The next day, the news spread.
The overall person in charge of the medical logistics unit on the southwestern battlefield of Konoha—or rather, the acting head for the coming period—had been replaced.
By a young man.
A ten-year-old boy.
When people first heard the news, it wasn't that they had no doubts.
But doubts were just doubts—no one voiced any dissatisfaction.
Because that young man was Higashino Shinichi.
During this period, Shinichi's performance had already made one thing clear to everyone—
As long as he stood there, people felt at ease.
And over the next three days, Shinichi used his actions to completely dispel the last trace of doubt in everyone's hearts.
The entire massive medical logistics system did not fall into chaos or stagnation due to the sudden change in command. On the contrary, under his coordination, it seemed to run even more smoothly and efficiently.
Some previously overlooked details were optimized.
Inter-department coordination became tighter.
Resource allocation grew more precise and reasonable.
Gradually, people let go of their worries.
They even began to feel a strange sense of reliability.
This young acting commander seemed naturally suited to handling such complex and multifaceted situations. He always grasped the key points, and remained unfailingly calm—so much so that people couldn't help but trust him, and follow him.
Someone couldn't help but sigh in private: "Our genius… what exactly can't he do?"
No one could answer.
All they knew was that Higashino Shinichi, this absurdly young genius, seemed capable of anything.
Nothing seemed beyond him.
And everything he did—he did well.
…
At the same time, in Sunagakure's main camp, inside the command headquarters—
The Fourth Kazekage, Rasa, stood before the enormous map mounted on the wall, his gaze heavy as he studied it.
Unlike the usual practice in other ninja villages—where Kage-level figures typically did not personally enter the battlefield during the early stages of war—
In this war against Konoha, Rasa had come to the front lines from the very beginning.
First, he had only recently assumed the position. His foundation was not yet stable, and he needed to establish authority on the front lines—so that Sunagakure's shinobi could see their Kazekage leading them in battle with their own eyes.
Second, Sunagakure's current high-end combat strength was… awkward.
Those who could truly be considered top-tier fighters could be counted on one hand.
Rasa himself.
Chiyo.
Ebizō.
And that one woman—Pakura—who possessed both Scorch Release and Swift Release, two Kekkei Genkai at once.
And then—
There was the One-Tail Jinchūriki stationed in Sunagakure's main base—Monk Bunpuku.
Although Bunpuku disliked conflict, and Sunagakure had never treated him particularly well—
From the moment he became a Jinchūriki, his movements had been restricted. Officially, it was called protection.
In reality, it was imprisonment.
This was something all of Sunagakure's higher-ups understood.
And yet, they also knew—
This monk, who upheld a heart without distinction, was a true high monk.
He had never harbored resentment toward Sunagakure because of it.
Instead, he regarded the village as his home.
And its people as sentient beings worth protecting.
Asking him to go to the battlefield and fight directly?
Difficult.
His nature meant he would never willingly engage in killing.
But asking him to remain in Sunagakure and protect the village—
That, he would agree to.
And that was enough.
At this moment, standing beside the Fourth Kazekage was not Ebizō, but Chiyo.
Two days earlier, this master of poison and puppetry—renowned throughout the ninja world—had quietly transferred from the northeastern border of the Land of Wind to this location.
Ebizō, meanwhile, had already departed to take command of the northeastern army.
Although Iwagakure had taken the initiative to extend goodwill, Sunagakure clearly did not fully trust them.
After all, that old fox's words—believing even half of them was already too much.
Ōnoki excelled most at adapting to the situation and reaping benefits like a fisherman waiting for both sides to exhaust themselves.
This so-called troop withdrawal was nothing more than waiting for Sunagakure and Konoha to weaken each other—
So he could turn his blade at any moment.
Therefore—
Some manpower could be reassigned.
And Chiyo, whose deterrent power was greater, could be brought over.
But the northeastern defensive line could not be left empty.
In fact, placing Chiyo on the northeastern border in the first place had been a carefully calculated move.
A clear message to Iwagakure:
Yes, we are at war with Konoha.
But Elder Chiyo—the master of poison—is still watching you.
If you try anything funny, you'd better think carefully.
Even if you do attack, your losses will be severe.
After all—
Iwagakure's medical ninjutsu was nowhere near Konoha's level.
