(Know that while some canon characters and events will appear, the story primarily focuses on original characters and will ensure plot coherence.)

  To improve patient treatment, Konoha Hospital held regur academic conferences—not unlike rge-scale summits for medical professionals.

  Takagi Naohito was among the attendees, though his seat was towards the back. He intended to observe first. These academic seminars were often attended by the elite of the medical ninja world.

  For example: sitting right up front was Tsunade-hime, granddaughter of the First Hokage and legendary for her godlike prowess in medical ninjutsu. Over in a quiet corner, much like Takagi himself, was Aburame Mai—the second daughter of the Aburame Cn—sporting her signature green-tinted sungsses. Though her cn specialized in insect-based reconnaissance, she had adapted the kikaichū to diagnose illnesses. Her surgical skills were also top-tier. Next to her sat Inuzuka Tsume, a young woman with wild face markings and a fierce aura. She was a top-notch veterinary medic.

  A veterinarian, huh? Even if ninja beasts were a critical part of a shinobi’s arsenal, Takagi had no background in treating animals. What’s more, he was starting to notice something else: in this world, female medical-nin outcssed their male counterparts by a long shot. All the truly outstanding ones were women.

  Then again, it made sense. Women tended to be more meticulous, more patient. Men were more easily distracted. Biologically and temperamentally, women were simply better suited to being doctors.

  The only drawback? Some female doctors were too squeamish—afraid of blood, guts, or even corpses. Only those with iron wills could handle that kind of work. Men, in comparison, had stronger stomachs. Takagi himself had been scared on his first day, but he got used to it.

  “And that concludes this month’s report,” the speaker onstage finally finished their long-winded presentation. “Any questions or additions?”

  Takagi raised his hand.

  “Dr. Takagi, you have something to add?”

  “As a matter of fact.” Takagi stood and walked to the podium. With a loud thunk, he pced a canister on the table.

  “During the three days I was on leave, I developed a formu that rapidly promotes blood clotting—and used it to create this: a coagution spray.”

  “This spray can stop bleeding from wounds no longer than twenty centimeters and no wider than three millimeters in just seconds. It's already been tested—no side effects. As for this—”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a neatly sealed medical bandage.

  “This is a specialized dressing meant to be used in tandem with the spray. The inner yer is sterilized cotton soaked in medicinal solution, and the outer yer is a waterproof wrap—intended to repce the standard-issue bandages.”

  After expining the basic functions of both products, Takagi got straight to the point.

  “I propose these two items be added to the standard ninja equipment list.”

  His words sparked a wave of discussion among the assembled medical-nin.

  “That’s all I have to say. The samples are here—I won’t be taking them back. If anyone doubts their efficacy, feel free to test them yourselves.”

  Takagi returned to his seat without waiting for a response. In medicine, every major breakthrough was met with skepticism.

  But time would prove the value of his work—especially when these products had already withstood the test of time.

  “You’ve got guts, Takagi.”

  After the meeting, Takagi was walking with his department’s attending physician, Koichi ōkouchi, who looked at him with a mix of surprise and amusement. “You just marched up there and dropped your inventions like, ‘Use them or don’t, whatever.’ Aren’t you worried about losing your job?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Takagi replied calmly. “A job is just a means to survive. But a doctor’s duty is to save lives. If they truly believe my tools can’t do that, then even if they smashed that spray can in my face, I wouldn’t hold a grudge.”

  “And what if they don’t approve it?” ōkouchi asked, his tone slightly testing.

  “Then I’ll develop something that does earn their approval. What else?” Takagi caught the look of relief on ōkouchi’s face and narrowed his eyes. “Wait… You weren’t thinking I’d go rogue, were you?”

  “Not that extreme~~” ōkouchi waved his hands sheepishly. “I just thought you might resign.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!”

  Takagi shook his head like the idea offended him. “I’m counting on the higher-ups to approve my equipment request!”

  After all, he couldn’t build artificial skin, clone organs—or let alone entire humans—empty-handed. Cryogenic support pods, medical capsules, and nanotech medical bots weren’t something one could MacGyver out of chakra and tape. He might not be a qualified ninja, but he was damn sure a qualified medical scientist and doctor.

  Science demands precision.

  “Alright, enough chatter—back to work.”

  Takagi had done what he needed to. If he were part of Konoha’s leadership, he could advocate for his creations himself. But for now, he was just a doctor.

  Hopefully, someone in Konoha’s leadership had the vision to recognize real innovation.

  And as luck would have it, Takagi Naohito was in Konoha—where every Hokage had been a man of keen insight.

  “Coagution spray and medical bandages, hmm?”

  Inside the Hokage’s office, Hiruzen Sarutobi—wearing his red Hokage hat and signature robes—stroked his goatee as he considered the proposal.

  “How effective is it?”

  “It’s been tested,” Tsunade reported as she stood before his desk. “Just as Dr. Takagi described: wounds under twenty centimeters in length can be effectively sealed. Even rger wounds can be stabilized, though they’re more prone to reopening with excessive movement. It even works on ninja beasts.”

  “I see.”

  The Third Hokage, approaching his fifties, was still in his prime. Under his leadership, Konoha had been growing rapidly in strength—whether in civilian life or ninja survival rates, it surpassed other vilges.

  This wasn’t due to luck. It was the result of sound leadership.

  “Then let’s add these two items to the standard ninja toolset.”

  “Understood. Though I suggest one adjustment,” Tsunade added. “Each spray canister contains too much formu. I recommend smaller, portable units—enough for seven or eight full-area treatments. It’ll cut down on waste.”

  “Hmm. That makes sense,” Hiruzen nodded. As a seasoned ninja, he understood the nature of combat injuries.

  Most of the time, tools like these wouldn’t be needed at all. And when they were, a small amount would go a long way. Seven or eight emergency treatments for twenty-centimeter wounds should be more than enough.

  After all, ninja usually moved in three-man cells. Even if two of them were badly injured, a single unit’s worth could suffice.

  “Then notify the medical department to begin mass production.”

  “There’s… one more matter,” Tsunade said, hesitating slightly. “About the proposal I mentioned earlier—assigning one medical-nin to each three-man squad. What are your thoughts on that, Lord Hokage?”

  “Tsunade…”

  Hiruzen’s gaze turned sharp. His tone carried both the gravitas of a leader and the authority of a seasoned elder, making Tsunade instinctively bow her head and listen in silence.

  “Right now, our retions with Suna and Kumo are strained. According to ANBU reports, Hanzo of the Rain is stirring up trouble as well. Even our allies in the Land of Whirlpools are facing unstable conditions. I understand that having a medical-nin on the front lines would improve survival rates. But I cannot risk sending underpowered medics into battle—not yet. I’m sorry, Tsunade.”

  “I was being too forward. My apologies, Third Lord.” Tsunade lowered her head respectfully. “Then I’ll return to the medical department and oversee production.”

  “Good.”