On the battlefield, medical-nin are generally divided into two types. One operates embedded within frontline squads, providing immediate treatment to injured comrades at any moment. The other remains in rear-area field hospitals, treating the wounded evacuated from the front lines.
During the first few days after the war broke out, frontline medical-nin had been working under extreme overload. Now, with the arrival of Konoha's first large-scale logistics, medical, and supply support units—bringing in a significant number of additional medical-nin along with ample medicines and equipment—the battlefield medical system on the southwestern front was immediately strengthened. The first wave of exhausted medical-nin finally got some breathing room.
Over the following days, the entire field hospital zone entered a state of high-speed operation. As the tug-of-war between Konoha and Sunagakure on the front lines grew increasingly intense, large numbers of wounded were transported down from various positions every day.
But if there was one person everyone agreed was the busiest, they would all mention the same name—Higashino Shinichi.
Though the young man had only recently arrived at the front, his presence could be seen in almost every corner of the field hospital.
Sometimes it was his main body. Sometimes it was his clones.
Those with lighter injuries and no immediate danger to their lives were handled by his clones, while the critically wounded—cases others didn't dare to touch lightly—were treated personally by him.
He didn't just perform surgeries himself—he also personally brewed and compounded various medicines.
Common supplies like hemostatic powder, blood-replenishing agents, nutrient solutions, and antibiotics, once reconfigured in his hands, seemed to produce entirely different effects.
Those who had used his formulations all noticed the difference.
The same hemostatic powder, the same antibiotics—yet after being adjusted by him, bleeding stopped faster, and the likelihood of post-operative infection dropped significantly.
This rising star of Konoha, already known for his top-tier talent in medical ninjutsu, now seemed to be displaying astonishing aptitude and creativity in pharmacology as well.
In Critical Ward Two, Shinichi had just completed another major operation. The wounded ninja on the bed was breathing steadily, the shriveled, necrotic tissue caused by Scorch Release having been successfully excised, the wound cleaned and treated with precision.
Another ninja injured by Scorch Release had survived.
However, the one who had performed it all was clearly not in good condition.
His black hair clung damply to his forehead, soaked with sweat. His face was visibly pale, and his usually clear, bright eyes were now bloodshot.
"Shinichi, that's enough."
Nonō looked at his pale face and bloodshot eyes, her heart aching so much she could barely speak. She stepped forward, handing him a clean, damp towel as she urged gently: "You need to go get some rest."
The moment her words fell, it was as if something ignited throughout the entire tent.
"Yeah, Shinichi, go rest!"
"How long have you been going today? Almost twenty hours, right? You've been like this for days—just take a break!"
"We've got things under control here. Go rest!"
"Shinichi-kun… please go rest… we… we can manage…"
"That's right, you've saved so many of us—don't work yourself into collapse!"
"Go sleep for a bit! We promise we won't move around—we'll lie here properly!"
It wasn't just the other medical staff tidying equipment—some of the conscious wounded lying in nearby beds also spoke up, unable to hold back. Some voices were weak, others full of gratitude, but all eyes converged on the young figure, filled with concern and reluctance to see him push himself further.
Over the past few days, everyone had witnessed his efforts—no, his sheer desperation.
He barely stopped for even a moment. While on duty, both he and his clones moved like tireless shuttles, weaving through every part of the field hospital, handling case after case.
After his shift, while others seized the chance to catch their breath, he would often slip alone into the medicine preparation room, personally brewing batch after batch of highly effective compounds—many of which proved critical.
From before dawn to late into the night, his figure was always there. His eyes grew redder by the day, his face paler with fatigue.
And then, after only two or three hours of rest, he would rise again as if nothing had happened and continue working.
Shinichi took the towel from Nonō, wiped his face and hands, and slowly swept his gaze across the tent—over the worried, pleading, and grateful faces. A gentle smile, the kind that reassured others, appeared on his pale face.
