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Chapter 65 - Medical Treatment
🕑 Added 2025-06-26 10:30:32 +0000 UTCSAKURA HARUNO
The thin mattress crinkled beneath her as she tried to control her breathing. Calm down, she told herself firmly. Stop being such a weirdo about everything.
So what if Eishin-sensei was... unconventional? Sure, he could be arrogant, demanding her complete obedience without explanation.
He never sugarcoated anything either, telling her bluntly when she failed instead of being encouraging like other teachers. And he was stubborn—impossibly, infuriatingly stubborn when he decided something was right.
He was also completely, totally, and irredeemably perverted.
There was the thing with Mom too, but, but he was her sensei now.
That's what mattered.
The small voice that whispered teachers don't usually put their fingers in students' mouths got firmly pushed down.
"Try to relax," his voice came from somewhere above her. "Tension will interfere with the chakra flow."
She felt the mattress shift again as he moved closer. Her shoulders were rigid, she realized, bunched up near her ears like she was bracing for impact.
See? she told herself. You're being ridiculous.
The first touch was clinical—his palm settling carefully over the fabric covering her lower back, warm and steady. Much like earlier, but with her shirt being in the way. All professional. Exactly what a medical ninja would do before beginning treatment.
"The chakra pathways in this region connect directly to the nervous system," he explained, his voice taking on that teaching tone she was beginning to recognize yet made nothing to hide the hunger in it. "When properly stimulated, they can accelerate healing and reduce inflammation significantly."
His hand moved lower, still over her clothes, pressing gently where she knew the worst of the soreness lingered. Even through the fabric, she could feel the controlled warmth of his chakra beginning to work.
This is normal, she reminded herself. This is medical treatment.
But why was her heart beating so fast?
"The clothing will interfere with proper chakra transmission," he said, matter-of-fact. "You'll need to adjust your positioning."
She thought she knew what he meant. She’d seen medical procedures before—well, some—and yeah, didn’t they usually need skin contact or something for the chakra to work right? Probably. It... made sense. At least, she was pretty sure it did.
Her hands shook slightly as she reached back to adjust her clothes.
Earlier, he'd slipped his hand under her shirt, like it was the most normal thing in the world, and now she was the one expected to make space for him. He can be such a pain.
She flinched at the air’s chill, but his hand was already back—warmer than it had any right to be. And she soon got to experience Iryonin first hand and why Eishin was a jounin at such a young age.
The chakra followed, smooth and unhurried, sinking low and deep. Her skin prickled. Her breath hitched. She clenched without meaning to. Her body was just reacting, that was all. Nothing weird. Just unfamiliar. Just a first. Just the technique. Just how good he was.
"Better," he murmured, and she could hear the approval in his voice. "You can feel the difference, can't you?"
She could. The soreness was already fading, replaced by something that felt... nice. Too nice, maybe.
Don't make this weird, she repeated firmly.
But his hands were so warm, and the chakra was doing something strange to her nerve endings, making her feel loose and heavy and strangely liquid. Her fingers curled into the pillow as sensations she didn't want to recognize began building low in her belly.
"The healing process requires patience," he was saying, his hands moving with slow, deliberate precision. "Your body needs time to respond properly to the treatment."
Response. Yes, her body was definitely responding. Her toes curled involuntarily as his chakra found some particularly sensitive spot. Her thighs pressed together without her permission.
Senseis don't... the small voice started again.
Don't what? she argued back. Don't heal their students? Don't use medical ninjutsu? You're being paranoid.
But as his hands moved lower, Sakura's breath caught as his burning palms settled over the actual area where the spanking had landed.
She started having doubts about that. She panicked.
I should tell him, she thought suddenly, the words forming clearly in her mind. I should tell him it doesn't actually hurt that much. That I was crying more from... from everything else.
She opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a soft exhale as his chakra pulsed deeper, sending warmth spreading across her skin in ways that made her thoughts scatter.
Come on, Sakura, say something, she commanded herself. Just tell him you're fine.
But the heat from his palms was making her feel strange and liquid, like her bones were melting. Her lips parted, but instead of words, she just pressed her face deeper into the pillow.
"The damage is more extensive than I initially assessed," he murmured, his hands spreading wider to cover more area. "The chakra disruption extends further than surface bruising typically indicates."
She knew that wasn't entirely true. She knew her own body, knew the difference between real pain and the echo of humiliation. But his touch was doing something to her that made forming coherent thoughts increasingly difficult.
Her fingernails scraped against the mattress fabric as his chakra found some particularly sensitive spot. This feeling was familiar—similar to those late nights when she'd let her hands wander while thinking of Sasuke's intense, dark eyes, his strong hands, the way he moved with such controlled power.
But this was different. More intense. More real.
This is your sensei, the reasonable part of her mind insisted. This is inappropriate.
He's healing you, she argued back, even as her thighs pressed together involuntarily. Medical treatment. Perfectly normal.
His hands moved with slow, thorough movements, covering every inch where the punishment had landed. Each touch sent sparks racing up her spine, making her toes curl and her breathing become increasingly unsteady.
"Your nervous system is quite responsive," he observed, and she could hear something in his voice that made heat bloom across her cheeks. "That's good—it means the treatment is working effectively."
