The fighting on the front lines had grown even fiercer, with Konoha and Sunagakure shinobi clashing relentlessly. Behind the scenes, the commanders of both sides were engaged in their own battle of wits.
Chiyo's newly developed poison was exceptionally deadly. Once deployed on the battlefield, it quickly inflicted heavy casualties on Konoha's forces. But Tsunade immediately began working on an antidote, and within a single day, she had produced one—turning the tide once more and putting Sunagakure at a disadvantage.
Inside a half-dome shelter built from packed sand, a middle-aged woman wearing a wind-sand headscarf sat at a low table. A middle-aged man, also wrapped in a scarf, stepped inside.
"Little brother, that Tsunade-hime is a truly troublesome opponent. She's managed to neutralize every poison I've made!" Chiyo said, her voice tinged with frustration.
Ebizō thought for a moment before speaking. "Sister, we no longer have the upper hand in direct combat. We need to use… other methods."
"You mean…?" Chiyo raised an eyebrow.
The shrewd Ebizō leaned closer. "We should find a way to eliminate several of Konoha's elite shinobi to shake their morale—and if possible, kill Tsunade-hime herself."
Chiyo's eyes lit up. "Yes! That's a good plan!"
"I'll handle the details. Don't worry, Sister," Ebizō assured her.
Tsunade hadn't slept in three days, tirelessly working inside her tent to develop new antidotes. Chiyo's mastery of toxins was formidable, and she was constantly introducing new, more dangerous poisons. The two women were like rival sword masters—one attacking, the other countering—locked in an endless duel.
Tsunade exhaled deeply, her jaw set in determination.
"Come on… just finish this antidote!" she muttered, bending over her work again.
Hinata Haruki had just received new orders: deliver the remaining anesthetic and blood plasma to the field hospital. When he checked the storage room, he found the supplies were almost completely gone. The next shipment wouldn't arrive for three more days. With no choice, Haruki gathered everything left and hurried to the hospital.
"Whoa, you're quick, kid. Is this really all the blood plasma and anesthetic?" The medic receiving the supplies already knew Haruki well from his repeated deliveries.
"This is everything left in the storehouse," Haruki confirmed.
"Bed 28—patient needs plasma for surgery, now!" another doctor shouted, rushing over.
"I'll take these in," the first doctor said, grabbing the crates and sprinting inside.
The transfusion saved the patient's life, but the doctors' faces remained grim. They all knew—there was plasma this time, but what about next time?
"We have to address this. Let's report to Lady Tsunade," one suggested.
When Tsunade received the news, she rubbed her temples.
"Tell the transport team to speed up their deliveries. Have all non-combat personnel donate blood—it should help for now. As for anesthetics… reserve them for the most critical surgeries."
"That's probably the only option," the doctor agreed.
The next day, non-combat personnel were notified and sent to the medical station to donate. After health screenings, hundreds of healthy adults gave blood, providing hundreds of new plasma bags. The doctors felt a bit more at ease.
However, with anesthetics reserved for critical cases, the hospital filled with the screams of patients undergoing surgery without pain relief. The cries sent chills down even the bravest shinobi's spines.
In Sunagakure's command post, Ebizō entered with a scroll.
"Sister, this is top-secret intelligence from our agent inside Konoha's camp."
Chiyo scanned the contents, a cold smile spreading across her face. "So Tsunade ordered blood donations… meaning…"
"Exactly. Konoha's plasma supply is running dangerously low," Ebizō confirmed.
"This is the perfect opportunity! Notify the front lines—forget about minimizing casualties. I want all-out attacks! Victory for Sunagakure is close!" Chiyo ordered.
"And we'll send elite squads to harass Konoha's supply lines. Killing isn't the priority—use any means necessary to slow their transports," Ebizō added.
"If we choke off their plasma resupply, their field hospital will collapse within days. Once that happens, their morale will crumble," Chiyo said with a cold laugh.
The next day, Sunagakure's assaults were ferocious. Both sides suffered heavy losses. Konoha's already overburdened field hospital was now overwhelmed, with wounded shinobi pouring in faster than they could be treated. Lacking beds, the doctors laid patients on the open ground outside. Plasma and anesthetic stocks were gone.
Meanwhile, Konoha's transport convoys were under constant attack. Earth and Water Release jutsu wrecked the roads, turning them into muddy quagmires littered with pits, boulders, and earthen spikes. Traps and ambushes slowed progress even further.
When Tsunade got the report, she felt her heart tighten. If this continued, the hospital would collapse and the troops' morale would break. She decided to go there herself, using every medical technique she knew to save lives and conserve scarce resources.
Her arrival boosted spirits instantly—Konoha shinobi believed that if Tsunade was there, even the gravest wounds could be healed.
But Sunagakure had no intention of letting her succeed. Just as she stabilized the situation, a shinobi knelt before her.
"Lady Tsunade! Urgent news from the front! Sunagakure's commanders—Chiyo and Ebizō—are leading their elite forces into battle!"
