Disclaimer: I will never own Naruto. Such a shame, really.
A/N: Yes, this will probably be a bit confusing. I was trying out a new style of writing. This was written in about half an hour and it isn't very happy. You have been warned. But please read and review anyway/ feedback is a writer's best friend.
Breathe.
A harsh, ragged breath of air scraped past her throat and into her lungs.
Breathe.
Exhaling, she let it flow out through her throat and into the air surrounding her. She had to remind herself to breathe. Breathing, once so easy, was now a task filled with pain as each breath scraped at her ruined throat.
In. Out. Breathe.
The fight was difficult for her, but she had won. Won, yes, but after the attack. After the kunai was shoved down her throat, slicing her bronchial tubes and shredding the soft flesh. It hurt to breathe, so she had to remind herself.
Breathe.
She let her breath out, focusing on the air she expelled through her throat, attempting to let go of the pain. It would be so easy not to breathe, so easy just to give up and never take another breath. But she is a kunoichi from Suna, a kunoichi of strength, and she does not give up so easily.
Breathe in.
Her eyes are closed, and so she does not see who comes to her, but somehow, she knows who it is. She feels him pick her up, strong arms carrying her, and she feels the speed of which he travels by the wind blowing past.
Breathe –
The act of breathing is treacherous, as she very well knows, and the air doesn't get past her battered throat. It catches on something within and she begins to cough, choking, unable to take in fresh air. She feels frustration, and anger, coming from the man that carries her. A burst of fury fills her and she coughs, spitting out the traitor, a glob of blood – she will not be defeated by air.
The will to breathe leaves her. She lays there silent, aware that her harsh breathing has ended, but she cares not. She's afraid, though she won't admit it, and she doesn't want to choke again.
Breathe, he tells her. She's surprised by his tone. It has none of his usual laziness and tiredness to it, but is instead tart, edged with fear. It is that tone that forces her to breathe in hesitantly. The first wisps of air pass through, and so she allows more to enter, taking in the blessed air slowly, carefully. She holds it in her lungs, and then, just as carefully, expels it.
She feels his relief that she has begun to breathe again. Determined now, she continues the struggle of bringing air into her lungs and out. In and out. Breathe. Breathe. Sternly, she informs herself that no matter the pain she cannot stop. Never.
They stop moving and he sets her down. She forces herself to open her eyes, reminds herself to breathe, and sees a head adorned bubble-gum pink hair over her. She smells the unmistakable smells of the hospital – the smells of disinfectant and rubber gloves and she thinks to herself that it's far too clean. No place should smell like this.
Then the medical kunoichi begins her work, and she passes into darkness, her ragged breathing the only thing she focuses on.
When she wakes up, she thinks that there was no possible way she fell asleep, for it hurt too much. A moment later she notes that her throat is no longer filled with pain, she is breathing normally, and that she somehow fell asleep. For a minute she toys with the idea that she died while sleeping, but then the medi-nin walks in and shatters the notion effectively.
She sits up, wincing as she accidentally puts weight on her right hand. The pink-haired kunoichi informs her that besides chakra loss and her throat and of course minor cuts and bruises, the only thing that's wrong if her wrist. It's sprained, according to the kunoichi, not broken. Her throat is fine too, and it'll be fully healed in a couple of days. It's lucky, she adds, that your vocal cords were untouched. Otherwise you could be mute.
She nods and glances out the window. The voice of her companion brings her back to the hospital room and she turns back. I need to know what happened, she says. With an experimental deep breath, she notes that breathing still is sore, and then she explains.
She was assigned a mission, tracking down a missing nin and killing him. The mission brought her perilously close to Konoha, but she finally found the missing nin and fought him. The fight went rather well, until he had managed to get up close and shove a kunai down her throat. She had been forced to yank it out and finish the battle quickly. She had succeeded.
The kunoichi is silent after the tale is told, and she watches to see the reaction. The pink-haired ninja says nothing, but stands and comments, It's lucky Shikamaru found you. She waits for elaboration, but it is not forthcoming, and the medi-nin leaves, tossing out over her shoulder that she can leave Konoha in a couple of days but is discharged from the hospital.
She waits a few minutes, then stands and leaves the hospital. It smells unnatural, filled with cleaning supplies, and it scares her. She leaves and stands in front of it, unwilling to wander. A shadow passes by, and she is joined by him. He stands there next to her, but says nothing. She turns to face him, and without preamble says, I would've stopped.
He does not take his eyes off her when he replies, I would've breathed for you. The words are serious and without any trace of his normal personality. She realizes that her condition, her breathing, had worried him, worried him beyond what she had thought possible. Impossible or not, it had, and she felt guilt, guilt that he had to urge her to breathe, guilt that he had to go through that.
She lets herself smile, and slips one hand into his. He does not object and closes his fingers gently around hers. The two walk away from the hospital, with no particular destination in mind, their hands twined. She will be sorry to leave, but she knows she must. He knows it too, and she knows that. For now, at least, they will walk together, until the next time they meet.