Those Boys Are My Boys
Hi so, I wrote this story a long time ago. It probably sucks. I don't remember. But I really enjoyed writing it, and I've already finished it, and the first chapter is up all alone, so why not? I assure you my writing is better now. Or, at least, I hope it is. I'm currently writing another story and thought I'd upload this while that one's in progress.
-x-
Once… Naruto looked so serious, I had nothing to say.
"Sakura?"
"Hm?"
"Have you ever seen Sasuke cry?"
"Sasuke? No… I don't think so."
Silence.
"Are you okay, Naruto?"
"Yeah."
Silence.
"Just… I promise I won't let it ever happen again."
Then he left.
-x-
The worst days often disguise themselves as good ones: "The Armageddon" is a prime example. It was sunny but not humid, breezy but never tousled my hair, warm but not scorching. A rarity in the rollercoaster that is Konoha weather. People's moods are affected by days like these and everyone is happier, kinder, sweeter with a breath of fresh air in their lungs.
I left for work that morning, unsuspecting – how could I have known? If I had, I would never have made it out of bed, the despair was that crippling in the early days of anguish and recovery. In my hands I held a small packet of paperwork full of boring hospital stuff in a filing envelope that needed to be handed in to the Hokage's secretary, who was evidently but informally Sasuke. He only did it because with the Sharingan he could flick through 100 pages in thirty seconds flat and recite every word. The paperwork needed to be in before midday, which was when Sasuke was expecting it.
Sometimes I resent those pages of paperwork. I used to wish I could travel back in time and rip them from the hands of Past Sakura, who would stare at me, shocked, as I lit the pages on fire and danced on the ashes and ululated like a tribeswoman who'd brought back a massive kill from the hunt, saving myself from The Grief.
But I couldn't, and Past Sakura continued on her way to work, naïve, thinking her life is just what it seems.
I checked into work not a minute after six, immediately handed my roster for the day by one of the hundreds of faceless nurses I work with. I've probably worked alongside them for years but I've never learned a single name, never memorised one face, never tried to start conversations or form friendships that didn't already exist. Work is for work.
I think everybody knew that I had filled Tsunade's role in the infirmary, and if they didn't already assume I had, they could tell I was trying to. Konoha needed Tsunade more than ever after the war, but she couldn't dig herself out of the dirt to save us. None of the medics seemed to know what to do. Everyone acted hopeless without her, and I couldn't help but compare my coworkers to lost sheep, their herder never to return and put them in order and tell them how to do their jobs. It infuriated me at first. Not only had I lost the woman I felt closest to, my only role model, more so than my own mother, the one that had taught me what it meant to be a ninja, who I was, the reason I do what I do – gone, without a chance to say goodbye or help heal her myself – but also everyone seemed to make it their personal vendetta to ruin everything she ever worked for. The infirmary was absolute chaos.
It was as if Tsunade had been personally training me for her death. Like she'd left a big old pair of shoes to fill but made sure I was the only one to fit them. Like I was her personal Cinderella. So of course I stepped up, who else could? I'm not bragging, simply stating fact, when I say that after Tsunade passed away I was the best medic in Konoha, and everyone knew it; made sure that I knew it, too.
Now that I was a Sannin, it was like Tsunade never even left in the first place.
The first course of action, as it was every day, was monthly shinobi medical exams. The three top medics are required to monitor these check-ups, so naturally the duty fell upon my shoulders. Every shinobi in the village has to get checkups once a month. This is necessary to ensure foreign disease doesn't spread to Fire Country, and also so that any unaddressed ailments or abnormalities can be taken care of swiftly and professionally to guarantee each ninja does their best in the field. The monthly medical checkup program was Moegi's idea, who happens to be my apprentice. I forwarded the idea to Naruto, who is always publicizing his ideal of 'a Konoha molded by its citizens'.
