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It was time to begin…

I looked on with widening eyes, my nerves shivering at the sheer thought of this monumental occasion—a surgery amongst all the other great innovations in medicine. The moment my eyes scanned across one of the many monitors that surrounded us, I smiled when the man’s pulse plummeted, only stabilizing just above the break of death itself. My sedation had worked just as planned, and if my calculations were accurate, this would hold him over until I sewed the final stitch that would label this exercise as complete. Now, the only question was, where should I start?

“500mg of the anesthetic did well to put him out… However can I match the artistry of his left hand?” I spoke to an absent crowd, as I was the only able ears in the room. Between gathering the appropriate scalpels, towels, trays and other necessities, I made sure to intermittently glance back at the charts on the screen, carefully tracking his heart rate and blood pressure. For now they were calm, nonetheless while he couldn’t physical feel pain, there was no telling how his brain and other internal treasures would react to my invasion of their dominion. I’d have to work not only thoroughly, but unwearyingly if I were to achieve perfect results.

Using a rather highly powerful electromagnetic camera which a sensitivity for radiation, I prepped his limb with a simple X-ray. Creating the transparent document, which showed the skeletal structure of his hand, I suspended above, and analyzed it painstakingly. Noting the structure of his marrow composition—which was needless to say perfect, and making it with a generic layout to trace the outlines of both muscles and constructional properties. From there, I propped his arm on its own respective table, tucking his hand on a towel—clean and sallow in hue.

Reaching for one of the smaller scalpel, I sighed, allowing all intolerance to fall through my being and forced the quintessence of professionalism to blossom. Nonetheless, using an automated voice recording function, I would document my own progression. “Patient 1: Kenshin, Todai is subjected to a powerful Sedation—a 500mg dose. Now I will begin by cutting precisely into his right palm, creating the outline for his mouth.” Pausing my voice cassette, I did as I promised—I cut. The place carefully running across the surface of his open palm, a small trial of crimson leaking through the slit as I carefully cared in the shape of a perfect oval.

Severing the Hypothenar, ulnar bursa,and the lumbrical muscle; I had to make room. A painful operation which extended into seven hours of simply implanting the items of interest, and reconfiguring his hand to match their needs, I finally incooperated the metacarpals bones. This wasn’t an easy feet, but after twelve long hours, I reached the final segment of my obligation. The sewing process. A solid hour comprised this experience and within the next thirty minutes Todai would awaken—a new mouth to feed being his welcome party. I on the other hand would rest just some feet off to the side, sighing in content.

“Mission complete.”

A crowd formulated outside a small pet store, and before they knew what hit them, the door busted wide open, and rushing outside the doors, a series of animals, all varying in size were released and dispatched into the public as the crowd panicked in a wild frenzy, attempting to flee and standing behind the animal, a boy with dark charcoal hair smiled, patting his hands off and holding a devious snicker to follow his march outside the store. The manager following behind.

"Tch.. Too ea--" Before he could continue, the boy's statement was prematurely halted as he rushed out the sotr, barely evading the incoming broom sweep from the manager who grunted in annoyance as he peered on the perpetuate fleeing the scene. It was odd, he was to o old to keep up with the boy, but felt like he could do anything with his blood pumping so fast. Nonetheless, before he could sigh contently, a red blur emerged unscathed, flashing pass the owner and eventually chasing down the boy ahead.

He was home free, or so he thought as he turned his head, smiling, only to find himself begin forced to the ground by none other then Uchiha Ryusuke himself who currently took it upon himself to stop the 4 cell unit terrorizing the village. Unlike Hana, this boy showed no regret or hesitation, and as such wouldn't be allowed to roam freely without punishment. Tying the back of his hands with steel wire, and handing him over to the local enforcement, they thanked him, and the Uchiha would move on to his next task.

(“Wow… I never really paid much attention,”) I mused purposely to myself examining the exterior shell which was Bit’s body. This young man, most likely not much older than myself stood a staggering tower’s height over me, and appeared much older than his actual age gave credibility to. A self-effacing giant he was though, and that factor alone was reassuring—almost the determining characteristic that would led into my response to his rather simplistic question. I smiled, as it well enough in my own demeanor not to show revulsion or lack of sympathy. It would be nice to canvas the Hi no kuni lands once more with a fellow kinsman.

