September 24th, Tuesday. Overcast skies.
Today marks the beginning of my new life working in another world. I should be excited—but maybe because I haven’t spoken to anyone in a long time, I come off as rather quiet.
But time changes everything. I believe that here, in this new world, I can do better than I ever did in my past life.
I’ve made multiple samples of the hemostatic spray and medical bandages. The little white mouse I’ve been testing them on is still alive—tough little guy. I’ve grown kind of attached to him, honestly.
Alright, decision made! I’ll name him Jerry.Little Jerry, I swear I’ll give this job my all—just like you.
———
The day after the holiday break, Takagi Naohito donned his white coat in the hospital.
He stood in front of the mirror, examining himself from head to toe. The body he now inhabited wasn’t bad-looking, but the Konoha forehead protector on his head felt oddly out of pce—like it just didn’t belong.
A forehead protector was a standard part of a ninja’s gear: a strip of metal attached to a cloth band, worn to protect the forehead from lethal strikes. The engraved symbol also identified a ninja’s vilge.
Konoha wasn’t the only ninja vilge, and not all of them were on friendly terms.
“It’s like a surgeon walking into an ER wearing body armor... This is war.”
With his hands in his coat pockets, Takagi Naohito stepped out of the locker room and into his workday.
As one of the attending surgeons, his job was far from easy. The Great Ninja War might be over, but bandits, rogue ninja, and other threats still prowled the nd. Death could come for a shinobi at any time.
He’d barely sat down in his office when the emergency came in.
“Clear the way! Move aside!”
A stretcher rushed past. The patient was a ninja, his body scorched with extensive burns across his chest, left arm, and leg—third-degree burns covering a huge area, and in some spots, even fourth-degree. Depending on how long he'd been burning, amputation might be necessary.
The man writhed in agony on the stretcher, howling in pain. His charred body was a grotesque sight that could haunt a child for life.
But Takagi Naohito wasn’t afraid. In fact—though it might sound cold—he immediately snapped into focus the moment he saw the injury.
As the attending surgeon, he jogged alongside the stretcher and entered Operating Room 2.
Inhale. Exhale. With a slow breath and his mask pulled on, Takagi Naohito’s eyes turned cold and precise. His entire world now centered on the patient.
“Scalpel.”
He extended his hand, and the nurse pced the tool in his palm. He immediately began the debridement procedure. With burns this extensive, the operation would take a long time.
His hands were rock-steady, not a single tremor. His expression beneath the mask was grave, eyes sharp with focus.
This was his element. Takagi Naohito had decades of surgical experience in his past life. A debridement? Child’s py.
Thirty minutes ter, a mummy-like figure wrapped in yers of bandages was wheeled out of the OR. Post-operative recovery would be crucial.
Takagi Naohito followed the stretcher out, accepting a towel from the nurse to wipe his hands.
His expression hadn’t changed—not a single drop of sweat, not the faintest hint of tension. He had no fear of failure, because the surgery he’d just performed was the absolute best that both he and the body’s original owner were capable of.
The patient was no longer in critical danger. With time and careful recovery, he’d be left with scars—but that was the best-case scenario.
The worst would be infection. Burn wounds are notorious breeding grounds for complications, and during wartime, they’re a leading cause of death.
“That was incredible, Dr. Takagi.”
A young nurse, newly hired, had watched the entire surgery. She was amazed—his technique even outcssed the teacher who’d trained her.
“No kidding,” said a more experienced nurse, watching Takagi’s retreating figure. “He’s on a whole new level since taking that three-day leave. Used to be, he was one of the slow ones in the OR.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. He used to be pretty unremarkable. But today… everything was so smooth.” The older nurse frowned slightly. “Strange thing is, he didn’t use any medical ninjutsu.”
“But the instructor said it, didn’t they?” The newbie mimicked their mentor’s gruff tone: “‘Medical ninjutsu sacrifices cellur vitality for rapid recovery. Unless it’s a st resort, avoid using it.’ That’s probably why.”
“Yeah… maybe.” The veteran nodded. “The surgery went well. That’s what matters. Let’s get some rest for now.”
Without comparison, it was hard to see the difference—but the truth was clear. Takagi Naohito’s surgical skills far exceeded the body’s original owner. He’d even deliberately slowed down a little, to keep his actions from standing out too much.
Back in the office, Takagi poured himself a cup of hot water, sat down, and leaned back to think.
“Burns that severe… was he held in fire? Or was it just a gncing blow from some intense fme?”
The former made sense—being immobilized for a few seconds in fire would do it. But the tter... was unsettling.
The human body is 70% water. To inflict such severe burns in an instant, the fmes would have to be unimaginably hot.
“Do ninja really face that kind of danger on the job?”
He’d never seen a Fire Style jutsu in person. He couldn’t even picture it in his mind. How could he begin to imagine what it looked like when a Fireball Jutsu grazed half a man’s body?
But one thing was certain—this world was far more dangerous than he had imagined.
“There’s that meeting tonight, isn’t there? For medical-nin daily updates.” He gnced at his schedule, then murmured, “Better bring up the hemostatic spray and medical bandages, and start pushing the next phase of research.”
“Reproducing advanced medical technology in a world this far behind... that’s no small challenge.” Takagi flopped back in his chair with a wry smile. “Why do I always make life so hard for myself?”
But even as he said it, there wasn’t a trace of compint in his tone.He was looking forward to it.
