1
It is finally over.
But her job is far from over. There are no free beds anywhere. She spends her hours with sutures, amputated limbs, infections … Despite the gloves, she is almost certain that her hands will forever be stained with the sensation of blood, because the latex does nothing to shield her from the sticky warmth, and no number of surgical masks can get the scent of iron and zinc out of her nostrils.
When she is not elbow deep in someone’s chest cavity, she is hiding in some momentarily secluded corner of the hospital, because no corner of the hospital remains secluded for long, letting her eyelids rest for a moment. And in those moments, all her mind can conjure is the sensation of fear. Fear as more and more wounded kept being dropped off at the first-aid tents, fear as she had to make calls.
Time of death, number x, no family.
The fear as she watched a whole freaking goddess appear seemingly out of nowhere. The fear as she stuck her hand inside Naruto’s ribcage, the sensation of his heart in her hand as she tried, and tried, to pump it back to life. Fear coursing through her veins, ice cold, dreading losing him.
She shudders now when she thinks of it, and she wonders at how she was able to keep going, how she was able to keep her composure. She got a pat on the back from Tsunade for her troubles. She didn’t really expect anything at all, as a medic she had only done her job, anything less and she would have been admonished. But she got a pat on the back, because one of her accomplishments was saving Naruto. Had it been anybody other than Naruto, she wouldn’t have even gotten that. This small token of gratitude she had received from Tsunade was mostly due to her affections for Naruto. Because Tsunade sincerely cares for the boy.
She sincerely cares for Naruto. She sees him around at times, lurking the halls in his hospital garb, beat up and with a bandaged nub in place of his arm. He doesn’t try to offer her his signature wide grin like he used to. He has seen things; he is no longer the starry-eyed dreamer he used to be. He has seen death and destruction, rage and resentment, he has finally accepted that true hate can exist and some foes do truly deserve to be vanquished. But she offers him smiles regardless, tired ones, understanding ones. He used to be her rock; it is the least she can do. He doesn’t always smile back, sometimes he nods, sometimes he waves, sometimes he just walks away looking lost, and she is left with the painful reminder that this trauma will take so much longer to heal.
Sasuke is ...
Somewhere.
Being guarded and cared for by someone other than her. Someone who is in no danger of taking pity on him, someone who unlike her, recognizes he is still a criminal. She doesn’t blame the powers that be for making this decision though. Her younger self would have resented them, would have fought tooth and nail to be his caretaker, but she doesn’t. She was surprisingly apathetic when the decision was made, her lack of protest raising the eyebrows of all those present. All except her own. And this is another thing she often ruminates on … the fact that she isn’t all that eager to care for him anyway. The fact that … she isn’t comforted by his proximity. She chased after him for so long and yet, she cannot bring herself to find any solace in having him around, in seeing him reformed and wanting to … what was it he kept whispering? … atone?
He messed her up. She cannot fault him for the war however. The war that messed them all up. The war that took friends and family from them, and left them all even more traumatized than a life as child soldiers normally would. The war that took Neji, Inoichi, Shikaku … and many more doubtless. Many she perhaps did not personally know, many who were also brothers, fathers, husbands … many who were daughters, mothers, wives.
Fathers ….
She remembers the few days Ino was admitted. She had been stoic to the end, until fatigue had finally caught up to her, and she would have weathered even that if not for the immense grief she had on her shoulders. Grief, mixed with fatigue, mixed with severely depleted chakra. It’s a wonder she lasted as long as she did. But she had collapsed, and been rushed to the hospital by a crying Choji and a shell shocked Shikamaru. They had rushed to her, thrusting Ino into her arms.
It was when she woke up that Ino finally grieved. Groggy from the painkillers, she had tried to be catty. She fought, flailed and thrashed until they had to sedate her, reducing her to silent tears. This was a sight she could not bring herself to stomach and she had left the room. But she had walked past the door to Ino’s room as many times as her responsibilities would allow, and she could almost swear she saw Shikamaru holding Ino’s hand a couple of times.
