He wasn't as bad off as one might think — extensive superficial injuries and a punctured right lung had already begun to heal, although a less robust person would have been sent to the grave three weeks ago, but his physical wounds inspired less concern in me.
But the keiraku kei shinobi was as if it had been doused with strong acid, damaging many chakra channels and tenketsu, as well as thinning the walls of the less affected ones. In fact, it was because of the disrupted chakra circulation that Takeru was in such a state; otherwise, he would have been able to get to his feet long ago.
Jonin are tough creatures. Actually, this is a couple of hours' work for a specialist of my level, fortunately, patching is not the same as regrowing. I couldn't do anything yet with my left arm, which had been cut off at the elbow — the scroll with spare parts had long since run out, and there were no prisoners of the appropriate gender left.
And all the time I was working on my comrade, a couple of shinobi and the high priestess were loitering nearby, watching my work with interest.
"Done," I said, stepping away from Yamanaka. "You can't use your chakra for the next couple of days, but in a week you can use it moderately. We'll have to take care of your arm in Konoha."
"Thank you, Ryo-san, I'll take care of myself," the jonin sighed with relief, easily sitting down on the bed and stretching, "those demon bastards beat me up pretty badly, I thought I'd never recover, not to mention my arm.
"All right, get some rest, Takero-san," I patted the man on the shoulder and turned to the priestess who was waiting patiently for me, now accompanied by two ninjas in faceless masks and standard military armor. "I apologize for keeping you waiting."
"I understand, Nara-don," Miroku nodded, glancing in surprise at the wounded man who had begun to remove his bandages, who just a moment ago had been unable to move without help, "and I must admit, your iryonin skills are quite amazing.
But before I could answer, one of her guards tore off his mask, revealing a young kunoichi, nineteen or twenty years old, her face crossed by an ugly scar left by some kind of serrated weapon, which miraculously did not blind her, but twisted her nose and disfigured her face considerably. This, incidentally, turned out to be the strong jonin, which was surprising for the local level.
"Nara-sama, let my request be extremely presumptuous, but please help my comrades who have suffered at the hands of the demon worshippers — we have no iryonin left! She fell to her knees and pressed her forehead to the floor.
"Eh?" I raised my eyebrows in surprise, not expecting such an emotional display, and automatically noting that the kunoichi's slightly upturned butt was beyond praise.
"This is Kana-chan, leader of the remaining shinobi from the hidden village of Oni no Kuni, who remained loyal and stood against Morieu's minions," the priestess explained with a sigh.
"I see," I nodded and looked around, counting the bodies on the beds, most of which were unconscious, while the rest looked at me hopefully. "I believe I can do this."
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