It was an ugly day – hot, humid, musty. The smell of iron, decay and antiseptic was thick in the air. Shouts echoed through the small tent set up in the middle of the carnage of the battlefield.

"–get him in the tent!"

"–might not make it."

"–need Sakura! Where is Sakura Haruno?"

Sakura came from behind the tent, her panic hidden under a well-rehearsed blank look. Her orders cut through the chaos, urgent but calming.

"Bring him here, gently. Keep up treatment on other critical patients. And for the love of Kami, bring me a glass of water!" With her fellow doctors out of the way, she turned her full attention back to the man before her.

His blonde hair was matted with sweat, stuck to his forehead above his closed eyes, his breathing hoarse. Dirt and blood masked his face, which was contorted with pain.

"Naruto…" she breathed, quiet, hesitant, "what the hell are you doing here, idiot? I told you I never wanted to have you as a patient again."

She slowly pulled away his torn shirt, careful not to aggravate any injuries. She stopped short at the sight of his torso, ripped apart and bruised. Blood leaked out of the wounds continuously, staining his once-orange jacket red. As she began to heal him, desperately, head medic and accomplished Jonin Sakura Haruno was afraid of blood for the first time in her life.