While Natsunishi was locked in a fierce struggle with the mini-game in his own world, in the eyes of the onlookers, he had already begun to move.
After meticulously washing his hands, he sat down by Lady Ruka's bedside. He placed three fingers lightly upon her slender wrist to feel her pulse, closing his eyes to concentrate for a long time.
Once the pulse diagnosis was complete, he took a stethoscope from Kochou Shinobu's medicine chest. He probed the sounds of her heart and lungs through her thin undergarments, using hand gestures to guide her through changes in the depth of her breathing.
His movements were steady and focused.
Though he didn't utter a single word, everyone around him felt a faint sense of hidden professionalism radiating from his quiet demeanor.
After the auscultation, he picked up a pen and paper and began to write incessantly. The only sound in the quiet room was the rustling of the nib gliding across the paper. He was writing a prescription for medicinal herbs, as well as a list of required equipment.
Is this child just putting on an act, or does he truly have talent? Shinjuro felt a seed of uncertainty in his heart.
Kochou Shinobu, however, was secretly alarmed.
The layman watches the show, while the expert watches the craft. This display by Natsunishi clearly exceeded the realm of someone who merely "knew a bit" of medicine. During their previous mission, she had been too busy to notice, but it turned out this "Big Radish" really knew medicine. He might even be an expert on par with herself.
As for Kyojuro? He simply thought Natsunishi was sugoi. Had he not been worried about disturbing his mother, he might have shouted his praises out loud.
Natsunishi handed the list to the others. The Rengoku father and son exchanged a glance before splitting up to search for the equipment according to the descriptions.
Shinobu opened her exquisite portable tool kit, which contained neatly arranged rows of shimmering gold needles, ceramic jars of various sizes, small scales, and grinding tools. Shinjuro, meanwhile, silently brought over a larger chest. Inside were instruments left behind by various physicians over the years, ranging from ancient bronze cupping jars to somewhat Western-style scalpels and syringes. It was practically a miniature museum of medical equipment.
Most of the medicinal herbs were gathered quickly. For the few missing items, Kyojuro took his younger brother and sprinted out of the estate to purchase them from the medical bureau in Tokyo.
During the wait, Natsunishi showed no emotional fluctuation. He sat quietly before the sickbed, resting with his eyes closed, looking like an old monk in deep meditation.
Shinobu scrutinized the prescription Natsunishi had just written, her eyes occasionally flashing with a mix of contemplation and realization. The formula consisted mostly of herbs intended to warm the Yang, clear the meridians, and strengthen the body's foundation. However, the combinations and dosages of a few specific herbs seemed—to Shinobu's eyes—quite bold.
Could this really work?
Shinjuro, kneeling on the other side of the bed, was equally silent, but his state of mind was vastly different. Compared to Natsunishi's stability, his knitted brows and tightly clenched fists revealed the burning anxiety within his heart.
The herbs and the simply processed equipment were soon brought back. Natsunishi finally stood up. He personally opened every packet of herbs to inspect them carefully, rubbing a small amount between his fingertips and sniffing the scent.
Subsequently, he placed a portion of the herbs into a mortar to grind them finely. Another portion was placed under a specialized copper hood to be slowly steamed over a gentle fire, allowing the warm, medicinal vapor to slowly envelop Ruka's nose and mouth.
After signaling Shinobu to begin decocting the medicine, he picked up her gold needles and passed them through the flame of an alcohol lamp. This was for sterilization.
Internal decoction, medicinal steaming, supplemented by acupuncture. The System's plan was a three-pronged approach.
After ushering the children out, Natsunishi signaled Ruka to turn her back to him and remove part of her outer clothing. His needle technique was superb—fast, steady, and precise, without the slightest hesitation. Some of the acupoints he pierced were common, but others were located in subtle positions that weren't even part of traditional meridians. The depth of insertion and the angle of rotation were all meticulously calculated.
Furthermore, after placing each needle, he would pause for a moment, as if sensing some feedback through his fingertips before continuing to the next spot.
Throughout the entire process, not a single superfluous expression appeared on the youth's face. He was so focused that it seemed as if the person before him wasn't an elegant and beautiful lady, but rather a cadaver lying on a laboratory table.
Occasionally he adjusted the distance of the steaming herbs, and occasionally he lightly twirled the inserted gold needles. Perhaps due to his high level of concentration, Natsunishi's hair and the hem of his clothes gradually became soaked with sweat, yet his hand movements did not falter in the slightest.
As a physician of the Butterfly Mansion and the descendant of a family of pharmacists, the more Shinobu watched, the more shocked she became. This technique, these acupoints... she had never seen them in the Far East. They weren't even in the legacies of the Pharmacist family or the Demon Slayer Corps. Especially that sense of absolute certainty when he placed the needles; this was definitely not some rote learning from a book. It was as if Lady Ruka's stagnant illness and every major acupoint were clearly marked on her body in a way visible to his naked eye.
This Big Radish... compared to him, the physicians she had seen before weren't even fit to be called divine doctors.
Two hours later, Natsunishi removed the final needle. At the same time, he moved the specialized steaming hood away.
Rengoku Ruka did not show any earth-shattering transformation. She was still weak, but her perpetually knitted brows had unknowingly smoothed out. She took a long, deep breath. "The thing pressing against my chest feels like it has dissolved a little. Breathing... is also easier."
This child's skills seem deeper than any physician I've seen before. Putting her outer clothes back on, she looked at the youth—who was similar in age to her own son—with a complex gaze.
Then, she saw a bowl of dark brown liquid being handed to her. Natsunishi still said nothing, only indicating with his eyes.
Drink!
Ruka understood his meaning. She took the bowl and drained it in one go. It was very bitter, carrying the pungent, strange smell of herbal medicine and the charred astringency of the boil. But Ruka did not knit her brows even once. It was as if she were drinking nothing more than a bowl of ordinary cool water.
Over the years, what her husband and children had endured was a thousand times more bitter than this medicine. What right did she have to hesitate or frown?
Perhaps due to the temperature or the pungency of the herbal decoction, a very faint, thin trace of color actually emerged slowly on her pale cheeks. Though it was covered by fatigue in the blink of an eye, that momentary change was still caught by everyone present.
Shinjuro took a sudden step forward, then forced himself to stop, as if afraid that if he disturbed anything, this mirage-like sign of improvement would vanish. He looked at Natsunishi, and within those long-dead crimson eyes, a massive surge of shock and disbelief churned.
This youth, this child... he might actually have a way to treat my wife's illness!
Hope is a flame. It once again ignited his long-dormant eyes. He opened his mouth and said somewhat hoarsely, "Thank... thank you, Doctor Roku... Shichiguruma."
It was only at this moment that he realized with a start that he hadn't even remembered the youth's name correctly.
Lady Ruka, standing beside him, managed a rare smile. She gently took her husband's hand and scolded him softly, "This child's name is Kiguruma Natsunishi, Shinjuro."
Then, she turned to Natsunishi and bowed solemnly. The "Owl Uncle" beside her followed suit, lowering his back with a hint of shame.
"Thank you very much, sir!" His voice was loud, and much of his listlessness had dissipated. At this moment, he finally seemed completely identical to the energetic Kyojuro. They were truly father and son.
Unfortunately, Natsunishi seemed completely oblivious to their gratitude. He continued to write on the paper. These were subsequent nursing precautions, daily prescriptions, and points to observe before the next treatment.
Once he had finished all this, he slowly walked back to the other side of the sickbed and sat cross-legged. His posture was exactly the same as it had been before the treatment began.
A second later, Natsunishi blinked and looked at everyone.
Natsunishi: "Eh? Is there something on my face?"
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