Chapter 21 – Hospital Internship & "I'm the Real Hokage"
Konoha Hospital.
Taichi arrived early, neatly dressed and ready, the morning sun still slanting low across the bustling hospital entrance. Watching the constant flow of patients and visitors, he couldn't help but think — no matter where you are, a hospital is never short of business.
Stepping through the glass doors, he caught sight of a young nurse and waved her over.
"Excuse me, nurse-neechan, could you tell me where to find the hospital director?"
Her eyes crinkled in amusement. "What a sweet-talking little brother. And what business do you have with the director?"
Without missing a beat, Taichi produced the internship certificate Tsunade had given him.
She took it with mild suspicion, but after scanning it twice her eyes widened. "This… is you?"
"That's me. Genuine article."
Confirming the details, she pointed down the hall. "Take those stairs to the top floor, then turn left — first door. Director Biwako should be in her office right now."
"Thanks, neechan! See you next time!" Taichi grinned and waved.
---
At the office door, he knocked politely.
"Come in," called a woman's voice.
Closing the door behind him, his gaze first landed on the desk — piled high with neatly stacked files — then on the elegant, middle-aged woman seated behind it, pen in hand.
"Good morning, Director. I'm Matsushita Taichi, here for my internship under Tsunade-nee. This is my certificate." He offered it respectfully.
Biwako
set aside her pen and looked him over, then accepted the paper. After a quick glance, she smiled warmly. "Ah, Taichi. Tsunade already told me about you — and she couldn't stop singing your praises. I don't think I've ever heard her speak so highly of anyone."
"All thanks to her great teaching," Taichi replied, careful not to undermine Tsunade's reputation.
Biwako chuckled softly at some private thought.
"Well, since you come with Tsunade's recommendation — and we just happen to be short-handed — you can start right away. Mornings here at the hospital, every day. Come on, I'll show you around and take you to your department."
---
They walked through corridors scented faintly of disinfectant. Sunlight slanted in through frosted windows, casting long pale stripes across the tiled floor. Passing the infusion room, a few bandaged children peeked out curiously, their eyes lingering on the short sword strapped to Taichi's back.
The sign for the Trauma Ward bore three deep scratches. As the door creaked open, a kunoichi with short, practical hair looked up from rolling bandages.
"Fujita-san," Biwako said, patting Taichi's shoulder, "this is the boy Tsunade recommended."
Fujita Sana adjusted her round glasses and eyed him — her gaze level with the top of his head.
"Excellent battlefield healing scores?"
Without warning, she flicked a medical file toward him. Pages fanned out in midair. Taichi instinctively caught the one about to smack him in the face; the rest fluttered to the floor.
"Reaction speed — pass," she said, scooping up the fallen sheets. "But on the battlefield, you won't have time to tidy up." She shoved a gurney aside, metal wheels screeching on tile. "We handle over sixty emergency cases a day. You'll assist Haruno today."
---
Haruno was bent over a tray of surgical tools, disinfecting them. She swept damp hair from her neck and gestured toward the forceps soaking in amber liquid.
"Seventy-five percent alcohol, fifteen minutes. Faster than boiling."
The rumble of gurney wheels echoed down the hall. Haruno snatched up the tray and dashed out, calling over her shoulder: "Mask on!"
The first patient was a young shinobi with a kunai gash across his palm. Haruno cleaned the wound like she was dismantling an explosive tag — precise, unhurried. Taichi spotted flecks of rust deep in the cut just as she uncapped the hydrogen peroxide.
"Hold his arm," she ordered.
The fizzing hiss of antiseptic was drowned by the shinobi's scream, rattling the metal tray. Haruno used the moment to fish out the debris with her forceps. When she turned, Taichi was already at her side with a threaded suture needle.
One bloody cotton ball after another hit the bin. Haruno tied off the stitch, and Taichi handed her medicated gauze exactly when she needed it.
"You've had field medic training?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow.
"Nonō-nee taught me the major pressure points," he replied, nodding toward the anatomy chart on the wall.
---
By late morning, fresh casualties were still pouring in. Fujita opened a window for air, spotting Taichi in a corner, palms aglow with healing chakra over a sobbing child's scraped knee.
"Healing Jutsu isn't for scratches," she reminded him sternly from behind. "Chakra is limited — save it for serious cases."
"Yes, ma'am," Taichi said… though his hands never stopped moving.
Fujita sighed, then dropped two boxes of fresh gloves beside him.
The next stretcher burst through the door — an open fracture. Haruno barked for a splint as Taichi's eyes locked on the protruding shinbone, blood soaking the patient's pants. His body moved before his mind, pressing a glowing hand to the femoral artery to stem the flow. The bleeding slowed to a steady seep.