"Everyone, don't worry. I'm fine…"
Before he could finish, a voice from outside the tent cut him off abruptly. "Then get your ass to bed if you're told to! What are you wasting words for?!"
The tent flap was yanked open, and Tsunade strode in with imposing momentum. Her brown eyes swept across everyone inside before locking onto that slightly pale face.
"What are you trying to prove here? Playing the hero? With so many seniors around, since when is it your turn to play hero?"
She walked straight up to him, arms crossed, glaring down at him.
"Anyone who didn't know better would think this entire field hospital can't function without you!"
Shinichi opened his mouth, about to explain—
"Go to sleep!"
Tsunade cut him off directly, her voice rising several notches: "Now! Immediately! This isn't a discussion—it's an order!"
The tent fell silent. No one spoke. Everyone simply watched.
"…Understood, Tsunade-sensei."
Shinichi was silent for two seconds, then nodded and obediently turned toward the tent entrance.
"Wait."
Tsunade's voice came from behind him. He stopped and turned back.
"Get enough sleep, clear your head, then get back to work." Tsunade's tone was still as fierce as ever as she continued, "If I see you running around tomorrow with those red eyes again, you'll be in for it!"
"I understand."
Shinichi responded, lifted the tent flap, and walked out.
"This child…"
Nonō watched his back disappear beyond the tent entrance and let out a soft sigh.
The tent fell quiet for a few seconds.
Then someone murmured softly, "With Shinichi here, you really do feel at ease."
Hearing that, Tsunade didn't quite know what to think. Her eyes flickered slightly, then she turned toward Nonō at her side: "Nonō, what did I tell you before? Didn't I tell you to keep an eye on that kid, to stop him from overdoing it? To stop him from playing the hero? Is this how you've been watching him?"
"My apologies, Tsunade-sama. I couldn't persuade him."
Nonō apologized, but her gaze still followed the gradually receding figure of the boy.
It was as if she were seeing a two- or three-year-old child, carefully testing the temperature of a baby bottle, softly soothing one crying infant after another.
At an age when most children were still crying loudly, being a nuisance, and only knowing how to demand attention and affection, there had been such a child—quietly, gently taking care of those even younger than himself.
That day, Nonō had stood at the doorway and watched for a long time.
She didn't know why she had watched for so long. She only remembered that the sunlight that day had been beautiful, falling on that small figure and outlining it with a faint golden glow.
The scene shifted—to when he was a bit older, taking the initiative to help clean the courtyard, tidy up toys, and share his rare candies and treats with younger brothers and sisters.
This child named Shinichi had opened his eyes to the world far too early. Quietly observing it, then using his small strength—clumsily, gently—trying to soothe others' unease, trying to shoulder part of their burdens.
"However…"
Nonō withdrew her thoughts, a faint smile appearing at the corner of her lips as she spoke softly: "Isn't it precisely because this child has always been like this since he was young—accustomed to quietly doing things, accustomed to taking care of others, accustomed to always placing himself last, warming everyone around him in his own way…"
Her voice grew even softer, yet each word fell clearly into everyone's ears: "That's why everyone feels especially pained for him, and can't help but want to protect him… isn't that right, Tsunade-sama?"
The tent fell silent once more.
Tsunade did not speak. The surrounding medical staff did not speak. Even the wounded on the beds listened quietly—no one made a sound.
The silence stretched on for a long time.
No one refuted her.
…
Half an hour later, at the command post.
Lamplight cast swaying shadows against the tent walls. Jiraiya sat at a wooden table, a pile of intelligence reports spread before him, his brows tightly furrowed.
"That Pakura!"
He set down the file in his hand with a headache, rubbing his temples.
"In just three days, she's led that squad to hit six of our supply lines, four patrol units, and even wiped out two forward outposts. Every time, they come and go like the wind—we can't catch them at all."
He lifted his head and looked at Tsunade, who stood across from him with her arms crossed.
