*Puff!Cough cough!*
The moment Senmei Asahi hit the ground, a sharp jolt shot through his chest. Blood surged up his throat and splattered out of his mouth, staining the dry earth beneath him.
His internal organs felt like they'd been forcefully shuffled around, and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth was thick with residue—traces of undigested food brought up by the violent convulsions of his lungs.
'Damn it… this is worse than I thought.' Asahi cursed inwardly, gritting his teeth through the pain.
"Asahi! Are you alright?" Jiraiya's voice rang out with genuine concern as he rushed to his side.
This concern wasn't simply because Asahi was Tsunade's disciple anymore. No—after what he and Namikaze Minato had just accomplished, after delivering a coordinated, devastating blow to the Third Tsuchikage Onoki, Asahi had earned Jiraiya's respect as a comrade and warrior of Konoha.
That moment had changed everything.
"Jiraiya-sama… help me." Asahi rasped, extending his left hand.
Without hesitation, Jiraiya knelt beside him, reaching out to press his palm against Asahi's in a practiced seal. Chakra flared to life between their hands.
"Medical team! Over here, now!" Jiraiya bellowed.
His own palm lit up with a green glow as he used a basic healing jutsu to stabilize Asahi's condition. It was only a temporary fix—Asahi would need intensive treatment. But this would keep him conscious until the medical-nin arrived.
The deeper injuries were another matter. The trauma to his internal organs, although manageable with the help of Konoha's finest medics, was severe. But the worst of it—the comminuted fracture in his right arm—was something only he could treat.
He couldn't let Tsunade see him in this pitiful state. And in all of Konoha, there was no one more capable of treating such damage than Senmei Asahi himself.
His knowledge as a medical-nin was precise, meticulous. He had long since eliminated all the hidden injuries left by years of rigorous training. He was disciplined about it—uncompromising. Because he understood: if a comminuted fracture healed improperly, it could end his career as a shinobi permanently.
That was a risk he couldn't afford.
"Get him back to the camp! Immediately!" Jiraiya barked at the arriving medics.
Before they could lift him, Asahi struggled to sit up slightly. "Wait... What about the Tsuchikage? Onoki… how is he?" he asked through clenched teeth.
He could still see the aftermath of the battle in his mind. Minato's Giant Rasengan had landed squarely in Onoki's chest, hurling the aged Tsuchikage through the air, his body spinning violently before crashing into the earth and carving a long trench in his wake.
"Tsuchikage-sama!"
"Protect the Tsuchikage!"
The Iwagakure shinobi had surged forward like a tidal wave, ignoring the Konoha forces entirely as they raced to their leader's side. Even the most disciplined shinobi became frenzied in the face of their Kage's potential death.
If Onoki had died from that final attack, Iwagakure would have collapsed into disarray. Konoha would have had a chance to end the war decisively. But if the old man had only been injured… then everything hung in the balance.
"Don't worry about the Tsuchikage right now." Jiraiya said firmly. "Focus on surviving. You did your part. Let the rest of us handle what comes next."
Though Asahi wanted to stay and confirm the outcome, his body had reached its limit. He gave a weary nod, and the medics hoisted him carefully and rushed him back to the Konoha encampment.
Back at the field hospital, he gritted his teeth through the pain as he operated on his shattered arm with the help of two medical-nin. Sweat soaked his bandages, but he didn't flinch—not once.
When they finished and his arm was fully wrapped, the exhaustion hit him like a wave. But with the worst of the damage stabilized, he finally allowed himself to collapse onto the bedding and drift into unconsciousness.
"Hoo… hoo…"
The world went dark.
…
When Asahi opened his eyes again, the warm orange light of midday filtered through the canvas above him. He had slept straight through the night and into the following afternoon.
A familiar voice broke the silence.
"Asahi-sama! You're awake!" Eiko, a young medical-nin, nearly dropped the clipboard in her hand as she rushed over.
Asahi groaned softly, trying to push himself upright with his good arm. "Yeah… feels like I've been out for a while."
"You've been unconscious for twenty hours!" Eiko exclaimed. "We were really worried about you!"
He gave a weak smile. "No need to fuss. I'm tougher than I look."
"How are your injuries?" she asked, concern clouding her features.
"Stable." he replied, exhaling slowly. "I'll use Mystical Palm Technique again later to make sure everything heals right. For now, it's just rest."
Eiko nodded rapidly. "Understood, Asahi-sama! Oh! You probably want to know what happened after the battle, right?"
"Exactly." His tone sharpened. "What was the outcome?"
"You and Minato-sama were incredible. You severely wounded the Tsuchikage! But… the Iwagakure forces didn't surrender. They pushed back again, trying to rescue Onoki. In the end, though, we held the line. They've retreated."
"So we won… but not decisively." Asahi murmured, his brows furrowing.
'Jiraiya… you're too soft-hearted.'
He could already imagine what had happened. Faced with a wounded but living Onoki, Jiraiya likely hesitated. The man valued diplomacy more than bloodshed. He probably thought that peace talks were possible.
But if Jiraiya had chased the wounded Tsuchikage then and there—if he'd finished the job—the war could've ended on Konoha's terms. No more fighting. No more casualties.
'But with the Third Hokage still leaning toward pacifism, I couldn't have pushed for that, either.' Asahi thought, frustrated.
The truth was, politics in Konoha weren't so simple.
If Onoki still had the will to fight, then he would fight. And that's exactly what he'd done. The Iwagakure forces had continued to resist until their numbers were depleted, until the tide turned, and they were finally forced to retreat.
It wasn't a clean victory. It was blood-soaked, exhausting, and expensive.
Asahi sighed. "What about our casualties?"
Eiko's expression dimmed. "They were… significant. I don't know the full details. Jiraiya-sama can tell you more."
"I see…" He leaned back, adjusting his position on the bed with a wince.
Just then, the tent flap lifted, and a familiar voice scolded, "You're awake and already asking about the war?"
Tsunade stepped into the room, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.
"Ah, Tsunade-sensei. You came."
"You mean Tsunade nee-san." she corrected with a huff.
Asahi gave a sheepish grin. "There were others in the room earlier. I couldn't lose face, could I?"
Eiko took the hint and immediately excused herself, bowing politely as she left the tent.
With the two of them finally alone, Tsunade walked over and looked down at his heavily bandaged form, her scowl softening.
"You really pushed yourself this time, didn't you?"
Asahi didn't respond right away. He just stared at the ceiling for a moment, then exhaled. "If we had pushed just a little harder, maybe Onoki would be dead now. Maybe the war would be over."
Tsunade said nothing.
The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts.
"You did more than enough." she finally said, voice quiet. "You helped turn the tide. That's all anyone could have asked of you."
Asahi closed his eyes.
Maybe.
But he wasn't convinced it would be enough.
*****
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