Patch up

He was a dark figure that molded into the shadows of the evening as he trudged his way back to the pub. The night was chill with the muffled din carried by the night air, while his mind was set on one thing: collecting the due for a contract he had fulfilled the night before. The gruesome details still echoed in his thoughts from that night, but they were very deep, kept under check by honed discipline.

As he neared the pub, the standard guards straightened, their eyes wary as they made him out. Silent, they shifted aside, their gaze skittering off him almost as if it might find a target for a blow.

The inside of the pub was in twilight, and the hum of conversations died almost instantaneously upon Silence's entrance. Those men who had frequented the bar before now cowered into their chairs, eyes darting to him and then away. It wasn't hard to guess why; news about the massacre the night before had spread like wildfire.

Silence walked straight to the counter where the shopkeeper was leaning against, his face as white as a ghost, with cold sweat dripping. His eyes fixed on Silence, and he heaved a scream; a spasm of fear ran through his body. He did not need to ask what Silence had come for, since the package of money was already prepared under the counter.

His mind was still reeling from the news he had heard that morning-that the gang leader, along with all of his men, had met a brutal demise. An act of pure brutality that shook the underworld and, in front of him now, stood the one who performed it. The shopkeeper shivered, silently promising himself never to stand in this man's way.

He wordlessly pushed the bag of cash across the counter, his hands shaking. Silence reached out and took it, his face unreadable behind the half-mask. The silence between them hung thick, laced with unsaid understanding.

"There are. some people looking for you. They have another job in mind," the shopkeeper ventured, his voice barely a murmur.

Silence's gaze finally met his, cold and unfeeling. "Not today," he replied, his tone conclusive.

Without another word, he turned and walked away from the questioning and fearful stares of the others in the pub. With the bag in his hand, he proceeded towards the door, calm and slow, leaving tension with every step.

The door shut behind him, and a communal sigh escaped through the lips of patrons in the pub, their storm-for now-had passed.

As Aaron left the pub, starting to make his way through darkened streets, a thought crept into his head: his next task was to increase his Cursed Energy and his skills. The power from last night had been great, but he knew it wasn't enough. There was always someone stronger, and in this world, strength was the only currency that mattered.

He was suddenly reminded of the Jujutsu Kaisen techniques from his anime, which seemed to have so much to say about cursed energy and different types of refinement techniques that would actually help him unlock better power.

He considered Domain Expansion, which would make the attacks definitely hit inside the barrier, but it required so much CE and control that was beyond his power, and trying to do so would be close to suicide. He decided to let that idea rest for the time being and concentrated on something achievable.

There was the Reverse Cursed Technique, which turned cursed energy into positive energy to heal. That was a very hard skill, because at mastery it made him nearly unstoppable; however, he was able to repair his wounds while in battle, but that was too enticing, knowing it required a level of CE control he had not achieved.

Cursed Energy Manipulation was all about keeping the output of CE steady and refined. Gojo showed him that it was crucial to waste as little CE as possible, using only what he needed to. Aaron realized that his emotions got in the way of his use of CE, something quite inefficient. He needed control of his emotions and a smooth flow of CE.

Black Flash was an attack where a strong physical hit was instantly followed by an outburst of cursed energy that distorted space. If one could use this with perfectly timed execution, he would multiply the power of his strikes and greatly increase his combat power if mastered.

Aaron quickened his pace to the warehouse, a place where he always trained. He knew he needed to go further in his techniques, sharpen his skills more, and push his limits further up to the next level.

He entered, greeted by the usual smell of oil and dust. He dropped the cash bag on a crate and readied himself for the hard session ahead.

He sat in the middle of the room, shutting his eyes and beginning to focus on his breathing. His mind needed freeing so that he could control the cursed energy inside him. He sat in meditation, allowing himself to vividly envision it coursing through his body like a strong, steady river.

He started to practice keeping the output of his cursed energy constant. He could feel the energy surge within him, but he did not allow it to flare out of control. He carefully directed it with his will to flow to other parts of his body.

He tried to do this with the Black Flash by rigging a heavy punching bag and timing a release of his cursed energy with every punch. His early efforts were off-target, releasing the energy too soon or late, but he kept at it.

With every passing hour, he was drenched in sweat and trained hard. He tried invoking those cursed spirits near the warehouse several times, but failed to get them under his control. But he didn't give up and continued beyond his limits.

Aaron stood in the room, heavy with his breathing. He was exhausted, but his eyes just seemed to burn with a fire. He had progressed, but this was only the beginning. He still had a long way ahead of him before he reached his aims, but he would never rest before then.

Aaron practiced well into the night, the warehouse a crucible as his power continued to grow. The thoughts swam around in his mind like a tornado, tumbling over what could be done with the continued advancement of his cursed technique. Well after the minutes had ticked by into hours, he finally made a very important decision in testing the theory that had long sat in the back of his mind: the interesting concept that his Cursed Technique could be used to heal wounds.

He reached down and picked up a broken shard of wood that lay on the ground, his will unshakeable and strong as he pressed the jagged edge hard against the skin on his arm, inscribing a small but intentional cut. The sharp sting of pain registered at once and coursed through him, yet Aaron's focus and determination remained perfectly unbroken and intact. With quiet intensity, he muttered a single word, "Heal."

Almost immediately, he felt a sudden and alarming sensation as his CE began to drain away at an incredibly fast rate. His eyes widened in shock and surprise as he became suddenly aware of the rapid depletion occurring within him, something akin to that particular moment when he had used the "Pull" command on the shooter. Meanwhile, the wound on his arm was sealing up, and he felt an itchy sensation spreading across the area as the skin painfully knitted itself back together, returning his flesh to its former state.

Aaron took extra care to examine the wound, by now fully healed, and was impressed with how smooth the skin was around the area where the cut had been.

Aaron watched, his chest tightening with awe and a tinge of concern, as he examined the now-miraculously-healed wound. The skin felt incredibly smooth in the area where the cut had once been, but despite such an impressive recovery, the rapid drain of his cursed energy left him with a sense of vulnerability. This experiment revealed a blunt and undeniable truth:

With his carefully chosen words, he needed to use much energy and effort in healing wounds; thus, this whole technique came quite costly. Consequently, this ability was not always practical or even feasible for him to use.

It is highly likely that, in the storming and confused conditions of battle, injuries sustained would be far more serious and widespread than in other contexts. That fact suggests this method should only be used as a last resort, applicable only in the most desperate situations.

He now considered his limitations carefully and resolved to work on his efficiency in long-range combat. He remembered the instances where his inefficiency in precision and range had put him at a disadvantage, such as with the shooter. He needed to reduce inefficiencies and increase his area of effect in order not to get into similar situations. It was like he could feel his powers evolving, like psychokinesis in the nature of moving things, but on a far finer scale of distance and control. Aaron closed his eyes and concentrated on the debris scattered all over the warehouse floor. He needed them to move; "Move" with a sluggish process, Aaron began forcing his cursed energy from his body, trying to envelope a greater area. The strain came immediately, yet he fought through it, resolute in his determination to extend his influence and hone his skills.