Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I really appreciate it!

Anyway, here's a new chapter!

. . .

I watched on in trepidation as Kazuki stepped cautiously toward the body of the fallen boy, and I saw that her muscles were incredibly tense, her dark eyes deep and dark and searching, roaming the tree line and surrounding area for any hidden and unseen dangers.

Preferably enemies.

Kazuki was right in sending us away, I quickly realised. After all, if there were enemies around, then they would have to have been very strong to wipe out an entire manor of civilians with a few trained ninja here and there.

She was completely correct.

Added to the fact that she was older and wiser, as well as stronger and more reliant in battle, and the fact that she was a Jōnin completely quelled down any and all protests I had about her going at it alone.

Yashamaru and Sasori were silent on either side of me, and if I hadn't been any wiser, then I would have assumed that they weren't there at all.

The next time I blinked, Kazuki was already seated beside the fallen boy, her fingers reaching to his neck. The next thing I knew, the dark-haired teen had subtly relaxed.

Her head rose ever so slightly, and her lips quirked up at the corners.

Then her fingers flicked and all three of our heads snapped up.

It was our signal.

I kicked my legs into gear, and when I appeared by our sensei's side, I staggered slightly, wincing at the pain in my bad leg. A hand caught my shoulder and, grateful, I leaned into the contact for half a second as I regained my balance.

A glance to my left confirmed that it had been Yashamaru who had offered me support.

His indigo eyes meeting mine, I offered him a grateful smile.

He replied with a warm one of his own, though its usual grimness seemed to still be there.

"Sensei," Sasori suddenly said, and I flicked my glance to the side to see the red head peering down at our dark-haired sensei, "Is he still alive?"

"Hmm?" Kazuki didn't look up once, though she did acknowledge his question with an answer as she repeatedly poked at the boy's neck, "He has a pulse, though I'm not sure he's breathing."

"Check then," I offered unhelpfully, smirking a little when Kazuki glared at me.

"I will," my sensei snapped, and she reached down and encircled the boy's shoulders, pulling him up gently before turning him on the spot so that he was face up.

I stared at his face.

… was that even a boy I was seeing there?

His face was remarkably feminine looking, his sharp, angular face framed by strands of light blond hair.

Blood was running from his lower lip, leaving a nasty, dark-red smear on his chin.

I watched as Kazuki lowered her hand to his lips, and she kept it there for a few seconds. When she looked back at us, her face was grim.

"Well?" I prodded.

Her frown deepened, "He's breathing," she informed us, pulling her hand away, "But only just."

Then, Kazuki raised him up in her arms until his back was exposed, and the fabric of his blue haori was stained with blood, clinging to his skin with a vengeance.

Guess what she did?

She slapped his back.

She actually slapped his back!

A split-second after her hand had made contact with his back, the boy's entire body tensed, and then he erupted into a coughing fit.

I saw his eyes flickering under their lids, and I grimaced in sympathy for him.

"Sasori-kun," Kazuki suddenly said, her voice loud but serious at the same time.

The red head tensed in anticipation, and our sensei seemed to take that as an invitation to continue, "You know medical ninjutsu, right? 'Cause if you do, then it'd be a serious help right now!"

"He does, Sensei," I piped in before Sasori could have a chance to answer, "Remember that one time in the park when I was six? I had to fight that Aki kid, and Sasori-san healed my hands for me. So he definitely knows medical ninjutsu."

Though I wasn't looking at Sasori, I could feel the red head's glare burning the side of my face.

So what if he didn't want to heal the kid?

I damn would.

"C'mon, Sasori-san," I said, ignoring the way that his eyes narrowed at the use of his name, "Just heal him already. I mean, it's not as if it'll kill you, right?"

"Fine," Sasori muttered, "I'll do it."

I blinked, mildly surprised at his cooperation. Seriously, I thought that it would take a lot more persuading than the useless words that I'd spewed from my mouth, "You'll do it? For real?"

"I said so, didn't I?" the red head snapped, his words thick with impatience.

"Um, yeah," I muttered, but Sasori ignored me.

The seven year old puppet user crouched down next to where Kazuki was cradling the boy in her arms, "Where is he injured?" he asked.

Kazuki wordlessly lifted the boy's shirt, and I was born witness to a huge, jagged gash that stretched the length of his chest.

