Medical care * Campfire

After Izuna collapsed, a brief silence fell over the scene.

The medical-nin were still busy in the distance. The sound of Katsuyu crawling over the rubble was faint and damp. The groans of the wounded came from every corner of the Ruins, but these sounds seemed to be blocked by a thick membrane.

No one spoke in the open space of the pit.

A stream of water rushed in from afar, flowing down the cliff face cleaved by Susanoo, as if this ravaged and shattered land had finally found an outlet to shed its tears.

The rushing water echoed through the canyon, somewhat drowning out the noise coming from afar.

As the water flowed over the rock face, the blood-stained dark red pebbles were washed away, revealing their original grayish-white color. The blood flowed along the direction of the water, gathering in the low-lying area and accumulating into a puddle with pinkish Utakata at the bottom of the pit.

Madara stood to the side, holding Izuna in his arms.

He supported the back of Izuna's neck with one hand, his fingertips resting on Izuna's carotid artery, feeling the steady, rhythmic beat.

Then he released his fingers from the carotid artery, instead covering Izuna's head with his whole hand and pulling him closer to his shoulder.

He didn't say a word from beginning to end.

Hashirama walked to Jigen's side and squatted down.

The monk from a thousand years ago lay flat on a pile of rubble. His pale face, having lost control of his Isshiki, no longer looked eerie; it was simply the face of a thin, weathered middle-aged man.

His eyes were closed, and a dried bloodstain remained at the corner of his mouth. Hashirama extended two fingers and placed them on Jigen's wrist. He was still alive.

He then lifted Jigen's eyelids to check his pupils, took out a Military Rations Pill from his Ninja Tools bag, crushed it, and stuffed it into Jigen's mouth, using Chakra to help him swallow.

The whole process was practiced and silent, as if they were doing something they had done a thousand times before.

Tobirama stood a few steps away, his gaze fixed on Izuna.

His Red Eyes reflected the shimmering light from the flowing water, his brows were furrowed, and his lips were pressed into a straight line.

After a long while, he spoke, his voice very soft, as if talking to himself, or perhaps asking the two people beside him, "He... what is it... why does he give me this feeling..."

Hashirama didn't turn his head, but his voice was very low, so low that only the three of them could hear it. "We'll talk about it when we get back."

Tobirama shut his mouth.

The sound of flowing water continued, and in the distance, medical-nin shouted, "Bandages are needed here!"

Tobirama mentally completed the words he hadn't said, word by word:

Why does he give me the feeling that... he's talking to me like Big Brother?

Hashirama sized up the so-called "thousand-year-old" monk.

He lay flat on the pile of rubble, his face, having lost control of Isshiki, no longer possessed any eerie quality; it was simply a thin, weathered middle-aged man.

He thought for a moment, then pulled out his Kunai, squatted down, and shaved off the few remaining strands of hair on Jigen's head. He then grabbed a handful of wet mud and smeared it on Jigen's face and neck to cover his face.

Then he beckoned to Tobirama.

"Take him to that abandoned hunter's hut we just passed, and put a cloak on him. When you take men on patrol later, search that area, making it look like he was caught in the crossfire." Hashirama stuffed the torn pieces of cloth from the monk's body and the shaved head into the Sealing Scrolls. "These will serve as evidence of Isshiki's death."

Ban glanced at him. "You're being kind."

Hashirama removed Jigen's clothes, he said, "After all, it was him who said it, Madara, set a fire."

The mark was stained, and a small flame emerged, igniting the blood-stained clothes.

Tobirama left with Jigen, who was only wearing a loincloth.

Hashirama straightened up, looked at the medical-nin busy at the edge of the basin, ate a few Military Rations Pills, and then went to help.

Madara remained silent until Hikaku came to his side, then entrusted Izuna to him before heading off to direct everyone in clearing the battlefield.

When counting the wounded, Hashirama asked Lujing to help compile the casualty figures.

When Lujing, leaning on a makeshift cane and carrying a notepad, walked up to him, her expression was somewhat subtle.

It wasn't a feeling of heaviness, but rather a kind of inexplicable confusion.

"Seventy-six seriously injured, one hundred and twelve slightly injured." Lujing paused, "... Sixteen dead."

Hashirama froze. He turned to look at the blood-soaked sand and the wounded Ninjas.

