"Tsunade," Hiruzen Sarutobi asked as he opened his eyes, "can you find a universal kind of medical chakra?"
"That won't be a problem." Tsunade didn't hesitate. "I've thought about it. If this is going to be used for military purposes, we need broad-spectrum medical scrolls: stopping bleeding, accelerating healing, disinfecting, that sort of thing. Specializing too far doesn't seem realistic right now…"
She drew a breath, then added, more firmly, "I've already finished developing the relevant formula."
Her voice was steady, but her eyes were sharp with the kind of focus that only came from running on fumes.
"Ever since you said you'd support my medical work, Sensei, I haven't really slept these past few months. I've been buried in medical texts," Tsunade said, dead serious. "I can guarantee the formula is mature enough. Orochimaru and I tested it together."
Orochimaru gave a faint nod. "Her drive… honestly exceeded even my expectations."
Something in Hiruzen softened.
Even if, deep down, he still believed Tsunade's gambling streak was too severe for the Hokage's seat, her love for the village was real. Tsunade wasn't short on money. She had no interest in becoming Hokage.
The only thing that could sustain this kind of relentless work was a pure devotion to Konoha, and the need to make up, in any way she could, for the losses that never stopped hurting.
So if she got a little impatient after a breakthrough… he could understand.
This was her lifelong wish.
Someone who carries the public good in their heart will shine no matter what, Hiruzen thought, and he spoke aloud with rare sincerity.
"You've worked hard, Tsunade. On behalf of every shinobi in the village… thank you."
Tsunade froze for a beat. A sudden sting rose behind her eyes, sharp and unexpected.
"You've worked hard too," she murmured. "Sensei."
Hiruzen didn't press the moment. He simply moved on, calm as ever.
"Then let me ask this. If the amount of medical chakra is extremely low, and you stabilize it inside an object… could it have a beneficial effect on a healthy body without causing harm?"
Medical chakra, as the name implied, was chakra produced through medical ninjutsu. But once it entered the body, it wasn't automatically "the more, the better" just because it had the word medical in it.
Even medicine could kill you if you overdid it.
"It's possible," Tsunade admitted. "But then the effect would be similar to the Sage Land Pill. That wouldn't mean anything in wartime."
She hesitated, then exhaled, the excitement from earlier visibly cooling into something more clinical.
"Sensei… I got carried away. I was too excited."
She steadied herself and continued in a more professional tone.
"Even if I simplified parts of the formula, medical ninjutsu is still complicated at its core. There's a gap between understanding it and being able to use it properly. It takes a lot of repetitive practice."
That was the real problem, wasn't it? What did it even mean to "master" a jutsu?
Take Fire Style: you could cough out a little flicker, or you could flood the sky with a roaring inferno. Both people would claim they could use the technique.
Medical ninjutsu was the same. Plenty of shinobi could release a little, but if the output was too low, it was meaningless in actual combat.
At that point, "can" and "can't" barely mattered.
"So you're saying… as long as they train repeatedly, they can master it, and the effect can be adjusted to match the Sage Land Pill?"
When Tsunade nodded, Hiruzen's eyes lit up.
"Excellent."
"I've been thinking about how we adjust our production, how we train industry shinobi who can mass-produce military medical scrolls."
"And now… the problem solves itself."
Tsunade looked confused, so Hiruzen explained.
"We add a small, controllable amount of medical chakra into the Sage Land Pill, and we use production as training. Work as practice."
He smiled slightly, already doing the math in his head.
"That fifteen-person production team, based on the dosage Orochimaru designed and accounting for defect rates, will need to produce about fifteen pills per person per day on average. And that's only the beginning."
"These health supplements we sell to the nobles," Hiruzen said smoothly, "will become their training ground."
He let out a quiet chuckle.
"And it's not even 'ripping them off.' For them, it's worth every coin. It becomes something they'll insist on having."
Jiraiya nodded without thinking.
In his mind, he could already see gold raining from the sky. Nobles scrambling, elbows flying, even starting fights with each other, desperate to secure a purchase quota.
Money. So much money.