"Holy shit," I whispered, my eyes wide.

Kazuki's own face was horror-struck as she gazed down at the boy in her arms, "Can you heal it enough so that he won't bleed to death, Sasori-kun?"

Sasori was already prodding the edges of the wound with green-tipped fingers, and he hesitated in his answer, "I should be able to close it at best," he finally murmured, "So I'll need some bandages to wrap around his chest when I'm done."

"Alright," Kazuki said, "Who around here has any extra bandages? Because I as sure as hell don't. I wasted mine on Yūmaru-chan."

Somehow, I felt mild hurt at her statement, so I shot her a dirty glare, "So sorry for not dying then, Sensei," I muttered bitterly.

Kazuki's eyes widened in surprise, then they turned incredulous when she seemed to process what I'd just said, "Hey now," she exclaimed, and if she could, then she would've raised her hands defensively. But, seeing as she had an armful of child, she couldn't, "You know I didn't mean it that way, Yūmaru-chan!"

I shot her an unimpressed look, crossing my arms over my chest, "Oh, really?" I raised an eyebrow, daring her to continue, "Then what exactly did you mean, Kazuki?"

My sensei winced ever so slightly at my usage of her first name without honorifics, but her eyes hardened, and suddenly, they weren't as open and vulnerable as they had been only seconds earlier.

"This isn't a time for fighting, Sensei, Yū-san," Yashamaru interjected, voice firm and sure, "Because, if you haven't looked in front of you, there's a dying boy right there. So, get your act together so we can help him."

My face flushed so violently that it completely overrided the throbbing in my cheek.

I cannot believe that Yashamaru had intervened in our argument and scolded us like a frazzled mother.

And we were the children.

"Fine, Yashamaru-kun," I sulked, and I didn't even react when said boy raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the change in honorifics.

So, I felt the need to explain, "Since we're friends I felt that I should call you Yashamaru-kun."

Yashamaru appeared amused, if the quirk of his lips and the twinkling of his eyes was anything to go by.

"What about Sasori-san?" he asked, that amused smile of his still in place.

Before I could answer, Sasori answered for me, "We're not close, so it's Sasori-san for her."

And it was then that I realised that Sasori had never addressed me by my name even once in all the time I'd known him. I was simply "you", "that girl", and "her" around my other team-mates.

"Yeah, Sasori-san," I grumbled.

I could see the sides of the red head's lips tilt up, but whether it was from amusement or merely a normal smirk, I couldn't tell. I was simply too far away, and his own head was bowed, his rust-red bangs shadowing his eyes.

There was a long silence, and the only sound was the strange noise of Sasori's healing jutsu that flickered every now and again.

Eventually, the pale green light faded for good, and Sasori pulled back, raising a hand and mopping sweat from his brow.

His hands were shaking, I noticed, and his skin was a shade paler than its usual pallor.

That jutsu he used must've expended quite a bit of chakra, but considering that he was only seven years old, that was a given, I guess.

Wordlessly, Yashamaru began untying the bandages around his legs and he handed them to our sensei who began to wrap them tightly around the boy's chest.

As she was doing this, the boy stirred slightly.

His face was deathly pale and every breath he took raised his chest a great deal.

But he was alive.

And he would continue to live.

His eyes flickered.

They were a bright, sky-blue.

"Where…" his voice rasped, "am I?"

"Hey, kid," Kazuki said gently, placing a hand on his cheek, "It's okay, you're safe. Nobody's going to hurt you, but can you tell me your name?"

The boy appeared to be dazed, and he blinked slowly, and when he spoke, his words were slurred.

"Yoshi," he croaked, eyes struggling to stay open, "Yoshi Akiyama."

. . .

When we had found the dying boy, I guess I hadn't expected him to survive the night.

I know my team-mates thought the same thing.

The only person that was completely set against that belief, was Kazuki.

In fact, when I had even dared to suggest that he may not make it, my sensei had responded with a deadly glare and a cutting remark.

After the boy, Yoshi Akiyama, had told us his name, he had subsequently passed out, and if it hadn't been for Kazuki's quick reflexes, then the boy would have fallen straight out of her arms and onto the ground, probably aggravating his newly closed wound.