She bit down on her lower lip to keep from making any sound as his chakra pulsed deeper, sending waves of sensation through her entire lower body. Her belly contracted involuntarily, and she had to grip the pillow tighter to keep her hips from moving against the sheet.
The slow, methodical pressure of his hands intensified, his chakra growing warmer and more insistent as it pulsed through her skin. She felt herself sinking deeper into the mattress, her thoughts becoming increasingly hazy.
"The muscle tension here is significant," he murmured, his large hands kneading with firm, strong movements that made her feel small.
Her fingers twisted in the pillow fabric as sensations built layer upon layer. Each movement of his hands sent heat spiraling through her body in ways that reminded her of those secret moments in her room, but magnified beyond anything she'd ever experienced on her own.
This is medical treatment, she told herself desperately, even as her hips pressed involuntarily against the mattress. Just medical treatment.
But his hands were so knowing, finding spots that made her bite back soft sounds, working with the kind of precision that suggested...
No. She wouldn't think about that.
His touch moved lower, inch by inch, his fingers kneading with slow, focused pressure. What had started as treatment spread wider, more thorough, more insistent. The pads of his fingers circled tender muscles at the top of her thighs, drifted over curves that shouldn’t have mattered but somehow did. Each pass sent chakra humming deeper, warmer, thickening in places that had nothing to do with bruising.
His thumb slid close to where her leg met her body, and she held her breath without realizing.
Warmth pulsed there, thick and heavy. Her thighs twitched. She hated that they did.
Then a fingertip swept somewhere soft and defenseless and wrong—something no technique ever called for.
Her whole body jolted. A full-body spike—nerves lit, lungs frozen, thighs clenched before she could stop them. That wasn’t part of anything. That was too close. Too intimate. Too—
Panic tore through the heat like a slap of ice water.
"Wait—" The word came out strangled as she pressed her palms against the mattress, trying to push herself up. "I think I'm—this is enough, sensei, I'm fine now—"
The large hand that settled firmly at the back of her neck stopped her movement completely, pressing her back down with controlled strength that left no room for argument.
"Don't move." The command was low, almost a growl that made something deep in her stomach clench. "Interrupting the treatment at this stage could cause complications. The chakra pathways need to be fully cleared, including the surrounding areas…. this is merely a medical treatment."
His voice carried such absolute authority, such professional certainty, that her panic began to ebb as quickly as it had risen.
…. medical treatment.
Of course. Of course, he was right.
She'd read about incomplete medical treatments, how stopping chakra work partway through could cause worse problems than the original injury. And he was a trained medical shinobi—he would know which areas needed attention, wouldn't he?
She would be just messing things up if she stopped here. Sakura did not want to mess thing up. Again.
The hand at the back of her neck felt… right, somehow. Firm but not forceful. Grounding. Like it belonged there, not to control her, but to steady her. To keep her in place, quiet and safe, while he finished what had to be done. She didn’t resist when it guided her lower. Didn’t question the pressure. It felt natural, inevitable. Like sinking was just the next step.
"Good girl."
The words hit her like warm honey, spreading through her chest and making her entire body relax despite itself. Pride bloomed warm and golden behind her ribs—she'd made the right choice, trusted her sensei instead of her fears.
As perverted as he may be, he was still a jounin, and she was just an inexperienced genin.
To prove she deserved such praise, to show him she could be the kind of student he wanted, her back curved naturally, her hips lifting just slightly to give him better access to complete the treatment properly.
The embarrassment that flooded her ears at the position only proved how much she still had to learn about medical procedures.
He didn’t return to where she’d stopped him. Not right away.
Instead, his hands continued their steady work, kneading slow and firm circles into the flesh of her hips and lower back, radiating chakra in calm, rolling waves.
The rhythm was hypnotic—firm pressure followed by gentle circles, his chakra pulsing in waves that seemed to melt every tension she'd been carrying. Her breathing deepened, shoulders dropping as the last of her fear evaporated under his skilled touch.
She became dimly aware that her short skirt had ridden up completely, leaving only the thin cotton of her black shorts between his hands and her skin. That was all that preserved her modesty now. She knew that. Knew how exposed she must look.
The realization floated through her consciousness without quite sticking.
She should have been embarrassed.
But she wasn’t.
Wasn’t this what people said? That there no shame in front of a doctor? And he was her sensei, her medical professional now, and modesty seemed foolish when he was helping her heal.
The thought drifted away as his chakra worked deeper, making her feel loose and pliant and utterly safe under his care.
All the tensions and the stress and the worries from the mission, from life, melted away under his touch.
He was healing her in more ways than expected.
Sakura was lost in the sensation when she felt it—the gentle pressure of his fingers settling over her most intimate place. No longer just brushing past, but fully there, pressed and still. Her breath caught in her throat, awareness snapping back in as her brain tried to process the sensations.
That's... that's not... The protest formed automatically in her mind. Those folds had only ever known her own tentative exploration, her own fingers.
But the words died on her lips as she bit down hard, forcing herself to remember—this was medical treatment. Professional care.
He would know what areas needed attention, wouldn't he?
