Following Nara Takuma's orders, every ninja stationed at the camp devoted themselves fully to supporting Akira's treatment plan.
The medical teams swiftly reorganized the poisoned according to the severity of their symptoms. Those with milder conditions were stabilized using conventional medical ninjutsu and supportive techniques, granting them precious time. The severely afflicted, however, were entrusted entirely to Akira, who took it upon himself to fight the poison directly, his skills offering the best chance of survival.
Determined to save as many lives as possible, Akira pushed his limits further than ever before. With gritted teeth, he created ten shadow clones — a number that surpassed anything he'd attempted even in his most brutal training sessions with Might Guy. His body trembled under the weight of the chakra consumption, his vision occasionally blurring, but he pressed on. He couldn't afford to rest, not while his comrades' lives hung by a thread.
Exhaustion clawed at his every fiber, threatening to pull him under, but his determination outshone his weariness. As his chakra reserves dwindled dangerously low, other medical ninjas rotated in, channeling recovery techniques to replenish his strength just enough to keep going. The cycle repeated endlessly: exhaustion, replenishment, and back into the fray. But no matter how hard Akira pushed, the number of severe cases seemed to grow faster than he could treat them.
He knew there was one more option, one final ace up his sleeve: his phantom clones. These clones, born from a forbidden technique, possessed chakra reserves greater than his own. If he summoned them, his efficiency would skyrocket. But that secret wasn't one he could risk exposing, not even in desperate times. Akira's drive to save lives warred with the need to protect the hidden truths that might one day decide his fate.
Despite the struggle, the tide of tragedy slowed. The experience he gained with each treated patient sharpened his knowledge of the Sand Village's deadly new toxin. He learned where the venom lingered most stubbornly, which organs it crippled first, and how the body fought back. With this growing understanding, Akira drafted a meticulous, methodical treatment plan — a blueprint that could be shared.
Under his watchful eye, the camp's medical ninjas learned the process step by step. Though Akira could ease a patient through the agony using his Sharingan to induce deep hypnosis, the others lacked that advantage. Their only recourse was to rely on brute force, restraining patients to operating tables while enduring their screams of raw pain. Anesthesia risked masking symptoms or interfering with the poison's reactions, and so the treatment was a grueling affair for all involved.
But Akira had been right. While the others' treatments weren't perfect — some residual toxins lingered, often leading to relapses that would require future treatment — the process bought the patients invaluable time. No longer did the camp watch helplessly as comrades withered away, succumbing to the poison's advance. The panic eased, replaced by cautious hope.
Word of Akira's breakthrough spread like wildfire through the front lines. Other camps, struggling with the same deadly poison, sent urgent requests for assistance. Nara Takuma summoned Akira once again to discuss the matter, recognizing both the necessity and the logistical nightmare of what the request entailed. Dozens of camps scattered across the Wind Country battlefront needed the technique. How could one boy possibly reach them all?
When Akira promised to deliver, Takuma's skepticism was obvious. But the young Uchiha had a plan. He calmly formed the hand seals and, with a sharp exhale, summoned twenty shadow clones. The sight left Takuma and the nearby officers momentarily speechless. To witness a shinobi so young produce that many clones, and remain standing, was rare.
Yet Takuma's tactical mind quickly pointed out the flaw: shadow clones usually couldn't travel far from their original body without destabilizing. Akira, however, offered quiet assurance. This was a problem he'd solved long ago, thanks to his father, Uchiha Chiya, who had honed the Shadow Clone Technique to perfection in his own career as an intelligence operative. Chiya had used long-distance clones for espionage, training Akira in the same elusive art.
Moreover, Akira's own evolution — the awakening of his Mangekyō Sharingan and his mastery of phantom clones — had strengthened his ability to sustain clones across extreme distances. Though he himself didn't know the limits, he was confident they could reach every camp.
Trusting in Akira's judgment, Takuma dispatched escort squads to accompany the clones across the desert wastelands. Within days, each camp had received Akira's knowledge firsthand, and the tides of despair began to turn. His clones not only shared the method but even stayed to help personally cure the most critical cases, buying even more time for recovery efforts.
When Akira finally recalled his shadow clones, the flood of memories confirmed their success. Konoha's forces no longer lived under the shadow of certain death from the Sand Village's poison. It wasn't a complete victory — many of the afflicted had suffered lasting damage, their fighting strength diminished. But at the very least, the worst was over.
Still, Akira's heart remained heavy. He knew that without a true antidote, these makeshift solutions could only hold the line. Somewhere in the hidden laboratories of the Sand Village, a poison master had crafted this nightmare. Until an antidote was developed, each soldier's life remained a gamble.
The clock was still ticking, and Akira understood: the war was far from over. This was only the beginning.
At the Wind Country battlefield, the war neared its end, but it grew fiercer with every passing day.
Konoha's forces were stretched thin. Due to the worsening shortage of manpower, personnel were constantly being transferred from other battlefields. Even Genin who had once been relegated to logistical support roles were now being thrown into the chaos of the front lines.
These young ninja, barely trained in combat, struggled to find their footing amidst the blood-soaked sand. Their inexperience cost Konoha dearly—casualties rose with each skirmish.