The month was nearing its end, which meant that only the people who missed their first booked appointment due to unexpected missions or personal affairs were left. My first patient for the day turned out to be Shino, who had been on an escort mission that was extended due to unprecedented bandit attacks.
He knocked only once upon his arrival, so softly I may not have noticed had I not been standing right beside the door. I clocked my appearance in the small mirror hanging upon the mostly bare walls out of habit, then slid the door open and flashed my least intimidating smile.
"Good morning, Shino. Come in and take a seat behind the curtain."
Even though I've known Shino for years, I acted as professional as possibly, as I always do. I imagined his face to be blank, without features like a CPR practice dummy, and detached myself from any familiarity I felt towards him.
This is how I work, a practice Tsunade always tried to instill in me to make certain that when working with a patient, no matter how calamitous or alarming the situation, I would always have a clear mind, mechanical hands and be one hundred percent focused.
Shino nodded as he passed, stiffly taking a seat on the hard plastic bench as I drew the curtains and pulled over my trolley of doctor's toys.
"Follow the light, please," I said, shining it into his… glasses. "You'll have to take those off."
Shino's featureless dummy face did not show any sign of hearing me. I was forced to see him as a person again.
"Shino?" I drummed my fingers on the bench to show my impatience.
He looked torn, just barely, for a moment before taking a slow and purposeful breath. "I cannot."
The phrase 'patience is a virtue' never held any meaning to me growing up. If I wanted something I got it instantly – I was terribly spoiled by my kin, being the youngest, cutest person in attendance at familial gatherings. That's why, during my academy days, I was easily frustrated when stupid people like Naruto took too long to answer questions or didn't understand new concepts right away. I always got the hang of things quickly, so when I started on ninjutsu and found that it wasn't as straightforward as spelling or math or theory, I freaked out and got angry at Iruka for "not teaching me good".
I've learned to keep a lid on this minor flaw as time passed, with the exception of three things that never fail to set me off: Naruto's idiocy, Sasuke's drama queen strops, and my medicinal work.
"Shino," I said as calmly as possible, lowering the torch. "You have to take them off so we can get on with this."
"I can assure you there is nothing wrong with my eyes," he said.
"Well how can you know that unless you let someone check them?" I replied.
"I check them."
"You're not a medic."
"I check them."
"Okay, you know what?" I slammed my hand onto the trolley of toys which seemed to be less fun now and pushed it to the wall, stripping off my latex gloves and sliding the door open. "Why don't I get someone else to examine them? Someone you trust. Hinata? She was on your team."
"My eyes are working at full capacity," he deadpanned.
"Okay, I'll go get Hinata then." I smiled a very strained smile and slammed the door shut, clenched my fists hard enough to draw blood, almost, and stormed to the break room, where Hinata can usually be found in the mornings right before she heads home from the night shift.
Sure enough, when I thundered through the door calling her name, there she was, in the middle of sipping coffee with big bags under her eyes and a comatose expression.
"I need your help, sorry, I know you've been working all night, it's just Shino – he won't take off his glasses – it's his monthly check up though because he missed his and – he says they're fine but – procedure and – you can say no but—"
Hinata held up a hand, finished sipping, emptied her mug into the sink and sat it down on the tabletop by the kettle. She smiled at me tiredly. "That's fine, Sakura. What room is he in?"
I wondered when I had become the stammering, helpless girl only to run to Hinata who had taken my place as the capable one. I smiled at her gratefully and thanked her to no end, somehow fitting the room number in between my breathless hem and haw. She merely smiled and glided down the hall like an ethereal goddess, floating rather than walking. I stared. Tired Hinata should not be more appealing than rested Hinata, but it was so.
I took a breath and headed back to the roster station, only to almost have a collision with Ino.
"Oh," I said, sidestepping her and the large stack of paperwork that left her walking blind hefted in her arms. "Sorry."
"Sakura, glad I caught you," she said quickly. "Uh, walk with me a second?"
