Motivations aside, Sasuke had spent too many weeks in the Institute to look a gift horse too deeply in the mouth: unless this were some kind of special whetstone designed to destroy a blade rather than sharpening it, it was probably fine. At most, Albedo probably just wanted something in return.

That something became marginally clearer with the boy's next statement, Sasuke slotting a nod of agreement in between angling his sword and beginning to draw the rough stone along the blade. It was an action and angle he knew better than the back of his own hand, the smooth shhhnk of refining metal familiar and calming.

"A notice," he repeated when the question was posed, wracking his memory for -- ah. "Regarding fighting? Yes."