"Once the industry shinobi become proficient in medical ninjutsu through that process," Hiruzen continued, "we have the veterans teach the newcomers. We train a new batch under them, and the experienced hands can finally free up time to research and produce more advanced medical scrolls."
The shinobi world was a strange one, shaped and saturated by chakra.
Politically, it was a fragile mixture of feudal lords and monopolized supernatural force. Daimyo, hidden villages, and nobles balanced each other in a brittle truce.
Economically, it still rested on agriculture, with chakra-driven, industrial-looking products scattered on top, giving the illusion of an early industrial age.
But in truth, whether it was weapons, tools, or the medical scrolls of the future, most war supplies and research materials were still handcrafted by shinobi working alongside artisans. Superb, yes, but still closer to extraordinary craftsmanship than true mass manufacturing: chakra blades, Paper Bombs, and everything in between.
So even if you had the technique, production had to keep up, or it was all just a castle in the air.
Training skilled hands, cultivating a reliable base of craftspeople, was something the Hokage had been considering for a long time.
Tsunade's thoughts clicked into place fast. There was a spark in her eyes now, bright as a flame.
She wanted to agree immediately, but she remembered the earlier question and ran it through her mind again and again, checking every angle until she was sure.
"No problem, Sensei!"
"I'll implement it right away. I can have everything done in under two weeks!"
She could already see it, like a glimpse of the future: Konoha shinobi not dying so easily on the battlefield. Even if they were critically wounded, there would still be hope.
The idea made her chest tighten in a way that hurt and healed at the same time. She wanted to go straight back to work.
"I'm leaving all medical development to you," Hiruzen said.
"But take care of your health, Tsunade. Serving the village is a long road."
Then, as if it was an afterthought, he added, "And when the scroll is ready… give it a proper name."
Tsunade blinked.
A name? Wasn't "medical scroll" good enough?
"How about Nawaki-style Scroll?" Orochimaru's voice slid in, quiet and almost distant.
There was a thin thread of nostalgia in his eyes.
"My idiot apprentice always talked about becoming Hokage someday. Protecting everyone in the village."
"He even said he'd protect me, his teacher…"
Orochimaru looked down, as if he could see the past written on the table.
"Saving badly wounded shinobi," he said softly, "is probably what he would've wanted to see."
The atmosphere turned heavy, grief seeping in between the words.
Tsunade swallowed hard.
"…If it's that, then… yeah. That's good."
She let out a long breath. Her eyes shimmered, just slightly.
"Thank you, Sensei," she said, voice rough around the edges. "You think further ahead than I do. I won't rush you like that again…"
"You are impatient," Hiruzen said with a warm laugh, "but if you weren't, you wouldn't be Tsunade."
He glanced at the other two with a knowing look. "You two are used to it as well, aren't you?"
Jiraiya and Orochimaru nodded in perfect agreement, almost impressively synchronized.
Tsunade rolled her eyes, big and dramatic, but something warm rose in her chest anyway.
She wasn't alone.
She still had family who cared about her.
No blood ties… but closer than blood.
And while Hiruzen and his students continued hammering out details—
His youngest son, Asuma, slipped a thick book into his pants, covered it with his shirt, and began creeping along the wall on quiet feet like a little mouse stealing food and terrified of being caught.
Don't see me, don't see me…
I have to bring the Fire Style essentials to my brothers…
Forging Azure Dragon glory is my duty as the gang leader! he prayed wildly to himself.
The funny part was that Orochimaru, Tsunade, and Hiruzen were so focused on their discussion that they only vaguely noticed Asuma was up. No one looked closely.
But off to the side, Jiraiya wasn't really able to contribute much. He was too busy absolutely demolishing breakfast.
And he saw everything.
Asuma's eyes met his.
Asuma's look was pure pleading, basically screaming, Jiraiya, please don't say anything!
Jiraiya responded with an unmistakably evil grin and shouted at full volume:
"Hey, kid! What're you sneaking around for?"
Asuma's vision went dark.
Was this it?
Was the Azure Dragon Gang leader about to face a great calamity today?