I complied and treaded behind her into the roster office, which is where she was stationed in-between working in intelligence after her late father. After the war Ino had converted from hey-there-stud party girl to full-time workaholic. The gossip mill insisted that it was to help her cope with the loss of her father and close friend slash teammate, Chouji, and I knew that this was partly true, however late nights listening to her crying softly and sharing bottles of sake gave me insight the others didn't have. Ino needed to work to take her mind off The Grief, everyone copes differently, but she also wanted to shed her reputation as the local slut, which was a definite misconception as Ino had only ever slept with her boyfriend of six months. She needed to be taken seriously, and she herself said she needed to grow up if she were to protect the people precious to her. When she's not working, she's working out, training until her knuckles bleed and her head pounds and her chakra has diminished to potentially fatal amounts. Ino is everything a true kunoichi should be, she carries the burden of loss, and she can still smile and make boys lose their heads and wallets.
Maybe I am jealous of Ino.
I waited as she dropped a large pile of documents from the crook of her elbow while managing to juggle a coffee cup filled to the up to the precarious top, tucked a hair behind her ear, and remembered that she had called me in.
"Sorry about that – and the mess." I pretended not to have noticed the stacks of unfiled paperwork and finished boxes of fried takeout noodles peppered around the small office.
"What did you need me for? Roster change?" I asked.
"Uh, actually yes, I just gotta…" She ruffled around the piles of papers briefly before holding one out to me, face triumphant as if she were an academy student that came first in the fun run. "Here it is! Your next appointment called in, had an emergency mission – again – so you have about half an hour of free time before the next patient will be in." Ino collapsed into her chair and grinned up at me devilishly. "Go nuts."
"Really?" I said, taking the paper and skimming the contents. "That's annoying… but every cloud has a silver lining, I suppose."
I folded the paper and handed it back to Ino, who was about to say something when her phone rang and she smiled at me apologetically. I smiled back and slipped out as she talked in her phone-voice – it's more polite than her normal voice – and stood aimlessly in the hallway for a few seconds.
How had I gone from Professional Sakura, top-dog, the one everyone goes to for help, to Free Time Sakura, who asks Hinata for help, who is jealous of her best girlfriend, with half an hour and nothing to fill it with? Medics bustled all around me; some were yelling urgently, others in placating tones to their patients, some laughing with one another. None acknowledged me. I felt uncomfortable, standing in the hallway, like I was in everyone's way, so I headed back to my office and sat at my desk, plopping my head into my hand.
I noticed the small packet of files I needed delivered to Sasuke by midday. Funny how I had been trying to find a way to fit that in this morning, and now the perfect opportunity had come up. Silver lining indeed – or so I thought.
I plucked up the small package and marched down the hall with purpose; I was definitely not Free Time Sakura, I was determined, busy, helpful, bustling, Doing Sakura, and I would not be useless. Everyone would look at me and think, 'She looks important, I bet she has something very important to do, just look at how she strides'.
I strode all the way to Hokage Tower, which is a short distance from the infirmary and doesn't require the pace I used, but I maintained it nonetheless. I maintained it all the way up the stairs, past others who did not look as important and official as I did. People nodded at me, smiled, bowed, paid me respect. Sometimes, when it was just me and Ino and I noticed how she was curvier and slimmer and prettier than I am, I forgot that I was a Sannin, and that I was Legendary, and that I would go down in the history books, and maybe boys could lose their heads and wallets over me, too. I felt very, very good all the way to Naruto's office door, so good I forgot myself and barged straight in.
My smile did not fall immediately. At first all I processed was that the boys were both present, nothing more. But slowly I saw something else unfolding; their eyes locked, the distance between their noses becoming smaller and smaller, and at some point they started touching, or maybe they were always touching, and maybe Sasuke's face had always looked that blissful, and maybe Naruto had always been blushing that hard, but I didn't notice it until maybe five seconds after I walked in on them sprawled across his desk and kissing, passionately.
It took me a moment to grasp that this wasn't another accidental kiss. Then my smile fell.
-x-