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sir, i think he's bleedin' out
[ Fine, I'll take you, the Fifth had said, all the nonchalance of someone deciding on a whim to try a new addition to their regular drink menu.
And yet still, it'd meant something. Had to, it'd been the Fifth. The Slug Princess, one-third of the Legendary Sannin, and esteemed granddaughter of the late First Hokage... A woman with too many titles to name, too little time to waste; a person so fearsome, she could just as easily summon craters beneath her feet as she could shatter Sakura's cobbled together pride with a single bored look. Someone like that was rolling the dice, gambling on her.
Sakura knows herself, is painfully aware of her flimsy strengths, her entire index of shortcomings. When she hadn't been rehearsing her pitch inside her head, she'd been formulating a contingency plan. Take the denial with grace, she'd remind herself as the door shut behind her. Keep your chin up. If not Tsunade-sama, it'd be Asuma-sensei or Kurenai-sensei. Hell, she'd even throw herself at the mercy of Anko-sensei if it meant someone would humor her, a girl of zero repute. No footnotes of interest in her file, no tragedies beyond being a mopey, know-it-all thirteen-year-old.
But if the strongest shinobi in their village saw a flicker of potential in her, then... Could she see it in herself one day, too? There'd been so little hope to cling to these past few weeks, and her last one had come back with a half-broken body, his face striped with bandages—
She couldn't do that to Naruto again. She had to be the brave one this time. After crying and pleading with them at the gates that day, how could she face anyone on that team if she couldn't muster even an ounce of what they'd chased after Sasuke-kun with? ]
And yet still, it'd meant something. Had to, it'd been the Fifth. The Slug Princess, one-third of the Legendary Sannin, and esteemed granddaughter of the late First Hokage... A woman with too many titles to name, too little time to waste; a person so fearsome, she could just as easily summon craters beneath her feet as she could shatter Sakura's cobbled together pride with a single bored look. Someone like that was rolling the dice, gambling on her.
Sakura knows herself, is painfully aware of her flimsy strengths, her entire index of shortcomings. When she hadn't been rehearsing her pitch inside her head, she'd been formulating a contingency plan. Take the denial with grace, she'd remind herself as the door shut behind her. Keep your chin up. If not Tsunade-sama, it'd be Asuma-sensei or Kurenai-sensei. Hell, she'd even throw herself at the mercy of Anko-sensei if it meant someone would humor her, a girl of zero repute. No footnotes of interest in her file, no tragedies beyond being a mopey, know-it-all thirteen-year-old.
But if the strongest shinobi in their village saw a flicker of potential in her, then... Could she see it in herself one day, too? There'd been so little hope to cling to these past few weeks, and her last one had come back with a half-broken body, his face striped with bandages—
She couldn't do that to Naruto again. She had to be the brave one this time. After crying and pleading with them at the gates that day, how could she face anyone on that team if she couldn't muster even an ounce of what they'd chased after Sasuke-kun with? ]
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Sakura's learned less about bravery and more about the correct way to tilt a sake bottle, so that the contents don't slosh out from the Fifth's—Tsunade-shishou's cup when she pours. Apparently, in her master's book, apprentices are synonymous with gofers. And that's essentially what she's become, playing errand girl and messenger girl and girl-lugging-around-huge-stacks-of-neonatal-research-papers all around Konohagakure, but primarily to and fro the Academy and Konoha Hospital. Most days, she'll have climbed up the stairs to the Hokage's Office on at least five separate occasions. The only reason she hasn't burst a vein yet is because Shizune-san, bless her, seems to be genuinely appreciative of the extra hands on deck.
On the bright side, it seems that the administrative staff has begun to remember her name. Some of them will even flag her down in the corridor now, ask her who she's visiting this time, because before Naruto, it'd been Sasuke-kun, and before that, it'd been Lee... It's happened so many times, each exchange following the same tired script, that Sakura's frankly sick of reassuring other people that she's okay, that her team is okay, that Sasuke-kun will be back. That one way or another, no matter how long it takes to track him down, they'll get him back.
Finally, one day, she takes the long way out. Instead of cutting through the cafeteria, dodging handwaves and sympathetic smiles all the way into the Pediatric unit, she exits from the back, into the courtyard.
Pressured by the previous medical director last year, the Third had agreed to a budget increase to Konoha's healthcare facilities—meaning, they'd hired a professional landscaper to tidy up their gardens, add a gazebo, and install a freshwater koi pond. The scenery is nice, as calming as it was intended to be, but Sakura's in a hurry to rid herself of the two crates of old case studies squeezed under each of her arms, their corners digging uncomfortably into her sides. No plans to dally, she begins to rush along the cobblestone path, ignoring the form standing by the pond—
Only to stop, and then double back entirely. ]
Uh, Neji? Is that you? [ She doesn't know what compels her to call out to him. It feels weird to be casual; they aren't friends, or even acquaintances, really, but they are around the same age. And, anyway, he'd nearly died trying to advance a capture and return mission for her wayward teammate. It'd be stranger if she walked away without saying anything.
Doesn't keep her from hesitating for a moment, though, before edging closer. ]
...Sorry to disturb you. I was just surprised, I mean... [ Is it okay for him to be out right now? But that seems a little impolite to ask somehow, so she falls silent. Shuffles. Sakura's only heard tell of his injuries through grim whispers among the staff and, well, people don't just walk off being skewered and stabbed a few times, not even after a week. ]
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