Poison and dicine are often just differences in dosage and proportion. (Poisons purely composed of chakra are an exception, but perhaps not entirely an exception.)
Whether poison or dicine, ingredient or dicinal material, once they enter the human body, they follow the sa underlying logic.
They are absorbed, transford, and act on specific organs or systems, ultimately producing a specific result.
What the Gourt talent gave him was precisely a deep insight into what happens when substances enter the human body.
When combined with his dical knowledge, it created a wondrous chemical reaction.
He could not only understand the chanism of a dicine from a dical perspective but also, like tasting a dish, perceive the flow path of each component within the body, distinguish which organs it affected, and predict where it would spread next.
Like a top chef who, just by slling and looking, can determine the proportion of each seasoning and the heat of each step in a dish.
To him, Chiyo's carefully formulated composite poison was rely a dish with a slightly more complicated recipe, just like a dark cuisine.
But Shinichi did not say this, because how can an answer obtained too easily elicit overwhelming gratitude and unwavering loyalty?
Casually saying, "I know how to cure it, then preparing the antidote would indeed further display his image as a dical genius.
But that is completely different from the shock and binding effect brought by risking one's life and sharing life and death with comrades.
The forr is a capable person, worthy of respect.
The latter is one of their own, worthy of entrusting everything to, including future choices.
What he wanted was recognition rooted in the soul, gratitude forged at the edge of life and death, and the certainty that no matter what choices lay ahead, these people would stand behind him without hesitation.
And through word of mouth from these people, to bind the na Shinichi Higashino firmly with concepts like self-sacrifice, absolute reliability, and soone to whom one can entrust their life.
Therefore, he needed to be poisoned.
He needed to show, in front of everyone, an absolute sense of responsibility and a willingness to sacrifice to save his comrades.
'Look, I dared to stake my own life to save you.'
'I tasted the poison you suffered, endured the pain you bore, and then led you out of despair.'
'From this mont on, your lives are no longer just your own; they are now inseparably connected to , Shinichi Higashino.'
'So be grateful and rember my actions.'
Shinichi silently said those words in his heart.
'And then, one day in the future, repay with your trust, your voices, your choices.'
'After all… '
He raised his head and looked toward the gradually brightening sky outside the tent, a faint smile curling at the corner of his lips.
'I used my own life to save you.'
...
A few hours later, Tsunade returned, only to learn so news that nearly drove her crazy: that brat had actually used himself to test the poison on that old woman Chiyo!
Is that kid crazy?
How dare he?
What if sothing goes wrong?
The more she thought about it, the angrier she beca, and the more anxious she got, the faster she walked.
Tsunade stord into the tent, the curtain being flung high, bringing in a gust of cold wind, her eyes burning with rage.
But when she saw what was inside the tent, she stopped in her tracks.
The boy was standing among rows of hospital beds, slowly making his rounds.
From ti to ti, he bent down, softly asking a wounded person about their condition, then reached out to feel their forehead and carefully checked the reaction of their pupils.
The wounded, weakly nodding, looked at him with eyes full of gratitude and trust.
He walked slowly and deliberately, observing and recording, the lamplight reflecting on his calm face.
It was as if nothing had happened.
Tsunade stood at the tent entrance, her anger suddenly dissipating for so reason.
She tiptoed and slowly walked up to the boy.
She didn't speak and just watched him quietly.
Shinichi raised his head and t her gaze. His eyes remained calm, offering no explanation or defense, only speaking softly: "Tsunade-sensei, I'm sorry for making you worry."
Tsunade looked at him and remained silent for a few seconds.
"Why?"
"Tsunade-sensei, do you rember that ti at the barbecue restaurant a year ago?"
Shinichi spoke softly.
"I've said it before, I'm an orphan, the village raised , Konoha is my ho, and the people in the village are my family."
"I was just protecting my family."
"Just like those predecessors who protected the village and back then."
"I am simply keeping my promise."
"It's that simple."
Tsunade looked at him, looked into his calm eyes, opened her mouth as if to say sothing, but found the words stuck in her throat, unable to co out.
What had initially been a bellyful of anger vanished completely at that mont.
Instead, a more complex emotion erged.
Tsunade looked at the boy, remained silent for a long ti, and finally sighed.
That sigh contained helplessness, heartache, pride, and sothing else that was hard to describe.
"Be more careful next ti."
After she finished speaking, she turned and walked away quickly, as if she were running away from sothing.
Shinichi stood there, watching her figure disappear through the tent entrance, his expression still calm and without a ripple. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.
...
That evening at 8 pm, in the Hokage building conference room in Konoha. After the outbreak of war, at 8 pm every day, the Konoha Council would gather to discuss the situation on the front lines.
The third Hokage sat in the main seat, with Koharu Utatane and Homura Mitokado on both sides.
Danzo Shimura remained seated in the darkest corner, expressionless and silent.
An Anbu mber presented the latest frontline report to the third Hokage and the three advisors.
The report clearly docunts everything that happened this morning.
The expressions of the third Hokage, Koharu Utatane, and Homura Mitokado were first solemn, then filled with lingering fear, and finally, almost simultaneously, they froze, falling into a kind of daze.
The barrier of ti seed to have been breached, and figures from two different eras, yet possessing strikingly similar cores, overlapped at this mont, separated by the words on the report.
"This child…"
Koharu, who was turning over the page, was the first to break free from this imnse trance and shock. She took a deep, extrely slow breath, as if trying to suppress so surging emotions, her expression indescribably complex.
Homura Mitokado slowly leaned back in his chair, took off his glasses, rubbed his sore nose, and fell into a deep silence, lost in thought.
As the third Hokage continued to rub his pipe, his thoughts drifted back to that rainy night four years ago. At that mont, he knew that the child who had once told Kakashi in the cetery, I'll cover your retreat, had fulfilled his promise.
Four years ago, in the cetery, he told his companion, who had lost his father, that if they encountered a desperate situation, he would cover his retreat.
Four years later, he told his dying compatriots on the front lines that if sacrifice was necessary, then he would be the one to test the poison.
This child said it, and he did it.
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