The erald-green glow grew denser, and Tsunade's hands were as steady as the most precise instrunts, manipulating dical 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 dical chakra to repair the torn and scorched muscle fibers, the delicate nerves, the damaged blood vessels, and even the cracked bones.
It was an extrely taxing process, one that demanded absolute precision in control.
As ti 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 beca sowhat rapid.
The bloody sight, the details of the damaged tissue, and even the unavoidable tactile sensations during treatnt 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 dical 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 !"
Without even lifting her head, Tsunade barked the reprimand. Yet her voice sounded sowhat tight, as though suppressing so emotion, while the green light in her hands remained perfectly steady.
At the sa ti, 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 treatnt inside the ward. He rely stood quietly at the doorway and glanced in through the observation window, seeing his disciple Tsunade bent over in complete concentration as she administered treatnt.
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 treatnt 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 argunt. "The backlash it inflicts on your body is an irreparable injury, and the destructive effect will keep accumulating. This ti you got lucky—your constitution is abnormal, and the treatnt was tily. But use it a few more tis, 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 rely 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 naless fire surging in her chest.
How could this brat be so stubborn?
For so lousy jutsu, he was willing to throw away his hand?
She was so angry she almost wanted to stop the treatnt and let him hurt on his own.
But when she t the boy's calm eyes, the scolding words jamd in her throat. She lowered her head again, focusing even more on the work in her hands. After a mont of silence, she asked that question again.
"Why… go to such lengths? Why push yourself this hard?"
Shinichi fell silent for a mont. 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 argunt 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 acknowledgnt.
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 rember dical 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 astonishnt—and a trace of panic at being seen through.
Even the steady glow of dical chakra in her hands wavered for a mont 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 sothing was off. He had only thought it was the imnse 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 treatnt, 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 sowhat hurried from a lack of confidence. "It's just that your injury is troubleso to handle! I'm the best dical-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 dical 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 mory. 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 hamr 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 mories.
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 beco stronger—strong enough to create new power, strong enough to change sothing at a critical mont. Even if that power harms , 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 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 so point, completely subsided. The erald glow steadily released from her hands grew denser.
At the sa ti, outside the ward, the Third Hokage let out a long breath and revealed a gratified smile befitting his age.
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