The walk to the hospital felt different than the walk into the village. The adrenaline of the return had worn off, leaving behind the quiet, nagging reality of why we had left in the first place.
Konoha was loud. Merchants were shouting, carts were rattling, and civilians were going about their Tuesday as if an S-Rank invasion hadn't almost happened a week ago. But the closer we got to the white, sterile building in the distance, the quieter we became.
"They're gonna be okay," I said, trying to inject some of Tsunade's confidence into my voice.
Naruto walked beside me, hands behind his head, kicking a loose pebble. "Kakashi-sensei, Sasuke, Bushy Brows..." He sniffed, wiping his nose with his thumb. A small, fierce smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "They're all way too strong to stop fighting. You can't keep guys like that down."
I smiled softly. "You're right."
We walked for a beat. The pebble skittered across the pavement.
"You know—" I started.
We stopped.
Naruto looked at me. He raised an eyebrow, and I saw the exact moment the thought crossed his mind, syncing perfectly with mine.
"I wonder," Naruto murmured, "if Kakashi-sensei is still wearing his mask?"
I narrowed my eyes at Naruto. "They are..."
"Our friends," Naruto stated solemnly.
I leaned in. "And..."
Naruto leaned in, mirroring my posture. "Our teammates."
I squinted, leaning in closer until our foreheads were almost touching. "And..."
Naruto's eyes were wide, intense. "They're hurt."
I scrunched up my face. "Annnnnnd..."
Beat.
We stared at each other. The moral obligation to respect our sensei's privacy battled violently with the intrusive thoughts of two teenage disasters.
Beat.
We took off running.
"LAST ONE THERE CLEANS THE TOAD TANK!" Naruto screamed, dusting me.
"WAIT, WHAT?!!" I yelled back, sprinting after him.
Moments later, the hospital doors slid open with a rush of recycled air that smelled sharply of bleach and wilted lilies, instantly chilling the sweat on my neck.
Naruto burst through the door of Room 304, chest heaving, ready for the revelation of the century.
"KAKASHI-SENSEI! WE'RE HERE TO SAVE—"
A nurse down the hall hissed a sharp "Quiet!", the sound cutting through the sterile silence like a scalpel.
He froze.
The room was quiet, smelling of antiseptic and wilting flowers. The only sound was the rhythmic hiss-click, hiss-click of a life support machine, pacing out time in mechanical breaths.
Rock Lee was in the bed by the window, wrapped in so many bandages he looked like a paper mache project. In the bed closer to the door lay Kakashi.
Pakkun, the pug summon, was sitting on the pillow next to Kakashi's head. He smelled faintly of wet dog and baby powder, a strange, domestic scent in the clinical room.
Pakkun raised a paw to his lips. "Shh. He's sleeping, kid."
Naruto tip-toed forward, Sylvie vibrating with anticipation right behind him.
They leaned over the bed.
Kakashi was indeed unconscious. But covering his nose and mouth—covering the spot where his mask usually was—was a heavy-duty, clear plastic oxygen mask. Condensation beaded on the inside of the plastic, blurring his features into a gray smear every time he exhaled.
It was strapped tightly to his face. And because Kakashi was breathing heavily in his coma, the plastic was completely fogged up with condensation.
You couldn't see a thing.
"What are you two doing?"
A soft voice came from the corner. Naruto spun around.
Standing by Lee's bed was Hinata Hyūga. She was wearing a white apron over her usual hoodie, and a senior medical ninja, a woman named Iyashi, was standing beside her with a clipboard. The scratch of Iyashi's pen against paper was aggressively loud in the hush.
"Hinata?" Naruto blinked. "What are you doing here?"
Hinata jumped, her face turning pink. "N-Naruto-kun! Sylvie-san! I... um..."
"She is assisting with chakra network maintenance," Iyashi said briskly. "The Hyūga Byakugan is uniquely suited for monitoring the internal trauma of patients with severe chakra exhaustion, like the boy here."
Naruto looked at Lee. He looked back at Hinata. Her hands were glowing with a soft, green light—mystical palm energy, but precise. The air around her hummed with a low, static buzz that made the hair on my arms stand up—the feel of pure, restrained medical chakra.
