Shinichi had come to the front lines this time in the capacity of a professional medical-nin, so naturally he followed the medical unit to the field hospital.
Deep within the camp, tents stretched endlessly, packed tightly together. Medical staff hurried in and out, their footsteps brisk; stretchers moved constantly back and forth. The air was thick with the mixed smells of blood, medicine, and disinfectant.
Inside each tent, what met the eye was a scene of frantic, near-chaotic activity. Beds were lined up one after another, filled with wounded brought down from the front lines.
Some groaned softly, some lay unconscious. Medical-nin moved between them, the green glow of chakra in their hands almost never ceasing.
Shinichi quickly received his assigned task. He made his way through the crowded passage, lifted the flap of a tent marked "Critical Ward Area One," and stepped inside.
It was just as busy within. Seven or eight medical-nin were each tending to patients in front of them. Some had sweat beading on their foreheads; others spoke quietly to those beside them as they worked.
Shinichi's gaze swept across the tent—then suddenly stopped.
A familiar figure stood beside a bed, head lowered, brows tightly knit.
She wore the standard uniform of a medical-nin, round-framed glasses resting on her nose. Her short tea-colored hair looked slightly frizzy under the dim light of the tent, and the line of her profile was gentle and focused.
At that moment, she was staring at the injured patient lying on the bed, hesitation clearly written across her face, as if unsure how to proceed.
"Nonō-neesan."
Shinichi walked over and spoke softly.
Yakushi Nonō was startled. She raised her head, blinked, then her eyes widened.
"Huh? Shinichi!?"
Surprise appeared on her face as she looked him up and down uncertainly. "Why are you here? Weren't you… supposed to still be in the village?"
Nonō was also one of the children who had come from that orphanage.
However, long before Shinichi was even born, she had already become a full-fledged ninja.
It was said that she had excellent aptitude. While still in the Academy, she had been noticed by seniors in the medical department, began training in medical ninjutsu early, and soon became a certified medical-nin.
But she had never taken a position at the Konoha hospital. Instead, she spent most of her time assigned to patrol units along the borders of the Land of Fire, serving as their medical support.
Even so, she had never forgotten the place that raised her. Whenever she returned to Konoha and had the time, she would go back to the orphanage—bringing sweets and snacks, chatting with the children, and helping the director with bookkeeping.
When Shinichi was little, he had even received candy from her.
This time, she had come to the front lines as one of the earliest medical-nin, directly following Jiraiya's command of Konoha's southwestern army.
"I'm part of the logistics medical unit the village sent to reinforce the front lines. I just arrived today," Shinichi explained.
Nonō opened her mouth, wanting to say that he was still too young, that it shouldn't be his turn to be here—but the words stopped before they could come out.
She looked at the boy before her. He was taller than the last time she'd seen him. Much of the childishness had faded from his face. His eyes were still the same as she remembered—gentle and bright.
But now they held something more—something steady, something reassuring.
Thinking about everything Shinichi had accomplished over the years—developing the Rasengan independently, winning the Sunagakure Chūnin Exams, fighting a powerful samurai from the Land of Iron to a standstill, even delivering a speech before the entire village just days ago…
Nonō suddenly realized that this child was no longer the little boy who quietly said "thank you, neesan" while accepting candy from her.
"I see."
After a swirl of thoughts, she simply nodded, a familiar gentle smile appearing on her face. "With you here, Shinichi, it does make things feel a lot more reassuring."
Although she spent most of her time on the border and occasionally had to follow that person's orders to act as a spy gathering intelligence from other nations, she still heard about Shinichi often—and knew that his medical skills were exceptionally high.
Shinichi smiled slightly. Then his gaze shifted to the unconscious patient on the bed, his expression turning serious.
"What's the issue?"
A young ninja lay on the bed, no more than in his early twenties. His right arm, along with most of his shoulder, was wrapped in bandages—but even through the layers of gauze, it was obvious something was terribly wrong with that limb.
It was much thinner than his normal left arm, shriveled as if all moisture had been drained from it.
The bits of skin occasionally exposed through the gaps in the bandages showed a strange, withered brown color, clinging tightly to the bone, like a piece of dead wood that had been dried out in the desert for years.
With Shinichi's level of medical expertise, he only needed a glance before he shook his head inwardly.
No saving him. Just waiting to die.
Nonō lowered her voice and explained quickly, "All the moisture in the skin, muscle tissue, and even the bones across most of his right arm and shoulder has been completely evaporated. The entire area has undergone irreversible desiccation and necrosis."
"I considered emergency amputation to prevent the necrosis—and the potential infection that would follow—from spreading to the rest of the body. But the affected area is too large. If we remove it, the wound surface will be enormous. He wouldn't survive the blood loss—he'd die on the spot. For now, I can only use the Mystical Palm Technique to maintain the vitality of the healthy tissue above the shoulder and try to stimulate some…"
At this point, Nonō sighed and continued, "But… this is only buying time. A systemic infection caused by the necrotic tissue is almost inevitable. He probably won't last more than a few days…"
"Shinichi, you…"
After finishing her explanation, she looked at the boy beside her, holding onto a faint sliver of hope as she asked, "Is there anything you can do?"
Shinichi was widely praised throughout the Konoha hospital as a medical prodigy—and the direct disciple of Tsunade-sama, the greatest medical-nin in the shinobi world.
Maybe he had a way?
Maybe…
In truth, Nonō didn't hold much hope. In a situation like this, even if Tsunade-sama personally stepped in, she might not be able to save this comrade.
"I'll do what I can."
Shinichi didn't overpromise.
He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, then opened them again a moment later, his gaze settling on the unconscious young ninja on the bed.
In that instant, the world in his eyes seemed to change.
It was as if an elegant background melody began playing in his mind.
The wounded man on the bed no longer seemed like a patient to him.
He was just a piece of flesh—a problematic ingredient.
Like a master chef examining a piece of meat before cooking it: evaluating its grain, its layers, which parts could still be salvaged, and which had completely lost their value and needed to be precisely removed.
Then, Shinichi reached out his hand. His movements were light, slow, and carried an indescribable elegance.
Starting from the patient's palm, his fingers gently kneaded, tracing across each finger, each joint, then moving upward along the wrist, the forearm, the elbow—until they reached the shriveled, withered shoulder.
His motions were so precise it was as if he were measuring something. At times, he would pause at a spot, lingering for a moment, applying slight pressure with his fingertips.
However, this method of examination—far beyond conventional medical checks, excessively meticulous to the point of seeming almost entranced—
Made Nonō, standing to the side, feel a strange unease rise within her.
Shinichi's movements were serious, focused—one could even say gentle.
But something felt off.
How to put it…
It was like watching a top-tier chef preparing a rare, valuable ingredient.
As if he were using his fingers to assess the marbling and elasticity of a premium cut of beef, carefully examining every inch of its texture, contemplating how to make the cuts, what method to use to cook it—so as to bring out its flavor and nutrients to the fullest.
He was clearly preparing to save a life.
Yet somehow, it looked like he was preparing to cook.
Nonō was startled by her own thought and quickly shook her head.
"The situation is dire—but there might be a way."
Shinichi's fingers finally stopped at the boundary of the necrotic area. After a brief moment of contemplation, he looked at Nonō and spoke calmly: "Nonō-neesan, please bring me a dose of fresh blood tonic, a hemostatic powder, and a unit of high-concentration nutrient solution."
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