Ryu's expression softened, a rare, unmasked vulnerability in his usually composed demeanour, a stark contrast to the playful taunts he'd just delivered. "I will try my best," he stated, his voice devoid of its usual mischievous edge. "I have a plan. But it's... ambitious. It requires extensive preparation. It's experimental. And it absolutely requires full, unquestioning authority. The highest levels."
The room door opened with a soft click, revealing a commanding presence. Lord Azuma Kasen, the Daimyo of the Land of Rivers, entered the room. He exuded quiet authority and immense power. His gaze finally settled on Ryu, a flicker of something akin to reverence in his eyes, a recognition of true potential that transcended the boy's apparent youth.
"Ryu-kun," Azuma Kasen began, his voice calm, carrying an unmistakable tone of respect, as if addressing an equal, not a mere apprentice. "In that case," he continued, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument, "you have full authority. Anything you require, consider it done."
Azuma then turned to Tsunade and bowed deeply out of respect for her legendary status, showing deference. "Lady Tsunade, my sincerest apologies for my tardiness. My visit is long overdue." He straightened, looking back at Ryu, his expression turning solemn. "But first, Ryu-kun, are you well? I am truly sorry for this incident on my land. You are a guest of state, personally invited by me. To ask you to work under such circumstances is... improper."
Then, he did something that silenced even the collective gasps: the Daimyo of the Land of Rivers lowered his head in a deep, profound bow to Ryu. It was an act of humility, a plea from a leader for aid, acknowledging Ryu's unique capabilities.
"Please," Azuma continued, his voice heavy with sincerity, "I humble myself and ask for your help. Their parents... they were shinobi. They died serving me, serving this land. Their sacrifice weighs heavily."
Ryu's eyes, usually so sharp and analytical, softened. He met Azuma's gaze, a quiet understanding passing between them, a shared burden of leadership and responsibility that transcended age and formal rank. "Please Raise your head, Lord Daimyo," Ryu said, his voice firm but respectful, acknowledging the Daimyo's position while subtly asserting his own. "I will help him."
The collective shock in the room was palpable. Doctor Hoshino's jaw hung open, a flicker of genuine terror mixed with disbelief in her eyes. The Daimyo, their revered leader, had bowed to an apprentice.
Azuma Kasen rose up and nodded to Ryu, promising unwavering support. Ryu-kun, I'll leave him in your capable hands. I trust your skills." He turned and looked at the stunned medical staff, lingering on Doctor Hoshino's ashen face, a silent, powerful endorsement of Ryu's authority. With a final, gracious nod to Tsunade, he left the room quietly, leaving a powerful silence.
With authority settled and cemented by an act no one would question, Ryu cracked his fingers, making a sharp, almost theatrical sound in the suddenly quiet room. Now focused, he looked at Souji's still face. "First thing's first," he said, sounding playful again. "We need a proper line of communication."
Ryu stood by Souji's bed, contemplating. His mind, his huge, complex [Mind Palace], appeared. He thought about pulling Souji's consciousness into that shared mental realm for immediate, unhindered communication, like he did with his grandfather, Dan Hamura. He could theoretically make Souji move, feel, or speak freely without his broken body using the [Mind Palace Projection] as a shared Genjutsu.
- Simulation initiated: Mind-to-Mind communication via shared Genjutsu.
- Risk assessment: High. Patient's neural pathways compromised. Prolonged exposure or miscalibration could result in permanent cognitive degradation or complete cessation of consciousness.
But then, the thought dissolved, leaving a bitter taste. Ryu himself had a hard time bearing the mental load of 'overclocking' his brain for too long. The sheer strain of manipulating such a complex Genjutsu, especially when delving into another's psyche, was immense.
Despite his strength and mastery, his grandfather couldn't spend too much time in the [Mind Palace] without exhaustion . After that brutal encounter, Souji's mind was fragile and falling apart.
He refocused, the sterile hum of the hospital ward returning to his ears. Turning to Auntie Tsunade, a thoughtful frown creased his brow. "Honestly, it would be so much simpler if we just used a Yamanaka clan technique. Get a proper mind-to-mind chat going." He paused, his gaze sweeping over Souji's still form. "Though, I suppose that might be dangerous given his state."
