Minato left at dawn to discuss Tatsuma's suggestion from the previous night with Orochimaru. Left alone in his cot, Tatsuma could finally focus on the leaden fog in his brain and the profound hollowed-out feeling in his limbs.
He felt as though he had pulled an all-nighter, donated a pint of blood, and then immediately got blackout drunk, only to follow it up with a marathon physical session with a lover. The result was a level of hangover and physical depletion that defied description.
"Still alive? You're certainly persistent."
A teasing voice broke his internal tally of misery. Tatsuma tilted his head to see Tsunade walking in, carrying two stacked lunch boxes.
"Sensei," Tatsuma rasped. "Thank you for healing me."
"Forget the thanks. What the hell happened out there? How did you kill that many Sand ninja? And two Jonin to boot?"
Tsunade sat on the edge of the bed, popped open a container, and immediately shoved an onigiri into Tatsuma's mouth. He nearly choked to death right then and there. Fortunately, as she said, he was persistent.
Gulp—hiccup!
Tatsuma finally forced the rice ball down, looking at his teacher with a mix of resignation and exasperation. Tsunade spent half her lectures telling them to treat patients with gentleness and care, but she seemed to have a personal exemption from her own rules.
Her philosophy was essentially: Do as I say, not as I do. The double standards were breathtaking.
He raised a weak hand to decline a second round of force-feeding and managed to push himself into a sitting position. He took a slow sip of water from the cup on the nightstand before answering.
"On my own? It would have been impossible. But Mito-sama gave me a gift before I left the village."
If anyone else had asked, Tatsuma might have played it closer to the vest. But Tsunade was different. She wasn't just his sensei; she was Mito's granddaughter. There was no harm in letting her believe the "gift" was the source of his survival. As for the actual passive stats from his White Yaksha title... he'd just let her assume that was part of the package.
Tsunade nodded slowly. "That explains it. Based on the injuries you took, you should have died ten times over. I couldn't figure out how you were still breathing. But to keep a secret like that from your own teacher... do you not trust me?"
"Mito-sama told me not to tell anyone."
"I'm not 'anyone'! I'm your sensei!"
Seeing Tsunade flip into her "unreasonable" mode, Tatsuma immediately clutched his forehead and groaned. "Ow... suddenly my head really hurts."
"You've slept for three whole days; of course your head hurts. Even a pig wouldn't sleep that long."
Tsunade rolled her eyes. She wasn't fooled by the transparent attempt to change the subject, but she didn't press him further. Instead, her tone softened slightly. "Do you still want to be on the front lines after this?"
"I'm not afraid."
Tatsuma shrugged. Tsunade's eyes flickered toward the tent flap for a split second before she spoke again. "Have you considered going back to the village? You could take the Chunin Exams, get your promotion..."
"In a war zone, the rank of Chunin doesn't offer much of an advantage. Well, unless you count the free flak jacket."
Tatsuma also glanced at the door. There was no one there, but he realized Tsunade's look hadn't been about an intruder—it was a tell. "But what about you, Sensei? Are you trying to tell me I should go back?"
Tsunade arched an eyebrow. She knew he had caught her drift, and she noticed he'd modified her "go back" to "go back for a bit."
"Do whatever you want. If you stay, hurry up and recover. The days of small-scale skirmishes and squad missions are over. From here on out, it's going to be army vs. army."
She stood up and headed for the exit. "And don't think your Genin status will protect you anymore. With the scale of the upcoming battles, high-level Sand shinobi won't hesitate to wipe out 'fodder' like you. No one is going to hold back just because you're a kid."
Tatsuma nodded thoughtfully. He knew she was right. Up until now, the war had been a series of probes and tactical strikes while both sides assessed each other's strength after a long period of peace. Now that the scouting was done, the real "meat grinder" phase was beginning. In a mass battle, a Genin was just another target for a stray kunai or a wide-range ninjutsu.
As he thought about it, the fog in his mind cleared a little, replaced by a sense of urgency. He tried to swing his legs off the bed, but his muscles were so depleted he couldn't even keep himself upright.
He sat on the edge of the cot for a moment, catching his breath, before bringing his hands together in the Seal of Confrontation. He began to slowly, painstakingly knead chakra.
He felt like he had reverted to his four-year-old self before he'd even entered the Academy. His body didn't want to respond to his mental commands. After several minutes of intense focus, he finally managed to squeeze out a tiny thread of chakra.
Using that thread as a catalyst, he circulated it through his pathways, stimulating his cells to produce more. Ten minutes later, he stopped. He had managed to gather about a tenth of his usual reserves.
It'll have to be enough, he thought.
His hands moved through a sequence of seals: Boar – Dog – Bird – Monkey – Ram. He bit his thumb, drawing a fresh bead of blood, and pressed it against his left wrist.
"Summoning Jutsu!"
Poof!
A cloud of white smoke erupted, and a slug about the size of a basketball appeared on his forearm. The sudden weight nearly sent the weakened Tatsuma toppling over.
"Tatsuma? Is that you? Do you require my assistance?" a gentle, melodic voice asked.
Before he could even answer, a pulse of the slug's chakra surged into his body, doing a quick diagnostic lap.
"Oh dear," Katsuyu continued. "Your body is in a terrible state. Was this from your battle?"
Tatsuma nodded weakly. "Yeah. I'm sorry to bother you, but I need to get back on my feet as soon as possible."
"Next time, please remember to summon me during the fight, or at least immediately after," Katsuyu chided softly, though Tatsuma could hear a hint of motherly worry in her tone. "I may not be a combat summon, but I can mitigate a great deal of damage."
Tatsuma reached out with his right hand and gently stroked the slug's back. "I'm sorry. Honestly... I think I prefer getting hurt a bit during a fight. It helps me focus my attention."
"That is a bad habit, Tatsuma. You must change it."
Katsuyu didn't argue further. She began funneling her specialized healing chakra into him, recharging his parched cells. As she gave up her energy, her physical form began to shrink.
When she was down to the size of a small fist, Tatsuma gently cut off the flow. "That's plenty. Save some for yourself. Thank you, Katsuyu."
"It is quite alright. I am happy to help."
With a soft puff of smoke, the slug vanished. Tatsuma wiped the dried blood from his thumb and stood up. His legs still felt like they were made of cotton, but for the first time in days, he could stand on his own.
"Alright," he whispered to the empty tent. "Time to get back to work."