Chapter Three: House Call
Part 1
Yuie Managawa, the XTV weather man was calling the storm Mea, after his ex-wife, because it and the marriage has lasted entirely too long. The other news reporters laughed and faded as the volume bar shortened on the television screen. A whole week it had poured. Most of the village had tried to flood, and had it not been for a few good men taking turns and willing to catch pneumonia, Konoha would have been under water by day three.
A soft sigh filled the room as the light from the small television flickered, illuminating the hospital break room. She sat alone at a small round table, an untouched bowl of soup to her right. The fan was going behind her. Pink strands tickled her forehead. She lifted a slender hand to rub over her face. The styrofoam cup, emptied of coffee, tipped over and rolled from the edge. It hit the floor with a gentle plop. The door to the break room stood wide open. And as the young woman began to stand, two nurses entered the room. Both clearing their throats often. The tallest of the nurses eyed the pink haired woman and the long lab coat which she struggled to button. Yet the other nurse seemed content minding her own business by the coffee dispenser. Casually, the original occupant lifted and pulled on an object stuffed into the neckline of her scrubs. Finally she pulled loose a hazard mask. Draping it around her ears, nose, and mouth, she fingered the stands to see that it was tightly secured. The tall nurse snorted.
"Doctor Haruno, is that really necessary?" she laughed softly. Sarcastic. The female doctor had been wearing that mask daily for at least two weeks now. Employees and patients were starting to talk.
The doctor pushed in her heavy chair. It scraped the floor, scuffing it. The pitched sound stifled the inconsistent beeping coming from down the hall. As well as the hacking which the short nurse by the coffee tried to smother with her sleeve. The woman failed, and instead spilled her coffee all over her and the floor. The doctor's eyes watched this, wide.
"Damn it," the soiled nurse spat. A blurred noise and show in the background as the doctor looked over the tall nurse in front of her.
The name tag on the breast pocket of the tall nurse's blouse read Sekai. By the look on her face as she stared over her shoulder at the third party, her personality was no better than the too tight, exposed skin of her cosmetically enhanced chest.
"Keep that to yourself," Sekai snapped, then whirled back to face the doctor. Who had moved and was mostly in the hall. Sekai's eyes drifted quickly to the table top, where she spotted the open container of soup. She picked it up and held it out for the fleeing doctor. "Sakura," she called, halting the doctor, "your soup?" She cleared her throat.
Still the woman near the coffee hacked.
"Toss it," Sakura said firmly and fled.
And as the day dwindled, more and more good men and women, even children, entered through the emergency room door and were left dying behind curtains. All while Sakura cracked walls with her gloved fists and cried softly into her arms, leaning across her desk. The man in the doorway watched this with sorrow deep in the grooves along his forehead. He held a box against his chest. The blue box showed indents around his clenched fingers; it crackled as he shifted his weight. Clashing against the paleness of his cloak. Sakura stilled.
Her office was dark, save for the sliver of light from the sunset, sneaking in through the blowing yellow curtain. A picture sat to left of the curtain. The wind shook the flimsy frame. It clattered to the floor, shattering near the man's feet. Sakura did not move. Silently, she wiped at her face and pulled her mask back over her mouth. As she did this, the man leaned over and picked up her broken picture. His callus thumb traced the spider webbed cracks. The curtain blew up to mingle with his hair. And as Sakura turned, the man's hair seemed to combine with the curtain. Through the gloom of the day, the young doctor's lip twitched and she chuckled.
"Naruto," she began her voice muffled by her mask, "what long hair you have."
Quick confusion washed over his face. Grunting, he brushed the curtain from his shoulder. The boy he once was shined through. His frown flipped and his eyes squeezed tightly as he tucked the picture under his arm and held out his bright blue box. "Happy birthday, Sakura," he crooned and stepped closer. Upon further inspection of her saddened face as she stared at the box, he stopped in his tracks and withdrew the gift. "What's the matter?" he asked, sitting the box on top of a stack of papers as tall as the oak desk.