"Blood pressure!" Fujita's voice was tight as wire.
Taichi held the jutsu until the leg was splinted, his chakra output steady. By the time the stretcher wheeled away, his lab coat hem was dripping red. He stared at his trembling right hand, fingers twitching from overuse.
---
Lunch came in plain bento boxes. Taichi sat in the break room, practicing suture knots. Haruno poked him with her chopsticks.
"Surgical knots aren't ninja knots — you need to leave space for swelling." She demonstrated, her bandage puffing into a neat little mound. Taichi's third try wasn't half bad.
Fujita returned from the X-ray room mid-bite of an onigiri, catching sight of Taichi sketching anatomical diagrams in a medical chart. His rendering of a kunai laceration — complete with labeled blood vessels — was precise enough to remind her of a certain blonde sannin.
When he handed over a perfectly organized inventory of sterilized tools, she finally said, "Starting tomorrow, you'll be in charge of restocking supplies."
Taichi's first morning of hospital internship ended in a blur of exhaustion and unexpected rewards.
[You perform medical procedures. Related insight improves!]
[You cast Healing Jutsu. Insight improves!]
[Healing Jutsu skill level up — EXP +1]
[You perform Mystic Palm Technique. Insight improves!]
[Mystic Palm skill level up — EXP +1]
[You focus on medical work — Ninja Apprentice EXP +1]
By noon, his Healing Jutsu — already proficient — had reached Lv. 7, while the newly learned Mystic Palm Technique had jumped to Lv. 2.
Afternoon
Dragging his exhausted body home, Taichi could still feel the strain from the morning's internship. The hours in the hospital had drained far too much of his chakra. In hindsight, Director Fujita's warning was correct—ninja chakra was a precious resource, to be spent only where it mattered most.
But thinking about the child he'd healed earlier, Taichi felt no regret. If anything, he had simply learned to be more measured in the future.
---
Hokage's Office
The double doors slammed open, and a gust of cold air followed Danzo in, his wide sleeves rippling like the shadow of a hawk.
Hiruzen Sarutobi set down his pipe. Smoke curled between them like a web, thin and fragile.
"Hand that orphan over to me," Danzo said, leaning heavily on his cane until his knuckles whitened. "Flowers raised in a greenhouse will never survive the storm."
Hiruzen calmly shuffled the papers under his crystal ball—just-delivered reports from Biwako, along with the internship certificate she'd signed. Tsunade's elegant signature bloomed in black ink across the parchment.
"Biwako told me this morning that the boy's suturing technique is already quite practiced," Hiruzen said, brushing a bit of ash from his sleeve. "The Medical Corps needs talent like him."
Danzo's cane struck the floor with a resounding crack, the ink in the inkwell trembling.
"Your so-called 'nurturing' is letting him play nurse and wrap bandages?" His lone eye gleamed with cold light. "Root's training camp can temper his blade in real blood."
Hiruzen's voice stayed level, but his gaze hardened.
"What he needs now is to deepen his bonds with others—not to stain his sword in blood. This morning alone, he saved three burned ANBU operatives with his Healing Jutsu. Do you know how he trains? He spends his chakra mending the broken bones of stray cats."
Danzo suddenly snatched up the Academy's report from the desk. A photo of Taichi sparring with Kakashi—blades flashing—creased under the pressure of his grip.
"A boy with discipline that frightening will grow into another Orochimaru in twenty years."
Hiruzen's tone sharpened.
"Then what he needs is Nonō's guidance, not your cursed seals. I won't see him twisted into—"
"Mercy like yours is weakness!" Danzo's cane swept across the desk, knocking over a teacup that shattered against the wall. "When the enemy's blade is at his throat, you'll regret not letting me cut away those soft, useless branches!"
Hiruzen's voice cracked like a whip:
"Danzo! I am the Hokage!"
The crystal ball shimmered, revealing the hospital corridor—Taichi crouched beside a crying child, offering candy, the short sword on his back wrapped in cloth to prevent accidents.
Danzo stood in silence for a long moment. It was hard to tell whether he was angrier at Hiruzen's hesitation… or his own.
Finally, he gave a low, cold laugh and turned to leave. His wide sleeve brushed against the small bonsai Tsunade had sent. The clay pot tumbled across the red carpet, leaving a damp trail of soil. The half-withered pine lay exposed, roots tangled in dirt.
When the door slammed shut, the gust scattered the paperwork across the desk. The stamped internship approval from the Medical Corps fluttered free, drifting down to land squarely over the crystal ball—covering the child's tear-streaked but smiling face.