Shikamaru and Ino had been friends from birth. Along with Choji, they towed along a tradition, meaning they had had one another’s company thrust upon them from the day they took their first breath. A tradition that had their parents naming them just so, to continue the famous Ino-Shika-Cho formation. Then they had been trained together from the day they could say “Kunai”. Ino came to the academy with two friends already under her belt. One upping her before she even knew what the word rival meant.
Despite their familiarity, and their bonds, Shikamaru had never shown anyone any kind of physical affection, or really, any kind of affection for that matter. But he had been a silent caretaker, caring for Choji in his own way and watching over Ino, covertly of course. Because Ino would never let anyone take care of her. But seeing his hand take Ino’s had awakened feelings inside her she did not understand. She remembers rushing to the bathroom the first time she saw it, as the bile rose in her throat, she remembers coughing up what very little she had had to eat, and then sitting down to cry her own fill, right there by the toilet bowl.
Ino had always been pretty. Always been popular. She had picked her up like a lost puppy, styling her hair, giving her a shield to hide behind. She had started by loving Ino, she had loved Ino for saving her. Loved her for being so supportive, for being so passionate, for being so unabashedly herself. For being so inspiring. She still cares for Ino … But back when they were kids, somewhere along the lines, things changed.
She had rushed over to declare she had a crush, she wanted to tell Ino, her best friend. She wanted support. Until then, she had been happy to hide in Ino’s shadow, she didn’t mind being second to her … then she found out Ino liked Sasuke too … and she had foolishly cast her aside to pursue him. It is odd to her, that try as she might, she cannot retrace the thought process behind that decision. Why did she break off her friendship with Ino? It couldn’t have been Sasuke … was she really such a petty little brat?
From the day she declared Ino as her rival, she tried so hard to beat her. She changed her clothes, her manner of speaking, her attitude. She was determined to prove to everyone that she was better. Stronger. Prettier. Smarter. She got better grades than Ino … but that aside, she never succeeded in proving to herself that she was better. Because Ino just kept getting prettier, kept getting stronger … Ino’s strength it turns out, was in a whole different field from hers.
She cannot help smiling mirthlessly now, at how she has been foiled by Ino once again. Ino had single-handedly taken up her father’s responsibility and guided the entire shinobi alliance, seconds after saying her final goodbye to her father. To Inoichi. Ino had risen to the challenge so beautifully, so gracefully, that she cannot even bring herself to be bitter about being one upped for the umpteenth time. She can let Ino have this win.
Ino had been discharged within two days of being admitted. She had watched, still noting with confusion her odd sense of relief upon seeing Ino being led away by Choji, with no Shikamaru in sight. Since when did she develop an aversion to Shikamaru?
She comes back to this question often now, whenever she finds a moment to lay down in the hospital’s only on call room. All the others have momentarily been turned in extra rooms for patients. She thinks perhaps, now that all is said and done, now that Sasuke-kun is just Sasuke, her heart wants the best friend she gave up over him back. Maybe it’s Ino’s closeness with Shikamaru that bothers her. Maybe she doesn’t want to be replaced.
Replaced?
She is not Ino’s best friend anymore.
Hasn’t been in a long time …
She wants to be. She wants to be so bad it hurts. The war broke her and built her back up, and she is a little girl again, looking around in a field of blooms for something pretty to make her flower arrangement with, listening to the other girls laugh and giggle. She is a little girl, feeling lost and alone, in need of a friend who gets her. She needs Ino back.
Her days pass by so slowly, and yet somehow so fast as well. It has been 4 days since Ino was discharged. Since then, she has lost three patients. She has sutured at least ten. She has sorted through so many limbs; she has lost count. She opened up a man’s skull. She amputated six people due to severe infection. She had one patient lose his toes to frostbite, from some water jutsu.
It’s Naruto’s turn to leave the hospital today, and when the time comes, she walks to his room. He is already dressed, grin plastered on his face. She knows it’s all for show, but she doesn’t remark on it. She doesn’t because she knows that he would retort by calling her out on her own fake smiles. That is not a conversation she is willing to have.
