She gasped.
The burning substance filling her lungs could have been oxygen, yet she never knew. When she awakes, there are no thoughts sane enough to rationalize whether or not the fog she was inhaling was dangerous, only that she was drowning and she needed more.
Eyes opening, world spinning, she couldn't tell you where she was. She didn't know the left from the right, or if the pain in her body was from her heart or her head—it was all a distant memory that had no real truth behind it.
When her eyes opened, there was nothing. A faint glow to the darkness, but an overwhelming depression that filled her vision—there was nothing. It was black. She was scared.
There was a pulsation somewhere in some extremity upon her body, but she could not tell you where the bleeding was located. The warmth, the dampness, the crimson flashed erupted off in the distance beyond her sight of vision, but she paid no mind. The pain was much more welcome than the numbness left behind.
She heard voices. Hushed, broken voices speaking in choppy incomprehensible syllables that she believed were meant to make up a whole, but the darkness stole before she could catch. She reached for them- she begged and pleaded her unknown tormentor to let her please remember whose voices accompanied the seeming-words, but the darkness never relented. Anonymity was attached to these voices, and the drifting thought that suppose these voices were here to help her illuminated her nothingness—and there was light.
It blinded her, and for a brief moment she yearned for her darkness again. Stinging, burning, slicing pain erupted throughout her body, and with startling realization, she realized that although she was awake, she still did not know.
The pain was emerging from her heart, the pulsations were flowing from her lip, the sounds were the frantic beeping of a machine behind her, and the voice was not one she recognized.
"Sakura. Breathe."
It was in that moment she realized she had ceased breathing in shock, and quickly regained her composure. The agony was blinding, and yet another high pitched wail forced its way through her tattered throat.
The red was infiltrating her vision, and she cried out in the defiance. She refused to let this overcome her- she refused to let the pain steal her consciousness once more. She refused—
A stab, and then silence.
Her mouth frozen in mid-scream faltered in its wideness, her eyelids beginning to flutter shut, a numbness overtaking the pain, and a wet sensations trailing down her cheeks. Before she could fall into yet another slumber, she was pulled by another voice.
"Can you hear me? I need you to breathe."
She inhaled.
Her eyes became accustomed to the light as the burning faded. Emerald irises seemed to be dazed and disoriented, pupils shockingly wide yet retracting with every second passing. She stilled her wandering eyes, and focused quickly on an image—a person?—a woman—standing in front of her.
Sapphire hair, pulled into a perfect ballerina bun adorned by an origami rose. Amber eyes, professionally detached and focused on another thing she could not see—presumably a monitoring system as she made herself aware of the familiar 'tick' resounding behind her. She did not believe this woman was a nurse, but she poised herself as one.
"Good. Now, let it out."
She exhaled.
"You're doing great. Can you tell me how many fingers I'm holding up?"
Foggy eyes drifted towards the nurse's slender index finger, and she rasped out what was supposedly a number, yet came out as another gasp. The nurse seemed to accept this, however, as she smiled in content, and jotted a scribble into her notebook.
"Good, good," she murmured.
She did not know this woman, which was the slightest bit strange. She had known every doctor, every nurse, every aide, every medical student, even any prospective medical student in Konoha. She wasn't known as the head medic for nothing, and unfamiliarity with medical personnel (or imposters or her chosen profession) brought feelings of anxiety to her. She quickly stifled these emotions so she may not be perceived as weak.
The nurse seemed to notice her uneasiness, and placed her hand upon Sakura's. A jolt ran through the porcelain figure; she attempted to pull her hand back in fear, yet her body refused to cooperate with her thoughts.
"I'm so sorry."
There was no remorse in this woman's voice. Her words did not match her tone, and Sakura was confused. This did not reassure her; it caused the opposite effect.
"You are no longer where you call 'home.'"
Fear raced through Sakura's body, and her heart rate increased. Her breathing sped to the point where she no longer could say it was healthy, her heart felt as if it were to burst through her chest and dart the heavens. It had been a long time since she could say she honestly felt fear. She could not remember when she last felt such an emotion. The adrenaline was terrifying. Her mind raced.
Who was this woman who had just awoken her from her numbness? Where was she? Did they not know who she was—what she had done for her country even when it had turned its back upon her Did they not know the consequences of taking her to such an unfamiliar location—far away from her the safety of her home? Would she be rescued—no, how was she going to escape from this? Who knows what this woman—and those who perpetrated this woman healing her—planned to do with her?
"Do not fear us. We will do you no harm."
These words were spoken with kindness, and she dully noted the sincerity this time. They, however, did not leave her complacent.
"We only befall one request from you, in turn for a promise that you will be safe, happy, and content."
In the back of her mind, a voice reasoned, 'Listen. What she has to say may be beneficial to you.'
Sakura focused her attention upon the woman's next words; the woman took note of this. The blue haired nurse swallowed the tiniest smile, and spoke her next words with precision and staidness.
"We require medical assistance. Our forces have been faltering in our offensive tactics as our cortege continues to be injured—and to have the most potent medical ninja in our possession would greatly benefit us."
At this, Sakura began to panic. The origami woman quickly retracted her statement.
"Do not misunderstand, you will not be treated as property—you will be respected by your comrades, and you will find an arrangement akin to a family with us. This will not deteriorate into what your previous home life became; there will be no pain, nor abandonment, nor serious words of discouragement in this organization. You will be another member of our family—dysfunctional, yes—yet there will never be a moment of doubt in our establishment. You, in turn for your services and presence, will be granted financial stability, living quarters, and friendships. You will be expected to complete assigned missions, interact with group members, and provide medical services for those within our camaraderie that need or desire it. Unlike our other members, you will not be expected to maim, injure, or kill any other sentient being. Please think over our request with sincerity; you would be a valuable inclusion to our family. We will give you three days of pondering before we expect your answer to our request."
At this, a soft insertion of a needle was noted in Sakura's arm, but by the time the moment had come—it had passed. A familiar numbness returned to her once more, yet it was void of the excruciating darkness that had once accompanied it. Before the black had overtaken her, she rasped out—
"Who?"
The woman paused with her hand on the doorknob. Only for a brief moment, as once she regained her wits, she turned the brass piece, throwing a blank glance that revealed nothing over her shoulder towards the injured medical ninja.
"The Akatsuki."
The click of a lock turning as she was left in isolation echoed in her mind. Sakura stared at the ceiling until the silence consumed her once more, leaving her to spiral quickly into a state of slumber. Yet, not before she recognize not a flash of fear, but an odd emotion comparable to warmth. Her slumber overtook her. The darkness stole her once more.
Her chest rose.