CHAPTER 2: So. Done.
Suppressing a yawn, he flashed smiles and exchanged greetings with the passersby. The capital city of the Land of Fire, possibly the largest and wealthiest in the world, teemed with people, and a plethora of shops adorned the bustling avenue.
"Good morning, Saint-sama!" A boy and girl waved enthusiastically at him, their eyes sparkling with admiration. He fought the urge to flinch at the nickname and inwardly groaned. "Good morning! Please be careful and watch your step, Kai-kun, Mino-chan," he replied, donning his well-practiced million-dollar smile.
"Saint-sama, new shipments of Royal Oranges arrived today! Please try some!" an elderly man with a cane held out a pair of bright, fresh oranges towards him. "Yotsuba-ojisan, if I take all your fruits, how will you make a profit? We wouldn't want you to go bankrupt, would we?" he teased, raising an eyebrow while scrambling to find the cash to pay.
The old man suddenly froze before bursting into a cascade of tears. "How can I accept money from Saint-sama, who saved this destitute old man's life? Are you suggesting that I'm ungrateful?!" he exclaimed, his voice a mix of anger and anguish.
Suppressing a twitch at the theatrics, he briefly considered suggesting that the old man pursue a career in acting, but quickly dismissed the idea as impolite. "Alright, alright, Yotsuba-ojisan. Let's sit down before you strain a muscle again," he gently guided the older man to a nearby chair. Chuckles resonated through the air, entertained by the comical spectacle that had unfolded over the past few days.
Quickly peeling one of the fruits, he theatrically took a bite, aiming to put an end to the embarrassing situation. His eyes widened in mock surprise. "Ooh! It's incredibly sweet!" he exclaimed unconsciously, earning a hearty laugh in response.
"Of course! We specially imported them for our generous benefactor, who has shown such kindness to this humble old man," Yotsuba-ojisan proudly claimed. "Come on, Yotsuba-ojisan, you still have so much energy. We younger folks envy your stamina," he jests, provoking another round of laughter from the captivated onlookers.
"That's why Saint-sama needs to take care of his body. You can't keep overworking yourself! Someone like Saint-sama should live a long and happy life, so we won't have to worry," a concerned voice chimed in from the side, followed by murmurs of agreement. "Ah, that's the life of a iryo-nin, Kayo-obasan. But I do take sufficient breaks," he reassured the frowning older woman.
She raised her voice, clearly outraged as though he had insulted her ancestors. "You're still so young, and yet you already have dark circles under your eyes! Everyone knows that Hime-sama has to drag you away from the hospital, still in your scrubs, most days."
"Ah, obasan, please calm down. You have high blood pressure, and we can't have you toppling over," he swiftly grabbed another chair, placing it beside her and gesturing for her to sit.
"We can't help but to worry, Saint-sama. You hardly leave the hospital at times," a young mother carrying a baby chimed in, her tone gentler. What is this? He felt like a character caught in a TV drama, bombarded from all sides. Nevertheless, he maintained the warmest smile he could muster, despite still feeling exhausted from being forcibly awakened by his teacher that morning. "You needn't worry! I'm still young and possess decent stamina. Sensei has prepared me for such demands," he exaggeratedly nodded several times, emphasizing his point.
In return, he received pitying glances from the passersby. 'Ah, it's alright. I'm exceedingly wealthy, so there's no need to fret,' he truly wished to reassure them that he was well-compensated, but he feared it would only elicit more sympathetic gazes. Besides, Kayo-obasan might suffer an aneurysm on the spot.
Determined to make his escape, he bowed quickly, expressing gratitude to Yotsuba-san for the oranges. "They're incredibly sweet!" he exclaimed before turning in the general direction of the elderly woman and the young mother. "I promise I'll make sure to take more breaks and longer naps, Kayo-obasan, mina-san."
Adding swiftly before they could make further comments, "But I really must go now, before sensei starts demolishing tables. I wouldn't want the restaurant owner to suffer. See you all around!" With that, he swiftly employed his Shunshin technique, whisking himself away from the area and reappearing in front of a bustling and sizeable restaurant, provoking a few surprised yelps at his sudden appearance. It seemed that some civilians were still unaccustomed to encountering ninjas prowling around. Understandable, considering that most ninjas seldom frequented civilian capital cities unless engaged in a mission or clan affairs.
A wave of greetings erupted, and a growing commotion ensued. He offered polite smiles and nods to the crowd before a woman emerged from the restaurant, pausing before him to adjust her uniform, motioning for him to follow her inside. The previously boisterous restaurant fell nearly silent upon his entrance. The woman quickly gestured for him to ascend the stairs, and he silently acknowledged the other customers. As the murmurings gradually resumed, he overheard snippets of conversation about "Orochimaru defecting." Intrigued, he slowed his pace, hoping to glean more information while mentally placing himself within the known timeline.
