Chapter 12 part 3
At the same time — another room, same house...
"Well — the patient's more alive than dead," Kaoru stated, finishing the last stitch that pulled the incision shut.
"Mm... you're quite professional for your age, Kaoru-kun," Akashi praised. She watched with interest as her "apprentice" methodically stitched her chest. Thanks to the local anesthetic — she barely felt anything. Just mild discomfort. "Calm. Collected. Even joke a little. Pretty impressive for someone your age."
"Ha-ha — you flatter me." Nagisa chuckled — almost coquettishly — rummaging through a mountain of jars, bottles, and boxes. Found the one he wanted — unsealed the wide lid — and started pouring thick, honey-like stuff directly onto the stitched wound. "Honestly, Akashi-san — I'm not as carefree as I look. There's just a job right now that only I can do. I'm focused. Can't afford to lose it. But trust me — when this is over? My hands'll shake like the worst drunk in the seediest dockside bar."
He stoppered the jar and started spreading the medicine carefully along the wound. As if to prove his point — Akashi felt his fingertips trembling. Almost imperceptibly.
"Well — even so. Commendable." She smiled under her mask. Kaoru just shook his head. Funny paradox: Akashi had zero problem baring herself in front of him — but refused, absolutely, to take off the mask. It was bizarre. He'd long since stopped trying to find logic in it. "Knowledge and practice come with time. Gotta say — you're already a decent medic."
"Practice, huh? And all because," he kept going, cheerful, "I had to haul three — well, two and a half — kunoichi on my back in emergency mode. Kunoichi who can't stay out of trouble! Especially one irresponsible jonin."
"Ahmm... well... gomen?" Akashi sounded almost guilty. Awkward. "Well... as compensation... didn't you take the chance to ogle your alluring taicho's body?" She looked at him mischievously — "I know you were peeping at me in the bathhouse." "Isn't that right, Kaoru-kun?"
"A-ka-shi-ta-i-cho!" Kaoru bit out, syllable by syllable, a twitching smile on his face.
"Ow! Ouch-ouch-ouch!.." The woman started wailing as he heartlessly poked a finger into her thigh wound.
"Here, here, here... aaand here..." Kaoru's voice was distinctly angry — each "here" a poke at a different wound. Akashi yelped and wailed. "All this 'beauty'? Two hours of intense work. And that's NOT counting the near-bisected ribcage that made me leap over my own head — and took another three hours to fix! And after ALL that — you're making lewd jokes?!"
"Well... the enemy was pretty strong," the jonin justified herself, radiating repentance. "You know how it is — combat tension, wound shock... the mind needs psychological release..."
"Akashi-san." Her Sharingan eye did a short gulp. For one second — she swore she saw the wrathful face of a Hannya demon behind the smiling violet-haired brunet. That couldn't be real — right?! Kaoru barely knew any genjutsu! "If you've got energy for dirty jokes — spend it on rest and recovery! Is. That. Clear?!"
The Hannya bared its fangs. Licked them.
"Hai!" The woman murmured, meekly shutting her eye. When she looked again — the vision was gone. "Mmaa... Kaoru-kun, what was that?"
"What're you talking about?" The boy blinked.
"That... that vision. You seriously didn't do anything?" She fixed him with a suspicious stare.
"Vision? Do what?" He tilted his head, puzzled. Pondered. Frowned. "Alright, Akashi-san — drink another one of these tinctures. You're overtired. Delirious."
"No — I definitely saw something!" Akashi objected. Not very confidently.
"Two tinctures!" The young medic shook his head. "And no arguments, Akashi-san! While I'm treating you — you'll be a good girl, drink your medicine, and recover responsibly!"
The Hannya peeked out from behind Kaoru's shoulder — Akashi caught the sound of sharpening metal.
She swallowed.
***
Done fussing over Akashi's wounds, I stepped into the hallway — and only there let myself enjoy the slow slide down the wall to the floor.
"Kami-sama, I'm beat to hell," I muttered into the emptiness. Five-plus hours of work. Finally done. Now I could say for sure: Akashi's life wasn't in danger. None of those wounds would lead to complications.
Sasuko I wasn't worried about — I'd limited myself to first aid and left my clone with her. Haku hadn't aimed to kill — hit clean — made my job easier. Still had to fuss over her, though: damaged nerve clusters are no joke.
But the most problems? Weirdly enough — Naruko. I'd only managed to calm her down by binding her with my prayer beads and hitting her with a really, REALLY powerful Byakurai. Then I had to rush-repair the damage from the demonic chakra — AND wash off that mix of blood and guts and meat she was covered in from head to toe! The one saving grace: Tazuna's daughter Tsunami helped with the clothes. Though she was shaking the whole time — terrified of the blonde — considering what Naruko was... covered in, after the carnage. Washed the blonde, left another clone with her — finally got to Akashi...
Wait — no. That's not right. I'm so exhausted I can't even keep our memories straight. The clone handled Naruko. I was already patching up Akashi by then. It was rough...
"Mma... Be a shame if a scar ruined that kind of beauty," I caught myself thinking — remembering Akashi's treatment. Specifically — her neat breasts. Size two-bordering-on-three. Yeah — the twins definitely won't look better with a scar running across—
Thud. I jerked my head — knocked it against the wall.
Running around treating everyone — I didn't have time for those thoughts. But now? Sitting down to rest — my head immediately filled up with all kinds of stuff. And damn Akashi with her teasing!
"Kami — what am I thinking?!" I muttered. "Hah — it's all Akashi's fault. Yeah — I'm blaming Akashi for everything! Dammit — I'm a man, after all..."
Voice dropping — I sank into incoherent mumbling. In one day I'd managed to see three women practically naked. Correction: one woman. Two adolescent girls already well into puberty. And with shinobi — chakra's got a really... beneficial effect on physical development.