Tsunade nodded grimly. Her fingers instinctively twitched, ready to summon her medical chakra. "Indeed. He has brain damage. A normal person's mental defences automatically resist any technique that invades the mind. It could cause irreversible damage and a complete shutdown for someone with fragile defences and a compromised mind. Ryu, don't do it. We mustn't risk what's left of consciousness."
Ryu sighed, running a hand through his spiky hair. "Right. Risks involved. Guess I have to do it the hard way then."
Even though the Yamanaka clan has very advanced techniques, such a deep mental intrusion could kill him by breaking up what little was left. The risks weren't worth it.
Rina, her eyes wide with desperate hope, leaned forward, her knuckles white as she clutched the railing of Souji's bed. "What are you going to do?" Her voice was a bare whisper, heavy with months of unspoken grief and fear for the boy she cared for so deeply.
Ryu offered her a small, reassuring smile, a glint of determination in his eye. "I'm going to make your boyfriend talk. Just wait."
Sceptical doctors lingered near the back of the room. For months, they seemed to be waiting in silence for Souji to die instead of actively looking for ways to help. They'd heard too many promises and seen too many lost causes. Now, they just wanted to observe, perhaps even to confirm their own bleak prognoses.
"I have a long-term treatment plan for him," Ryu announced, his gaze sweeping the room, "but that comes later. Right now, I need to talk to this patient." He stepped closer to Souji's bed, his presence commanding, yet gentle.
Tsunade, ever the meticulous medical professional, eyed him keenly. "What exactly do you plan to do? He can only blink voluntarily, Ryu. That's hardly a proper line of communication. We're talking about a limited range of responses, at best. Like yes or no, up or down, we can only give him choices to choose from."
"Exactly," Ryu countered, his gaze sweeping the room before landing on a simple patient's chart hanging on the wall. "That's why we get creative."
"Fortunately," Ryu observed, almost cheerfully, "he can blink voluntarily. That's all we need from him."
He walked directly to the wall, grabbing a marker. With swift, confident strokes, he cleared the existing chart and began writing furiously, sketching out a grid, then a series of alphabets, each paired with a sequence of zeros and ones.
Tsunade's eyes widened, a flicker of recognition crossing her face. "A communication board... using blinks!" She inhaled sharply, her professional curiosity piqued. "Brilliant, Ryu! It could actually work!" The sheer simplicity, coupled with the profound impact it could have, was a testament to Ryu's unconventional thinking.
It was a Morse code chart mapped with alphabets. A rudimentary, yet potentially powerful, language of blinks, designed to unlock a mind trapped in silence.
Ryu turned back to Souji, his voice calm and clear, explaining the system. "We'll use this board, Souji. Each letter has a unique code of short and long blinks. A short blink is represented by '0', a long blink by '1'. There will be a small pause between the blinks that make up a single letter, and a longer pause when you move to the next letter."
He then gently instructed Souji. "Look at the board, Souji, and blink in tune to the code of the particular alphabet you want to convey."
He looked at Rina, then at the other doctors, his voice carrying conviction. "It doesn't matter if it takes too long to form a single sentence. We are all here for you, Souji. We'll wait as long as it takes."
"Try with your first word," Ryu prompted, his eyes fixed on Souji's. "Take your time, focus. Get your thoughts out, one character at a time."
Souji's eyes, previously dull and vacant, flickered with a nascent spark of awareness. A series of slow, deliberate blinks began, each one punctuated by a brief, agonizing pause as if a great weight was being lifted, one minuscule muscle contraction at a time.
Ryu watched, his gaze intense, his mind already translating the unspoken language.
010: R
000: I
100: N
010: A
The name "Rina" emerged on the makeshift communication board, painstakingly blinked out. A painful, beautiful declaration that resonated through the quiet room. It was a word that spoke of love, of recognition, of a soul clinging to life, a testament to an unbreakable bond.
Rina gasped and sobbed. She fell onto the bed, crying tears of immense relief. One carefully blinking word broke the suffocating silence that had imprisoned Souji for so long.
##PoWeR StOnEs##
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