Kenji looked at his three students.
"Haruto, you were the first one to charge at the enemy. That takes guts. Most fresh graduates freeze up completely their first time facing real combat. The fact that you moved at all, and tried to fight back instead of running, that's valuable. More valuable than you realize."
He shifted his attention to Kaede.
"Kaede, when you saw Haruto get taken down, you didn't panic. You formed hand seals and hit back with Wind Release. And when Aoi was in danger, you threw yourself between her and the attack without thinking about your own safety. That's the kind of teammate people trust with their lives."
Finally, he turned to Aoi.
"Aoi, you raised an a wall to protect Kaede at the critical moment, then immediately started treating Haruto's injuries. You kept your head when everything was going to hell and did exactly what you needed to do. That's what being a medical-nin is about. Staying calm and keeping your team alive."
"All three of you are excellent ninjas. You just haven't had time to develop yet."
The earlier despair in their eyes had started to fade.
"Really, sensei?" Haruto's voice was still uncertain.
"You think I'd lie to you?" Kenji said. "I was monitoring all three of you with sensory jutsu during the entire fight. Your coordination was better than I expected. The problem wasn't your ability or your courage. It was just the strength and experience gap. That enemy had years of experience. You've had months."
"But... we're so weak right now," Kaede said quietly. "Can we really get as strong as you someday?"
Kenji couldn't help but smile at that.
"Of course you can. When I was your age and fresh out of the Academy, my first real fight? I passed out on the battlefield."
That got their attention. All three of them looked at him with surprise.
"Really?" Aoi looked up at him doubtfully, her brows knitting slightly.
That statement was half true. The original incident did involve him "fainting," but in reality, it was because his mind had left his body while using the Mind Body Switch Technique, a detail not worth mentioning. What mattered most was helping these kids regain their confidence.
He pulled his hand away from her head and began unwrapping the bandages around his left arm. Layer after layer came loose until the wooden surface beneath was exposed. The wood grain texture was clearly visible now, along with the mechanical joints at the elbow and wrist.
"You've all been wondering about this, right?"
"We... didn't want to ask," Aoi admitted, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Her cheeks flushed slightly. "It seemed rude."
"It's a prosthetic made with puppet techniques," Kenji said calmly. "When I was still a genin, I lost my real arm during a mission. It got completely destroyed by an enemy I wasn't prepared to fight."
"Sensei, I'm sorry! We shouldn't have brought it up..." Aoi reached out and grabbed his prosthetic arm.
"Don't worry about it," Kenji said, gently pulling his arm back. "I'm telling you this for a reason. Everyone starts weak. Everyone has moments where they're completely outmatched. The difference between surviving and dying often comes down to whether you give up or keep pushing forward. The first step is realizing how weak we are. Only by accepting that can we truly grow, and fix ourselves. There's only one direction from the bottom, and that's up. Every step forward, no matter how small, is progress. That's the path to strength."
He looked at each of them seriously.
"Right now, you're at a disadvantage. You're young, inexperienced, and you haven't had time to develop your skills properly. But that's temporary. As long as you're willing to train and improve, you'll get stronger. Until then, I'll protect you."
"Thank you, sensei!" All three of them spoke together.
"That said," Kenji continued, "you can't just rely on me forever. Once Haruto's recovered, we're starting special training. It's going to suck. You'll be exhausted, frustrated, and probably hate me by the end of each session. But you'll improve faster than you would with normal exercises."
"We're not scared!" Haruto said immediately from his bed. "We'll do whatever it takes!"
"We'll work hard, sensei," Aoi added.
Kaede just nodded firmly.
Kenji felt satisfied with their responses. Getting them back on track mentally was half the battle. Physical training could fix skill gaps, but if their confidence stayed broken, they'd never develop properly.
He left the medical room and headed toward where the prisoner was being held.
The captured Iwa ninja was still unconscious, slumped against the wall where he had left him. His breathing was steady but shallow. The Yamanaka clan's consciousness-sealing technique kept enemies in a comatose state while also making it easier to extract memories later. He placed his palm against the man's forehead and let his spiritual energy extend outward like countless fine threads, penetrating into the prisoner's mind.
"Psycho Mind Transmission."
It was the same technique Inoichi had used to read memories from an Ame ninja and gather intelligence about Pain. Effective but time-consuming. The jutsu couldn't search for specific information directly. Instead, you had to browse through the target's entire mental archive like flipping through a book, scanning for relevant details among all the useless noise.
Most Yamanaka clan members found the process exhausting. Sifting through years of someone else's memories, most of it completely mundane daily life, required intense concentration and mental stamina.
But Kenji's spiritual power had grown significantly since transmigrating. His enhanced mental energy allowed him to process memories much faster than the average clan member.
That didn't make it pleasant.
He dove into the Iwa ninja's mind and was immediately hit with a flood of disjointed images and sensations. Childhood memories of growing up in Iwa. Training exercises at the ninja academy. His first mission as a genin. Relationships with teammates and family members. Arguments, celebrations, fears, hopes, all of it jumbled together without any structure.
He pushed past the irrelevant stuff, searching for recent memories.
There.
