As a Grey Knight In Naruto

Chapter 32 – He already Knew.

The lanterns swayed gently in the clinic's hallway, their amber light casting long, trembling shadows over the polished wooden floor. It was late afternoon, and the scent of antiseptics clung faintly to the air, a sharp, medicinal note mixed with the earthy quiet of Tanzaku Quarters.

Hajime stood by a patient bed, sleeves rolled up, palm hovering just inches over a man's mottled, inflamed leg. The merchant, likely from the caravan that had arrived earlier in the day, gritted his teeth in pain.

burns had eaten into his calf, darkening veins and crisping skin in web-like patterns.

"Third-degree Burn," murmured Shizune from across the room, shaking her head. "He's lucky he didn't lose the whole limb."

Tsunade leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, bored. "Let's see how the boy handles this one."

But Hajime didn't flinch. He didn't reach for bandages or salves. He didn't activate the Mystical Palm. Instead, he closed his eyes, and breathed.

From within his chest, the second heart beat steadily, syncing perfectly with his natural pulse. Blood surged. Oxygen flooded. His mind sharpened like a blade drawn across whetstone.

And then, he let go.

Blue-white light shimmered across his hand. Not quite chakra. Not quite visible. A hum of pressure rippled through the room, barely perceptible to most, but unmistakable to Tsunade. She straightened slightly. Watched.

Without touching the skin, Hajime reached with psychic intent.

He didn't heal the wound by closing it.

He rebuilt it. Cell by cell. Layer by layer.

Torn muscle tissue unraveled and rewove.

Severed nerves stitched back into place. The crusted black tissue dissolved and regrew with healthy color, guided not by scalpel or touch, but by his sheer will. From a distance, it looked like time itself was reversing on the wound.

The merchant blinked, stunned. "I—I don't feel anything…"

Hajime smiled gently. "You won't. It's already done."

Tsunade stepped forward now, eyes narrowed. "What the hell was that?"

Hajime didn't turn. He simply began cleaning the patient's leg with a warm cloth, as if nothing unusual had occurred. "Just a technique I've been practicing."

"That wasn't Mystical Palm," Tsunade pressed. "And it wasn't the Chakra Scalpel. It… sculpted the cells. Without touching them."

"I studied your scrolls," he offered softly.

She said nothing for a moment. Her gaze remained fixed on his hand as though trying to peel back skin and bone to see the truth beneath. But the results were there.

She couldn't argue with what had just happened.

"Go clean up," she finally said, turning her back. "We've got more incoming."

Yet as she walked away, she glanced back once, and her eyes no longer held the look of a mentor watching a student.

They held the weight of a mind confronting something it did not understand.

And maybe couldn't surpass.

...

Night fell.

The clinic grew quiet except for the rustle of bedrolls and distant coughing from the recovery room. Hajime leaned against a wall, sipping tea, his thoughts elsewhere.

Then the door burst open.

Two villagers stormed in, dragging a limp, blood-covered teenager between them.

"He's not breathing!" one shouted.

Shizune rushed forward, catching the boy before he hit the floor. Blood poured from his side, collapsed lung, crushed ribs,

arrhythmic pulse. She looked to Tsunade, panic rising. But Tsunade wasn't there.

She was gone.

Probably still in town, drinking.

"Get the operating room ready!" Shizune shouted.

"No time," Hajime said, already kneeling.

"What?! We need to"

"I've got him."

He placed one hand over the boy's chest.

And then silence fell.

His eyes fluttered closed.

He wasn't reading chakra flow.

He was mapping the boy's body with pure thought. A scan more precise than any Byakugan, any sensor jutsu. His mind slipped through blood and flesh like mist through a battlefield. Every fracture. Every tear. Every failing beat.

He reached inward, into the Warp.

And he gave correction.

Internal bleeding halted. Ribs straightened with a gentle push of kinetic energy shaped into slender, invisible threads. One lung reinflated. The other cleared. A final pulse of power, subtle and golden, touched the boy's heart.

The beat returned.

Steady.

Alive.

When Hajime opened his eyes, the boy was breathing again.

Shizune stared, her voice caught in her throat. "I… that should've required full surgery. How did you—?"

Footsteps thundered down the hall.

Tsunade appeared, out of breath, half-dressed from her walk back. "What happened?!"

Hajime stood calmly. "The bleeding's stopped. Lungs are stable. He'll need bed rest."

She looked at the boy, then at him.

And for a moment, all the light in the room seemed to dim around her.

"That… wasn't ninjutsu," she whispered.

"No," he agreed.

Tsunade said nothing more. But the way she looked at him changed in that moment.

Not just as a mentor watching her student.

But as a woman who had just seen something that shouldn't exist.

And couldn't ignore it anymore.

Two days later, a fresh wave of injured arrived.

A collapsed bridge. A civilian cart buried in the rubble. Most were bruised, bloodied, shaken.

But one

One was barely alive.

A courier boy no older than twelve. His abdomen split open. Organs exposed. Blood pouring from his stomach like water from a broken pipe.

Tsunade was the first to reach him. She dropped to her knees, and froze.

The blood.

The way it smelled. The way it moved.

Her eyes widened. Her hands trembled.

A memory struck like lightning.

Nawaki.

Dan.

Their bodies broken. Their blood soaking into her hands no matter how hard she tried to hold it back.

Her breath shortened. Her vision narrowed.

"No," she whispered. "No, not now—"

Hajime was already at her side.

He didn't speak.

He didn't question.

He simply took her hand.

Moved it gently aside.

"I'll handle this."

She couldn't speak. Couldn't even stop him.

He slid into the space where she couldn't go.

And did what had to be done.

His chakra was calm. Focused. But deeper still, his psychic will enveloped the boy's failing body. Arteries sealed. The stomach was guided back into place. The bleeding stopped. And the child breathed again.

By the time Tsunade found her voice, it was over.

Hajime poured her a cup of tea, steam rising from the surface like a gentle offering.

"You don't have to prove anything," he said quietly. "You're the greatest medic in the world. That won't change."

She didn't reply.

She just stared at him.

And for the first time in a very long time…

She felt something loosen in her chest.

Not shame.

Not pain.

But trust.

....

That night, long after the clinic had gone quiet, Tsunade sat by the window, the cup he gave her still warm in her hand.

She thought of his hands. His voice. His presence.

He already knew her fear blood.

He never mocked her fear.

Never asked about it.

Never tried to "fix" her.

He simply stepped in when she needed someone, and said nothing after.

That was power.

And that was kindness.

She looked at the moon, silver light pouring across the courtyard.

And for a long time, she wondered…

Who was this boy?

And what exactly had he become?

.....

End of Chapter 32 – He already Knew.