Naruto: Rebuilding the Hidden Sand

Yuji slept deeply that night.

The next morning, he went to the village’s administrative office and officially recorded the ninjutsu he had developed into a scroll for the archives.

Afterward, he made his way to Sunagakure’s hospital.

Because this was still the early stage of the Second Great Ninja War, the infrastructure of the Five Great Ninja Villages, including Konohagakure, was far less developed than it would be in later years.

Sunagakure’s hospital was modest in size, and its interior was plain and functional.

As a medical ninja who had previously interned there, Yuji was free to come and go.

Normally, the hospital treated both ninja and civilians. But during wartime, its halls were filled almost entirely with shinobi pulled back from the battlefield.

There were barely any civilians.

The doctors and medical ninja were overwhelmed, rushing from patient to patient without rest.

There weren’t even enough beds. Many wounded ninja lay on straw mats spread across the floor, waiting for treatment.

And every single one of them was seriously injured.

There were no minor cases.

Yuji wasted no time joining the rescue effort.

Although working in the hospital didn’t offer the same intense growth as treating patients on the battlefield, it was still valuable experience.

Every bit counted.

More importantly, it gave him the chance to refine his medical ninjutsu and strengthen his chakra control.

Even here, the workload was exhausting.

By the time Yuji returned home, it was already late at night.

He hadn’t even eaten dinner.

Lying on his bed, listening to his stomach growl, Yuji stared up at the ceiling.

’The village is running out of money,’ he thought.

There were no resources left for infrastructure. Everything had been poured into the war.

Still...

His work today had made a difference. He had eased the burden on the hospital staff, and many of them had expressed their gratitude.

Strictly speaking, Yuji’s abilities were far beyond theirs.

Thanks to the medical knowledge he had inherited, his understanding of surgery and treatment surpassed anything currently known in this world.

Compared to him, the hospital’s medical system felt primitive.

He closed his eyes.

"I’ve been thinking about this for a while," he murmured softly.

"Before, I didn’t have the chance."

"But now..."

"It’s time for the next step."

...

On the third day, Yuji went to see Chiyo.

After greeting her, he spoke his mind.

"Teaching?" Chiyo repeated, surprised.

"Yes," Yuji said calmly. "I want to train a group of specialized medical personnel for the village."

He paused, choosing his words carefully.

"I’m not talking about medical ninja. I mean ordinary doctors and nurses, people trained specifically in treatment and surgical assistance."

Chiyo’s expression grew thoughtful.

"In addition," Yuji continued, "there are many surgical tools currently missing. If the village can manufacture them, it won’t cost much, but it will greatly improve our medical capabilities."

He met her eyes.

"And if we can improve our treatment success rate, we can save more ninja. That will help the village in this war."

Silence filled the room.

Chiyo didn’t answer immediately. She knew Yuji was a genius.

He had proven himself. But genius or not, he was still only eight years old.

An eight-year-old claiming he could improve the village’s entire medical system...

It sounded absurd.

Yuji understood her hesitation.

"You don’t have to accept it right away," he said gently. "You can observe first. Let me teach one or two people."

"If you’re not satisfied..."

He smiled faintly.

"Then pretend I never said anything."

Chiyo studied him carefully.

She saw no arrogance, no childish boasting.

Only calm certainty, and sincerity.

He was also Sasori’s friend. And if he succeeded, the entire village would benefit.

There was nothing to lose by trying.

Finally, Chiyo’s grip on her teacup loosened.

"Very well," she said.

In the end, Chiyo agreed, with a smile.

After all, geniuses were entitled to a few small privileges.

In her eyes, Yuji was still just a child. The praise he had received after returning from his mission had likely gone to his head. It was only natural for someone his age to overestimate himself.

Perhaps this would be a good lesson. Even geniuses needed to learn their limits.

If this experience humbled him, it would only help him mature.

With Chiyo’s approval secured, Yuji wasted no time. He threw himself completely into his work.

At the hospital, his role gradually shifted. He was no longer just treating patients.

Now, he explained every step of his procedures to those assisting him, his reasoning, his methods, and the principles behind his decisions.

At first, the veteran medical staff were uncomfortable.

Being taught by an eight-year-old child was not something they could easily accept.

But Chiyo had given the order, they had no choice. Still, as the days passed, their attitudes began to change.

Yuji’s lessons were not childish fantasies.

They were precise and logical. Backed by knowledge far beyond his years.

For the same injuries, his methods produced faster recoveries.

The results spoke for themselves, there was no need for formal evaluation.

The improvement was obvious.

By day, Yuji worked tirelessly in the hospital.

By night, he returned home and painstakingly wrote medical manuals by hand for the staff to study.

These texts represented only a fraction of his knowledge.

He focused on what the village needed most, battlefield trauma, emergency care, and surgical efficiency.

Even so, the impact was enormous.

Three months passed.

By the end, even Chiyo herself came to observe, and learn.

She listened quietly as Yuji explained concepts she had never considered before.

A village like Sunagakure was neither too large nor too small. Every ninja who returned alive was someone’s child.

Someone’s parent, someone’s family.

As the hospital’s success spread, word of Yuji spread with it. The people began calling him something new.

The Divine Doctor.

And this...

This was exactly what Yuji wanted.

He didn’t care how extraordinary his talent seemed. What mattered was something else.

He wanted the village leadership to understand his value. To realize they needed him.

That they could not afford to lose him.

Everything he had done had been for one purpose: To rise.

Yuji understood something few others did.

On the battlefield, ninja shed their blood for the village. But the civilians at home never saw those sacrifices firsthand. They didn’t experience the battlefield.

They experienced the hospital, and the person who saved them.

Reputation built through war belonged to the battlefield, but reputation built through healing belonged to the people.

Yuji chose the latter.

It was unfair.

Unfair to those who fought and died in obscurity.

But fairness...

Had never ruled this world.