"Tsunade-sama, please save him! Only you can save him now!"
The desperate wail from outside the camp pierced through the stillness like a kunai, embedding itself deep in Tsunade's chest. Her body stiffened beneath the thin quilt, her breath shallow as if a boulder was pressing down on her lungs.
"Shizune, let her be." Tsunade finally said, her voice hoarse, restrained.
Shizune's face was troubled, weighed down by guilt and frustration. Her voice trembled as she responded.
"Tsunade-sama... I'm sorry. It was my fault the news of your presence leaked."
She had only left the camp briefly to fetch clean water. On the way, she encountered an old acquaintance—another medical-nin from Konoha—and, in her brief moment of emotional relief, she had let her guard down. A few harmless words. That's all it took. That was all it took for the secret to spread.
When she returned, a severely wounded shinobi had already been brought to the tent.
Outside the camp...
A young kunoichi knelt in front of the entrance, her hands tightly clutched together, her face blotched and swollen from crying. Her voice was hoarse from her sobs, and her back trembled with each stifled gasp. Beside her on a stretcher lay a young shinobi, no more than sixteen or seventeen.
His chest was bound in blood-soaked bandages, and his face was drained of color. Each shallow breath was a struggle—like inhaling shattered glass. His eyes fluttered weakly, glassy and unfocused.
"You don't... have to worry about me... anymore... cough! Cough cough!"
A violent spasm of coughing overtook him, silencing whatever else he meant to say. Blood flecked from his mouth as he gasped for air, his expression contorted in pain.
"Taro!"
The girl, Asami, gripped his hand tightly, her heart wrung by helplessness. His pulse was faint. Every breath seemed to draw him closer to death.
Taro had been gravely injured in the recent skirmish—his chest slashed wide open by a blade. Without the hastily applied bandages, his organs would've been exposed to the open air. The medics at the camp could do nothing but stop the bleeding and ease the pain.
They had shaken their heads when they saw him.
'Only Tsunade-sama... one of the Legendary Sannin... might be able to save a case like this.'
That had been enough. Asami, clinging to a sliver of hope, sought her out. And when she learned of Tsunade's location... her hope ignited into desperation.
The camp's flap opened.
Shizune stepped out, her expression heavy, conflicted. She had already checked on the wounded shinobi herself.
His lungs were severely torn. The ribs shattered. Worse, blood had clotted inside the alveoli and trachea, creating dangerous blockages. Shizune had some talent—she'd studied under Tsunade for years—but this was beyond her ability.
Only Tsunade's miraculous precision could remove the thrombi without dooming the patient further.
But...
"Tsunade-sama is... unwell. She's unable to treat patients at the moment. I'm sorry."
The light vanished from Asami's eyes.
Inside the tent, Tsunade remained motionless under her quilt. But beneath the blanket, her body quivered.
'I'm so useless...'
She hadn't come to this camp to hide forever. She was supposed to be helping the war effort quietly, away from the old man's pressure to become Hokage. Hiruzen would undoubtedly try to shove the Hokage hat onto her head now that Namikaze Mirai was away.
She had just wanted peace. To do what she could in her own way.
But even now...
Just a glance at the wounded boy outside had sent her spiraling into panic. He was about the same age-group as Nawaki.
The image of Nawaki's corpse—bloody, cold, lifeless—haunted her mind, like a genjutsu on loop.
Her limbs felt like lead. Even moving a finger was a struggle.
Suddenly, a new voice broke through the tension.
"Treating the injured? I've got a bit of experience."
Shizune turned, startled.
A blond figure walked toward them, calm and composed.
"Mirai-sama!?" she gasped. "You know medical ninjutsu?!"
The man in question gave a light smile as he approached.
Shizune quickly regained composure and spoke in a low voice.
"Mirai-sama, the injury is far too serious. Even I—under Tsunade-sama's guidance—can't do anything. Only she might have the precision to pull it off, but Tsunade-sama..."
She couldn't finish the sentence.
Only a few in the higher circles of Konoha knew of Tsunade's hemophobia. To most others, she was still a living legend.
"If possible." Mirai said gently, kneeling beside the stretcher, "Let me try."
Asami's eyes widened. "You… You'll try to save Taro?"
She had seen it with her own eyes—the scene on the battlefield where Mirai swatted away the Tailed Beast Ball like it was nothing.
If anyone could perform a miracle, it was him.
Shizune, standing beside them, bit her lip. 'Combat strength and medical ninjutsu are completely different things... His Magnetic-style and healing don't overlap at all...'
Still, she said nothing.
Mirai placed a hand above Taro's chest. His eyes narrowed slightly. He could already sense it.
The biological magnetic field of the injured boy was dangerously faint—his cellular activity was nearly dormant.
The injuries were catastrophic: shattered ribs, torn lungs, and blocked airways. His own electromagnetic powers could, in theory, reconstruct tissue if finely tuned—but he wasn't yet at the level where he could reshape a body at will.
Still...
With a secondary technique he had been working on—a byproduct of his electromagnetic research—there might be a solution.
"Open your mouth." Mirai said.
He pulled out a small silver sphere, roughly the size of an eye, and held it to Taro's lips.
Asami blinked. "What... what is that?"
"Stretch your legs straight and stare at the pill." Mirai said calmly.
"W-What?"
Both Asami and Shizune stared at him, dumbfounded.
'Stretch your legs and stare at a pill?' What kind of nonsense is that?!
Before they could protest, the silver sphere melted into a silvery liquid and flowed into Taro's mouth, sliding down his throat smoothly.
*Gulp*
Then came the violent coughing.
"Ahem! Agh! Cough cough!"
"Taro!"
Asami clutched his hand, her heart pounding.
"Relax." Mirai said as he stood and casually clapped his hands. "It's done."
"Done?" Shizune repeated, stunned. "You mean... that's it?!"
Mirai nodded. "Yeah."
Her forehead pulsed with a dark line of pure disbelief. That's it?! He didn't even try chakra scalpel, didn't perform any standard healing ninjutsu—
If she had the strength, she might've tackled him to the ground.
'He just gave him some weird leg-stretching silver pill and... that's it?!'
Was this a prank?!
Before she could erupt, a gasp caught her attention.
"Taro!" Asami cried, weeping openly.
"He's breathing normally! His chest—! It's not sunken anymore!"
Taro, though weak, was breathing with far less strain. His expression had calmed, and color was returning to his cheeks.
He was alive.
Not just alive—stable.
"Alive?" Shizune whispered in disbelief. "He's... alive?"
*****
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