Chapter 82: Where's the Healer?! HEALER!
While Natsuya was locked in a fierce, mental duel with the mini-game in his own
dimension, the others watched him in silence.
To them, his actions were nothing short of surgical.
After meticulously washing his hands, he sat by Lady Ruka's futon. He pressed
three fingers against the pulse on her slender wrist, his eyes closing as he
entered a state of absolute concentration.
Once the pulse-reading was done, he reached into Shinobu's medical kit and
retrieved a stethoscope. He pressed it against the Lady's thin clothing,
listening to the rhythm of her heart and lungs, using subtle hand gestures to
guide her through various patterns of deep and shallow breathing.
His movements were steady, deliberate, and entirely focused.
He didn't say a single word, but everyone in the room could feel the invisible
weight of his professionalism.
After the examination, he grabbed a brush and paper and began to write
furiously. The only sound in the quiet room was the rhythmic scratch-scratch of
the brush against the parchment.
He was drafting a complex prescription of medicinal herbs and a list of
necessary equipment.
Is this child just putting on a show, or does he actually have the skills?
Shinjuro wondered, his heart a tangle of doubt and desperate hope.
Shinobu, however, was internally reeling.
As the saying goes: The amateur watches for entertainment; the expert looks at
the mechanics. Natsuya's diagnostic flow had clearly surpassed the level of
"knowing a bit" about medicine.
During the last mission, I was too busy to notice... Shinobu thought, staring at
his handwriting. This block of wood is actually a high-level specialist. He
might even be a master on par with me.
As for Kyojuro? He just thought Natsuya was sugoi. If he weren't afraid of
disturbing his mother, he probably would have shouted his admiration out loud.
Natsuya handed the lists to them.
The Rengoku father and son exchanged a look, then immediately split up to gather
the items. Shinobu opened her refined medical chest, revealing shimmering gold
needles, porcelain jars of varying sizes, micro-scales, and grinding tools.
Shinjuro lugged in a much larger crate containing medical relics left behind by
various doctors over the years—everything from ancient bronze cupping jars to
Western-style scalpels and syringes. It was a miniature museum of medical
history.
Most of the herbs were found within the estate's stores. For the remaining rare
ingredients, Kyojuro grabbed his younger brother and sprinted out of the
mansion, hurtling toward the Tokyo medical districts at full speed.
While they waited, Natsuya remained motionless. He sat cross-legged before the
futon, his eyes closed in meditation like an old monk.
Shinobu scrutinized the prescription Natsuya had written. Her eyes occasionally
flashed with realization. The formula relied heavily on "warming the Yang" and
"unblocking the kinetic meridians"—standard for stabilization—but the dosages of
certain ingredients were... bold. Incredibly bold.
Is this actually viable? she wondered.
On the other side of the futon, Shinjuro sat in silence. Unlike Natsuya's
stillness, his body was tense. His furrowed brows and white-knuckled fists
betrayed the storm of anxiety within him.
The herbs and processed equipment arrived quickly.
Natsuya finally stood up. He opened every packet of herbs, inspecting the
quality. He rubbed samples between his fingertips to check the texture and
sniffed the aromas.
Then, he began his work. Some herbs were tossed into a mortar and ground into
fine powder. Others were placed under a specialized copper steaming hood,
creating a gentle, medicinal vapor that enveloped Lady Ruka's face.
He gestured for Shinobu to begin boiling the main decoction. Then, he picked up
a set of gold needles and passed them through the flame of an alcohol lamp.
Sterilization.
The System's strategy was a "Triple-Threat Protocol": Internal decoction, medicinal steaming, and acupuncture.
After ushering the boys out of the room, Natsuya signaled for Lady Ruka to turn her back and lower her outer robe slightly.
His needle technique was flawless.
Fast, steady, and accurate. He didn't hesitate for a single frame.