She was hovering her fingers over Lee's chest, checking the flow.
"Whoa," Naruto breathed. "That's awesome, Hinata! I didn't know you could do that!"
Hinata looked at her shoes, tapping her index fingers together. "I... I just wanted to help. Since I'm not... strong like you guys... I thought..."
"Are you kidding?" Sylvie stepped forward, adjusting her glasses to inspect Hinata's work. "This is incredible. You're using the Gentle Fist precision to heal instead of harm. That's... really smart."
Naruto grinned, giving Hinata a thumbs up. "Yeah! You should totally do this! You'd be the best doctor-ninja ever! Believe it!"
"He's right," Sylvie added. "Actually, if you have time later... could you give me some tips? My chakra control is okay, but my diagnostic skills are garbage."
Hinata looked like she might faint. Steam practically whistled out of her ears.
"T-Tips? Me?" She squeaked. "I... yes! I mean... sure! If... if you want!"
Iyashi cleared her throat. "If we are quite done socializing? The patients need rest."
"Right! Sorry!" Naruto whispered. He backed toward the door. "Get better soon, Bushy Brow! You too, Sensei!"
He grabbed Sylvie's sleeve. "Come on, let's go check on Sasuke. He's in the next room."
Sasuke sat on the edge of the hospital bed.
His room was dark, the blinds drawn tight against the afternoon sun.
The air here was stagnant, heavy with the metallic tang of dried blood and the sour sweat of a fever breaking.
His left arm—the one Itachi had shattered, the one the Sound Four had nearly torn off—was in a heavy sling, throbbing with a dull, rhythmic heat.
Under the bandages, the skin felt tight and hot, pulsing in time with the thump-thump of his own heartbeat in his ears.
But the pain in his arm was nothing compared to the noise coming through the wall.
He heard them.
He heard the loud, obnoxious crash of the door opening next door. He heard Naruto's voice, bright and grating. He heard Sylvie laughing. He heard them fawning over Kakashi. He heard them cheering for the Hyūga girl.
The walls were thin; vibrations from Naruto's boots traveled through the floorboards and up the legs of Sasuke's bed, shaking him even when they weren't touching him.
They went to them first.
Sasuke stared at his knees. His jaw tightened until his teeth creaked.
He was awake. He was sitting right here. He was the one who had taken the brunt of the attack. He was the one who had stared into the Mangekyō Sharingan and lived.
And yet, they checked on the sleeping failures first.
Of course, a dark, venomous voice whispered in his mind. Why would they care? You're weak. You're just the guy who got beat.
Naruto was getting stronger. Sylvie was getting smarter. And Sasuke? Sasuke was sitting in a dark room, broken, while his "team" laughed in the hallway.
He heard the footsteps approaching his door. The scuff of sandals he knew better than his own heartbeat.
Sasuke swung his legs back onto the bed. He laid back, pulling the thin, scratchy sheet up to his chin. He turned his head away from the door, facing the blank white wall.
He closed his eyes.
He focused on the smell of the bleach on his sheets—sharp, chemical, burning his nose—trying to drown out the warmth of their voices.
Knock. Knock.
The door creaked open.
"Sasuke?" Naruto's whisper was loud enough to wake the dead. "You awake, buddy?"
Sasuke didn't move. He slowed his breathing, forcing his body to mimic sleep, a skill he had learned on cold nights in the empty Uchiha district.
"He's out cold," Naruto whispered. "Man... he looks rough."
"Let him sleep," Sylvie's voice was softer, closer.
The floor creaked under her weight—a specific, hesitant groan of wood that he would recognize anywhere.
He felt the displacement of air as she stepped near the bed. He smelled the scent of the road on them—dust, rain, and the faint, sweet smell of success. It made him sick.
There was a pause. He felt eyes on him. Pitying eyes.
"Sorry," Sylvie whispered into the silence. "I hope I can see you soon, Sasuke."
The door clicked shut. The silence rushed back in instantly, ringing in his ears like the aftermath of an explosion, heavier and colder than before.
Their footsteps faded away down the hall, light and unburdened.
Sasuke opened his eyes.
He stared at the wall.
He gritted his teeth.
He bit his tongue to stop himself from making a noise.
Soon, he thought. But not like this.