Even Konoha, with the most advanced medical system in the ninja world—and with Tsunade, the finest medical ninja alive—had to exert full effort to deal with Chiyo's poison.
Let alone Iwagakure.
At that moment, the tent flap was lifted.
An intelligence officer stepped in quickly and handed over a document with both hands.
Rasa remained standing before the map, his gaze still heavy, as if lost in thought.
Chiyo glanced at him, then took the document and unfolded it. Her eyes scanned the contents before narrowing slightly.
"Rasa," she said, "this is the latest report from Pakura's unit. While continuing harassment attacks around Konoha's main camp, they encountered Tsunade and an elite unit under her command. After a brief engagement, Pakura's team withdrew voluntarily."
After speaking, Chiyo handed the document over.
Pakura.
At the mention of that name, Rasa's expression remained calm and unchanged, as if he had merely heard the name of an ordinary subordinate.
But deep within his eyes, a trace of gloom flickered.
Pakura.
Sunagakure's genius jōnin.
Only around twenty years old—young to a frightening degree.
Once upon a time—
This woman, who possessed both Scorch Release and Swift Release, whose talent was so extraordinary that all of Sunagakure looked upon her in awe—
Before Rasa ascended to the position of Kazekage through his Magnet Release and the shifting situation—
She had been the most dazzling figure among Sunagakure's younger generation.
The most renowned.
The most anticipated.
At that time, although Rasa himself was powerful and held considerable reputation as a top jōnin—
Whether in fame, achievements, or deterrence—
He had fallen short of Pakura.
Even in terms of pure strength—
Rasa had privately assessed that he did not have a guaranteed victory against her.
The reason he ultimately became Kazekage—
First, during the crisis following the disappearance of the Third Kazekage and Kumogakure's invasion, he had demonstrated crucial value through his Magnet Release and leadership, earning the strong support of both Chiyo and Ebizō.
Second—
Pakura herself had a flaw.
She was too proud.
She disdained currying favor.
She disdained building influence.
She disdained engaging in the kind of maneuvering that, in her eyes, was beneath her.
In her world, there seemed to be only battle, only becoming stronger, only proving herself again and again through strength. The kind of things that required weighing pros and cons, maneuvering between different interests—she couldn't do them.
When Sunagakure needed unity, needed a banner that could rally everyone around a shared consensus, Pakura could not become that banner.
Chiyo and Ebizō supported him not because he was stronger than Pakura, but because he could unite Sunagakure.
And Pakura… could not.
However, before he had taken that position, Rasa's feelings toward Pakura had been nothing but appreciation for a comrade. He had genuinely been glad that the village possessed such a gifted and extraordinary powerhouse.
But once he truly sat in the Kazekage's seat, once he bore the weight of the entire village's fate and authority, when he looked at Pakura again, something subtle in his heart began to change.
This woman was too dazzling.
So dazzling that she had even become… somewhat of an eyesore.
An eyesore.
The word flashed through his mind, startling even himself, and he quickly suppressed the thought.
As long as I lead the village to victory in this war.
No one will ever be able to threaten my position as Kazekage again.
His thoughts churned beneath the surface, but none of it showed on Rasa's face. His expression remained as calm as ever as he took the intelligence scroll from Chiyo. After reading it for a moment, he spoke to the subordinate standing before him awaiting orders: "Send word to Pakura. The plan to continuously harass and attack the perimeter of Konoha's main camp remains unchanged. If she encounters Tsunade again, have her draw Tsunade as far away as possible—the farther, the better."
"Understood!"
The subordinate turned and left. The tent flap fell back into place, bringing in a gust of cold wind.
Rasa turned to Chiyo.
"Once Tsunade has been drawn away, it will be the elder's turn to act personally."
Chiyo gave a slight nod.
"This old woman understands."
…
Late that night.
The moonlight was swallowed by thick clouds, and the land sank into deep darkness.
To the northwest of Konoha's main camp, a large reconnaissance and strike unit of more than five hundred shinobi was moving swiftly through the night.
Their mission was to investigate a suspicious area where Sunagakure activity had been frequent recently. If enemy forces were discovered, they were to eliminate them on the spot. If they encountered a large enemy force, they were to report back immediately.
