The Last Piece

The hospital.

Kitahara Kaede lay on the hospital bed, looking dazed.

He'd only wanted the Medical Corps to treat the wound on his hand and, at most, check his ribs.

But Tsunade followed him into the infirmary and told the medical ninja on duty in a tone that brooked no argument, "A full examination, including his ribs."

The medical ninja looked at her, then at Kitahara Kaede.

Kitahara Kaede gave a slight shake of his head.

No use.

Tsunade had already pinned him to the examination bed.

So they checked him from head to toe.

A frontal X-ray of his ribs, cleaning the wound on his hand, a chakra pathway examination—nothing was skipped.

Kitahara Kaede felt like a turtle flipped onto its back and examined, lying there with his arms and legs splayed, utterly without dignity.

The results: a contusion and fracture of the sixth rib on the left side, a penetrating wound in his right hand that needed monitoring, chakra depletion, and a recommendation to rest.

"Stay for two days." The medical ninja finished writing the report and closed the file.

Kitahara Kaede sat up. "There's no need—"

"Stay for two days."

It wasn't the medical ninja who said it. It was Tsunade, standing at the foot of the bed.

Her tone was exactly like a doctor's orders.

In fact, it left even less room for discussion. You could sign a refusal to follow a doctor's orders. You couldn't refuse Tsunade.

The medical ninja tactfully left the room.

The ward fell quiet. Faint footsteps and voices drifted from somewhere down the corridor.

Tsunade pulled a chair over to the bedside and sat down, with no sign of leaving.

Kitahara Kaede closed his eyes.

A system notification sounded in his mind.

[Side Quest: Hero Saves Beauty—Settlement Complete.]

[Evaluation: S (Perfect).]

[The target's emotional fluctuations exceeded the upper threshold. Your existence has become deeply embedded in the target's core memories. This performance has been judged: Irreplaceable.]

[Distributing rewards...]

[Reward obtained: Ninjutsu Release Effect Enhancement +5%.]

[Note: This is a permanent passive bonus and can stack. It applies to all ninjutsu released by the host, including but not limited to: power, range, duration, and precision of nature transformation.]

Kitahara Kaede's eyelid twitched.

+5%.

At first glance, it didn't seem like much.

But Kitahara Kaede wasn't one to judge by first impressions.

With this bonus, the same Great Fireball would deal C-Rank damage in the hands of an ordinary ninja, but his would deal C-Rank damage multiplied by 1.05.

The stronger his abilities became in the future, the more powerful this bonus would be.

A C-Rank ninjutsu could have the effect of a B-Rank one; a B-Rank ninjutsu could have the power of an A-Rank one.

This reward wasn't for the present.

It was for the future.

It would only grow more terrifying as he advanced.

Kitahara Kaede's lips curled slightly.

"What are you smiling about?"

Tsunade's voice came from beside him.

Kitahara Kaede opened his eyes and realized the corner of his mouth was turned up.

"Thinking about something nice."

"You've got a hole through your hand. What could possibly make you this happy?"

"Secret."

Tsunade watched him for a moment, then huffed and didn't press him.

She stood up, walked around to the right side of the bed, and reached for his bandaged right hand.

"Let me see."

"The medical ninja just checked it—"

"He checked it. I'm checking it too."

As she spoke, she was already unwinding the bandage.

Her movements were slower than the medical ninja's, but she controlled her strength precisely.

She was only seven and had never studied Medical Ninjutsu, yet her touch was already more delicate than that of many adults.

Kitahara Kaede said nothing and let her examine it.

A thin scab had formed over the wound, and the surrounding skin was bruised purple.

Tsunade examined it several times, then wrapped the bandage back around his hand.

When she finished, she didn't let go.

"I'm going to learn Medical Ninjutsu."

Kitahara Kaede turned his head toward her.

Tsunade didn't look back at him. Her gaze stayed on her fingers as she tied the bandage.

"Next time you get hurt, I'll be able to treat you myself. We won't have to wait for the Medical Corps."

She spoke softly, as if she'd been holding those words inside for a long time and had finally found a way to let them out.

Kitahara Kaede watched her lowered lashes.

He knew this wasn't a lingering effect of fear. Tsunade wasn't someone who would be cowed by a scare.

It was helplessness.

Standing five meters away, unable to do anything, watching someone else take a blade for her.

That feeling was worse than being stabbed herself.

"Then learn."

Tsunade looked up and glared at him. "Can't you say something nice for once?"

"You learn faster than anyone. Medical Ninjutsu won't be any different."

Tsunade's fingers paused. She didn't reply.

She lowered her head and tightened the last turn of the bandage, pulling a little harder than before.

Kitahara Kaede hissed.

"Does it hurt?"

"No."

"Then I'll tighten it more."

"...It hurts."

The corner of Tsunade's mouth curved up, then quickly pressed flat again.

She tied off the bandage and sat back down.

Sunlight slanted through the window, casting a rectangular patch of light across the bedsheet. Dust drifted slowly through the beam.

Tsunade sat against the wall, quiet for a long time.

Maybe it was only two or three minutes, but in a ward where the only sound was breathing, it felt much longer.

"When you pushed me away."

Her voice was calm.

"I thought you were going to die."

Kitahara Kaede turned to look at her.

Tsunade gazed out the window, sunlight dividing her profile into light and shadow.

Her expression was faint, as if she were talking about someone else. But the hand resting on her knee clenched the fabric of her skirt, her knuckles tightening little by little.

Kitahara Kaede's lips moved.

"I won't—"

He stopped, suddenly remembering something.

The version of him in the Simulator would inevitably die.

He would die in the most devoted, most tragic way possible.

The more painful it was, the higher the score.

The more unforgettable it was, the more generous the rewards.

The ending had already been written.

This body, this name, this relationship that had begun with dice and candy—all of it would eventually end in a carefully designed death.

The Simulator would settle the score, hand out the rewards, and reset everything to zero.

He would take the rewards back to reality and keep lying low.

That was the rule. He'd known it before entering.

But—

He looked at Tsunade's clenched fingers and the profile she refused to turn toward him.

Kitahara Kaede swallowed the words on the tip of his tongue.

The ward was quiet for three seconds.

"Do you have any candy left?"

Tsunade froze for a moment.

She turned to look at him. The emotion in her eyes faded, replaced by an expression that said, Are you out of your mind?

Then she took a piece of candy from her pocket.

Peach flavor.

She didn't throw it at him. She placed it on the bedside table and pushed it within reach.

"It's the last piece."

Kitahara Kaede picked it up. His right hand was too bandaged to use properly, so he had to tear the wrapper open with his teeth and pop the candy into his mouth.

Once Tsunade saw him take it, she stood.

"I'll come change your bandage tomorrow."

"The doctor will—"

"I'll do it."

She walked to the door and rested a hand on the frame, pausing for a moment.

She didn't turn around.

"You were right. I learn faster than anyone."