‘I’m gonna see if they’ll let me in to see Sasuke, wanna come?’ he asks this as conversationally as though he is asking her to walk to the water fountain with him, not try and persuade guards to let them see an internationally libeled criminal.
Sasuke is another conversation she is not willing to have.
‘I have too much to do here, I can’t leave. I just wanted to come and see you off,’ she supplies.
She isn’t lying. She does have too much to do. But Shizune would let her off if she asked. She and Shizune have been running the place since it opened. Shizune has been telling her to take some time off. It’s just that … Naruto’s company isn’t what she wants right now. He is relentless, still not letting go of Sasuke, and as odd as the thought sounds to her, she is sick of hearing his name. She is sick of hearing Naruto say his name. She wants to shake him so hard his spikes fall flat. She wants to yell at him, and point at his pitiful nub, and remind him the stupid reason it is there.
SASUKE TOOK YOUR ARM NARUTO! WILL YOU SHUT UP ABOUT SASUKE?! WILL EVERYONE SHUT UP ABOUT SASUKE AND ITACHI AND OBITO AND MADARA FUCKING UCHIHA FOR TWO FUCKING SECONDS!
She grits her teeth. She doesn’t yell. She lets her inner voice yell for her.
She walks Naruto to the main entrance, and he offers her a weird little smile. It reads as: I would hug you, but I’m scared of you. She squeezes his shoulder, and he nods, seemingly placated.
‘Well, I’m off. Don’t work yourself too hard Sakura-chan,’ he says as he walks away, existent hand coming to rest at the back of his head, he stops before reaching for the door, ‘Oh, by the way, I think Shikamaru said something about Ino wanting to see you or whatever … I was kinda out of it, not sure if she wants to see you, or kill you or what? I mean, it’s Ino, so it could be either, or it could be both … anyway just thought I’d give you a heads up.’
He rushes outside once he’s finished; afraid she will pummel him for giving her incomplete information. And she laughs for the first time in what feels like years, though it has probably only been weeks. She laughs until tears roll out of her eyes. Naruto will somehow always be Naruto, no matter how much he sobers up, he will always be the goofy ball of sunshine, capable of lighting up a room.
Her laughter is short-lived however, turning into absolute shock, as she watches another orange profile enter the hospital in Naruto’s wake. The orange T-shirt, with green trim, the white capri’s. The long blond hair and icy blue eyes.
‘INO!’
She didn’t expect her prayers to be answered so quickly. She expected to wipe the tears of mirth from her eyes, run to the on-call room, hide under a blanket and ruminate over Naruto’s words. But somehow, she uttered the wrong incantation and conjured the devil herself, and she isn’t sure if she should be thankful or afraid.
‘Watch your tone forehead, I shouldn’t be the one telling you, but in case you forgot we’re in a hospital.’
The level of sass she places in the word hospital … the nerve of her. It’s almost easy to forget how much she missed her the past few days now that she’s here, being her confident, catty self.
‘Speechless? I know, I’m fabulous. Listen, I’m here to see Shizune-san, know where she is?’
She nods dumbly, eyes still wide, ‘Yea, follow me.’
‘You good? You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something,’
‘I’m … yeah I’m fine.’
WHAT WAS THAT?! COME ON, TALK SAKURA! TALK!
She disregards her inner dialogue, beginning her walk to the nurses’ station where she knows Shizune typically dwells, huffing in anger, typically arguing with some nurse or other about the state of the paperwork. Shizune is even more over-worked than she is, because while she gets to rest when she isn’t tending to patients, Shizune has a whole host of things to do, keeping on her feet non-stop. She wonders what Ino could possibly want with Shizune …
‘Jeez forehead, you’re so tense, what’s up with you?’ Ino breaks in.