Some of them still had Isshiki, mangled holes in their chests where Black Rods had been pulled out, but their eyes were open, their lips were moving, and they were telling the stretcher bearers, "Gently, gently, it hurts so much!"

In a battle of this intensity, facing an enemy of that caliber, the most optimistic estimate would be that two-thirds would die; it's unexpected that only sixteen people actually Yomi.

"It was that rainbow light just now," Lujing said, as if sensing his confusion. "Everyone enveloped in the rainbow light... to be precise, everyone enveloped in the rainbow light briefly regained consciousness within their own bodies."

He said in a low voice, "The medical team said that during that time it was like someone had forcibly pulled away the scythe of death. Those whose injuries were too severe to save had a few more minutes to talk to their comrades."

Hashirama was silent for a moment, then patted Lujing on the shoulder and said, "Let's consider it a miracle. Continue to inventory the supplies; we might have to stay here for a few days."

Lujing closed the recorder, bowed slightly, and turned to leave.

Just like Hashirama said, they really do have to stay here for a few more days.

Because there were too many seriously injured people.

We've saved so many people from the brink of death before; their lives were barely hanging on. Some of their injuries were fatal, while others resulted in permanent disabilities. Perhaps they'll spend their next life bedridden.

But at least they all survived, and no one complained about it.

The medical team set up a makeshift Medical Tent on the edge of the basin, Katsuyu split into more individuals, crawling incessantly between the stretchers.

Those who were able to walk were helped to evacuate towards Konoha, while those who could not walk were placed in tents and allowed to move later once their injuries had lessened.

The children finally came in handy.

They carried water, handed over bandages, and held the wounded man's arm to prevent him from moving around while being stitched.

They moved swiftly and silently between the stretchers and the Medical Tent.

They defeated the monster, and far more people survived than expected.

But no one showed any sign of relief.

Because this attack came too suddenly and without any reason.

The man in white never said who he was, why he came, or what he wanted.

He didn't negotiate, didn't declare war, didn't make any demands. He just showed up and started killing.

The only person he explicitly opposed was Uchiha Izuna.

Everyone saw him chasing after Izuna and attacking him; everyone saw him lose his composure in a fit of rage after being struck by Izuna's Light Blade.

But no one thought that "it was Izuna who brought the enemy here." They only felt that Izuna had inflicted too many heavy blows on him, which was why he was being targeted.

This kind of nonsensical battle, this kind of battle where even the enemy's identity is unknown, this kind of battle where even Hashirama and Madara were almost killed, left everyone feeling extremely frustrated.

They need an explanation.

After paying such a heavy price, they at least need to know what they are fighting against.

So when Hashirama, after a long day of work, finally returned from the Medical Tent and sat down by the makeshift campfire to eat something, someone asked him a question.

The Ninja's left arm, pierced by Black Rods and slinged in bandages, used his uninjured hand to bring a bowl of hot soup to Hashirama. He then sat down and asked in a hoarse voice, "Lord Hashirama, who exactly is that white monster? Why did he come to Konoha?"

There was a moment of silence around the campfire.

Everyone looked at him, waiting for his explanation.

Zhu took the soup bowl from the Hashirama and placed his hand against the bowl, feeling the scalding heat travel through the ceramic to his palm.

He stared at the flickering flames in silence for a moment, then spoke.

"I'm not entirely sure who it is," he said, "But we know who his target is."

The moment those words were spoken, the atmosphere around the campfire changed.

Someone pressed, "Who is it? Or what is it?"

Hashirama sighed, "We can't be sure yet, but we'll find out."

After saying that, he started eating by himself.

The crowd around the campfire fell silent for a moment. Then, a Senju Clan Ninja sitting on the outer edge, having taken a bite of his dry rations, muttered, "Even Lord Hashirama said so. It seems that even if we told them what an enemy of that caliber was, there's nothing we could do."

The other person clicked their tongue, "... That's really annoying."

No one argued with him. A Hyuga Clan Ninja looked down at his bandaged hands and muttered, "I need to train harder when I get back. At least next time I encounter something like this, I can hold out for a few more seconds."

His words were like a pebble thrown into calm water, and the surrounding Ninjas began to whisper among themselves, their conversation remarkably similar: how to increase training intensity, improve Taijutsu, and review the battle that had just taken place.

Hashirama didn't interrupt; he took a sip of soup and looked at the people in front of him.

The campfire crackled, sending sparks flying that were swept around twice by the night wind before scattering above the makeshift Medical Tent.