Chakra's actually fascinating that way. Optimizes the body. Makes it run at peak efficiency. In theory — chakra users can live way longer than normal people. The whole problem is the average shinobi rarely hits fifty — and that's ninshu's fault. The shinobi life itself is dangerous — sudden death waiting around every corner. And some of the techniques they use? Pretty damn hazardous. Generations of selection — plus a kind of conscious "programming" of the body — have done their work:
Clan and hereditary shinobi start gaining strength around age six — that's when training usually begins. For everyone else — a couple years later, around seven to nine. The process keeps going until about fifteen to seventeen — then slows down a lot. Doesn't stop completely. Peak strength usually hits between twenty and twenty-five.
After that? Problems. Constant strain, wounds, stress — they practically cancel out chakra's tonic effect. Chakra exhaustion is especially nasty — for bodies used to chakra, that's an extreme stressor. So you get this: on one hand — shinobi are crazy resilient and long-lived. On the other — they go out of their way to wreck themselves.
Cheerful stuff.
A lot of it's individual, of course. Depends heavily on each shinobi's specific chakra — its quality, unique properties. The Yin-Yang ratio's a big deal — physical chakra affects the body way more than spiritual. The Uzumaki and Senju were especially notable — both clans had unique chakra compositions.
From the medical records I've studied — a pretty interesting picture: only Hashirako actually mastered Wood Style, but every Senju had the basic predisposition in some form. That latent Bloodline Limit — that's what kept their bodies in shape for so long. And the Uzumaki? Famous worldwide as a long-lived clan — mostly thanks to their chakra's special properties. No bloodline involved — just a trait. A unique property. Still impressive. That chakra gave them a huge safety margin — one of the main reasons they could serve as "prisons on legs" — jinchuriki — with the fewest consequences. Only two pure-blooded jinchuriki — Mito and Kushi — but still: compare them to other Villages' jinchuriki, and you see the difference right away. Those get replaced way more often.
Both examples show pretty vividly how chakra affects the body. And it's especially noticeable with women.
Almost impossible to find a genuinely ugly kunoichi. Every woman — even if she decides to "abandon her femininity" — deep down still wants to be beautiful. Chakra responds to those unconscious — or even fully conscious — desires. Adjusts the body's functioning. Nudges it toward a certain "ideal." Add constant training and self-discipline — and you get the full picture: toned kunoichi, great figure, striking looks. And it's... surprisingly common. In other words: there are no ugly kunoichi! Can't be — unless it's from external factors. Wounds and stuff.
So yeah — nothing weird about me checking out Akashi. And Naruko. And Sasuko. With a certain interest. It's just beyond any normal guy's ability to resist! Akashi's got that mature, grown-woman beauty — especially without the mask. And Naruko and Sasuko? They're already shaping up to be absolute stunners in just a few years. Chakra — it's all chakra. Speeds up the female body's already-fast maturation. What's a humble, weak-willed priest supposed to do?!
Woe... woe...
"Hey." A quiet voice. I open my eyes — see my clone smiling cheerfully at me. "You're dead!"
"Eh?" I blink. The clone's happy grin really didn't match his statement. Instead of explaining — he just grunted, "Catch!" — and dispersed. Instant sledgehammer to the skull! Good thing I was already on the floor — definitely would've collapsed otherwise. "Hssh... Should lie down."
God, I'm tired...
Oh...?
I'm dead. Sasuko's definitely gonna strangle me. Then again — I'm my own worst enemy. Knew she was proud and temperamental — and then I go and stomp all over that pride. What a mess...
Mheh... Whatever. To hell with it. Need a nap — just a little — or I'm gonna pass out from exhaustion. I pushed myself up the wall and hobbled toward the bedroom. I'll think about everything tomorrow.
***
A lonely hut in the forest.
"Forgive me, Zabuza-sama — the arm can't be saved." Haku's voice was tragic, hands working over her shoulder. "I just can't do more."
"Tch. Fine — lost is lost. To hell with it." Momochi stared at the ceiling, toneless. Pumped full of drugs to her eyebrows — she somehow still processed everything. "Haku."
"Hai, Zabuza-sama?" The boy — lost in his own misery — answered instantly.
"How long till I recover?"
"A month. Minimum." Yuki said it firmly — deliberately inflating the number. He was worried about her. She'd taken horrible damage — same as him, really. It was already a miracle that while everyone was distracted by the rampaging blonde monster, Haku'd somehow found the strength to drag his mentor away before anyone remembered them. Part of that "miracle" was the strange enemy who'd not only saved him from the killing blow — but healed him, too. To Zabuza's lasting regret — they'd had to leave the sword. Haku just couldn't have carried it. Not in that state. Though — choosing between Zabuza and a valuable chunk of metal? He'd pick Zabuza. Every time.
"Damn it. That monkey... that piece of shit... Shame I wasn't the one who gutted him." Momochi's voice stayed flat. With the painkillers working — nothing showed the real depth of her rage. "Haku. Two weeks. We're going back."
"To Meido-sama?"
"Yeah. Putting the last job aside... I'd say we've done enough. But first—"
"We'll pay a visit for our money, won't we?" The boy smiled, thin and knowing.
"You understand me well, Haku." Momochi let her eyes close — approving. "Nobody cheats Momochi Zabuza. So before we head home — we collect everything we're owed. With interest."
"As you wish. Now — you need sleep, Zabuza-sama." Haku placed his hands on her head and eased her into a light genjutsu. Only then did he let himself smile — warm, full of care — just for her. "I'll take care of you, Zabuza-sama. Please — sleep well. Gather your strength."
On impulse — he reached toward her sleeping face. Caught himself at the last moment. Instead of a gentle touch — he just straightened the blanket.