The emerald-green glow grew denser, and Tsunade's hands were as steady as the most precise instruments, manipulating medical chakra into countless tendrils finer than strands of hair, reaching into the most minute corners of the wound.
She first needed to carefully strip away and neutralize the violent residual energy, then guide her medical chakra to repair the torn and scorched muscle fibers, the delicate nerves, the damaged blood vessels, and even the cracked bones.
It was an extremely taxing process, one that demanded absolute precision in control.
As time passed, Tsunade's complexion grew paler and paler. Fine beads of cold sweat seeped from her forehead and slid down her cheeks.
Her body began to tremble slightly, uncontrollably, and her breathing became somewhat rapid.
The bloody sight, the details of the damaged tissue, and even the unavoidable tactile sensations during treatment all continuously challenged her psychological defenses.
Yet her hands remained as steady as a rock, without the slightest tremor.
Those hands that commanded the power to bring the dead back to life now felt unbearably heavy, yet they displayed the absolute professionalism and resilience of a legendary master of medical ninjutsu—completely at odds with her trembling body.
She pressed her lips tightly together, her gaze locked firmly onto the wound, as if pouring all her willpower into those steady ten fingers, waging a silent yet fierce battle against the raging storm within her heart.
"Tsunade-sama, would you like to rest for a while?" The boy on the hospital bed, seemingly noticing her pale face and slight tremor, asked gently.
"Don't be ridiculous! Don't interfere with me!"
Without even lifting her head, Tsunade barked the reprimand. Yet her voice sounded somewhat tight, as though suppressing some emotion, while the green light in her hands remained perfectly steady.
At the same time, after finishing urgent official duties, the Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen, also arrived at the hospital.
His arrival naturally drew the attention of the hospital staff, and everyone gained a renewed understanding of the level of importance attached to this young genius.
The Third did not disturb the treatment inside the ward. He merely stood quietly at the doorway and glanced in through the observation window, seeing his disciple Tsunade bent over in complete concentration as she administered treatment.
He then silently stepped back and gently closed the door. In the corridor outside, the burly Monkey King was already waiting there, arms folded across his chest as he leaned against the wall.
The Third Hokage walked over. Without needing many words, the Monkey King succinctly and clearly recounted the situation to him in a low voice.
Inside the ward, the treatment continued.
Perhaps to fight back against that instinctive fear—of blood and trauma—constantly battering her nerves, or perhaps simply to distract herself by talking, Tsunade kept her eyes fixed on the wound and suddenly spoke, her voice carrying a cold edge: "Listen carefully, kid! This jutsu… don't use it again." Her tone left no room for argument. "The backlash it inflicts on your body is an irreparable injury, and the destructive effect will keep accumulating. This time you got lucky—your constitution is abnormal, and the treatment was timely. But use it a few more times, and this hand of yours will suffer irreversible damage from the chakra pathways to the bones. It'll be completely ruined. And when that happens, even the best doctor will be powerless."
However, Shinichi merely shook his head calmly. "I'm sorry, Tsunade-sama, but I have reasons why I must continue to refine it and keep using it."
"You!" Tsunade abruptly lifted her eyes and glared at him, a nameless fire surging in her chest.
How could this brat be so stubborn?
For some lousy jutsu, he was willing to throw away his hand?
She was so angry she almost wanted to stop the treatment and let him hurt on his own.
But when she met the boy's calm eyes, the scolding words jammed in her throat. She lowered her head again, focusing even more on the work in her hands. After a moment of silence, she asked that question again.
"Why… go to such lengths? Why push yourself this hard?"
Shinichi fell silent for a moment. He didn't answer directly; instead, he said softly, "Tsunade-sama, you must have noticed too, right? That's why, a few days ago, you had that argument with Shizune—hoping she'd give up on becoming a shinobi."
