"This was easier than I expected."

  Takagi Naohito capped the spray canister after pouring in a deep green diluted solution, then gave it a few shakes.

  He’d thought replicating the medical spray would take two or three days. In the end, it took just three hours.

  Looks like the herbs in this world aren’t just simir in name to the ones from my past life—they work, too.

  The sedimented spray had a nice color and had already proven effective at stopping bleeding from non-lethal wounds on b mice. The next step was to ensure it wasn’t toxic.

  As for the medical bandages, those were even simpler—just gauze and cotton pads soaked in the solution. The hospital had plenty of both. Crude as it sounded, these treated bandages could reduce infection rates by at least seventy percent compared to regur ones. With waterproof bandages, the rate could go even lower.

  "Maybe I should…" He eyed the canister in his hand and hesitated. "Should I just test it on myself?"

  It wouldn’t be the first time Takagi had used himself as a test subject. Back then, he hadn’t even known if the medicine worked. For any doctor, self-testing was a reckless, borderline insane move.

  Most drugs had to go through multiple rounds of testing. Only after ruling out serious side effects could they even consider human trials.

  "...Forget it. That’s way too crazy."

  Setting the spray on the table, Takagi Naohito washed up and y on the bed. Staring at the unfamiliar ceiling, he whispered, “Sleep time.”

  It didn’t take long before sleep overtook him.

  How long had it been since he’d slept without the threat of death hanging over him?

  He only hoped that when he opened his eyes again, it wouldn’t all be a dream.

  ————————————

  The next morning.

  At exactly 6:00 a.m., just as the sky began to lighten, Takagi Naohito's eyes snapped open. He blinked twice, tension slowly melting from his body.

  "Phew… not a dream after all."

  His body clock had long adjusted to this routine. He didn’t bother trying to go back to sleep. Instead, he got up and started dressing.

  While pulling on his shirt, he gnced at the little white mouse. Its wound had already begun to heal overnight, and there were no signs of toxicity.

  During his morning routine, he grabbed a cucumber from the fridge, munching on it as he broke off a small piece of skin for the mouse. The little guy, clearly starving, dashed over and started gnawing on it immediately.

  "Still got an appetite. Looks like we’re good."

  Takagi had confidence in the medicine he’d made.

  "If it’s still alive by the time my leave ends, I’ll recommend the spray to Konoha’s Medical Division."

  His personal work conditions were a bit cking. What he really needed was access to better equipment—and Konoha had plenty of that.

  "Alright, time for breakf—"

  Before he could finish his thought, hurried footsteps thundered down the corridor. Even as an amateur shinobi, Takagi could tell they were headed straight for him.

  "Doctor Takagi!"

  Sure enough, someone pounded on the door and shouted, “Please help! We need help, quickly!”

  The voice belonged to Mrs. Yamanaka, who ran the flower shop downstairs.

  When he opened the door, a woman in her forties stood there, face full of panic.

  “What happened, Mrs. Yamanaka?”

  "It’s Haiichi—he’s got a fishbone stuck in his throat! Doctor Takagi, please help him!"

  Takagi Naohito was speechless. He didn’t even know where to start—should he question why anyone was eating fish this early in the morning, or how a ninja could choke on a bone?

  Yamanaka Haiichi. A chūnin, no less.

  "...Alright. Don’t move."

  With tweezers, Takagi carefully extracted the fishbone from deep in Haiichi’s throat and tossed it into the trash. He pocketed the tweezers like it was just another mundane chore.

  “Cough, cough.” Haiichi finally looked relieved. The young man, only eighteen with a blonde ponytail, was already a full-fledged chūnin.

  But faced with a fishbone stuck in his throat, he was utterly helpless.

  “Thank you so much, Doctor Takagi,” he said politely. “I seriously thought it was going to pierce right through my throat.”

  “It wasn’t just a thought.”

  Takagi flicked him lightly on the forehead, then scolded, “Honestly. That bone was really deep.”

  Even so, he couldn’t help but lecture Haiichi a bit more.

  “If something like this happens again, don’t try to swallow it. Use chopsticks to pull it out, or you could damage your esophagus.”

  “Wait, really?” Haiichi was startled. “I had no idea! I’ll be more careful next time.”

  “Of course! Humans are fragile creatures. One wrong move and it’s red steel in, red steel out. That’d be the end of you.”

  “Yeah, but—” Haiichi puffed out his chest with a confident grin. “We ninja don’t go down so easily. And even if we get hurt, we’ve got amazing medical-nin like you, Doctor Takagi!”

  “Well said. That’s exactly why medical-nin exist—to keep people from dying in the first pce.”

  Takagi turned to Mrs. Yamanaka. “Anything else, ma’am? If not, I’ll be heading back.”

  “Thank you so much, Doctor Takagi!” She bowed deeply, then gnced around the shop. “Let me see if there’s anything I can give you as a thank-you…”

  Takagi understood the gesture right away. His eyes scanned the flower shop—and then he saw it.

  A flower he hadn’t seen in decades.

  A lily with six pristine white petals, fanned out like the skirt of a young maiden.

  Still glistening with morning dew.

  He pointed at it. “Would you mind if I took one of those lilies? I really like them.”

  “Of course!”

  A single flower was nothing compared to the goodwill of a neighbor willing to help at a moment’s notice.

  “Would you like me to wrap it up for you? Is it a gift? A girlfriend?”

  “No.” For once, Takagi’s expression cracked. With a slightly embarrassed smile, he replied, “It’s just for me. No need to wrap it.”

  He plucked a single lily from the bunch and left, completely content.

  Lilium. Family: Liliaceae. Genus: Lilium. A perennial herbaceous pnt with a bulb. Medicinally useful. Went extinct in 2236 due to global environmental colpse.

  There wasn’t any deep reason for choosing it. His original name—Naohito—meant “honest man,” but it also sounded like the name of someone who would favor lilies. And he liked white.

  A color of purity.

  Back home, he pced the lily in a vase on the windowsill, then turned to make breakfast.

  He had other things to take care of today, and he still needed to prep for when his leave ended.

  It had been a long time since he st held a scalpel. He hoped his hands weren’t rusty.