Among the fortunate few who fared better were Akira's teammates, Anko and Hayate. Though still young, they had been assigned to missions under Orochimaru's direct leadership. The normally reclusive Sannin, a figure of myth and menace, had begun taking to the field himself. The manpower shortage had become so dire that even Kage-level shinobi were now executing missions they would never have touched before.
But this method was unsustainable.
The lifeblood of the village—its shinobi—was running dry. If nothing changed, Konoha's defenses would collapse. There was only one path forward that offered a glimmer of hope: the early development of an antidote for the deadly poisons the Sand used in their arsenal.
It was at this moment of desperation that Konoha's higher-ups remembered Tsunade.
The Sannin. The Slug Princess. Heir to Hashirama's legacy.
If they could bring her back, her expertise could dramatically accelerate the development of an antidote. More than that, she was a battlefield juggernaut. Her presence alone could turn the tide.
But there was a problem: Tsunade had vanished.
A notorious gambler with infamously poor luck, she was buried under mountains of debt. To avoid her creditors, Tsunade frequently changed disguises and lived in the shadows. Even her former mentor, the Third Hokage, no longer knew where she was.
A high-level meeting was called. The Third Hokage, along with Konoha's elders and advisors, deliberated for hours. In the end, they agreed: only Jiraiya and Orochimaru—Tsunade's fellow Sannin—might know enough about her habits and haunts to find her.
Summoned before the Hokage, Jiraiya and Orochimaru listened as the grim situation was laid bare. They understood immediately. The battlefield was cracking beneath their feet.
Yet both knew Tsunade's departure wasn't born of whim. She had left the village not only out of grief, but deep disillusionment. Her pleas to equip every shinobi squad with a medic-nin had been ignored, and the result was tragedy—her younger brother Nawaki and her beloved Dan had died on missions that might have been survivable.
Her faith in the village had shattered.
Neither Orochimaru nor Jiraiya were confident in their ability to bring her back.
But then Jiraiya offered a suggestion: what if someone Tsunade had a personal connection to was the one to find her?
Not a stranger. Not a fellow Sannin. But someone she might still care about.
He proposed sending Shizune—the niece of Dan Kato. The bond of family, and the shadow of Dan's memory, might be enough to move Tsunade.
The Third Hokage agreed. But sending Shizune alone was risky. She was only a Chunin, and the journey would be long and fraught with danger.
He turned to Jiraiya and Orochimaru again. Were there any others Tsunade had once been close to?
After a moment's thought, Orochimaru spoke.
"What about my disciple—Uchiha Akira?"
At first, the Hokage was surprised. But Orochimaru continued.
"His mother, Saki, once studied medical ninjutsu under Tsunade. Before she married into the Uchiha clan, the two were close—both as fellow kunoichi and distant relatives. Tsunade doted on her junior apprentice. Akira might be the key."
Orochimaru went on to explain that Akira's growth had been nothing short of extraordinary. Even before leaving Konoha, his strength surpassed that of a typical Jonin. Under Orochimaru's guidance, Akira had flourished further—mastering advanced ninjutsu, sharpening his combat skills, and gaining battlefield experience. He was now firmly at the level of an elite Jonin.
A two-man team of Akira and Shizune would be discreet enough to avoid drawing attention from rival villages like Sunagakure, yet powerful enough to survive the mission. Orochimaru's voice carried conviction. The plan was solid.
The Hokage reflected on the boy. He remembered when Akira had first enrolled in the Academy—bright-eyed, quiet, gifted. He had once worried that exposing such a child to the horrors of war might break him.
And now... he was placing the hopes of Konoha's survival in his hands.
Still, the team would need a leader—someone seasoned.
Orochimaru and Jiraiya were too essential to be pulled from the front lines. But Jiraiya had another idea.
"What about Minato Namikaze?"
At this time, Minato had not yet earned the title of Yellow Flash. He was simply a Jonin, but Jiraiya knew better than anyone how formidable his student truly was.
What's more, Minato's wife—Kushina Uzumaki—was distantly related to Tsunade through the Uzumaki clan. The connection might help.
Coincidentally, Minato's team had just returned from a mission. Obito and Rin were wounded and recovering, leaving Minato idle.
The Third Hokage agreed without hesitation. Minato was the perfect choice to lead.
Orders were dispatched immediately.
Akira and Shizune, both deep in their own duties, received their summons. Akira had been working tirelessly on developing a rudimentary antidote to the Sand's poison. He had seen too much death already. He knew how crucial Tsunade's return could be.
He was surprised to learn that Shizune had not yet become Tsunade's disciple. This mission, then, would be the beginning of their bond—the key to unlocking the antidote.
Akira, however, couldn't help but wonder why he had been chosen.
His mother had never spoken of her past, nor of her connection to Tsunade.
Still, the opportunity to meet Tsunade thrilled him. In his past life, he had been a globally renowned doctor. In this world, he had worked relentlessly to marry chakra theory with his old-world knowledge.
Now, he was about to meet the greatest medical ninja this world had ever seen.
He would win her over—with logic, with words, and if necessary, with the silver-tongued charm and devastating good looks he knew how to wield.
And perhaps, in that meeting, he would not only bring Tsunade back to Konoha—but rise further on his own path, fusing the medicine of two worlds into something neither had ever seen.