The fingers with which Tsunade was controlling chakra paused for an instant, almost imperceptibly. She neither admitted it nor denied it—she simply pressed her lips tighter, which amounted to tacit acknowledgment.
The boy's calm, gentle voice sounded again, yet it was like a precise scalpel, cutting toward another wound she was trying to hide: "Just now, when you saw my injuries, your face went pale, and you even stepped back two paces… You were afraid of seeing blood, afraid of seeing severe injuries, weren't you? I remember medical texts recording similar symptoms, calling it hemophobia."
"!!!"
A violent shock jolted through Tsunade's heart. She snapped her gaze up at Shinichi, her eyes filled with undisguisable astonishment—and a trace of panic at being seen through.
Even the steady glow of medical chakra in her hands wavered for a moment because of it.
And outside the ward, the Third Hokage—who was speaking in a low voice with the Monkey King—had hearing far too sharp for this. That sentence reached his ears with perfect clarity.
The fingers holding his smoking pipe suddenly froze, and a sharp, dawning light flashed through his eyes.
He had always known this disciple bore a deep knot in her heart after the war, that something was off. He had only thought it was the immense grief and despondency brought by the successive deaths of those dearest to her—yet he had never considered any other direction… Hemophobia?
"So that's why your complexion has been poor during treatment, and your body has been trembling slightly—not entirely because the injuries are complicated and drain your focus… but more because of this, right?" Shinichi continued, his tone holding no offense, only a calm observation.
"Of course not!" Tsunade retorted instinctively, though her voice sounded somewhat hurried from a lack of confidence. "It's just that your injury is troublesome to handle! I'm the best medical-nin in Konohagakure—how could I possibly be afraid of blood?! Stop acting so clever!"
Her denial carried its usual forcefulness, yet it felt more like a bluffing defense.
Shinichi did not argue with her. Instead, following his own line of thought, he continued in that steady, analytical tone: "Perhaps describing it as hemophobia isn't entirely accurate. I think it would be more appropriate to call it post-war traumatic stress disorder."
He used a professional term that might exist within this world's medical system, though not commonly used, causing both Tsunade and the Third outside the door to pause.
"Rather than being afraid of blood and wounds themselves… it's more about being afraid of what they make you recall, isn't it? Those images, those sensations—they're like brands burned into memory. So it isn't the blood that's frightening; it's everything the blood represents and evokes that makes one feel fear and want to escape."
Every word struck like a heavy hammer against the most fragile place in Tsunade's heart. Her face turned ashen. She wanted to shout for him to stop, but found herself unable to make a sound.
The boy's words were not intense, yet they precisely tore open the scar she had long wrapped in layers of alcohol, avoidance, and anger, exposing the unhealed, still-bleeding truth beneath.
"So that's my answer, Tsunade-sama."
Shinichi's voice pulled Tsunade back from the brink of drowning in painful memories.
He looked at her, his gaze clear and resolute—without pity, only a near-cruelly honest understanding.
"It's precisely because I've seen it, felt it, and don't want to see more of it… that I have to fight with everything I have. I have to become stronger—strong enough to create new power, strong enough to change something at a critical moment. Even if that power harms me, even if the road ahead is difficult."
"I just hope that, with these hands, I can bring a few more smiles to this village—and a few fewer partings."
"For that, I have no other choice. And I absolutely cannot stop."
"…"
At his words, Tsunade fell into deep silence.
"Self-righteous brat!"
After a long pause, Tsunade suddenly spoke. Her voice had returned to its usual impatience and toughness, as if that soul-baring conversation had never taken place.
"If you want to use it in the future, then go ahead! It's not me who feels the pain, and it's not my hand that'll be ruined! Why should I care if you get yourself killed!"
She said so, yet the slight tremor in her body caused by the psychological shock had, at some point, completely subsided. The emerald glow steadily released from her hands grew denser.
At the same time, outside the ward, the Third Hokage let out a long breath and revealed a gratified smile befitting his age.
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