Pairing: KimiSaku
Word count: 856
Every day during her lunch time, she could see him sitting outside on the little bench in the hospital courtyard. He sat alone under the shade of the big oak tree, long white hair fluttering in the breeze, always dressed in a simple lavender kimono. For the first few months she thought he must be one of the geriatric patients, from the colour of his hair, until one day when she passed him in the hall as he came inside.
He looked so young, so fragile. Whatever illness had affected him, it hit him hard. His face was pale and gaunt, red ringed his eyes and she was sure under his kimono his ribs protruded with the same sharp relief as his clavicles. His gait looked painful and slow but he still carried himself with a certain elegance that she admired. She offered a polite smile as she passed him to which he acknowledged with a nod. That was they only time they met.
She continued to see him every day from afar, still alone. Some times she'd see him across the cafeteria or heading into a treatment room or walking by himself on the other end of a corridor, but never with a visitor. Curiosity made her eyes seek for him whenever she wandered the halls. But as the months passed he she would go days without seeing him on the bench but she chalked it up to the cooling weather. Eventually, when he did show up, he started bringing a walker, still carrying himself with such dignity that she had no thoughts of pity.
The very last time she saw him he was early one sunny morning. He was out in the courtyard sitting in a wheelchair beside the bench, a nurse standing near by waiting to wheel him back to his room. It was cold out, colder weather than he should be out in with just his kimono and a blanket covering his lap. Even from the staff room window she could see he was even thinner than before, frail and delicate like a dandelion turned to seed that would scatter on the slightest breeze. With the wave of one bony hand the nurse walked over and pushed him back in to the hospital.
Weeks passed and she didn't see him. Not in the courtyard, not in the hallway. It was completely possible that he had been transferred, but the nagging question of the man with the white hair stayed in the back of her mind until she couldn't stand it any longer.
"Yakushi-san," she asked tentatively, making Kabuto look up from the file he was reading with his meal, "This might sound strange, and you're probably not going to have any idea who I'm talking about, but..." She paused, rubbing the back of her neck feeling foolish.
"What is it, Haruno-san?" He sounded annoyed, but then again he always did when she talked to him about anything besides work. She had already started so she pressed on.
"Do you know the man with the white hair who used to sit outside every day?" She felt completely ridiculous, of course he wasn't going to know. "He used to sit out in the courtyard by himself." Kabuto pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with one finger and cocked his head to one side in thought.
"Do you mean Kaguya Kimimaro-san?" he asked finally. "Young man, pale with long white hair?"
"Yes! That sounds like him," she exclaimed, surprised that he knew the name of the mysterious patient. "I just haven't seen him in a while. Was he discharged or transferred or..." Dead. She didn't want to say it but it did seem likely.
He looked back down at his file, marking something down in the margin. "He passed away a two weeks ago." Kabuto took a bite of his sandwich. Sakura's face fell. "Stage four bone cancer. There wasn't much we could do."
"Oh," was all she could say. She excused herself, feeling the prickle of tears behind her eyes threatening to spring forth. She made it to the bathroom before she broke down. Lucky for her, the stalls were deserted as she leaned on the sink and let herself sob quietly.
It didn't make any sense, and she knew that, but there she was weeping silently by herself for a man she hadn't even known. Why did it feel like a punch to the gut? She was a doctor and she knew patients died, but it had never hit her this hard before. He was just so young and so beautiful and so stoic that it seemed like he deserved a chance.
It took her a while to calm down, but eventually she let out a shaky breath and splashed some water on her face. She went about the rest of her day quietly and thoughtfully, still feeling on the edge of another bout of crying but managed to keep it together. In the years to come, she never forgot about him, occasionally taking her lunch out on to the sunny courtyard to spend some time beneath the shady oak.
AN: Honestly, I'm not really sure where this came from. I just had this sudden, overwhelming need to write some KimiSaku. Why is it always so tragic?