Blood splattered and bodies lay everywhere. In the dim, damp tunnel, there were no more screams or the clang of metal. No sound. Only a thick, heavy silence that seemed to absorb all light and hope. But amidst it all, in the center of that deafening silence, Yuji's heart beat wildly.
Thump, thump, thump.
The sound was the only thing that filled his ears, an internal war drum that continued to beat even after the battle was over. He stood there, his kunai still dripping blood, staring at the corpse at his feet. He felt nothing. No victory, no regret, no horror. Only a cold emptiness and the thundering of his own heartbeat.
Then he came back to himself, pulled from his stunned fog by a more urgent purpose. Akane.
He turned immediately, ignoring the corpses and the scene of destruction around him. He approached the spot where Akane lay unconscious, near the remains of Tsukasa's stone dome. With efficient, almost mechanical movements, he opened one of the medical storage seals from his pouch. With a small puff of smoke, a neat little metal box appeared in his hand. He knelt before the woman.
Akane's face was deathly pale under the dim lantern light. There were many signs of a beating, purplish-blue bruises beginning to form on her cheeks and around her eyes. Thin cuts from a sharp weapon decorated her arms and neck. Her clothes were torn and dirty. Tsukasa-sensei came up behind him, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. His teacher said something; Yuji could see his lips moving. But he couldn't hear him. The only sound he could still hear was his own heartbeat, a relentless rhythm inside his head. Tsukasa then turned away, perhaps realizing that Yuji was in his own world.
Thump, thump, thump.
Yuji opened his medical box. His hands moved steadily, instinct and training taking over. He examined the wounds one by one. The cuts were not deep, not hitting anything vital. These were not wounds meant to kill quickly. These were wounds meant to torture, to intimidate. However, the beatings were more severe. He could feel several cracked ribs under the bruised skin.
He took out cotton and a small bottle of antiseptic fluid. With a gentle touch, he began to clean each scratch, removing the dirt and dried blood. Then, he applied a pale green medicinal salve to each type of wound. The salve had a sharp smell, a pungent herbal aroma. This was to prevent infection, to avoid any further unwanted complications.
Yuji's breath was heavy, exhaling white vapor in the cold sewer air. This woman, lying helpless before him, was the same woman who had smiled warmly at him a few hours ago, who had poured him tea, who had spoken of dreams for her village. And now... now she was helpless, possibly dying.
After applying the external medicines, Yuji placed both his hands over Akane's chest, a few inches above the most severe bruises. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, trying to find his center of calm.
He channeled chakra into his own hands.
His palms began to glow with a soft green light. Yuji had been exhausted after the previous fight; he had lost a large part of his energy. His chakra was only at half, maybe less. However, he channeled it without hesitation. There, in the middle of the darkness and decay of the sewer, he concentrated with all his remaining strength. Not too much, he thought, remembering his first lesson. Not too little.
As he directed each strand of that green chakra into the woman's body, he could feel it. The chakra felt like an extension of his own arms, an extension of his consciousness, but on a very, very small scale. He could feel the damage inside. He could feel the bruised cells, the ruptured blood vessels, and the fine cracks in her bones. He imagined his chakra as thousands of microscopic hands, gently holding those tiny damaged cells, then injecting life energy into them, encouraging them to repair themselves, to reunite.
There were so many injuries. He had to do it over and over, moving from one side of Akane's body to the other. From the bruises on her face, down to the scratches on her neck, then focusing on her cracked ribs. He could feel his chakra draining quickly, like water flowing from a leaky container. Cold sweat began to bead on his forehead behind his mask.
The cuts began to close, the skin slowly knitting back together. The swellings and bruises began to shrink, their color changing from dark purple to a yellowish-green at an unnatural speed.
After what felt like an hour, though it was probably only a few minutes, he was done. He pulled his hands back, the green light fading. He looked at the woman. Akane's breathing was now deeper and more regular. The pale color in her face had faded slightly, replaced by a bit of a flush. She would be okay, at least for now. She was stable. However, she still needed real medical help. Yuji had only patched up the most severe damage.
