Three days later, the squad safely returned to the main camp.
This time, no new mission was immediately assigned to Ishiki Kujo's team.
The four of them were finally granted a brief period of rest.
The brutal battle at the wasteland had bought Konoha and Kumogakure a fleeting truce.
At most, they would have three days of peace before new orders arrived.
Not long after Ishiki returned, Mirinae found him — lively and energetic once more.
"I heard you might be reassigned to my squad," she said with a bright grin. "And I'll be your squad leader."
"Huh?" Ishiki blinked in surprise.
He had sensed Kawahara Junji's discontent.
But after his performance on the wasteland battlefield, Ishiki hadn't expected to be kicked out.
His contribution hadn't been minor.
Healing, fighting, surviving — if not for Highway Star feeding him nutrients during the battle, he might've collapsed from chakra exhaustion halfway through.
Given all that, getting expelled from the team felt... absurd.
Mirinae smiled knowingly.
"I heard Junji-senpai isn't planning to replace you with another medic.
He wants a pure combat-type instead.
In his eyes, a medical ninja isn't a necessary asset."
Ishiki froze.
"...Aren't medics supposed to be essential in a squad?"
"You spent too long in the hospital," Mirinae sighed. "You don't know the real field conditions.
Konoha doesn't have enough medical ninja to outfit every team."
Her voice grew serious.
"Back when Tsunade-sama — one of the Legendary Sannin — proposed assigning a medic to every team, Konoha tried.
Even after the Fourth Hokage's efforts to train more medics, the numbers still aren't enough."
"If a mission isn't expected to drag on or involve heavy fighting, most squads don't get a medic at all."
Ishiki exhaled slowly.
He understood now.
Kawahara's thinking wasn't personal.
It was pragmatic.
In an era where medics weren't standard — and where the "three medical principles" weren't widely respected — Ishiki's cautious behavior looked like laziness.
A frustrating, inevitable byproduct of reform.
Conservatives. Progressives.
The same old struggle, no matter the world.
Ishiki wasn't interested in changing anyone's mind.
He would do what he had always done:
Focus on survival.
Tsunade's doctrine for medical ninja burned itself into his mind:
First Principle: A medic must never give up treatment until the patient's death is certain.
Second Principle: A medic must never be on the frontlines.
Third Principle: A medic must never die before the rest of their squad.
Back in the hospital, Ishiki had learned these by heart.
He agreed with them deeply.
And the old Ishiki Kujo — the soul born here — had treated them as sacred law.
Partly because he idolized Tsunade.
Partly because, deep down, he believed — if the medics back then had been stronger,
his father might have survived.
Back then, the medics had obeyed the second and third rules.
But they had failed the first.
And a boy named Kujo Ishiki had sworn never to make that same mistake.
"So... I'm being treated as a basic Genin?" Ishiki asked, raising an eyebrow.
During missions with Shisui, he had shown strength easily at Chūnin level.
Normally, during wartime, strong performances led to battlefield promotions —
temporary Chūnin status, formalized once things stabilized.
"I guess you're a... 'Elite Genin,'" Mirinae teased. "Maybe the evaluators thought you're better suited for healing than combat.
After all, you haven't been a ninja for long, and you're not considered a genius."
"Elite Genin, huh? What a title."
Ishiki chuckled. "I'll be in your care, Captain Mirinae."
Joining a regular squad wasn't the worst outcome.
Less dangerous missions.
More chances to slack off and study.
"Nothing's finalized yet," Mirinae said, giving his shoulder a playful pat. "You still have two days of rest.
And we don't even know who the other two team members will be."
After Mirinae left, Ishiki plunged back into his research on the Heavenly Transfer Technique.
The squad reassignment didn't bother him.
He was more concerned about Highway Star.
Ishiki had returned to Konoha's main camp —
but Highway Star was still deep inside the Land of Frost.
Still active.
Still occasionally sending him nutrients.
That meant Highway Star hadn't been destroyed yet.
But how much longer could it survive out there?
Meanwhile, Ishiki's strength had soared.
His stamina had tripled.
His chakra pool had expanded massively — enough to wield Mystical Palm Technique consistently.
His chakra levels now matched an average Jōnin.
However, the rapid growth brought side effects.
His chakra control, once flawless, had become a little rough.
His hand movements in healing jutsu weren't as smooth.
But Ishiki wasn't worried.
Time would solve that.
Give him enough hours to practice — he would adapt.
Three days passed in quiet study.
Ishiki had hoped to test Heavenly Transfer...
but the bustling main camp wasn't a safe place for such dangerous experiments.
So, once he finished his research on that, he shifted to sealing techniques.
Sealing pure chakra wasn't hard.
But sealing a Shadow Clone — a being made entirely of living chakra — was a nightmare.
Ishiki bought dozens of blank scrolls from supply tents.
Again and again, he tried:
Split a clone.
Seal it.
Fail.
Either the sealing jutsu couldn't latch onto the clone — or the sealing process destabilized its chakra, causing instant destruction.
Still, Ishiki learned.
He recorded every reaction.
Every detail.
And quietly, in his heart, he missed Moody Blues.
If he still had it, he could rewind every attempt —
analyze every failed second over and over.
Progress would be ten times faster.
But even without it, he pressed forward.
Endlessly.
Patiently.
The only law he recognized was survival —
and survival demanded mastery.