A Chunin the Senju Clan broke the remaining rations in half, stuffed one half into his mouth, and handed the other half to the person next to him, speaking indistinctly, "Speaking of which—did any of you see that guy's Taijutsu clearly? I mean, exactly how he used his moves. When I rushed in, I thought I could at least withstand three hits, but I couldn't even withstand one. When I woke up, the Katsuyu was already on my face."

"Yes." The man who received the rations was a burly member of the Akimichi Clan. His left shoulder, pierced by Black Rods, was still oozing tissue fluid, but he ate without slowing down. "I remember opening my arms to lock him in place, then feeling a chill on my chest, and looking down! Well, there was a hole. I didn't even see when he raised his hand."

"That Black Rods didn't fly out of his sleeve," said a young Uchiha Clan man sitting cross-legged opposite the campfire, his head still wrapped in bandages. "It formed directly from his palm. It took me a while to see clearly. First, a tiny black dot appeared in his palm, and then, as the dot approached, it instantly stretched into a rod shape."

The Inuzuka Clan member swallowed the dry rations in his mouth and stared at him for a long time. "I couldn't even see him raise his hand clearly, and you say you saw the black spot on his palm?"

The young man from the Uchiha Clan shrugged. "The Sharingan, huh? So what if you can see it clearly? Your body can't keep up."

"Alright, alright, you Uchiha, stop with the Versailles." Another voice came from the side of the campfire; it was a Hyuga Clan Ninja. "Being able to see clearly is impressive enough, stop bragging."

The Uchiha Clan members chuckled, "Oh, this smell of sourness is overwhelming! Speaking of which, I noticed that guy seems to have one white eye, which looks a lot like your Hyuga Clan's Byakugan. What do you mean? Do you have an explanation?"

The Hyuga Clan's Ninjas exploded.

"You fucking—" The man jumped up, his bandaged right hand pointing directly at the young man from the Uchiha Clan, "What do you mean? Are you saying that thing's eye is related to our Hyuga Clan? Are you trying to sow discord?"

The air around the campfire instantly tensed.

The young Uchiha man quickly raised his hands, his face completely innocent. "Hey, hey, no, no, no, I didn't mean that! I just said it looks like it! Purely a description! Purely a description of its appearance!"

"Looks like it?" The Hyuga Clan member's voice rose eight octaves. "Shouldn't you get that Sharingan checked? The whites of that thing are bluish, the pupils are grayish, and there's a black ring around the eye socket. What Hyuga Clan like that? Have you ever seen a Hyuga Clan like that!"

"I'm not --"

Have you ever seen it?

"... No."

"What nonsense are you spouting!" The Hyuga Clan member retorted, "That guy definitely stole it! He stole our eyes and then attacked us—it's disgusting! If you dare compare him to the Hyuga Clan again, I'll kill you!"

The Uchiha Clan lad kept his mouth shut, looking slightly surprised, but he understood why the Byakugan guy was angry.

After all, if the enemy's eyes turned red this time, he would be furious.

The Yamanaka Clan Ninja sitting next to him laughed and patted the Hyuga ninja Hyuga Clan the shoulder, "Alright, alright, calm down. Your wound hasn't healed yet, don't reopen it."

The Hyuga Clan member glared at the Uchiha, then finally sat down. Still seething with anger, he picked up a pebble and threw it at them. "If you say that again, you won't get a good night's sleep tonight! I mean it!"

The young man from the Uchiha Clan caught the stone, chuckling, "Alright, alright, my bad, my bad. But seriously, if that thing really stole your Hyuga Clan's Byakugan, then I'll have to be angry for you. Such an ugly face paired with Byakugan, it's a complete waste."

These words surprised the Hyuga Clan members for a moment.

"Ha?"

"I'm saying, that monster is so ugly, even if it had Byakugan on its face, it would be a waste." The young man from the Uchiha Clan said with an expression so sincere it didn't seem fake. "Your Hyuga Clan members are all so good-looking, fair and clean-cut, that guy looks..."

The Uchiha youth's expression furrowed. "I'm sorry, I really don't want to remember anymore. Why can the Sharingan remember so clearly?"

The Hyuga Clan members' expressions subtly changed, from anger to... a twisted state of suppressing laughter and not wanting to admit that they were laughing.

"... You're smart to know what's good for you."