With a soft groan, Yuji stood up, his legs feeling like jelly. He turned. Masami was standing nearby, watching him in silence, her dark eyes showing an unreadable expression. Near the tunnel entrance, Tsukasa-sensei was carrying a still-unconscious Kiba. They both looked at the scene around them, the corpses of the attackers and the bodies still lying around from the sleeping gas.
…
A few moments later, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed in the tunnel. A group of Capital ninja police, finally responding to Tsukasa's emergency report, entered the area with bright lanterns. Yuji and the others were already outside, back in the dead-end street under a sky that was beginning to pale. The fresh morning air felt like a blessing after being underground for so long.
Yuji watched as Akane, now carefully placed on a stretcher, was carried away by a medical team. Beside her, another stretcher carried Kiba, who was starting to regain consciousness but was still groaning in pain. Akamaru walked anxiously beside his master's stretcher.
Tsukasa gave a brief report to the ninja police captain, his tone calm. After everything was arranged, Tsukasa turned to Yuji and Masami. He decided that he and Yuji would return to the inn to inform Koji, while Masami would accompany Akane and Kiba to the hospital to ensure they received proper care and to monitor the situation.
The journey back to the inn felt silent and heavy. The streets of the Capital were beginning to come alive with morning activity, but Yuji paid it no mind. His thoughts were empty, physical and mental exhaustion finally taking over.
They found Koji in the lobby, exactly where they had left him. He looked like he hadn't slept all night, his eyes red and swollen. When he saw Tsukasa and Yuji enter, he jumped to his feet, his face filled with a painful hope.
Tsukasa stepped forward, his usually cheerful face now looking tired. He placed a hand on Koji's shoulder. Yuji could only stand behind like a silent witness.
Tsukasa explained the incident in a low, calm voice. He didn't hide anything. He spoke of the kidnapping, of the fight in the sewers, of Akane's injuries.
As Tsukasa spoke, Koji's eyes widened. Each word seemed to be a physical blow to him. The hope on his face slowly shattered, replaced by horror, then by a trembling relief when he heard his daughter was safe, and finally, by an unbearable sorrow.
When Tsukasa finished, strength seemed to leave the old man's body. His legs gave out, and he would have fallen if Tsukasa hadn't held him up. Koji bowed his head and began to cry. Not a loud cry, but a silent, devastating sob of a man who had reached his limit. He wept in Tsukasa's arms.
Tsukasa seemed to hesitate for a moment, awkward with such a strong burst of emotion. But then, he sighed and finally gently patted the crying old man's back, trying to soothe him in the cold morning silence.
Yuji could only turn and look away, giving them their privacy.
…
The smell of a hospital is a universally unpleasant one. A mixture of sharp antiseptic, bleached linen, and the faint scent of sickness and healing. Yuji stood silently near the window of Kiba's hospital room, looking out at the quiet hospital courtyard below, but his mind was not there at all.
Behind him, the room was quiet. Tsukasa-sensei sat in the only chair beside the bed. Masami stood leaning against the wall across from Yuji, her posture straight and silent as usual. In the middle of the room, on a bed that was too white and stiff, Kiba sat upright. He wore a pale blue patient's gown that seemed too big for him. The middle of his body was wrapped in thick bandages under his clothes. He was conscious, and a medical-nin had confirmed that although several of his ribs were cracked, there was no serious internal damage. He would recover.
But the visible wounds were not the only ones he carried.
Akamaru was curled up on his lap, no longer an energetic puppy, but an anxious ball of white fur. He occasionally licked his master's hand, letting out a soft whimper full of concern.
The silence between them felt heavy, filled with unspoken things. Finally, Kiba was the one to break it, his voice low and hoarse, nothing like his usual bark.
"I was too reckless. Wasn't I, Sensei?"