She rolled her eyes and went to close her window, simultaneously shutting her door. She stood, folding back the curtain and staring into dusk. When her voice danced across the room, the misery of today weighed heavily on the already thick atmosphere. Yet her words were nearly inaudible.
"What?" Naruto drawled out. He sat on an empty spot atop the desk, arms draped across his lap.
Sakura sighed. She was frustrated. "I said everyone is dying today."
His eyes widened. Then he bowed his head. "I heard," he said, clearing his solemn throat. "Is it pneumonia?" he implored, hopeful.
"I don't know what it is. But it's not that."
"Kinda figured."
A long silence followed. She wiping the dust from her windowsill bared handed. He fiddling with the broken picture of three naive children. When the silence was broken, the two spoke over one another. Naruto barked out a laugh and ran his hand through his hair, smiling softly. He waved an arm in her direction and said, "Ladies first."
Nodding, Sakura walked behind him and pulled her chair out. She moved it to the center of the room, directly across from Naruto. And she leaned back, hands resting in her lap and tired eyes closed. She replayed the events of the day for him, in detail. He blanched, disgust, horror, and pity marring his grown face. Halfway through her retailing, Sakura wept into her hands. She screamed through her mask, and at some point, wound up on the floor, in his arms. He shook her. When her hysterics did nothing to stop, the blond looked over and out of the exposed window. Furrowed, he cradled Sakura and rocked back and forth against her desk. Something metal inside of his pocket clanged each time he met with the wood. It being the only sound to greet him besides Sakura's now quite sobbing. He smoothed her hair, then pushed her back from his slightly. Attempting to cup her cheek, Naruto reached out. But Sakura's hands immediately went to her face. She turned away, embarrassed.
"Sakura," he whispered, voice gravely. Her story had pulled at his heart strings. "It's not your fault."
"Yes, it is!" she growled and slammed a palm against the hardwood floor. The smack reverberated off the walls. "I should know how to save them! It's my fucking job!"
The years had finally granted Naruto the knowledge to let his former teammate vent. Leaning back on his calves, he straightened out his white cloak and looked away, allowing Sakura to collect herself. She scrambled to her feet and reached her hand downward. He took it, though it was superfluous, and pulled himself up. He put his hands in his pockets and watched the woman before him turn back into the false impenetrable wall that she liked to pretend she was, lately. It would have fooled him yet again, had she not just been crying into his chest.
Sakura crossed her arms around her hips and licked her cracked lips. The mask she had been wearing rolled gently along the floor at Naruto's feet. "You're not feeling sick, are you?" she asked, suddenly
looking suspicious.
"Nooo," he let loose an uncomfortable chuckle.
"Good," she said matter-of-factually and brushed her messy hair behind and ear.
As she did this, Naruto looked down at the lonesome mask. "Been wearing that all day?" he asked. But his face was not curious.
Nodding her head, Sakura sat back in the center seat. Naruto followed suite and sat back on the desk. As if nothing had happened. They looked at one another. The staring contest ended when Sakura sighed heavily at the abrupt buzzing coming from the intercom in the corner. A static washed voice rang out.
'Doctor Haruno, to the ER room two-oh-five. Doctor Haruno, to the ER room two-oh-five.'
"I have to get back to work," Sakura breathed. She stood and walked Naruto to the door. When he began turning the knob, Sakura gasped and stopped his hand with hers. "Wait," she said, "I forgot my mask."
With a blank face, Naruto watched the wooden door with little interest. Cloudy from the corner of his eye, Sakura picked up her mask and draped it back on her face. When she approached him, he turned the knob. But not before a mask was thrust onto his mouth and nose. Shocked, he stumbled slightly and ripped it away. Hacking, he stared down at her serious face.
"Wear it, for God's sake," she said. "Whatever this is, is catching."
Naruto fumbled with his words. "The Hokage can't been seen wearing this around. People will take offense," he finally said, face puckered.
"Better that they take offense," she began, "than you—''
He held up and hand, then popped the mask onto his face. "If it will shut you up," he said, now muffled as well.
The entered the hallway and Sakura hugged him, thanking him for the gift, which, she said as the embrace parted, would be opened as soon as she left work.
