Aizawa crossed his arms, his tired gaze sharper than usual. "If this works…" He trailed off, the weight of it unspoken. Then he added bluntly, "No wonder you've stayed off the radar. If the HPSC had gotten even a whiff of this, you wouldn't be standing here. They'd have locked you up and wrung you dry." His hair shifted slightly as he shook his head. "Keep this tight. I don't trust anyone outside this room with it."
Tsunade met his gaze evenly, giving a short nod. "Agreed."
With the files finally stacked and clipped together, she slipped them into her bag, drawing the room back toward reality. She pulled out her phone, intending to check the time, and frowned at the blinking notification on her screen. "Voicemail," she muttered under her breath.
The others watched as she pressed play. For a moment there was only silence, broken by the tinny sound of a message being played into her ear. Whatever she heard, her face slowly shifted. From irritation, to disbelief, and finally to weary resignation. When it ended, she pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled a long, exasperated sigh.
Toshinori, sitting up a little straighter, tilted his head curiously. "What's wrong?"
Tsunade's lips twisted into a dry, humorless smirk. "Somehow," she said, sliding her phone back into her pocket, "my nephew just managed to give me a bigger headache than you did today."
The room blinked at her in mild surprise, even Nezu's whiskers twitched, but the faintest chuckle rumbled in Toshinori's chest.
—
Back At Aldera
The room was quiet except for the scrape of brooms and the faint squeak of rags against desks. Detention had a way of dulling sound, making every small noise echo like a confession.
Naruto worked steadily, his tall frame bent as he dragged a cloth across a desk, methodical, efficient. Beside him, Kirishima moved with his usual energy, but even his presence had dimmed to match the quiet. Minutes stretched before the red-haired boy finally broke it.
"You know." Kirishima said, voice careful but curious, "I've been wondering since the fight. I get it. I could see how much it mattered to you. But… whose locker was that? Why was it so important?"
The rag stilled in Naruto's hand. For a moment, he stood there frozen, his back turned to the other boy. His shoulders rose and fell once with a sharp breath. He could lie, brush it off, or just bury it. But something about Kirishima, his straightforwardness, his lack of malice made it feel different. Safer.
Slowly, Naruto straightened, leaning against the desk with both hands braced on its edge. His voice was low when he spoke.
"It belonged to Midoriya Izuku. He was my best friend."
Kirishima looked up, listening intently.
Naruto's eyes softened as memories flickered. "We grew up together. He was… the kind of person who looked at the world and saw hope, even when everyone else tried to tear him down. He wanted to be a hero more than anything, even without a quirk." His voice cracked faintly, but he pressed on. "He believed in people. Believed in me, even when no one else did. And now… he's gone."
Silence settled between them. Kirishima's jaw tightened, his usual upbeat nature tempered by the weight of Naruto's words. Finally, he let out a low whistle and shook his head.
"Man… that's rough. I can't believe someone would stoop that low, messing with his memory like that. That's not just unmanly that's cruel." His hands balled into fists. "Now I'm really mad I didn't give one of those jerks a concussion. They deserved it."
For the first time since returning to Aldera, Naruto actually laughed fully. A short, rough sound at first, then genuine enough to ease the tension in his chest. He glanced over at Kirishima, the corners of his mouth tugging upward.
"You're something else, you know that?"
Kirishima grinned, scratching the back of his neck. "Guess so. But hey, everyone needs someone watching their back. If those punks try anything again, you won't be standing alone."
Naruto studied him for a long moment. For years, it had been him and Izuku against the world. Now, maybe… just maybe, he wasn't as alone as he thought.
"Thanks." He said quietly.
The two boys went back to cleaning, the silence no longer heavy but companionable the kind that marked the first spark of a friendship. Before long their detention has passed and they were on their way out.
The late afternoon sun painted the sky in shades of orange and gold as the two boys stepped out of Aldera.
Naruto walked with his hands shoved into his pockets, his stride easy. Beside him, Kirishima kept the conversation going, retelling some goofy story from his old school. And the whiskered redhead wasn't just tolerating the chatter he was participating.
"See, I told you it was a manly decision!" Kirishima said, punching the air.
Naruto smirked. "Or a stupid one. Still not sure which."
"Same thing sometimes!" Kirishima grinned.
Naruto shook his head, amused and then froze. His sharp blue eyes flicked forward. Parked at the curb near the school gates was a sleek black sedan, polished enough to stand out against the drab asphalt. And leaning against it, arms crossed, was Tsunade.
Her honey-brown eyes locked onto her nephew with a piercing look that made the tall eighteen-year-old suddenly feel ten years old again.
"Aw, hell." Naruto muttered under his breath.
Tsunade straightened and walked toward them with the confidence of someone who knew exactly what kind of power she carried — in her quirk, in her fists, and in the authority of being both guardian and teacher.
Naruto braced himself.
"Don't worry." she said evenly, her voice cutting through the air as she stopped in front of him. "I've already let your sensei know that today's stamina and endurance training is going to be different."
Naruto blinked. "Different… how?"
Her lips curved into a smile that promised trouble. "It's come to my attention that we haven't sparred in far too long. So I thought today would be a good day for a nice, long, drawn-out match. Something to really push that stamina of yours."
Naruto sighed, shoulders slumping. "Figures…" His voice was resigned, like a man walking toward the gallows.
Beside him, Kirishima gawked, his jaw practically unhinged. He could feel the intensity rolling off the women. "S-Sparring? With her? Man, that's… that's insane!"
Naruto shot him a side-eye, muttering, "Welcome to my life."