My greatest strength is that I'm a person who is realistic and pragmatic.

"Oh, right, there's something I'm really curious about that I'd like to ask everyone," Yamanaka, who was sitting on the other side of the campfire, suddenly spoke up.

Her eyes shone brightly, the kind that gleamed after having watched enough of the spectacle and finally getting their chance to fan the flames. "In today's battle, who saved their mortal enemy? Raise your hand."

There was a complete silence for three seconds.

Then the atmosphere around the campfire changed at a speed visible to the naked eye.

A Ninja from the Inuzuka Clan placed a bowl on the ground, the ceramic base making a crisp sound as it hit the gravel. He raised his chin, his gaze passing over the campfire, and precisely locked onto a Ninja from the Shimura Clan opposite him.

"Since you've asked—" he drawled, his lips curling into a grin like a dog that'd caught a mouse, "Then I really have to say something. When your son was kicked away by Isshiki, who pulled him back from the side to prevent his head from hitting the stone wall?"

The Shimura Clan Ninja opposite him, who was drinking soup, stopped eating when he heard this.

"If I remember correctly," the Inuzuka Clan Ninja said, crossing his arms over his chest, the bandages around his wrists still seeping blood, but he sat as comfortably as if he were in his own living room, "I think it was me?"

The Shimura Clan Ninja put down the soup bowl. The movement was slow, as if afraid of spilling the soup, or perhaps as if he was stalling for time.

The person next to him had already started nudging him with their elbows. He sat up straight, expressionless, and said in a very flat voice, "... It's you."

"The sound is too soft, I can't hear it--"

"It's you!" the Shimura Clan Ninja roared, his ears glowing red in the firelight.

The Inuzuka Clan Ninja was satisfied. "Hey~ it was me! Let me tell you, in that situation, Isshiki I kicked him, this genius of the Shimura Clan did two and a half somersaults in the air, and the way he landed was, how should I put it, very creative."

"If I hadn't been quick enough to pull him back, he wouldn't be sitting here drinking soup now; he'd be embedded in the mountainside as a mural!"

He got more and more excited as he talked, gesturing with his uninjured hand to show the arc of the Shimura Clan being kicked away. "Let me tell you, that parabola, that spin, that bewildered expression. Hey! I remember now, when I grabbed him, he glared at me! As if I pulling him up was an insult to his dignity!"

"When did I glare at you!" the Shimura Clan Ninja retorted.

"You glared at me! I've memorized that expression~ Want me to replay it for you right now~"

"You fucking--"

"Let's replay it! Your face looked like this back then." The Inuzuka Clan Ninja scrunched up his features, his mouth agape in an "O" shape, his eyes wide open, his expression as exaggerated as could be. "Just like this! Exactly the same!"

The people around the campfire were already laughing hysterically.

The Inuzuka Clan Ninja laughed so hard he slapped his companion on the back, his slap so forceful it sent the companion tumbling forward.

The burly man from the Akimichi Clan laughed so hard his shoulders shook, almost reopening the wound on his shoulder, but medical-nin next to him slapped him back down.

The Shimura Clan Ninja stood there, his face flushed red, staring at the Inuzuka Clan who was still winking and making faces. His lips trembled for a long time before he finally managed to stammer out, "... I will repay you."

"Ouch--" The Inuzuka Clan Ninja drawled out the last syllable, his tone twisting and turning, "Repay me! Did you hear what he said? Repay me! Okay, how will you repay me? Your Shimura Clan's famously delicious sushi restaurant, a month's free, isn't that too much to ask?"

You're dreaming.

"Two months."

"Go to hell."

"Three months. Say it again and I'll raise it for another month."

The Shimura Clan Ninja opened and closed his mouth repeatedly before finally sitting back down abruptly. He picked up the soup bowl, using the motion of drinking soup to cover his face, and his muffled voice drifted out from behind the rim of the bowl. "... More than a month...?"

The arrogant smile on the Inuzuka Clan Ninja's face froze. He looked at him in surprise, as if he hadn't expected the other party to actually agree.

Then he covered it up with an even bigger laugh, "Deal! Everyone heard that, right? The genius of the Shimura Clan owes me a month's worth of sushi! Anyone who wants to freeload, just call me!"

The Shimura Clan Ninja muttered something behind the bowl, but ultimately didn't refuse.

Just as things quieted down on one side, another sound came from the other side of the campfire.