He didn't look at them. His eyes were fixed on the thin white blanket covering his legs, as if the stitching pattern on the fabric was the most interesting thing in the world. His free hand squeezed Akamaru's fur tightly, seeking comfort from his loyal partner.
"I just ran in," he continued, a burning shame audible in every word. "I thought I could handle it. I left my guard down afterward. And as a result... you had to protect me. You got hurt because of me."
Yuji glanced at Tsukasa's shoulder, where a new bandage was visible under his clothes, covering the wound from the whip-sword.
Tsukasa didn't answer right away. He just sat there, looking at his student who was struggling with his wounded pride. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm and without judgment.
"You were."
That one word hit Kiba harder than any kick could have. Yuji saw Kiba's shoulders tense.
"You were reckless," Tsukasa continued in the same flat tone. "You attacked without thinking about the consequences. You underestimated your opponent and overestimated your own abilities." He paused for a moment, letting the harsh truth sink in. "However," he added, his voice softening slightly, "it's not entirely your fault. You just lack experience. And you're too eager for battle. You have an incredible fighting spirit, Kiba, but you let it control you, not the other way around. That's been in you since the first time we met."
Kiba was silent, continuing to stroke Akamaru's fur, his chin resting on his chest.
Tsukasa leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "I get it," he said, his tone becoming more reflective. "I get that since the first time you set foot in the academy, you must have dreamed of fighting like the heroes you read about in books. Like the Hokage. Standing tall against evil, protecting the weak. That's not wrong. It's a noble dream."
"However," he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, "you also have to think about what those Hokage have that you don't right now. Experience. Training. Self-control. Calmness under pressure. That's where you need to evaluate yourself. Where are your weaknesses? Where are your strengths? You have to train harder, not just physically, but also mentally. And of course," he looked at Kiba sharply, "you have to learn to think clearly at all times, even in the midst of the chaos of battle."
Yuji and Masami were silent, observing and listening. This was no longer a scolding. This was a lesson. An honest analysis that Iruka-sensei couldn't provide in the safe environment of the academy. This was a lesson from a Jonin.
Kiba looked like he was about to grit his teeth. Shame and frustration warred on his face. He was an Inuzuka. A clan of strong fighters. Being lectured like this after being so easily defeated... it was a bitter pill to swallow.
Seeing the struggle on his student's face, Tsukasa's expression softened completely. A thin, sincere smile, not a cheerful smile or a cruel smile, but a warm and understanding one, appeared on his face.
"And," he said softly, his voice now filled with an unexpected warmth, "because you are my student, I will be the one to guide you through all of that. I will be the one to train you. I will also protect you when you make mistakes. I will do my best, even when my own life is at stake."
He looked straight into Kiba's eyes, who finally lifted his head.
"So, don't feel guilty when I protect you like before," Tsukasa said gently but firmly. "That's my job. You are my responsibility. The three of you," he glanced briefly at Yuji and Masami, "are my responsibility. And I will never abandon my responsibilities."
The silence that followed felt different. It was no longer heavy with shame, but filled with the weight of the promise that had just been made. Yuji looked at his teacher, seeing another layer of this man.
He looked towards Kiba. The tension in the boy's shoulders seemed to have eased slightly. His angry expression had been replaced by something else, a hesitant understanding, an unspoken gratitude.
"I..." Kiba began, his voice hoarse. "I'll train harder, Sensei. I won't be reckless again."
Tsukasa smiled wider. "I know you will." He stood up. "Now, rest. The medical-nin said you have to stay here for at least one night for observation. We'll take care of the mission report and our client."
He turned to Yuji and Masami. "Let's go."
As Yuji turned to leave, he glanced at Kiba one last time. The boy was burying his face in Akamaru's fur, hiding his expression. They walked out of the quiet hospital room, leaving Kiba in their care.
Yuji put his hands in his pockets, feeling a cold exhaustion creeping into his bones.
In front of them, across the hall, Akane's room door was closed. And outside that door, sitting on a hard wooden bench, was Koji. He no longer looked angry or desperate. His shoulders were slumped, his calloused hands clasped tightly in his lap, and his red eyes stared blankly at the wall across from him.