After that, our sensei had stood up with Yoshi balanced rather awkwardly in her arms, and after a second of struggling with his weight, she had announced rather brazenly that we would be camping inside the boy's house for the night.

I had stared at her, disbelief swimming in my eyes.

"But- but shouldn't head back to Suna as soon as possible?" I had stammered, choosing to ignore the way that her eyes had narrowed at my words, "'Cause at this rate, I don't think he'll survive the week, or maybe even the night."

Kazuki's eyes had glared at me venomously, and when she had spoken, her words had been laced with poison: "Are you suggesting that you want him to die, Yūmaru?!"

The –chan honorific that she usually addressed me with had been suspiciously absent, and I had flinched, looking down at the ground and mumbling, "That's not what I meant at all, Sensei. Of course I don't want him to die! What do you take me for?! A heartless little girl?!"

My sensei hadn't even bothered to answer, instead choosing to walk toward the Akiyama residence, disappearing through its doors soon after, and I had to admit that it stung.

A lot.

Yashamaru had placed a comforting hand on my shoulder and, ignoring my frazzled look, had inquired, "How's your leg, Yū-san? And your face?"

I had stared at him through a veil of crimson hair, grumbling, "What do you think?"

"I think that you're troubled and angry, especially at Sensei," he had unexpectedly answered, and, having seen my shocked expression, he had smiled at me gently, squeezing my shoulder reassuringly, "Quit worrying so much about what others think of you. Contrary to popular belief, there's a saying that goes "be yourself", so stop acting so stiff and polite when you think you're in the wrong."

I had sighed then, "And what if that really is me, huh?" I had challenged, "What then?"

Yashamaru hadn't answered for a long time, so I had sighed then before walking after Kazuki and Sasori, muttering, "Is that what you really think of me, Yashamaru? 'Cause being silent when I ask a question like that just goes so well with my esteem."

Somehow, I found myself sitting in front of the futon that the boy, Yoshi Akiyama, was now occupying.

How I found myself there, I had no idea.

Yoshi looked more at ease then when we had found him. His face didn't seem as grey as it had, and the blood had been washed from his hair. He was wearing some sort of elegant grey sleeping kimono that Kazuki had found somewhere in the huge house.

And I wondered: Was everyone in this house really dead?

With the amount of dead bodies that we had found in the hallways and adjoining rooms answered our question, but it didn't sate our suspicions.

Just why had everyone been killed with this boy left as the only survivor?

It just didn't add up, and it didn't make sense, either.

While kill off an entire household and leave a little boy as the only survivor?

It just didn't make sense.

None of it did.

I was jerked out of my thoughts when the boy on the futon suddenly let out a wordless cry. My eyes instantly came to rest on his slumbering form.

The blankets of his futon had been pulled tight over his shoulder, but in the midst of his dreams, they had been kicked to his stomach, allowing a sliver of bandages to poke through his garments.

The boy- Yoshi Akiyama, I kept reminding myself harshly- his eyes were screwed tightly shut, a thin sheen of perspiration on his face glistening in the half-mast darkness of the room, and every so often, a mumble would escape his lips, so often, in fact, that I could now recognise the incoherent babble escaping his lips.

"… Yu… i…" he mumbled, and then he groaned out, "I'm… so sorry that… I couldn't protect you…"

My eyebrows came together in astonishment, my mouth parting in a soundless 'o' as he suddenly quietened down.

It was silent for a long time after that, and silently, I stood up, wincing ever so slightly at my injured, before departing the room.

I had to see Kazuki.

I found her standing outside, and I said quietly, "I thought that you'd be jumping for joy and screaming "I told you so" at that fact that he survived the night."

Her entire form stiffened, before she bit out, "You know that I wouldn't do that, Yūmaru."

No honorifics.

Ah, so she was still angry at me then.

I allowed myself a small, humourless smile, "Forgive me for not trusting him then," I said sardonically, "And forgive me for presuming that this could actually be a trap- an elaborate trick designed to target us at our most vulnerable." And it was true- we were all vulnerable: Sasori was tired from closing Yoshi's wound, and the rest of us were tired from battle, and let's not forget that fact that I was injured- and with an injured leg to boot!

And then I walked away without giving Kazuki the grace to apologise for being such a bitch.