"Regular troops run into her and can only take the beating. We send elite squads to encircle her, and she always senses it in advance and disappears without a trace before we can close the net."
At this point, Jiraiya couldn't help but sigh again, rubbing his brow: "If only Minato were here."
"Stop thinking about your student."
Tsunade cut off his remark, walking over to the map and pointing at several directions: "According to the latest intelligence summary, Kumogakure's troop buildup and abnormal activity in the northeast are becoming more frequent—full-scale war could break out at any time this month. Kirigakure is also getting restless along the southeastern coast, repeatedly approaching—even making small incursions into our territorial waters under the pretext of pursuing rogue nin or inspecting merchant ships. Minato's mission is far more important than you think."
"Yeah." Jiraiya nodded.
The tent fell quiet for a few seconds.
"Still, you're right, Jiraiya."
After a brief silence, Tsunade slowly turned around, her back to the map as she faced him.
"We can't let this continue."
"Give me an elite squad. I'll lead it myself and go meet this Pakura."
Jiraiya fell silent for a moment. He stared into Tsunade's eyes, then after a while, slowly nodded: "Alright."
"But Tsunade, you're the one in charge of our logistics and medical system. You can only operate within a range where you can return within a day."
"If anything unexpected happens, you need to be able to get back quickly."
"No problem." Tsunade nodded.
At that moment, Jiraiya spoke again: "By the way, while you're gone, who's going to take over logistics and medical affairs? Have you decided?"
"Let that kid handle it."
Tsunade answered almost without hesitation.
"His medical ninjutsu is top-tier, he's meticulous, and he stays calm under pressure. While I'm gone, he can handle things just fine. If anything major happens, I can return quickly anyway."
"…I see."
Jiraiya hesitated for a moment, but in the end, he still nodded: "Having a tokubetsu jōnin take charge is a bit against regulations… but since you say so, we'll do it."
"Tch, tch, tch."
Tsunade raised a brow, looking at him with a half-smile: "So you actually care about regulations, Jiraiya?"
Jiraiya laughed and said nothing more.
...
Shinichi had no idea he had already become the acting head of the southwestern army's medical and logistics division. After returning to his tent, he didn't immediately go to rest. Instead, he slowly ate the food he had prepared himself, one bite at a time.
The moment the food entered his stomach, the [Unceasing Vitality] and [Gourmet] entries within his body almost began operating simultaneously. The carefully selected and combined ingredients transformed into a warm current of energy that flowed through his limbs and bones, repairing his fatigue and replenishing his depleted chakra.
He closed his eyes, feeling that warmth spread throughout his body.
Shinichi understood very clearly why he was working so desperately—or rather, why he deliberately made himself appear to be working so desperately. In reality, he was far less exhausted than he let on.
Winning people's hearts.
The phrase sounded utilitarian, but he never avoided it.
Every surgery he performed in the field hospital, every batch of medicine he compounded, every wounded person he saved—these people would remember him. Their comrades would remember him.
Those medical staff who had personally witnessed him working day and night would remember him as well. In their hearts, a single thought would take root.
Higashino Shinichi was not just a genius.
He was a comrade to whom one could entrust their life.
Even… a leader to whom one could entrust the future.
This was the human heart.
His goal had never been limited to being a genius ninja, nor even to becoming a top-tier powerhouse in the shinobi world.
Shinichi's gaze had long been set on the very peak of Konoha's power structure—the position of Hokage.
This was based on the most fundamental logic of his Entry System.
Each major advancement in rank—from Genin, to Chūnin, to Jōnin—brought comprehensive enhancements to his entries and new opportunities for draws.
Then what lay beyond "Jōnin"? What was the pinnacle of the ninja profession system?
It was the Kage.
Only by ascending to the position of Kage could he allow his [Ninja] system's professional entries to naturally advance to an entirely new level.
So Shinichi had to fight for it.