"Which probably won't be for a while, sadly," she said and turned toward the elevator.
Seeming to change course, Naruto turned to follow her. Her eye searched him over as he held his hand over the down button, not letting her push it. "You need help with this one, Sakura," he said. She tried to speak, but he put his other hand over her masked mouth. This angered her and she shoved at his arm. But he was set in stone. "If this is really that serious, then going at it alone for however many hours you plan on tormenting yourself is not going to do anything but wear you out more. Already you look like a zombie."
"Well I can't get another medic in on this," she snapped. "Raimi is out sick. Has been all week. And besides me, he's the only doctor capable of handling this."
Furrowing his brow, Naruto let go of the button and stepped aside. Sakura pushed it in and stood, waiting for the door to ding and open.
"Have you thought about asking Shikamaru?" Naruto outed.
Sakura bent back, bemused. "Shikamaru? He's not a medic."
"Well, no," Naruto said, scratching the back of his neck. As he said this, the door opened.
Sakura glanced at the door. They both looked over, waiting for the other to make a move. The door closed and the light above it moved on.
"But," Naruto continued, still looking at the now closed golden doors, "he's smart enough to be useful, I would think."
Sakura's eyes bore into him, quizzically.
"This is not me insinuating," Naruto said. His voice thick with authority.
She told him that she would consider it, then walked past him to the stairs. The heavy door slammed shut behind her. Left him wondering if somehow he had insulted her.
The intercom buzzed again. This time, the voice was urgent.
Naruto, left standing alone in the empty hall, sighed and pushed the down arrow once more. This time he leaned on the wall, hovering over the switches, and gritted his teeth.
At two in the morning, Sakura stepped into her studio, fourth level apartment, and poured herself a cup of hot coffee. She sipped it tentatively, then sat it on the glass table as she positioned herself, half laying back, onto her red leather sofa. She rubbed at her eyes, dry and itchy. Red to match her living-room set. She ruffled her hair and let the mask, which had been dangling from a single finger on her left hand, fall to the plush, white carpet. She breathed out heavily. And stared up at the ceiling as she fingered the brown bag atop her lap. The florescent light of her kitchen was the only brightness, offset by the shadows of the lower level to her modernized apartment. A set of needless steps joined the large room, which was seemingly separated by the curb which ran horizontally across the entire room. A large curtain, sheer white, was bunched up on a rob which ran parallel with the curb, across the ceiling. Normally this was drawn. However, not feeling like being closed in, Sakura had opened up every window, and had tied back the room divider.
Her fingers continued to dance along the latch to her bag. The frayed edges tickled her palm as she gripped the bag and sat up slowly, opening it. She crossed her legs and pulled the contents out of the bag and onto the sofa. She spread the files apart, pulling individual sheets of paper to her lap. Pictures from the morgue spilled onto her floor. Most files was fresh. The patients had been alive no more than twelve hours ago. She stared down at the face of a little girl.
The child's black hair spiraled chaotically against the metal surface of her slab. Her blueish skin was swollen. The sores which marred her bare chest and abdomen had begun forming two days before her father, also sick, had brought her into the emergency room. He was still there, being looked over to see that he had not gotten his daughter's illness. He had. But Sakura hadn't the heart to tell him as she had finally fled the hospital, too exhausted to go on. She shook her head now, and read over the details of the deceased child's file. Her's was similar to the other dead patients'. Of which there were twelve. Which double the amount that had been coming in all week. It seemed everyone in Konoha was coming down with something. Some got better, others didn't. It was becoming difficult to differentiate between the terminal and simply sick civilians and ninja of the Leaf.
Her slender finger followed the type face on the smudged paper. Smudged because she had read over it and the others too many times for her brain to comprehend. This girl had been sick for nearly two months. The other twelve had been sick for around that same time. The older ones seemed to have held out longer.
Cupping her face, Sakura looking over to her digital clock and closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them, she looked back to the pile of folders and papers on her lap. She was sleepy. But sleep, she thought, could wait until she had at least some clue as to what was quickly killing off the people of Konoha. She placed the papers back into her bag and stood. Moving it to the glass top, Sakura went over to her telephone and held down her speed-dial.