The mission parameters crystallized in his mind. Destroy Supply Point 73. Three chunin assigned to the task based on intelligence indicating minimal resistance, one chunin instructor and three fresh genin as defenders. No mention of sensory abilities.
The Iwa command had assumed it would be a quick strike. Get in, plant explosive tags on the supply crates, get out. Maybe kill the Konoha ninjas if the opportunity presented itself, but destroying the supplies was the primary objective.
They'd walked straight into his trap because they had no idea he could detect them.
He kept digging through the memories. How had Iwa gotten intelligence about Supply Point 73? The answer came quickly. A leak, but not from anyone at the supply point itself. Someone in Konoha's logistics division had been feeding information to Iwa operatives. The prisoner didn't know who, just that the intelligence had been marked as reliable.
That was concerning but not his problem to solve. He'd include it in his report and let the ANBU investigators handle it.
He continued browsing, looking for anything else useful. Then he found something interesting.
The prisoner had used an earth technique during a training exercise a few weeks ago. It was quite similar to Earth Release: Earth Spear. The memory was clear, showing the hand seals and the flow of chakra required to activate the jutsu.
He paid close attention as the memory played out. The technique channeled earth chakra through the user's body to harden their skin, creating a defensive shell that could withstand significant damage while also enhancing physical strikes. Maybe he could recreate the Earth Spear technique using the same principles. In the original series, Kakuzu had used it to tank attacks from the Two-Tails. It was a solid technique, practical for both offense and defense.
He memorized the hand seals and chakra flow pattern before continuing his search.
Four hours after he'd started, he finally withdrew his hand and let the unconscious Iwa ninja slump to the floor. His temples throbbed from the extended use of the Psycho Mind Transmission. Mental fatigue was no joke. He'd need to rest properly tonight.
But the information he'd gathered was worth the headache.
Supply Point 73 was compromised. The location had been leaked, which meant staying here was no longer viable. Even though they'd eliminated this attack team, Iwa would send another one. And next time, they might send jonin instead of chunin.
The smart move was to abandon the position entirely. Of course, that decision wasn't his to make. He was just a chunin instructor. But once he delivered the prisoner to the main camp and the Intelligence Division extracted this information through their own interrogation, command would reach the same conclusion.
For now, all he could do was wait for orders.
He left the prisoner's room and headed toward the medical supply area. The small room contained various medical instruments and equipment, with cabinets stocked full of medicines, bandages, and specialized tools.
He unlocked one of the secured cabinets and pulled out a sealed glass container. Inside, a pale green liquid filled the jar about halfway. Organ preservation solution, formulated according to instructions he'd found in his mother's medical scrolls. The solution maintained the viability of detached organs by providing nutrients and preventing cellular decay.
Next, he retrieved the storage scrolls containing the two Iwa ninja corpses from his tool pouch. He unrolled one of them and channeled chakra into the seal, releasing the body of the first ninja who'd been killed.
The corpse materialized on the examination table.
He pulled on sterile gloves and picked up a scalpel from the instrument tray. He positioned the blade at the top of the sternum and pressed down, drawing it straight along the midline of the chest in a Y-incision that branched out toward the shoulders. The skin split open easily under the sharp edge, revealing the pale, waxy subcutaneous fat beneath. He extended the cuts down to the pubic bone, peeling back the skin flaps with forceps to expose the underlying muscle layers.
With the scalpel, he incised through the pectoral and abdominal muscles, layer by layer, until the ribcage and peritoneal cavity were visible. No fresh blood welled up, the body had been dead long enough for rigor mortis to set in partially, and coagulation had clotted what remained in the vessels. He switched to the bone saw for the ribs, the tool's teeth grinding through the sternum and costal cartilage. Cracks echoed as he sectioned the ribcage, then used rib spreaders to pry it open, exposing the thoracic cavity.
The lungs had deflated, dark and mottled from postmortem settling, and the pericardium sac bulged slightly around the heart. He sliced open the pericardium with scissors, draining a small amount of serous fluid that had pooled inside. Gripping the heart at its base, he severed the aorta, pulmonary artery, and veins, then lifted the organ free from the surrounding tissues. It came out with a wet, sucking sound, cold and heavy in his hand.
He placed the heart into the glass jar. The pale green preservation solution immediately surrounded it, sealing it off from the air.
He froze.
How was he able to do it so smoothly, like he had done it countless times before? He had only read how to do it, poring over his mother's notes every night, and practiced through mental training, visualizing each step in his mind. But was that enough to explain this precision, and lack of hesitation?
Then it clicked. Mental strength.
His mind was sharper, more resilient, able to simulate complex procedures, turning theoretical knowledge into muscle memory. As a ninja, his exceptional chakra control played into it too, letting him infuse the tiniest threads of energy into his movements for pinpoint accuracy.
And that's when he noticed: instinctively, he'd done all the cutting, sawing, and delicate handling with his left arm, the prosthetic one. His right hand had mostly stabilized tools or held things in place. The wooden limb didn't falter like flesh could. No tremors from fatigue, or hesitation from nerves; it operated at 100% efficiency. It was almost better than his original arm in moments like this, unburdened by the biological quirks that could cause even the steadiest hand to stutter.
Kenji flexed the prosthetic fingers. "Huh, prosthetics aren't half bad after all."