The unit moved in silence through sparse woodland, crossed a dried-up riverbed, and advanced toward the target area.
However—
The moment the unit entered a basin that appeared open but was actually surrounded by scattered rocks and low hills, the sudden change erupted!
Boom! Boom! Boom!!!
Countless explosive tags detonated at the same instant. Firelight tore through the darkness, and the deafening blasts shook the night sky!
Immediately after—
From behind the rocks, atop the low hills, and within the dry grass, countless shadows revealed themselves all at once!
Puppets!
A dense tide of puppets surged forth like a flood!
They were grotesque in form and swift in movement. Some wielded poison-coated blades, some unleashed hidden mechanisms, and some spewed black poisonous smoke from their mouths!
Behind the puppets stood hundreds of elite Sunagakure shinobi!
They had been waiting here all along, arranged in a tight formation, conserving their strength while awaiting their prey!
"Ambush!"
"Form up! Defensive formation!"
The Konoha commander roared hoarsely, but everything had come too fast, too suddenly!
Chiyo stood atop a slope in the rear, overlooking the battlefield below as it fell into chaos.
"Kill."
She uttered a single word.
What followed was a brutal, bloody breakout.
The Konoha shinobi were veterans of battle after all. After the initial chaos, they quickly organized an effective resistance, fighting while breaking toward the rear.
The battle lasted nearly half an hour.
When the remnants of the Konoha forces finally tore open a gap and broke free of the encirclement, the unit that had numbered over five hundred had been reduced to only three hundred—or even fewer.
Corpses littered the ground.
Some belonged to Konoha.
Some to Sunagakure.
But more of them were Konoha shinobi—torn apart by puppets, corroded by poison, never to stand again.
And those who had escaped were not truly fortunate either.
Many of them had faces tinged green, lips turning purple, their steps unsteady. Some collapsed mid-run and never rose again. Others were carried on the backs of their comrades, gasping for breath.
Poisoned.
At least two hundred of them had been wounded by poisoned blades or affected by toxic fumes during the battle. Now the poison was spreading through their bodies, eating away at them.
On the slope, Chiyo looked down at the fleeing figures and slowly raised her hand.
"No need to pursue."
A Sunagakure jōnin froze for a moment, then stepped forward urgently.
"Elder Chiyo! This is the perfect chance to wipe them out completely!"
"I said there is no need to pursue."
Chiyo cut him off, her tone calm.
"They've already been poisoned. They won't live."
Over the years, she had developed many new types of poison. The one she had used just now was one of her proudest creations in recent years.
An extremely complex composite toxin.
It was formed by combining seventeen different poisons of varying properties in precise proportions. Each one, when isolated, was not lethal—but when combined, they triggered a chain reaction.
She was confident that even if Tsunade personally took action, even with ample samples for research, it would take at least three days to develop a corresponding antidote.
But where was Tsunade right now?
According to intelligence, she was a hundred kilometers to the southwest, leading a team in pursuit of Pakura. Even if she received the news immediately and rushed back at all costs, it would still take at least half a day to reach the main camp.
And those who had been poisoned and were now fleeing back—how long could they last?
They might not even last a full day.
Even if Tsunade returned, what she would face would only be cold corpses.
As for Konoha's other medical-nin?
A faint smile curved at the corner of Chiyo's lips.
They wouldn't even be able to grasp the method behind analyzing the toxin.
To rapidly produce the corresponding antidote, Konoha would have to, in an extremely short time, accurately analyze the composition of all seventeen poisons, instantly find the corresponding antidote for each one, and then immediately complete a precise formulation.
But how could that be possible?
Tsunade couldn't do it.
No one in this world could.
So those who had been poisoned were already dead.
They just needed a few more hours—perhaps a dozen hours—before they would truly stop breathing.
However, Chiyo still did not dare to underestimate Tsunade.
What if Tsunade really could create a miracle?
That was why she had chosen this moment—when Tsunade was not at the main camp.
This way, even if Tsunade rushed back, the time left to her would be far too short.
Nowhere near enough to produce the corresponding antidote.
"Let them go back. That will instead drain a large amount of Konoha's medical resources. Their supplies, manpower, and energy will all be consumed by these people who are destined not to be saved."
Chiyo said calmly, "Konoha's people will watch helplessly as these individuals die one by one right in front of them. They will exhaust every possible method, yet remain powerless."
