There were three things that were certain in a shinobi's life. Pain, death and medical examinations. It only made sense that the village would want routine inspection of its assets physical well being, even if it neglected their mental health much more often than it should. As such, it was in these exact circumstances that our unlikely hero of the Miroku clan found himself summoned to the Omni Prime Medical Facility one far too early of a morning. Unsurprising, Shinobi were not early birds, and it seemed that the jounin found himself on the short end of the stick of life once again.
Though she had no hand in this, performing these routine examinations had become one of the aspiring medical shinobi's near daily tasks. Her studies of practical medicine had been progressing steadily, but she still seemed to be almost incapable of learning some of the more nuanced techniques required in her study. As such, she had been delegated to this lovely bit of routine until she managed to progress on her basic requirements. At first it frustrated her, but before long she began to enjoy the work. It was not long after that before she began to be irritated by it once again, but not because of the work itself, but because of more of her failings that it represented.
Though this work, she was becoming more and more experienced with the strange physiology of some of the more interesting clans and bloodlines that flowed throughout the village. Skin that could harden to stone, shinobi that could control their own blood, and other stranger conditions. The medic in training was not the smartest nor the brightest, but she had an insatiable curiosity that could drag her kicking and screaming across lines that only intelligent and most driven could make their way across. It was this curiosity and determination that kept here standing patiently inside the small examination room, waiting for an all too familiar patient who she was beginning to think might not even show up. Did he even know where the hospital was?
Though she had no hand in this, performing these routine examinations had become one of the aspiring medical shinobi's near daily tasks. Her studies of practical medicine had been progressing steadily, but she still seemed to be almost incapable of learning some of the more nuanced techniques required in her study. As such, she had been delegated to this lovely bit of routine until she managed to progress on her basic requirements. At first it frustrated her, but before long she began to enjoy the work. It was not long after that before she began to be irritated by it once again, but not because of the work itself, but because of more of her failings that it represented.
Though this work, she was becoming more and more experienced with the strange physiology of some of the more interesting clans and bloodlines that flowed throughout the village. Skin that could harden to stone, shinobi that could control their own blood, and other stranger conditions. The medic in training was not the smartest nor the brightest, but she had an insatiable curiosity that could drag her kicking and screaming across lines that only intelligent and most driven could make their way across. It was this curiosity and determination that kept here standing patiently inside the small examination room, waiting for an all too familiar patient who she was beginning to think might not even show up. Did he even know where the hospital was?