There, within the confines of the rather large lobby, the Hokage looked on with intent, though calm purple hues. The opposing Uchiha stood with a mellow—though eager undercurrent as he awaited what he longed for, an answer. “Bit-san,” He murmured outwards, almost in such a low monotone that the air of dejection ushered in enthusiastically with the comment itself. This moment of distress (though minute) only pushed the receptionist to look on with sadden eyes. Would the Hokage actually decline such an offer? It was within his right since leaving the village came in scarce opportunity.

“I’d be happy to accompany you on this mission,” The tension was severed and a upshot of crimson exhilaration flooded through the slit. Ryūsuke had accepted his offer and as such verbally directed his receptionist to cancel all engagements for the day so the two would have ample to not only complete the mission, but to get to know one another. A leader was the catalysis for his people—nonetheless that leader had to know the ambitions of those he guided. Today, the scarlet-haired Uchiha would start with a distant relative.

GM

“Though I must warn you,” My words were depressive, and held such a gloomy aura.

While everything in hindsight seemed well and dandy, I couldn’t help but to stress a delicate dynamic I failed to mention prior to now. Truthfully, I couldn’t help but feeling that it was my own exhilaration that allowed to me glide over such a risky detail. Todai was a good man, and while holding onto some rather atypical and stressing qualities in both personality and appearance, his heart was in the right place. Which made the sensitive topic that loomed over my ceiling of thoughts that much harder to express in a casual air. We were delimited by the ignorant bliss of my fellow village men and women. They knew nothing of the life of a Shinobi, and thus, the risks that came with its field.

Clearing my throat, buying previous time in between my sentences to either give my friend a moment of reflection, or his own respective rejoinder, I would then continue with what I had to say. “While I have preformed surgeries more complex than this. Please be aware that the possibility of death is still present. Without the medication that will push you into a comatose state, the main would be enough to tarnish your resolves of energy, and could kill you…. In addition—the sedation’s composition will ultimately deteriorate your immune system and neural receptors. Your body could most likely end up tricking itself into believing your death… then actually terminating involuntarily… if that make senses.” Avoiding the use of complicated medical vocabulary and the subsequent explanations, I would give another moment for the man to digest all I had to say.

Finally after some moments of navigating through the massive avenues of shacks and low-grade markets, we arrived at my home. Roughly the size of a small office building in comparison to a construct within a Hidden Village, the exterior alone was rather dilapidated in unexciting. However if you judged my book by its over—you wouldn’t assume I held a medical brain bred to heal, now would you? “We’re here. “ I offered deliverance in the form of words I then proceeded to opening the door, allowing the shadows from within to slither out and latch onto the two. Todai can enter first. I could at least forward him that luxury.

GM

“Don’t worry yourself,” I had to silence this depression.

True enough, my own home town was rather blossoming and showed no signs of faltering despite its low-economic condition and even more tedious living standards. Compared to a Hidden Village in terms of sophistication and technique, this place was primitive and showed little significance and actually developing itself further in that area of interest. However in activity and good faith, we—the people of Ashigo transcended even that of Sunagakure or any Shinobi-engrossed nation for that matter. This factor came not without a penalty though, and the sole benefactor that allowed us to dominate that area was simple- war.

“Your home, along with others is still recovering from the essence of war. Plague that even diminishes the strong fortress to a simple tree stomp. But you must realize to build a strong nation, you need strong people. Think of what I’m doing for you today as an investment. I’m not only investing time and experience into you, but I’m bequeathing you with my dream. To stand amongst the world as not only a tool of destruction, but a friend to peace itself.”

Was all I could comment with regarding the man’s words. Never one for unnecessary violence, nor a patron of war itself, my profession and standard of living battled it. A medical practitioner I was—and still am, and I saved lives, never had I taken one. Hopefully Todai would do the same with the power I would transplant into his palm in the near future. His secondary declaration had caught me off guard, but he always came as the intelligently curious type. So with that, I’d be rude of me not to answer as I continued down the populated streets and attempted to speak over the masses themselves.

“Well its simple really—first I’ll need to properly analyze your left hand, and gauge both the outer and inner functions. Then I’ll anesthetize you and attempt to mirror its artistic quality into your other hand using a surgical operation that focuses around neural severing and reconstruction, as well as promoting the most effective healing process afterwards. Complex stuff it is indeed, but it can be done—it will be done.”