"When all of them die inside the main camp—die in front of their own comrades—under everyone's watchful eyes, slowly breathing their last, it will inevitably deal a heavy blow to Konoha's morale."
Hearing this, the Sunagakure shinobi behind Chiyo exchanged glances, then revealed expressions of sudden realization and awe.
As expected of Elder Chiyo!
With a single move, she had taken the lives of nearly five hundred Konoha shinobi. Even for Konoha, the strongest of the Five Great Ninja Villages, that number was a loss difficult to bear.
Just moments ago, they had still been wondering why, when they clearly could have continued the pursuit and expanded their gains, they had been ordered to let Konoha go.
Only now did they understand—those who returned alive were more valuable than those who died.
Chiyo withdrew her gaze and turned, walking into the darkness.
"Withdraw."
…
On the fourth day since Shinichi took over as acting head of the medical and logistics forces—
Early morning, before the sky had fully brightened, a burst of hurried footsteps shattered the calm of the field hospital.
An extremely brutal encounter had taken place. A large Konoha reconnaissance and strike unit, while attempting to clear an area infiltrated by Sunagakure, had run into the main force of Chiyo's puppet army, led by Chiyo herself.
After a desperate and bloody breakout, of more than five hundred, only three hundred remained—and more than two hundred of them had been poisoned.
"Wounded! A large number of wounded! Sent down from the front line!"
"Quick! Prepare stretchers! Notify every available medical-nin!"
The tent flaps were thrown open, and stretchers were carried in one after another. Their faces were greenish, their lips purple. Some were convulsing violently, some had already fallen into deep unconsciousness.
"It's poison!"
"Sunagakure's puppet forces ambushed us! It was Chiyo—Chiyo personally led them!"
"More than two hundred people! All poisoned!"
The field hospital instantly descended into chaos. Medical-nin rushed in from all directions and began emergency treatment.
Cleaning wounds, inducing vomiting, administering basic antidotes—trying to stabilize the patients' vital signs.
But the situation was worse than expected.
The toxins were far too complex. Ordinary antidotes had almost no effect. Some patients went into respiratory failure during treatment. Others' hearts stopped. The tent was filled with urgent shouts and the clatter of instruments.
"Quick! Antidotes! Bring all the antidotes we have!"
"It's no use! We've never seen this kind of toxicity! Standard antidotes are barely working!"
"The body temperature is spiking! Organs are showing signs of failure! Heart rate is dropping!"
"It's Chiyo's poison!"
"Some of them are already beyond saving!"
Several senior medical-nin gathered together, their expressions grave as they exchanged information, while attempting to formulate every possible antidote solution. But Sunagakure's poison techniques had been passed down for decades, and Chiyo herself was a master—how could anyone break her poison in such haste?
By the time the news reached headquarters, Jiraiya was studying a map.
"What!?"
He suddenly looked up, his expression changing drastically.
"Ambushed by Chiyo's puppet army? More than two hundred casualties? And over two hundred of those who escaped have been poisoned by Chiyo's toxins?"
The messenger ninja nodded forcefully.
"Yes, Jiraiya-sama! Chiyo personally led the unit! The field hospital is already in complete chaos!"
Chiyo.
That name itself meant trouble.
That master of poison and puppetry from Sunagakure had already made Konoha suffer greatly during the Second Shinobi World War. Now that she had finally taken action again, her first move had already claimed hundreds of lives.
Jiraiya didn't have time to think further. He immediately stood up and rushed toward the field hospital.
…
At nearly the same moment, Shinichi was already standing at the entrance of the field hospital.
The moment he received the news, he had dropped everything he was doing and rushed over from his office.
The tent flap was lifted, and what greeted his eyes was utter chaos—groans, shouts, and the clashing of instruments blending into a single cacophony. The wounded on the stretchers had bluish-purple faces; some had already stopped convulsing and lay there motionless.
Shinichi's gaze swept across the entire tent. Without hesitation, he stepped forward and began examining one of the wounded.
Moments later, Jiraiya's figure appeared at the entrance. He strode in quickly, his gaze falling on the wounded, his brows tightly furrowed.
"What's the situation?"
A medical-nin looked up, his face full of exhaustion and anxiety.
