Takeo failed.
There was little need to describe the process in detail.
The moment his bone spur was dipped into the molten iron, though it did not melt instantly, the searing pain was unbearable. It forced him to yank the bone spur back almost immediately.
Takeo flushed with shame every time he recalled that scene.
He had never screamed so loudly in his life. The pain was so overwhelming he nearly lost consciousness.
For a brief moment, his mind went blank—and when awareness returned, he was already well clear of the forge, staggering away from the heat. The bone spur, scorched and dripping with molten iron, had been severed and cast aside.
Unendurable.
Truly unendurable!
It was not a pain any ordinary person could withstand.
And at least for now, Takeo could not either.
From that day onward, he never raised the subject again.
Yet… despite all this, he remained unwilling to accept it.
In the quiet moments after training, he often found himself brooding over the matter, slipping into his inner consciousness to speak with the wolf.
"…I'm embarrassed."
Sitting beside the wolf, Takeo whispered softly:
"I was so confident—I really thought I could endure that kind of pain. But in the end, I just screamed and pulled away. It was pathetic. Haah.. Truly embarrassing."
The wolf gave no reply.
Takeo was used to the silence, so he went on:
"But I really couldn't endure it. I can handle the pain of fighting demons, even the pain of a gaping hole in my chest… but those kinds of pain only last for a moment.
"This pain—it just kept coming, and I couldn't stand it. I… I really couldn't…"
His fists clenched tightly.
Guilt and shame gnawed at him. He had believed that after everything he'd already endured, he would surely be able to withstand even this.
But the truth was that Takeo wasn't as strong as he had imagined.
In reality, there was no need for him to be so desperate to grow stronger so quickly.
The wolf was still there, within his consciousness. One day, he would inherit its full power, and when that time came, his strength would take another great leap forward.
By then, these bone spurs—metal or not—might well be nothing more than decoration, useless even if reforged.
And after the wolf, there would most likely be a successor even stronger than the wolf.
By then, Takeo could probably erase Muzan Kibutsuji's existence with ease—even without a Nichirin sword.
But… when would "that time" come?
Would it be only after everyone else was already dead? After he had lost everything?
Waiting was always easy, but no one could guarantee that accidents wouldn't occur in the meantime.
Takeo didn't want to repeat the past—didn't want to suffer another tragedy and then look back in regret, asking himself why he hadn't acted sooner, why he hadn't pushed harder to become stronger.
He didn't want to regret anymore.
That was why, even knowing he might one day inherit a power far greater than the wolf's, he still needed to train and grow in the meantime.
He had to keep improving himself—by whatever means possible.
It was precisely because of this determination that his recent failure struck him so deeply. It had shaken his self-confidence.
For a fleeting moment, he even thought… if he were to lose the wolf's inheritance, he would be nothing.
"…"
Takeo continued speaking, pouring out his thoughts. He didn't even notice that—for the first time in all these countless one-sided conversations—the wolf had actually stopped what he was doing.
And still, Takeo went on, confessing everything in his heart.
Suddenly, a low, deliberate voice echoed in the stillness:
"Do you have something to protect, too?"
"!?"
Takeo froze, his words caught in his throat. His eyes widened as he turned to stare at the wolf.
The wolf had turned its head toward him. In its clouded eyes lingered something indescribable.
"You… you spoke!"
It was the first time Takeo had ever heard the wolf utter a word. For so long, the wolf had been silent—merely a presence, like a hollow tree hole that listened without reply. Takeo had long grown accustomed to speaking into that silence.
And now, the "tree hole" had spoken back.
"Answer… my question," the wolf repeated.
Takeo remained silent for a long moment before finally shaking his head. "I don't know."
He truly didn't.
All he wanted was for no one he cared about to die. That was all.
But… was that really the same as having something to protect?
The wolf no longer looked at him. His gaze drifted away, yet he did not resume carving the Buddha statue. Instead, he rose to its feet and said to him:
"Come with me."
As he spoke, the wolf rose to his feet and walked out of the temple.
Takeo frowned in confusion but followed after him. They crossed the courtyard and stopped before another Buddha statue on the far side. There, the wolf came to a halt.
Takeo glanced around, and recognition struck him.
In the game, near the Nameless Temple, there had always been an immortal creature that served as a training opponent. The wolf could fight it endlessly, honing techniques and familiarizing himself with newly learned moves.
This… this was the place where that battle had taken place.
But now, nothing stood there.
"Why did you bring me here?" Takeo asked, puzzled.
The wolf raised his left arm, pulling out the unused prosthetic hand. He attached it, flexing the fingers experimentally before turning to Takeo.
"Pain. Training. Have you ever experienced that?"
"Somewhat but …Not like you..."
"Well then. You will now."
The wolf's words were barely finished before he snapped his arm up. From the prosthetic, several shuriken-like blades shot forth, whistling through the air toward Takeo!
Almost on instinct, Takeo willed his two Nichirin swords into his grasp and tried to intercept the incoming projectiles.
But the wolf's sharp cry immediately forced him to halt his movements.
"You cannot resist," the wolf said. "This is… training."
Training? What kind of training?
While Takeo was still trying to comprehend those words, his two swords lowered. He allowed the meteor darts to strike him directly.
They pierced into his body, embedding themselves at precise acupuncture points. Agonizing pain exploded through him, surging from flesh to mind in an instant.
In that moment, Takeo understood what the wolf meant.
He was going to train Takeo's tolerance for pain.
Ninjas were assassins and spies who lived in the shadows.
And as spies, they always faced the possibility of capture. Once captured, they needed the willpower to resist, to endure any torture without revealing a single word of information.
But how could ordinary men possess such willpower?
Thus, the practice of pain training—anti-torture training—was born.
Every ninja underwent such training, forging their minds and bodies until no torment could break them, ensuring that even under the cruelest tortures, they would never betray intelligence.
Takeo did not need anti-torture training in the traditional sense. What he needed was to adapt—to accustom his body and mind to pain so that, one day, he could endure the searing agony of molten metal burning into his very bone marrow.
"So… that's how it is…"
Even as pain coursed through him, Takeo, who could just barely withstand it for now, gritted his teeth and said, "I understand. Please… continue!"
Although he had inherited the Logan and 2B's power, and perhaps even Logan's tolerance for pain, inherited strength was never the same as strength forged through personal experience.
This time, Takeo was determined to claim the power he sought with his own will—not merely by relying on what was passed down to him.
And pain training… was the best place to begin.