CHAPTER 45: CHAPTER 24 AH SONG, AH SONG_3

Of course, he wasn’t exactly broke. He was now a junior retainer of Oda Nobunaga, and Oda Nobunaga was a super-rich third-generation heir. His income was actually pretty decent—an annual salary of twenty-five kan, plus an equivalent amount of rice as support. But this money and grain weren’t just for himself. He had to fulfill military duties, follow Oda Nobunaga into battle, and the funds needed to go toward recruiting a few household retainers from the Lang Faction to assist him in battle. He also had to provide horses, armor, and weapons for himself and his retainers. You could say it was just barely enough.

Especially since he was young and tended to spend money a bit recklessly. He’d just bought a good horse, and not only had he almost used up all his own funds, he even borrowed some money from Sawaki Fujihachirō Ryōji—his own younger brother, who had been sent to the Sawake family as an adopted son. Right now his pockets were cleaner than his face.

Earlier, he was in such a rush to save someone, terrified that Ah Song wouldn’t make it, that he couldn’t worry about any of this. Now, just talking about it made him feel deeply embarrassed; he kept rubbing the hilt of his sword, unsure if Harano would be willing to accept temporary credit.

If not, he’d just have to leave his horse here for collateral and go find Oda Nobunaga to get an advance on his salary.

After all, facing a respectable person—even if you’re a kabukimono and not one for rules—it’d be really awkward not to pay your debts. That’d just be way too disgraceful.

Harano was carefully picking out herbs, afraid of making a mistake and accidentally poisoning Ah Song to death. He didn’t have time to think that much. After doing some quick mental math on the cost, he said, "Don’t worry about the herbs you stepped on. You were in a hurry to save someone. For the medicine to treat the illness... just give me thirty-five mon!"

That was about the price of ten-something pounds of polished rice. After all, Harano wasn’t practicing medicine to get rich; he wasn’t looking to fleece patients like they were fat sheep—so this was his standard fee, just a little profit on top—what he really wanted was a good reputation. He was happy with a small profit. If it were an ordinary villager, he’d have taken ten mon or even a single to of mixed grains; the wild herbs you could gather at random really weren’t worth much. Or rather, the recipes from the Barefoot Doctor’s Manual basically never used expensive medicinal materials—everything was cheap and easy to collect.

And now, he was more and more satisfied with his decision to be a doctor, ready to stick with this path and keep it up.

The example was right in front of his eyes: Maeda Toshie, on his own family’s land, wasn’t exactly known for being obedient or mild-mannered. He was the type to pull his sword at the drop of a hat and nearly got into a slashing match with Ah Man—not to mention, he was as young and impulsive as they came. But toward him, Toshie was all manners and respect, even talking in a subdued voice, afraid to be too loud. Goes to show, doctors command universal respect no matter the era.

This path was definitely the right choice. It was super safe and would absolutely help his survival rate!

"Thirty-five mon?" Maeda Toshie froze. He’d seen Harano’s miraculous medical skills and figured the herbs used must be precious—he thought it’d cost at least three to five kan. If three or five kan could save Ah Song’s little life, he’d already feel like he’d hit the jackpot. And it turns out it was just the change?

Harano bundled up the medicine in straw paper, tied it with a hemp cord, and even copied the "hooked finger handle" trick he learned from modern pharmacies before handing it over. Noticing what Toshie was getting at, he said offhandedly, "What’s wrong, you short on cash? If it’s inconvenient right now, no worries, treating the illness comes first—we can talk about the money later."

"No, no, I have it." Maeda Toshie, with an annual income of fifty kan as a Samurai, could still scrape together thirty or fifty mon, no matter how tight things got. He immediately fished out the money and handed it over, blurting out with honest admiration, "Truly, thank you, Harano-dono. I can’t believe it’s so cheap."

Cheap?

Harano had been like a sleepyhead longing for his pillow, and now that the pillow came to him, he didn’t hesitate. Glancing around at the variety of herbs in the yard, he seized the moment to flex his acting skills, and said coolly, "Even though it’s cheap, nobody comes to see a doctor."

"How come?" Maeda Toshie looked puzzled. With Harano’s medical skills, this shabby little yard should have been bursting at the seams.

"No idea, maybe they worry I’m out to scam them!" Harano idly flipped through the herbs, face still calm, yet there was a subtle note of disheartened resignation—acting skills on point. "Initially, seeing there was no doctor here and people fell sick with no one to treat them, I wanted to help out. But looking at things now, guess I was overthinking it."

Maeda Toshie paused for a moment, then, feeling sincere gratitude, immediately displayed that youthful eagerness unique to his age. Gripping the sword hilt, he volunteered, "If you don’t mind, please allow me to lend you a hand!"

"Suit yourself, but you may not actually be able to help. These things can’t be forced." Harano was still a newbie actor—his performance couldn’t be turned on and off at will. Even though he’d achieved his goal, he was still caught up in the act and only replied coolly, as if he didn’t care, still acting all high and mighty.

Maeda Toshie didn’t mind at all. In fact, he was now even more certain he’d discovered a "hidden master" among the commoners. He rolled up his sleeves, eager and excited: "Just leave it to me!"

He was confident—here in Hibi Village, who dared not come to see the doctor? He’d punch them till they shit their pants, in three hits or less!