The Nomu's condition was hopeless by human standards, or even by the standards of Toge's old combat training.
Toge looked down at the corpse sprawled across the dark wooden floor and once again examined the internal destruction caused by All Might.
Multiple internal injuries, shredded blood vessels, and a total collapse of the vital organ system.
Toge realized that any attempt at ordinary first aid would be meaningless. He couldn't force this superhuman entity to function by conventional methods. The Nomu was dying not from bleeding that could be stopped, but from a lack of energy. At any moment, the last fragile thread of life tying this "costly project" to the world could snap.
Toge understood the Nomu could lose consciousness at any second, which meant he had to keep its minimal awareness alive until it could cross the "danger zone."
I have to think of something that can keep the Nomu awake… at least conscious, Toge thought.
This wasn't science—it was combat instinct, a search for unorthodox solutions, just as he had done his entire life. Something old resurfaced in his memory, knowledge about dealing with severe injuries and neural shock.
He stopped kneeling beside the body and turned toward the simple kitchen at the end of the hall. His steps were calm but decisive. He opened a cabinet and rummaged through the shelves.
Moments later, Toge returned holding a small plastic container filled with coarse white powder.
"Salt."
He glanced at the container, then back at the Nomu's body sprawled on the ground.
"I'm sorry, but this is the only way to survive."
Toge's words were cold and sharp, stripped of compassion. He looked at the plastic container of coarse salt, then back at the broken body.
"I'm sorry, but this is the only way to survive."
The words weren't directed at the Nomu, but at himself—a justification for the brutal measure he was about to take. He knew what he would do wasn't treatment, but forced torture to preserve a rare jewel.
Toge knelt beside the corpse again. His strong hand gripped the container. There was no time to prepare a solution; what was needed was an immediate shock.
He opened the container and, instead of sprinkling, scooped up a fistful of coarse salt between his fingers.
Then, without hesitation, he shoved the salt directly into the open, torn wounds in the Nomu's chest, where the damaged tissues were beginning to cool.
The effect was instant—and horrifying.
Gwoooooosh!!
A silent scream, a renewal through pain.
The Nomu's body convulsed violently. It couldn't make a sound, but a wave of cellular agony ripped through it. The salt, reacting savagely with the raw, exposed flesh, triggered a brutal neural shock that surged straight to its brain. It was like pouring acid over living meat. The purpose, however, was to keep the Nomu awake for as long as possible.
The Nomu's eyes, which had been closed in slumber, cracked slightly open. From the disfigured face, in the place where its eyes should be, clear fluid began to stream down its dark-purple skin.
Tears.
They weren't born of grief, but of absolute pain and the forced awakening of its nervous system. A silent testimony to suffering, but also proof of life.
Toge ignored the scene completely. He had no room for sentiment. The tears were nothing more than proof that minimal consciousness had returned, that the pain was fueling the vital activity needed to force regeneration to continue.
He grabbed another handful of salt.
"This isn't the time to sleep, monster," Toge said in a voice of deadly calm.
He rubbed the salt violently into the deepest parts of the wound, concentrating the shock on the areas he knew were most damaged and on the brink of collapse. The salt dissolved and seeped in, forcing the tissue to react and regenerate, no matter the agony.
The Nomu thrashed and convulsed, its silent tears still falling onto the wooden floor.
Toge continued this process until he was certain the deadly coldness had completely vanished from the body, replaced by the feverish heat of regeneration. The creature was no longer on the verge of death; it had been forced into a fight for survival against its own will.
Even after this brutal salt-induced stimulation, the Nomu could hardly be considered "healed." The body sprawled on the floor was still pitiful, disfigured, mutilated, carrying the marks of All Might's overwhelming destruction. The freshly regenerated flesh looked crude and incomplete, like fabric hastily stitched together.
But what mattered most to Toge was that the warmth of life had returned to the body. The lethal chill no longer seeped from it; deliberate pain had successfully reawakened the Nomu's regenerative system and forced it to function.
"Now, it can heal itself," Toge muttered, watching the faint spasms still rippling across the creature.
The wooden floor of the living room was now coated with dissolved salt, sticky blood, and shredded tissue from the Nomu. Toge needed a clean environment before he could begin his study and analysis.
He stood. His muscles, strengthened by two wishes, were still taut. Calmly, he walked back to the kitchen. This time, he wasn't searching for stimulants, but for cleaning tools.
He returned carrying a large bucket filled with cold water.
Standing over the Nomu, which had only just stabilized and barely survived, Toge showed no hesitation or regret. The next step was to cleanse the creature's body of blood and salt residue.
"Explosion—"
Without warning, Toge dumped the entire bucket over the Nomu's body.
The cold water surged over the dark-purple flesh, washing away the remnants of salt and blood.
Toge observed the result. The Nomu's body was now clean, glistening with moisture. More importantly, it was relatively stable.
He set the empty bucket aside, grabbed a cloth, and began wiping down the floor around the body. He had obtained what he wanted: a living, stable specimen.
Now, all that was left was to begin his work.