Some of the acupoints he targeted were common; others were placed in locations
so subtle they didn't even align with traditional maps of the human nervous
system. The depth of the insertion and the angle of the twist were tuned with
extreme precision.
With every needle, he paused for a fraction of a second, as if waiting for
"haptic feedback" from his fingertips before moving to the next.
Throughout the entire process, the boy's face remained a blank mask. He was so
focused that it felt like he wasn't looking at a beautiful, gentle woman, but
rather a "Clinical Specimen" on an operating table.
He adjusted the distance of the steam hood, then gave the needles a rhythmic
flick.
Natsuya's hair and collar were beginning to soak through with sweat from the
sheer concentration required by the QTEs. Yet, his hands didn't shake once.
As a daughter of a pharmaceutical line and a doctor of the Butterfly Mansion,
Shinobu's shock only grew the longer she watched.
This technique... these points...
She had never seen anything like it in the Far East. Not in the family archives, and not in the Corps' records.
It was his certainty that was most terrifying. It wasn't as if he were following
a textbook. It looked as if Lady Ruka's internal blockages and nerve clusters
were literally highlighted on her body in glowing lines only he could see.
This block of wood... she thought. Compared to him, that 'Lower Moon' Miracle
Doctor was a total fraud.
Two hours later, Natsuya withdrew the final needle. Simultaneously, he moved the
steaming hood aside.
Lady Ruka didn't undergo a miraculous, instant transformation. She was still
weak. But the perpetual furrow in her brow—the one she had worn for
years—gradually smoothed out.
She let out a long, shuddering breath. "The weight on my chest... it feels like
it's beginning to melt away. Breathing... is easier now."
She looked at the boy—who was roughly the same age as her own son—with an
expression of profound wonder. His skill seemed far deeper than any doctor she
had met before.
As she pulled her robe back up, a bowl of dark, thick medicine was pushed toward
her. Natsuya still didn't speak, just signaling with his eyes.
Drink.
Lady Ruka understood. She took the bowl and downed it in one go. It was
incredibly bitter, tasting of burnt roots and acrid minerals, but she didn't
wince.
She drank it as if it were plain water. After everything her husband and
children had endured these past years, a bit of bitterness was nothing. She had
no right to complain.
Perhaps due to the temperature of the medicine or its chemical properties, a
faint, almost imperceptible trace of color appeared on her pale cheeks. It was
quickly masked by her fatigue, but the change didn't escape the people in the
room.
Shinjuro lurched forward, then froze. He looked like a man afraid that if he
moved too fast, he would shatter this fragile hallucination of recovery.
He looked at Natsuya. In his dead, bloodshot eyes, a massive surge of shock and
disbelief swirled.
This boy... this child... He actually has a solution!
Hope is a flame. And it had just been reignited in Shinjuro's hollow gaze.
His voice trembled as he spoke. "Th-thank you. Dr. Shichi... Dr. Rokusha."
Only now did he realize he hadn't even bothered to remember the boy's name
correctly.
Lady Ruka offered a rare, weak smile. She took her husband's hand and scolded
him gently. "His name is Kokonoe Natsuya, Shinjuro."
She turned to Natsuya and bowed her head with solemn gratitude.
Beside her, the "Owl Uncle" finally bent his stiff back, bowing deeply alongside
his wife.
"I am in your debt, sir!"
His voice was loud, the despair finally beginning to evaporate. In that moment,
he finally looked like the father of the high-energy Kyojuro.
Unfortunately, Natsuya didn't seem to hear their gratitude.
He was already back to his paper and brush, writing more notes. These were
follow-up care instructions, daily recipes, and specific "Observation Logs" for
the period leading up to the next treatment session.
Once he finished, he slowly walked back to the other side of the room. He sat
down cross-legged on the tatami.
His posture was exactly the same as it had been before the treatment started.
A second later, Natsuya blinked. He looked around at the room full of people
staring at him with teary eyes and reverence.
Natsuya: "Huh? Is there something on my face?"
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