Miles away, the telephone beside of rotting fruit rang. It's song filled the compact home. Drifting through a messy living-room, parading through a barren hallway, and waking the sleeping, sweating form huddled beneath layers of blankets. Pale blond hair inched out from beneath the covers and peer out of the crack in the door. Ino closed her eyes and ignored the ringing. Ignored the smell of vomit and sweat. Ignored the ache in her stomach and the shaking in her bones. Ignored her pounding head. And allowed sleep to take her.
Sakura hung up her phone and frowned. Picking it back up, she dialed a different number. This time, a female voice answered. "Hello?" Sakura said. "Kurenai?"
"Yes?"
The sound of a child coughing came softly in the background.
"Do you know if Shikamaru is home? I can't get anyone to pick up. I'm too tired to go out."
"Oh, hold on."
Sakura heard Kurenai sit down the receiver. Seconds later, Shikamaru's lazy voice greeted her. He sounded odd.
"Shikamaru?" Sakura questioned. "Where have you been? I've been trying to reach your house for the last six hours."
"I've been staying with Kurenai."
This time, the child's cough was nearer to the speaker. Sakura surmised that Shikamaru was holding Kurenai and Asuma's daughter, Yuuri.
Sakura looked curiously at the phone, as if it had an answer to the question she now pondered. But decided not to touch the subject. Instead she asked Shikamaru is he would come over to give his input on the events going on at the hospital.
"I can't right now," he yawned. "Yuuri's sick and Kurenai just got back from a mission. She's too tired to take care of her."
Frowning, Sakura asked what was the matter with the child in question.
"I think it's a flu. Maybe pneumonia."
"Oh God," Sakura moaned. "Bring her over here, now."
"Why?"
"Please," she sighed, "just do it."
Fortunately, the shadow wielder had sensed the dread in Sakura's voice and had obliged her. Twenty minutes later, she opened her door to a sudden rain storm. And thus, a drenched Shikamaru and Yuuri. The child was crying. Her god father looked pissed.
"This better be good," he quipped and waltzed past Sakura to sit the child down. "Where's a towel?" It was as he turned that he noticed the mask on Sakura's face. "What the hell?"
"Precaution," Sakura said and entered into the bathroom. She came back with a towel. "I warmed it for her."
Kneeling and brow knitted, Shikamaru took the towel and began drying the shivering girl. The child grasped around her tiny knees, teeth chattering. She coughed as Shikamaru lifted her face and rubbed her hair somewhat dry. "Do you have something she can wear?" he asked.
Apparently Sakura had already thought of that, and handed him the white t-shirt by her side. She also handed him dry clothes for himself. He did not ask her whose clothes they were. She excused herself.
Quickly, Shikamaru redressed Yuuri and himself, and placed the wet clothes in a baggy and sat them aside. He then joined the girl on the sofa. She crawled into his lap and buried her face in the warmth of his chest. Sakura watched this, wary, and sat in the recliner across from them.
"What's this all about?" Shikamaru asked, rubbing the child's cold arms. The friction seemed to sooth her.
"First," Sakura began, "Let me examine Yuuri."
As she did this, Sakura slowly removed the mask from around her face. Her face showed a smile of relief as she looked behind her to Shikamaru. "She's fine," Sakura chuckled. "Just a cold."
Shikamaru's face malted into a smile to match Sakura's. "That's good," he breathed heavily. "I figured it was nothing," he casually said. Yet the look on his face told Sakura that he had been concerned.
"You've noticed, haven't you?" Sakura blurted.
Ignoring Sakura, Yuuri hoped down from the sofa andhopped onto Shikamaru's leg. He sat back in the recliner and held her. He didn't need to ask Sakura what she meant. He nodded.
"That's why you wanted me here," he sighed. "You think I can help you figure out what plague this is?"
Sakura hoped onto the middle cushion and began sipping her coffee once more. She expressed her hope to him fervently.
NOTE:
Finally, SAKURA! lol
I appreciate the reviews I have gotten so far, and hope for more input!