"Jiraiya-sama, the toxin is too complex. We… we've tried several approaches, but none have worked. Some… some of them are already beyond saving."
Jiraiya fell silent.
Chiyo.
Shinichi crouched beside a severely poisoned patient, placing his fingers on the man's wrist to examine his condition.
After a moment, he stood up. His expression remained calm, revealing little emotion.
Jiraiya quickly walked over to him and asked in a low voice: "What about it, Shinichi? Did you find anything? Is there a way?"
Shinichi looked up, meeting Jiraiya's gaze, and answered concisely: "Jiraiya-sama, this is a new type of composite toxin. To detoxify it, there is only one method—determine its original composition."
Jiraiya frowned.
"You mean…"
"Analyze the formula. As long as we know what materials it's made from and in what proportions, we can prepare a targeted antidote."
As he spoke, Shinichi picked up several senbon coated with poison from a tray beside him. With a flick of his finger, the thick black toxin clinging to the needle tips dropped lightly into a porcelain bowl in front of him.
Jiraiya's eyes lit up.
"Then immediately assign people to analyze it! I'll contact Tsunade right away and have her return!"
"It's too late, Jiraiya-sama."
Shinichi shook his head, his gaze sweeping over the situation in the tent.
"They won't last until Tsunade-sensei gets back. And even if she returns, there won't be enough time."
Jiraiya fell silent.
He looked at the faces around him—the bluish-purple complexions, the medical-nin desperately trying every method yet still helpless.
"So… there's only one way left now."
The boy's voice sounded again, breaking the silence.
Jiraiya suddenly lifted his head, his hopeful gaze falling onto Shinichi's face. He saw the boy take a deep breath, as if having made a certain decision.
"Have someone personally test the poison."
Personally test the poison?
Jiraiya froze. Before he could react, he heard Shinichi continue, almost as if speaking to himself: "The person testing the poison must possess outstanding medical knowledge, to judge the body's reactions at the very first moment. They must have excellent physical condition, to withstand repeated assaults from the toxin. And they must have extremely keen perception, to distinguish the compositional differences behind every subtle change."
As Jiraiya listened, the unease in his heart grew stronger and stronger.
Those conditions… sounded more and more familiar.
More and more like they were describing a single person.
He was just about to say something when the boy had already raised his head and smiled faintly at him.
That smile, in the dim tent, appeared especially bright—carrying a reassuring certainty.
"So, I'll do it, Jiraiya-sama."
The moment those words fell, the tent went completely silent.
Everyone who heard them froze in place.
Medical-nin, assistants—even the wounded who were still groaning—all seemed to have been struck still by some unseen force, their gazes snapping toward the boy in unison.
Jiraiya stood there, stunned. A moment later, he finally reacted—his expression changing drastically as he blurted out: "Are you insane!?"
"Jiraiya-sama," Shinichi's voice remained calm, "this is the only way."
"No! It's too dangerous! Shinichi, you can't do this." Nonō hurriedly spoke up, her voice full of urgency.
Jiraiya stepped forward directly, grabbing Shinichi by the shoulder with a force that seemed intent on pinning the stubborn boy in place.
"Kid, do you even realize? If something happens to you—"
He took a deep breath and said word by word: "Tsunade will kill me!"
"So no! Absolutely not!"
Jiraiya shook his head, his gaze sweeping over the poisoned wounded in the tent, then over the equally shocked medical-nin.
"There has to be another way! We'll think of something else—we'll think of something else…"
Shinichi's expression remained calm as he spoke: "Jiraiya-sama, this is the only method we have right now. We cannot delay. Every moment we delay means one more of our comrades from Konoha will die."
As he spoke, he extended his hand toward the porcelain bowl filled with the toxin.
The liquid inside was pitch-black, gleaming with an eerie sheen under the dim light.
But at that moment, a hand suddenly clamped onto his wrist.
The grip was incredibly strong.
"Kid!"
Jiraiya gritted his teeth, forcing the words out one by one: "I said—no!"
Shinichi looked at him quietly. After a moment, he said: "Jiraiya-sama… are we really going to just stand here and watch our comrades die like this?"
Jiraiya fell silent, then spoke: "That doesn't mean you have to risk your life!"
Shinichi smiled.
A calm, open smile.