I didn't apologise, either.

I admit that I was acting like a bitch, too, but at least I can admit it.

But Kazuki was only concerned for all of us, so we both were in the fault- me for acting like I did all those hours earlier, and Kazuki for what she'd said to me.

There wouldn't be an apology for quite a while, because I knew Kazuki was the type to not give in, and I didn't want to give her the satisfaction by admitting that I was in the wrong- even though we both were.

I wouldn't apologise.

. . .

Yoshi was better in the morning, though he still hadn't woken up.

It was unspoken between all four of us that we had to return to Suna as soon as possible, but with a grievously injured boy currently laying near-dead at feet, we didn't know how long the "possible" would take.

"I say we go now," I announced.

Yashamaru snorted derisively, and I glared at him.

"What?!" I snapped, my glare turning deadly when he had the gall to smirk at me.

"That boy's still unconscious," Sasori pointed out (un)helpfully.

"And if he's moved again, then his wound will reopen and he'll bleed out," Yashamaru added.

"How do you know that?" And yes, I was serious. He was like, seven years old!

"I want to become a medic-nin," he answered, shrugging, "So I've been studying it on the side."

I didn't talk after that, and I didn't even look up when Kazuki entered the room.

"Yoshi-kun's awake," she announced.

I sulked when she didn't glance my way, and when everyone left the room to go to Yoshi's bedside, I remained where I was.

I was still angry at how rudely my sensei had brushed me off.

I didn't want to see Yoshi Akiyama.

I didn't trust him.

And yet, I couldn't see how my team-mates could so readily trust him, despite the fact that everything that had occurred up to this point could actually be a trap.

I don't trust Yoshi Akiyama.

His entire family had been murdered, but no one could seem to pick up the tiny fact that someone or something had left the boy alive.

Maybe out of an act for mercy?

I would never no, because I hadn't been there.

It still didn't change the fact that I didn't trust him.

That Yoshi Akiyama.

A rustle at the doorway made me look up, and the first thing I saw was red.

Sasori, then.

The red head was standing in the entrance to the room, his arms crossed over his chest and a neutral expression plastered across his face.

I acknowledged his presence with a nod of my head, but I wasn't prepared for when he took a step inside.

Why was he here?"

"Sensei asked me to check your leg," he explained dully, as if reading my thoughts, "So, does it hurt?"

"Yes," I answered bluntly, "It does."

"Let me check then," he gestured to my injured leg and, with a sigh, I reluctantly pulled my pants up to my thigh where the wound, wrapped firmly in bandages, could be seen.

As he reached to my leg, I suddenly said, "I don't trust him. That boy, I mean."

His gaze flickered to mine, and in that one shared look, I knew that he understood what I meant.

"You don't trust him either," I summarised.

His silence was enough answer, I guess.

I winced when he pulled the bandages, it stung horribly because they had been clinging to the wound.

"I'll close it," he said, and he didn't give me any room to protest before he placed his glowing green hand over the wound.

"Wait, Sasori, stop," I said, grabbing his wrist and gently pulling it away from my leg, "Just leave it. It'll heal on its own, and anyway, aren't you still tired from closing that boy's wound?"

His eyes narrowed minutely at my use of his name without honorifics, but I knew that he couldn't care less.

I had only addressed him so informally because I just could not be bothered.

I was tired, I was cold, and I was hungry.

I was also in pain.

That didn't make for a very good combination for Yūmaru Kishi.

Sasori pulled his wrist from my grip and then set to wrapping the bandages back into place.

"Sasori-san?" I asked.

His movements were jerky and edgy- he was as tired as I was.

"What?" his tone was impatient.

I hesitated, and then I blurted, "Are we… are we friends?"

His movements stopped altogether.

"… No."

I deflated a little, but that was to be expected. We had never really conversed, and I didn't really know him.

He wasn't a character of a manga anymore, he was a real, living, breathing person.

"Can we be?"

He was silent for a long time, then-

"Maybe," he murmured, so low that I could barely hear him, "Sometime in the future."

And then he was gone.

I now knew what he was implying.

We weren't friends, not even close, but we could be, in the future.

We had come to an understanding of sorts, but there would be a long road before we truly could be called friends.

I was looking forward to it.