He lifted his head as they approached, a silent question in his eyes.
Tsukasa stepped forward, his expression gentle. "Kiba will be fine," he said softly. "A few of his ribs are cracked, but he's strong. He'll recover."
Koji just nodded slowly, as if the news came from a very distant place. His eyes shifted to the door beside him. His daughter's room door.
"The medics said..." Koji began, his voice hoarse and barely audible. "They said she's stable. Thanks to the first aid from your teammate." He glanced briefly at Yuji, a short, wordless acknowledgment before his eyes returned to the door. "She's still unconscious. But they said... they said she'll recover. It might take a few more days."
Silence enveloped them again. Yuji could only stand there, feeling awkward and out of place. What could you say in a situation like this?
Koji suddenly let out a small, dry, humorless laugh. "My daughter never liked the smell of medicine, you know?" he said, speaking more to himself than to them. "Ever since she was a little girl, whenever she had a fever, she would always refuse to take her medicine. Even when the syrup was strawberry-flavored, she would clamp her mouth shut. I had to bribe her with stories or new toys just to get her to drink it."
He shook his head, a sad smile playing on his lips. "And now... she's lying in there, surrounded by that smell."
Tsukasa nodded solemnly. "She'll get well soon, Koji-san. She's a fighter, just like you."
Koji continued as if he hadn't heard. "The exhibition is tomorrow," he said, his eyes staring blankly. "My daughter has been looking forward to this for so long. She was the one who pushed me to participate. She helped prepare every detail. She was always so excited to see me show my work to the world."
He paused, swallowing. "She... she would always stand at the very front of the crowd, smiling prouder than anyone else there."
"Then do your best tomorrow," a calm, clear voice cut through Koji's reminiscence. "For her."
Yuji turned to the voice—Masami. She had stepped forward slightly, standing between Tsukasa and Yuji. Her face was, as usual, calm and expressionless, but there was a firmness in her voice that could not be ignored.
Koji lifted his head, looking at Masami with a confused gaze. "And leave her alone here while she lies helpless?" He shook his head vigorously. "No. I won't go. I'll stay here. Until she wakes up."
Masami was undeterred. She looked straight into the grieving old man's eyes. "And what can you do by waiting here, uncle?" she asked, her words sharp yet not cruel. "You are not a medical professional, let alone an experienced doctor. You cannot heal her by sitting here and worrying."
Yuji held his breath. It was a very, very different approach from Tsukasa's gentle persuasion.
"Your purpose in coming to this city from the beginning was to show what you have created," Masami continued, her logic cold and undeniable. "To build your legacy. To bring prosperity to your village. That's what Akane-san wanted, isn't it?"
She took a step closer. "Can you imagine how she will feel later?" she asked, her voice softening slightly, but her intensity did not diminish. "When Akane-san wakes up, and she finds out that her father has missed the opportunity he had been dreaming of for years... an opportunity he had fought for... lost just like that? And lost because of her?"
The words hung in the air of the quiet corridor. Yuji could see their impact on Koji. It was like a slap, but also like a ray of light piercing through the fog of his grief.
"You think she will be happy?" Masami pressed. "Or do you think she will feel guilty? Feel that her suffering has destroyed your dream as well?"
Koji stared at Masami, completely speechless. He looked at the young girl before him, the quiet girl, who had just spoken with the wisdom and sharpness of someone much older. He saw her unwavering dark eyes, and he saw something familiar there. Strength. Firmness. An unwillingness to let emotion cloud purpose.
A small, fragile smile, a mixture of sadness and admiration, slowly appeared on Koji's chapped lips.
"You..." he whispered, his voice hoarse. "You remind me a little of her."
He looked at Akane's room door, then back at Masami. He let out a long sigh, a breath that seemed to release some of the weight that had been crushing him.
"She would have said the same thing," he said. "With the same sharp words."