Sasuke dragged his feet to school the next day, not quite in the mood to mingle with anyone (not that he ever was), but considerably less angry than he was yesterday. His normally smooth and pale skin was nicked with bandages, on his left cheek was a rather large, white patch, and both his hands were bound tight by gauze, hiding his red, splotchy, infected skin from the world.
Much like yesterday afternoon, he gave off the aura that he didn't want to be bothered, with his backpack slung over his hunched shoulders, his hands stuffed in the confines of his pockets, and his face frozen in a stoic mask of indifference.
All throughout his walk, people whispered amongst themselves, pointing to and side-eying him with curious and admirable mumbles and stares, no doubt spreading rumors about his banged up state. If they wanted to believe he attained battle scars from a run-in with a gang, or rescued some poor, unsuspecting kitten from a tree, or - the most laughable of them all - got in a fight with the dobe and lost (seriously, what poor fool even conjured that up…), then he'd let them.
It was far better than revealing the actual truth behind his injuries, that much he'd admit. As long as none of his fan girls called themselves trying to 'nurse him back to health', they could believe he entered a cage fight with lions, tigers, and bears for all he cared.
Only one thing was on his mind right now, and as the Uchiha fingered the tiny object invading his right pocket with a twinge of curiosity, he couldn't help but to allow his thoughts to wander to that quivering girl with the right hook. His only intention was to return the gift she had so sneakily… sneaked into his backpack yesterday, if only to uphold his code of not accepting anything from people (namely girls). Plus, he hated owing people favors.
He could've easily thrown it in the garbage just like he did everyday when he emptied his locker and desk of those thousand and one confessions and chocolates, but some nagging, irrational part of his mind prevented him from doing it. Hinata's - as that pretty boy upperclassman had so honorably called her - gift was neither a sweet nor a note, and Sasuke'd be lying if he said it didn't boggle him, for in all his sixteen years of living, no one had ever gone through such lengths to sneak him a salve.
Reluctantly, he'd used it - only because they were conveniently out of rubbing alcohol and he just so happened to have a mild case of guilt - and was pleasantly surprised to find it both soothing and cool to the touch.
Even now, he smelled faintly of herbs and some other kind of thing he couldn't quite put his finger on (was it honey or lavender… perhaps, both) and nearly reveled in the fact that it put his mind at ease. All in all, he was... thankful. Unfortunately, his solace was broken when he entered the threshold of the garden, the overwhelming stench of flowers permeating his senses and dulling the salve's smell.
He was hoping he could find Hinata (and soon), return her ointment, and be done, but, much to his disdain, he wasn't counting on running into her instead. Sasuke had to stifle a groan.
"Why, Sasuke-kun!" Ino bellowed, turquoise eyes twinkling in concern as she surveyed his injuries, "I never thought I'd see you here!"
note1: Special thanks - PF