"With my physical condition, even if I'm poisoned, I can sustain myself for a considerable amount of time—long enough to complete the initial analysis of the toxin. And I am a medical-nin myself. I know how to delay the poison and protect the vital organs. The risk is controllable. I am absolutely confident I can hold out until Tsunade-sensei returns—or even identify the key components before then."
"So, don't worry, Jiraiya-sama. There won't be any real danger."
As he spoke, he gently freed his wrist from Jiraiya's grip.
Jiraiya's hand remained suspended in midair, no longer tightening. He simply stared at the boy before him, the expression in his eyes exceedingly complicated.
"Tsunade left you here to take her place…" Jiraiya tried one last time, his voice low. "You're the one in charge here now. If something happens to you, who's going to handle all of this?"
"Precisely because I am the one in charge here, bearing responsibility for the lives of all our comrades, then the one to test the poison must be me—the one in charge!"
Shinichi replied, then turned his gaze toward the crowd, landing on the woman with short tea-colored hair.
"Yakushi Nonō! Receive orders!"
Nonō trembled, instinctively straightening her back.
"Yes!"
"If, during the following attempts at toxin analysis, I encounter any accident and am unable to fulfill my duties, then from this moment onward, Yakushi Nonō, you will act as the acting head of medical and logistics for the southwestern front, exercising all related authority until Tsunade-sensei or higher orders arrive! This order takes effect immediately!"
"Acknow—"
"—ledged!"
In the end, she still forced the word out, her voice so soft it was almost inaudible.
The tent was deathly silent.
Jiraiya looked at the boy before him, his expression complicated, no longer stopping him. Because he knew Shinichi had already made up his mind. Even if he stopped him now, he would attempt it later in private.
At least now… he could watch.
At that moment, a weak voice came from the direction of the beds.
"Shinichi…"
It was a middle-aged shinobi. His face was bluish-purple, his lips darkened, his breathing broken and uneven. Yet he still struggled to lift his head, using all his strength to say: "Stop… this… we don't need you to risk it… if we die… then we die…"
His words came in fragments, but each one was clear.
The wounded around him—some nodded with difficulty, others expressed the same sentiment through their eyes.
Shinichi looked at him.
That face was filled with pain, yet still trying to force out a smile—as if to comfort him.
At that moment, the boy smiled too.
A light, faint smile—like a ray of sunlight shining into this tent filled with blood and the stench of medicine.
"Nakata-ojisan."
"Life is so beautiful… you can't just decide to end it like that."
After saying that, under the complicated gazes of everyone present, he lifted the bowl of toxin and brought it to his lips.
Everyone held their breath.
All eyes were fixed on him.
Jiraiya stared even more intensely, hardly daring to breathe.
A moment later—
Shinichi opened his eyes again.
Those eyes remained calm.
As if what he had just drunk was not a deadly poison…
But merely a bowl of clear water.
He reached out, picked up the paper and pen beside him, and after a moment of writing, he stopped and handed the sheet to Nonō.
"Nonō-neesan, take people and prepare the items listed above. Move quickly."
A short while later—
With Shinichi leading and the other medical-nin assisting, bottle after bottle of freshly made antidotes was rapidly prepared.
The medicine was distributed and poured into the mouths of the poisoned wounded.
Inside the tent, groans gradually turned into steady breathing. Those lives that had been struggling on the brink of death were pulled back one after another.
Jiraiya stood to the side, silently watching this scene. The heart that had been lodged in his throat finally dropped back into place.
He let out a long breath, then turned to Shinichi, a relieved smile appearing on his face: "Good thing you were here, Shinichi… though that was way too risky—"
Risky!?
His words suddenly stalled halfway through as a thought violently surfaced in his mind.
Tsunade!
When Tsunade comes back… what will happen?
If she finds out this brat tested the poison on himself—and that I failed to stop him—what will happen?
Even if the outcome is perfect…
Jiraiya's expression changed. A chill shot straight up his spine.
"Ahem."
He cleared his throat, his smile turning stiff. He patted Shinichi—who was wiping his hands—on the shoulder, his speech suddenly speeding up: "Well, Shinichi, you did great! Outstanding! Very brave! But I need to head back to headquarters right now. There's a pile of work waiting—battle reports to compile, intelligence to analyze, and the next deployment needs adjustment…"
As he spoke, he edged toward the tent entrance.
