- Ryo-sensei, there's another badly wounded man coming in!
- Have them put him on that bed by the door, and while I'm at it, do some first aid," I said, keeping my eyes on the moaning shinobi, whose right side was a mess of blood and flesh with broken bones and limbs.
I don't know about another wounded man, but this one might not live to see the morning if we abandon him now.
- Okay, sensei," the Uchiha skulked outside and began giving orders to the men who were delivering another wounded man to the hospital.
Somehow the kunoichi who had dropped by a few times to improve her skills in the use of the mystic hand had become my apprentice and then my assistant as she gained experience. And there was a lot to gain - the result of our outing was not only my page in the search book with a reward of two hundred thousand ryo and basic information, but also more frequent raids of Iwagakure shinobi in our direction.
More precisely, once again increasing in frequency, since after talking to a few of the camp's rare old-timers, I'd discovered that it was a constant practice of wave attacks by single groups looking to knock out the contingent of this stronghold before attempting to wipe it out. In the past, when there wasn't even a marginally competent medic here, the casualties were horrendous, as the wounded died without proper care before they could be taken to the main camp. Now I was taking care of them and the casualties were greatly reduced.
Some were back in action in a couple days, and everyone else was sent to a normal main force field hospital once a week. I can't say I was able to save everyone, or even provide most of them with normal medical care like in Konoha, but none of my patients died after treatment. Only before or during. And there were more such cases than when I worked in the village. Naturally, under such harsh conditions, I jumped at the chance to get an assistant with an iron grip and even got the post commander to stop Chifuyu from going on patrol like me. I suspect it was only because Ikki-san had already recognized the drop in irreparable losses and the lack of disgruntled Uchiha jonin nearby.
And thanks to me, the number of shinobi in the camp was growing steadily - despite the reduced losses and returning fighters, reinforcements continued to arrive in the same quantity, constantly reducing the workload on everyone else and allowing the commander to distribute patrol shifts in such a way as to give his subordinates much-needed rest. I mean, not four hours of sleep and two for everything else, but a full twenty-four hours to recuperate.
I suspect that our cunning commander is either not sending the right reports regarding our post, or that the main camp is so used to the constant losses on this section of the front that they have not seen fit to change the number of reinforcements sent. I'd had the idea that the post was just a place to grind up clan shinobi who didn't like it, but without clear evidence, suspicions remained suspicions. But there had been very few clanless shinobi arriving in the last six weeks compared to everyone else, and I hadn't seen any Sarutobi here at all.
I took a deep breath, wiped away the sweat on my forehead, and sank down heavily onto the crude artisanal stool that was replacing the furniture in the infirmary. The boy's life was out of danger, so I could rest a while before I started on the next one. I collected the shattered bones and even fused them a bit so that they wouldn't separate from the movement, and repaired the most severe muscle injuries. The rest of the recovery and healing would have to be done by the shinobi's body.
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