She has the typical naggy tone she always had, but somehow … it’s softer. It’s laced with concern. Not in a way anyone other than Sakura could ever notice, because if you don’t know Ino well enough, all of her tones are naggy and catty. It’s impossible to tell happy from sad, angry from confused … She is an enigma to all; all except those who know her. Sakura knows her. She knows her tone is worried. She knows she has her hands folded to her chest, looking smug even as she expresses that concern, without even turning to look.
She can already hear Shizune’s frustrated voice as they approach the main desk, thankful she has a reason to avoid Ino’s question. She walks behind the desk, gesturing to Ino before walking into the back room.
‘Shizune-san, Ino is here to see you,’ she says, the minute there is a pause in Shizune’s rant.
The nurse in question gives her a look of gratitude, and she offers a smile in return, stepping aside to let Shizune pass. Her pager begins beeping only seconds after, and she sighs before rushing out of the nurses’ station. She barely registers Ino and Shizune conversing as she rushes off, cursing the bad timing. Now she’ll have to wait until she has a break to ask Shizune what that was about.
She collapses in the on-call room 5 hours later. She has been on her feet for 5 hours … and the really fun part is … this isn’t even close to her typical record. The number of patients is slowly dwindling down, things are going towards psyche territory. People surviving injury, falling victim to PTSD. She has PTSD. Right? No. She’s not stressed. She’s a functioning medic. She’s fine. She has to be.
She turns onto her side, reminded acutely why she despises bunk beds. Top bunk means if you move too much the whole thing rattles and shakes, and you risk disturbing whoever is sleeping down below, most likely someone who desperately needs to catch some shuteye. Lower bunk means you can toss and turn all you want, but you are at risk of the person on the top bunk tossing and turning too. She tends to go for the bottom bunk regardless, because she needs to toss and turn, and being on the top bunk inhibits her ability to do so. Because she has to physically wake up, maneuver her body into whatever new position it is asking her to get into, and then force her mind to shut up again before falling back asleep, all while doing her best to not make the bed shake.
She rolls her eyes. She hates the top bunks. She is already imagining the agonizing wake up, turn, try to go back to sleep, wake up again … routine. It almost compels her to go sleep in a chair somewhere. But just the thought of the hum of the hospital, the overly bright lights buzzing in the halls and the constant shuffling makes her decide not to. She steps up, onto the stupid top bunk, determined to sleep.
The feel of the mattress on her aching back is heaven. The overused, unfluffed pillow is bliss. She drifts off, and her mind immediately conjures Ino’s face, front and center, signature smug smirk tugging at her perfectly glossed lips. Perfectly glossed. The peach gloss, the one that was transparent, with the tiniest tint of color in it. She had to pester her mom to get her some, but then Ino had switched shades when they got older, claiming she had outgrown it. The new shade, was no longer a lightly tinted, fruity lip-gloss, it was an actual lip-gloss, pigmented and vibrant. It suited Ino, gave her a more put-together air. She still preferred the peach. The peach had suited her more, it was soft and feminine, and delicious … She knows because she wiped some on her lips one time, when Ino wasn’t looking. That gloss had the potential to make a girl so kissable.
She went and got the cherry version of the same gloss the second she got her earnings from her first mission.
Even then, as soon as she had the newly purchased, tiny bottle in her hand, the first thing that came to her mind was Ino’s face. Was to run to her so they could try it out together, so Ino could tell her if it looked nice on her or not, if it suited her. That bubble burst as soon as it passed through her head. Ino was no longer her best friend. Ino was her rival.
Ino would still have given her an honest opinion. A much better opinion than her mom’s retort of, “What does a kunoichi need lip-gloss for?! Gonna woo your opponents into surrendering?” or her father’s kindly “It’s nice.”. Ino would have given her an actual opinion, had she gone to her. Ino would have offered to go with her to the store if she had asked, offered to go and help her choose … had she known.
She ignores the tear stains on her pillow when she is called to a patient’s room. She ignores the growing anxiety, coiling in her gut and seizing her trachea, making it difficult for her to breathe. She ignores the weird feelings, hoping they will pass.