The second floor, accessible only to nobles, possessed an air of tranquility and scarcity. Nevertheless, curious gazes continued to trail him. Most people conveniently forgot that he was not only a medical doctor but also a skilled shinobu. The second floor further segregated into distinct social strata, and he was led to the finest private room available.
"You're late, brat," his sensei barked, clearly irritated. He pouted innocently at the formidable woman. "Good morning to you too, Tsunade-sensei, Shizu-nee, Tonton," he replied, not quite awake enough to engage in a verbal duel so early in the day. Shizune promptly slid a glass of chilled iced latte toward him. He firmly believed that popularizing coffee, previously regarded as a niche and distasteful beverage in this world, had been the wisest decision of his life. He glanced at the array of small plates, each filled with culinary creations that resembled works of art.
"I guess someone was quite popular. Was it exhilarating being swarmed by a group of enthusiastic uncles and aunts?" she mischievously inquired, her eyes dancing with mirth. He huffed, "Today may very well be my final day in the capital city for years to come. I want to take a leisurely walk, immerse myself in the surroundings. I'll miss this feeling," he explained, a touch of melancholy tainting his tone as he blurred into a sea of memories. Skillfully wielding his chopsticks, he deftly grabbed what looks like a plump gyoza.
She let out an exasperated huff, "You're talking like you're on your deathbed," clearly mocking him. "At your speed, it'll only take you a day to travel from Konoha to here. You can visit whenever you want," she added, taking another gulp of sake. He gave her a deadpan look, deflecting her attempt to steer the conversation. "It's only ten in the morning," he disapproved, not fond of her habit of indulging in alcohol at any time and place.
"Well, not everyone needs to maintain a certain image, do they?" she countered, determined to redirect the focus to a topic she knew he didn't want to discuss. Annoyed, he swiftly snatched the dumpling she was aiming for. Before she could voice her complaint, he interjected, "Just like how you utilize the Yin Seal to conceal your wrinkles." Oh, he had definitely chosen violence today.
Expertly catching the sake bottle thrown at his head, he scolded her, "Don't break things when you clearly can't afford them." He never quite understood why she bothered, considering she had never successfully hit him. At worst, he would activate Thought Acceleration . Breaking off his train of thought at the audible clenching of her sensei's teeth in anger, he arched an eyebrow challengingly.
"Er… Lady Tsunade, Haruki-kun, let's not create a scene in this noble establishment," Shizune pleaded, her face flushed with mortification at the mere thought of the two of them demolishing the restaurant. Placing another dish on Tsunade's plate, she suggested, "Try this, Tsunade-sama. It's savory and crunchy. I'm sure you'll enjoy it." She certainly deserved a raise, although sensei would likely extort it to fund her gambling binge.
After a few deep breaths, a practice she had become adept at since he encouraged her to meditate more to cope with her hemophilia, she abruptly asked, "Have you finished packing yet?" Calmly finishing his bite, he replied, "Yeah…" with a hint of uncertainty. "You're the one who wanted this, brat," Tsunade retorted, her ability to gauge his emotions becoming eerily precise. He narrowed his eyes at her, "Getting chased by debtors isn't a typical teenage pastime, you know."
"Well, you could just pay off my debts," she casually shrugged, as if it were the most obvious solution. "And feed your crippling addiction to gambling and alcoholism? What kind of iryo-nin would I be?" he shot back. Unfazed, she countered, "You're a ninja, one who could even knock the daylights out of the most skilled Elite Jōnin from any major village. Running can't be that exhausting." Did she have no shame? He felt as if he might have a stroke from her sheer nonchalance.
"We'll miss you, Haruki-kun," Shizune, the ever-present angel, chimed in. Although he wondered if she would miss him more or his well-earned wealth. "You'll miss his money and noble status, which sometimes scares off the debtors, and the food and hotels that come with it" Tsunade commented sharply. What a savage, though it seemed she was right. Blushing, Shizune stammered, "I… I will also miss Haruki-kun, as he's the only one who can quell your temper, Lady Tsunade." A valiant attempt to salvage the situation.
"Though I must admit, your noble status does come in handy when avoiding long queues," Tsunade taunted. He truly lived with a devil. The best disciple she could have asked for, yet reduced to a mere title. Nonetheless, he acknowledged that the Daimyō had done him a great favor. It was unheard of for a ninja, let alone a child, to be granted nobility status. The Fire Nobles were typically comprised of families that had been prominent in the region since the warring period. That was why social status held such significance. Obtaining a title in the present day was nearly impossible, and yet here he was. The news had sent shockwaves through the five nations—a new noble title bestowed upon a ninja, no less—and rumor had it that the decision had garnered near-unanimous support from the Noble Council.
