Chapter 21 – Blood and Ink
The morning light filtered through slatted shutters, casting faint stripes across the dusty floor of the side clinic. Hajime sat cross-legged on a worn mat, his posture still and attentive. Tsunade, arms folded across her chest, studied him for a long moment with those sharp, golden-brown eyes that seemed to pierce straight through skin and bone.
She tossed a heavy cloth-wrapped bundle at his feet. It hit with a dull thud and a faint clatter of wood against wood.
"Before you even think about healing a wound," she said, "you're going to understand exactly what you're cutting into. Nerves. Muscles. Arteries. The chakra circulatory system. If you can't recite every layer of tissue between the skin and the stomach, you're useless."
Hajime pulled back the cloth. Inside were scrolls, at least six, each bound in red-threaded paper and thick with ink. Some had the smell of age; others bore Tsunade's personal seal. He picked up the first and carefully unrolled it.
Anatomical diagrams filled the length of the parchment. Veins, chakra nodes, cross-sections of the human body, detailed down to the names of muscle groups and their chakra sensitivity ratings. Every note was written in clear, efficient brushwork.
Tsunade watched him without warmth. "You said you wanted to save lives. Then prove you're worth teaching. That's not poetry. That's the foundation of every life you'll ever try to keep from dying."
She turned on her heel and headed for the door.
"Study it. All of it. You'll be tested. No hand-holding."
Hajime bowed. "Understood."
"Don't thank me yet," she called over her shoulder. "When your brain starts leaking out your ears, you'll regret asking me."
The door clicked shut.
Silence followed.
Hajime stared down at the scrolls, then at his own hands, calloused from climbing, nicked from chakra training, steady from will. But not yet skilled.
His mind flickered to the sealed container hidden in his mental space. The geneseed. Still pulsing like a slow drumbeat in the back of his soul. He couldn't even think of using it until he mastered anatomy, medical techniques, surgical precision. Without knowledge, that gene-seed was just a buried Treasure.
He unrolled another scroll.
Midday
His breath was shallow as he leaned in close over the scroll, eyes scanning lines of kanji and inked diagrams. The writing wasn't poetic, it was dense, technical, and completely alien to anyone without a solid grounding in biology. Even with his adult mind from a former life, Hajime had to stop often, rubbing his temples as he tried to remember every half-forgotten detail from years of internet articles, textbooks, and medical dramas.
"Artery bifurcation... chakra overlay... pituitary regulation in chakra exhaustion..."
His lips moved silently as he traced diagrams with his finger.
The scrolls didn't just teach where things were, they explained how chakra flowed through organs, how genjutsu could influence blood pressure, how a chakra scalpel required perfect distance from the outer membrane of the organ to avoid internal rupture.
It was overwhelming.
But he kept reading.
He broke only to drink, stretch, and jot notes in a battered notebook he found tucked in the side room. No one came to check on him. Not Tsunade. Not Shizune.
This wasn't the kind of training where someone hovered nearby to cheer you on. It was sink or swim, and Hajime refused to sink.
Evening
When the oil lamp flickered low, casting gold shadows on the parchment, Hajime leaned back and exhaled slowly.
His eyes were bloodshot. His fingers stained with ink.
But he had made it through two full scrolls.
He now understood how a chakra scalpel wasn't just about chakra control, it was a scalpel because you needed to know where to cut. Hit the wrong muscle, and you severed movement. Cut the wrong chakra point, and you could shut down a shinobi's control for days.
He massaged the side of his neck and murmured aloud: "Deltoid insertion, overlaid chakra tendon... major nerve cluster... blood-rich region..."
He could feel it now, the bridge forming in his mind. Raw knowledge becoming usable insight. His chakra control had always been exceptional. But now it would be paired with anatomical precision.
Still not enough.
But it was a start.
Late Night
He closed the scrolls and carefully re-wrapped them in the cloth bundle. A bead of sweat trailed down his temple, but his posture remained composed.
A quiet knock came at the door.
It creaked open, and Shizune peeked in, carrying a small tray. On it sat a bowl of warm broth and a folded cloth.
"You didn't eat," she said softly.
Hajime looked up, blinking at her. "I forgot."
Shizune smiled faintly. "I figured."
She placed the tray beside him. "She won't say it, but she's watching. Tsunade-sama always does, even when she pretends not to care."
He dipped his head. "Thank you, Shizune-san."
Shizune paused in the doorway, her hand lingering on the frame.
"Most people crack by now," she said. "You haven't."
"I can't afford to."
She studied him a moment longer, then nodded once and left him to the dim quiet of his study.
....
Hajime slurped the broth slowly, then placed the empty bowl aside and resumed his seat on the mat. He unfurled the next scroll.
His hands trembled slightly.
But he didn't stop.
He read.
He learned.
He endured.
Because one day soon, he would need this knowledge to cut open his own body, and become something no shinobi world had ever seen.
And he would do it with precision, not desperation.
With ink and blood, not rage.
This was the threshold.
And Hajime would cross it.
End of Chapter 21 – Blood and Ink