"What?!" Tsunade's eyes widened. If their elite engaged without her presence, Konoha's front lines would collapse. Ordinary shinobi couldn't stand against Chiyo's squad; it would be a massacre, and morale would shatter.
But if she left, the hospital would be doomed. Without plasma and medicine, the wounded would die—and worse, they'd lose hope. And the loss of hope was deadlier than any poison.
"Lady Tsunade, you can't go! The hospital can't function without you!" a doctor pleaded, bowing low.
"Lady Tsunade, the front lines are in danger! We need you there immediately!" the messenger urged.
"This…" Tsunade froze, torn between two impossible choices.
In the end, she clenched her teeth and rose. She could not allow Sunagakure to crush their front-line forces.
"My comrades here… I'm sorry…"
As she departed, the wounded stared after her, their faces dark with despair. The packed medical station now felt like a waiting room for death.
"Did… Lady Tsunade abandon us?" one injured shinobi murmured, his voice heavy with disappointment.
The medics fell silent. The bowing doctor slammed a palm against the floor, breaking into tears. "Damn it! Without plasma and medicine, these people could've been saved! Now… none of them can be!"
At that moment, a voice spoke from nearby. "Hey. Need some help?"
"Huh?" The doctors looked up in surprise.
"I said—need help or not?" The voice came from a boy standing before them.
One medic frowned. "We could use all the help we can get, but… you're just a kid. What could you possibly do?"
"Me? So you're out of plasma and anesthetics? I can fix that. What, you're going to give up over something this small? Just cry about it?" the boy—Hinata Haruki—said with casual confidence.
"You… you can really help? This isn't a joke?" the kneeling doctor asked.
"Of course. You've got nothing to lose. Let me try—if I fail, you're no worse off. But you won't know unless you give me a chance," Haruki said, arms crossed, radiating quiet authority despite his small frame.
In the end, they agreed. Some of the doctors recognized Haruki as a diligent logistics worker and held a flicker of hope.
Haruki immediately gathered all medical staff and began assigning roles.
First, he ordered a squad of guards stationed at the hospital to secure the perimeter—no interruptions during treatment.
Second, he directed the doctors to triage all patients, marking them with colored bands: black for deceased or beyond saving, red for critical cases needing immediate care, yellow for serious but stable, and green for minor injuries.
Third, he split the seven medical-ninjutsu-capable shinobi into two three-man surgical teams for critical patients, leaving one for initial diagnoses and stabilization. Another group handled serious injuries to prevent deterioration, while the rest treated minor wounds to quickly return shinobi to the field.
He gathered all remaining plasma bags for strict rationing, then had a Shadow Clone visit the POW camp, "borrowing" blood from dozens of Sunagakure captives. By the time Haruki left, the prisoners were slumped on the floor, too weak to complain.
Finally, Haruki unsealed a scroll containing his personal surgical kit, creating four more Shadow Clones to coordinate treatments across the facility. The doctors, impressed by his swift, organized measures, began to believe.
Picking up a scalpel, Haruki's hands trembled—not from fear, but from excitement. At last… back on the operating table, old friend.
Once surgery began, his movements became sharp and precise, his gaze unwavering, his tone confident. It was as though the boy had transformed into a master surgeon. The others unconsciously matched his pace, following his orders without hesitation.
Patients with minor wounds were moved outside, freeing beds for critical cases. Haruki instructed everyone to conserve chakra by avoiding unnecessary Healing Techniques and to transfuse plasma only when blood loss threatened life.
"Kid, no anesthetic left—this patient's leg needs surgery."
"Got it. Let me see." A clone activated the Byakugan, located the correct tenketsu, and struck several points.
"Done. No sensation in the leg for six hours. Operate away."
For another patient, Haruki stopped bleeding with a few pinpoint strikes, then stitched the wound closed with lightning speed, each suture placed for optimal recovery.
"Kid, how come your surgeries hardly bleed?" an assisting doctor asked.
"First, I cut off unnecessary blood flow by sealing certain points. Second, I use minimally invasive incisions. Third, when cutting vessels, I cauterize with chakra needles—like a laser scalpel," Haruki explained smoothly.
"Forceps!" he called, and a clone placed the tool in his hand instantly, their teamwork seamless. Even the medical-ninjutsu specialists nearby felt their skills pale in comparison.
"You're Hyūga, aren't you? Where'd you learn this?" a doctor asked in awe.
"My mother's a doctor. She taught me a lot," Haruki replied, avoiding the truth about his years of surgical experience.
Under Haruki's command, the hospital's efficiency and morale soared. Plasma use dropped sharply, anesthetics were unnecessary, and every patient received proper care.
Hidden in a corner, a figure clenched his fists in frustration. Damn it! No plasma, no medicine, double the patients—and the hospital's running better than before! What did that brat do? If this keeps up, every Suna shinobi who died will have been for nothing!
"That boy… must die."