"Anyway, have you heard about… your former colleague?" he cautiously inquired, unsure of her true sentiments regarding the situation. Her face slightly contorted, as if she were still processing the news. "If the rumors are true, then whatever it is, it's unforgivable," she declared firmly, her eyes stern. Clearly, she had come to her conclusion, friendship and rainbows be damned. To be fair, he wasn't sure what to expect either. After all, Orochimaru had been Nawaki's former teacher, so he didn't have a complete grasp of their relationship dynamics. But it would be best not to prod any sore spots. They still had a long day ahead.
Nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders, he resumed eating. He still needed to go to the hospital to finalize paperwork regarding yesterday's surgery and check on his patient. Then, it was off to Konoha.
Upon arriving at the hospital, he once again found himself at the center of glances, greetings, and… fanatical stares. An elderly gentleman wearing glasses approached him, "Saint-sama—" he coughed, then his smile widened, "Suzaku—", "Chief Daichi, I'm disappointed that you still believe such formalities are necessary between the two of us," he innocently frowned.
"But how could I rudely address the prodigy of our time? No offense, Tsunade-sama," he glanced briefly at Tsunade, who didn't seem bothered, smug even. "It would be improper for me as a citizen of the Land of Fire to greet a noble in such a manner. Moreover, as a fellow doctor and Chief of the hospital who has had the good fortune of receiving your assistance throughout the years, it would be even more distasteful," he explained excitedly.
"Chief Daichi, as colleagues, I don't believe all the formality is necessary. You should know by now that I am anything but uptight when it comes to these things. I am the same person I was before the title, even before I learned how to suture," he politely requested, trying to maintain decorum. In his opinion, enforcing excessive etiquette in a hospital was a waste of time when every second counted.
He nearly stumbled backward as he watched the man burst into tears. What was with everyone? He's used to attention and theatrics, but everyone is just bursting in emotions left and right today. "I am deeply moved by the everlasting kindness Saint-sama has shown me. I shall etch it into my heart." No, you won't, you doofus. Why were the other doctors and nurses also crying? Somewhere, there must be a code blue, people! Chop chop!
Sighing in defeat, he chose to continue walking towards the patient's room. "Chief Daichi, could you bring me up to speed?" Within seconds, the tears vanished, and Chief Daichi was fully focused once again. "Yes. We closely monitored the patient overnight. There were no complications whatsoever, and the blood panels came back clean," he exclaimed, sounding positively giddy. Yes, a man in his fifties squealed with excitement. "The patient is awake and conscious. However, given the events of the past few days, some follow-up therapy may be required. But he will survive. It's a success!" Chief Daichi clenched his fist in joy.
He needed to leave. Now.
He had grown accustomed to the attention. As someone as young as him, with his extraordinary talents (thanks to his unique abilities) and his background as a disciple of a Legendary Sannin, he had ticked all the boxes to establish himself as someone worthy of admiration. Of course, his other subskill only exacerbated the "halo" effect he projected. And he wasn't foolish enough to underestimate the importance of maintaining a positive image. With his skills, wealth, and reputation, a multitude of options lay before him. Perfect for someone who had yet to decide what to do with his life. But, well, he is just twelve years old.
Approaching the patient's room, he found a flock of nurses and doctors congregating in the corridor, eager to catch a glimpse of this medical miracle of a patient. Coughing loudly, perhaps embarrassed by his staff's unprofessional behavior, Chief Daichi curtly announced, "I believe we all have patients to attend to, don't we? Please return to your duties." Disappointed at being ushered away, they all kindly greeted him, and he politely reciprocated the gesture.
Taking a deep breath, he approached the door while simultaneously perusing the patient's medical chart. Exhaling to release any remaining anxiety, he glanced at his teacher, who wore a mischievous grin. "Kawasaki-sama, it has been a while. I am here to—" As he looked up from the chart, he froze. A man, a woman, and a child knelt on the floor and the bed, their faces drenched with tears, their clothes disheveled, and their hair in complete disarray. They looked like harassed, drenched rats, the complete opposite of the noble dignity typically associated with the Kawasaki clan.
As he contemplated the likelihood of a burglar somehow infiltrating a patient's room on the hospital's most secure floor, the trio let out a collective shriek. Yes, they shrieked, like banshees run over by a car, causing him to flinch. Simultaneously, as if they had rehearsed their whole lives for this moment, they began reciting words and making grand gestures, as if engaged in a performance or, more accurately, a demonic ritual. Amidst their outpouring of emotions, he caught snippets of gratitude, shock, expressions of joy, and something about… marriage? And children?! I'M TWELVE, YOU FUCKS!
He hadn't even fully entered the room yet, but he swiftly turned to his teacher, wearing a deadpan expression. 'Not this shit again' was written all over his face. She didn't even try to suppress her laughter, bursting into raucous peals, her mouth open wide as she gasped for air. Nearly keeling over with the combined boisterousness of an Inuzuka and the grace of a newborn Nara deer, she had completely lost it. He was utterly so done with his ridiculous teacher. With everyone. With everything.
Maybe going to Konoha was the right decision.