From displaying his talent at the Ninja Academy and defeating Kakashi to establish his name as a genius, to aligning his daily thoughts and behavior with the so-called Will of Fire; from submitting one strategic analysis report after another to let the Third Hokage and the elders recognize his vision, to delivering speeches at village assemblies so that all of Konoha would remember his voice—
Even when war broke out, he became the first underage ninja to voluntarily apply for the front lines. A young genius who could have safely remained in the rear, yet chose instead to share life and death with his comrades from the very beginning.
And in the most critical medical position, he adopted a burning, desperate posture, striving with all his might to save every comrade he could.
All of it was for that position.
Because to ascend to that position, Shinichi needed strength, needed reputation, needed the support of people's hearts—he needed villagers, ninja, the great clans, and Konoha's upper echelon all to believe that he should be the one sitting there.
From the original timeline, due to the sheer brutality of the Third Great Ninja War—fighting successive battles against the four great nations—Konoha suffered devastating losses. After the war, the Third Hokage resigned to take responsibility, and the selection of the Fourth Hokage began.
Now, with his own intervention, Konoha's losses in this war might not be severe enough to force the Third Hokage to step down. The post-war situation was full of variables.
But Shinichi did not dare to gamble.
Nor did he dare to place his hopes on the possibility that Namikaze Minato might, as in the original timeline, fall shortly after taking office—whether due to the Nine-Tails' attack or some other unforeseen accident.
Minato was too young—only ten years older than him.
With his talent and reputation, once he successfully assumed the position, he could easily hold the Hokage seat for twenty years. By then, he would only be in his forties—at the peak of his strength and prestige.
For Shinichi, who needed the Hokage position to drive the ultimate advancement of his Entry System, that was completely unacceptable.
The trajectory of fate had already shifted, and the window of the future had become uncertain. He could not entrust his most critical path of advancement to luck or to the fluctuations of someone else's destiny.
He had to fight for it.
He had to start now.
To fight in the present—in every battle's merits, in every bit of reputation accumulated through saving lives, in every chain of recognition deeply rooted in people's hearts—grasping the uncertain future as firmly as possible in his own hands.
Shinichi knew very clearly what he was up against.
Both he and Minato belonged to the Hokage faction. He was Tsunade's disciple; Minato was Jiraiya's disciple. In terms of lineage, they were evenly matched.
But Tsunade was the princess of the Senju. That identity itself meant foundation. Within Konoha's education and medical departments, a large number of Senju descendants held positions.
Those people were naturally Tsunade's supporters, and as her direct disciple, he could naturally inherit that political resource.
This was an advantage Minato—Jiraiya's student—could not match.
However, Minato's wife was Uzumaki Kushina.
The Nine-Tails' jinchūriki.
The strategic significance of that identity required no explanation. A jinchūriki was essentially a village's nuclear weapon, and Kushina's existence meant that Minato was naturally bound to Konoha's most critical deterrent force.
There was another key factor—age.
If the Third Great Ninja War lasted over three years as in the original timeline, then after the war, Shinichi would only be fourteen.
Minato, meanwhile, would be twenty-four.
A difference of ten years.
At that age, what did a ten-year gap mean?
It meant that when Minato was already seen by the world as a fully capable, independent ninja, Shinichi would still be a minor.
It meant that when people discussed candidates for Hokage, their first thought would always be: "He's too young," "He's still a child," "He can wait."
That was far too disadvantageous.
He had to secure enough merit in this war and accumulate enough support from the people.
He had to make everyone see—
So what if he was fourteen? So what if he was an underage Kage?
He had already accomplished things that others could never achieve in a lifetime.
Let results speak.
Let people's hearts speak.
Let undeniable weight speak.
By then, even if he was still young, he could form a powerful force after the war to push himself toward that position.
Thinking of this, Shinichi raised his head. His gaze passed through the gap in the tent and looked toward the night sky.
The wind and snow continued. The starlight flickered.
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