"If you need anything here, send someone to notify me immediately! I'll be keeping an eye on things!"
No one cared why Jiraiya suddenly left in such a hurry.
Everyone present only knew one thing—
They had survived.
Countless gazes once again fell upon the boy standing at the center, quietly wiping his hands with a damp cloth.
Within those gazes were gratitude from surviving a catastrophe, sincere admiration, and a complex emotion difficult to put into words.
He simply stood there.
Yet it was as if, just by standing there, he radiated a warmth that illuminated everyone.
Shinichi's expression did not change, but he silently took in all those gazes.
In truth, the moment he smelled the poison, he had already identified its complete composition through the [Gourmet] Entry and his own medical expertise.
After obtaining the [Gourmet] Entry, Shinichi realized that its scope of application was far broader than he had imagined—it wasn't limited to food ingredients.
Or rather—
Many medicinal herbs were themselves food ingredients.
Ginger could dispel cold.
Garlic could kill bacteria.
Licorice could harmonize various medicines.
In an apothecary, these were called medicinal herbs.
In a kitchen, they were called seasonings.
At their core, they were the same category of substance—the difference lay only in how they were used.
Many poisons, in essence, were simply another form of medicinal ingredient—or food ingredient.
To discuss toxicity without considering dosage was meaningless.
A small amount of arsenic could be used medicinally.
Too much ganoderma could be lethal.
Or take, for example, the mushrooms beloved in certain regions of his previous life—
Handled properly, they were a delicacy.
Handled poorly, they became a death sentence.
Poison and medicine were often nothing more than differences in dosage and proportion.
(Poisons composed purely of chakra were an exception—but perhaps not entirely an exception.)
Whether poison or medicine, food ingredient or medicinal herb, once they entered the human body, they all followed the same underlying logic.
They were absorbed.
Transformed.
Acted upon specific organs or systems.
And ultimately produced some result.
What the [Gourmet] Entry granted him was precisely a deep insight into "what happens when substances enter the human body."
When combined with his own medical knowledge, it produced a remarkable synergy.
He could not only understand a substance's mechanism from a medical perspective—
He could also, like a master chef tasting a dish, perceive the flow of each component within the body, distinguish which organs they affected, and predict where they would spread next.
Just like a top-tier chef, who could, with a single smell and glance, determine the proportion of every seasoning and the precision of every cooking step.
To him—
The complex composite toxin meticulously crafted by Chiyo was nothing more than a slightly more complicated "dark cuisine."
But Shinichi didn't say any of this.
Because an answer obtained too easily—
How could it ever earn gratitude as overwhelming as a landslide, or loyalty willing to follow him to the death?
Casually saying, "I know how to cure it," and then producing the antidote would certainly further demonstrate his image as a medical genius.
But that was entirely different from the shock and binding effect brought by "staking his life and sharing life and death with his comrades."
The former was a capable person—worthy of respect.
The latter was one of their own—worthy of entrusting everything to, including their future choices.
What he wanted—
Was to carve the deepest possible mark into the hearts of these shinobi, who had faced death and been pulled back from despair by his hand.
What he wanted—
Was recognition rooted in the soul.
Was a bond forged at the brink of life and death.
Was that, in the future, no matter what choices lay ahead, these people would stand behind him without hesitation.
And through their word-of-mouth—
To bind the name "Higashino Shinichi" inseparably with concepts like self-sacrifice, absolute reliability, and someone worthy of entrusting one's life to.
So—
He needed to be poisoned.
He needed to show, before everyone, that absolute sense of responsibility and sacrifice—risking himself to save his comrades.
Look.
To save you, I was willing to stake my own life.
I tasted the poison you suffered.
I endured the pain you bore.
And then—I led you out of despair.
From this moment onward—
Your lives are no longer just your own.
They are now tied inseparably to mine—Higashino Shinichi's.
So—
Be grateful.
Remember it well.
Shinichi said silently in his heart to those gazes filled with gratitude.
And someday in the future—
Repay me with your trust, your voices, and your choices.
After all…
He lifted his eyes, looking toward the gradually brightening sky beyond the tent, a faint smile curling at the corner of his lips.
I used my own life to save you.
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