Sakura was in a bad mood as she got ready to examine her latest patient. It was yet another breast enhancement. This was the kind of shit Sakura hated most about her line of work. Maybe it was naïve of her, but she had gone into cosmetic surgery with the hope of doing at least some actual good in the world. She had dreamed of helping people who had been disfigured by disease or severe injuries return to a normal life, and she had genuinely believed, when started out, that most of the people she would see asking for boob jobs would be women recovering from breast cancer or things like that. The way her instructors had talked to her about the misconceptions surrounding plastic surgery, she had been convinced that only a minority of the work was the vain beautification most people imagined.
But she had been wrong. Her instructors had apparently been lying through their teeth. And now again, as so many times before, she was approached by a perfectly healthy, perfectly attractive young woman who just wanted bigger tits. It was particularly galling this time, as the woman in question was not only unquestionably attractive but also unmistakably well endowed. Sure, her tits could be bigger, and that was of course what she had come to Sakura about, but it was still galling to the surgeon, especially since Temari's breasts were already many sizes larger than her own. So, naturally, Sakura was in a foul mood as the preparations were made. Temari had been counseled and informed of potential alternatives to surgery (Sakura really not wanting to give her even bigger tits), but Temari was adamant about getting the work done. She said it was for her career as a model and remarked that she had been recommended this place by her friend, Sarada.
Because of course, she had, and of course she was. It seemed like every other fucking client Sakura got was an aspiring model, and they always tried to show her their portfolio or talk her into giving them a discount. Admittedly Temari seemed to have more professional work under her belt, and she definitely looked like a supermodel, and she HAD gotten referred here by Sarada (who was a legitimately successful model, possibly her only client aspiring to that career who had actually made it in the business), and she seemed to be more serious about her ambitions than most of those silly, flighty, "I was always the prettiest girl in school, so of course I'll make it," types who spent a bunch of money on getting work done only for that so-called investment to amount to precisely jack shit.
Maybe Temari would make it in the modeling world. Maybe she would burn out and quit for a more realistic profession. Sakura didn't care one way or the other. She wouldn't be rooting for the girl, but she wouldn't be so petty as to take pleasure in her failure either. She disliked doing this kind of work, but she wasn't outright spiteful—she just resented what kind of clientele her business attracted, disillusioned about her youthful idealism and bitter about people's shallowness.
Also, and especially with a woman like Temari, there was a hint of envy running through the dislike. No matter how her husband might insist that she was perfect just the way she was, Sakura couldn't help but feel self-conscious about her own lack of a bust. But she was too proud to even think of breast enhancement as an option, too stubborn to cave in on this principle and either become a hypocrite or let go of her distaste for the trashy superficiality motivating so much of her business.
But whatever her feelings about all of this, Sakura was still a professional at the end of the day. She was good at what she did, and she took pride in her ability even if she hated what it was too often used for. She would not let her personal emotions get in the way of getting the job done, and so she centered herself as Temari finally went under, focusing purely on the task so as to forget everything else.
Her assistant grabbed the tools, and Sakura got to work.
"You're free to go," Sakura said, looking down at Temari. "Just take it easy for a bit while they heal."
The blonde was relieved to hear this, and she immediately stood up and took a look at herself in the mirror. The sight was a bit displeasing. She didn't note the size right away, too distracted by the suture marks. She didn't do well with blood or stitches, and while there was little if any of the former, she couldn't ignore seeing the latter. Well, of course, she had expected that they would look like that immediately after the procedure, but it was still unpleasant.
"Will there be, uh… scars?" she asked. She could vaguely remember asking Sakura a similar question before deciding on the operation, but she felt the need to be reassured. "You know. On my tits?"
"Not anything noticeable as long as you give them the time to heal," Sakura said. "Shouldn't take more than a week or two."
Temari winced. That sounded like a long time to her.
"Any activities I should avoid?" She was thinking of one activity in particular. Not that there was anyone she could currently do it with anyway, but… "Is getting in a pool okay?"
"A public pool? Not until the incisions have had time to close themselves," Sakura answered. "You'll want to wash it regularly to make sure you don't get an infection, but don't be too vigorous about it. Avoid putting undue stress on the stitches until your skin can knit itself shut naturally. I'd advise against sex, just to be safe," she added. "I shouldn't need to tell you this, but avoid playing with your breasts until—"
"—Until they've had time to heal," Temari said. She could see the theme that was developing. "Yeah, okay. I got it."
"I just want to make sure you understand," Sakura said. "Most people have the sense to take care immediately following the operation, but there are always a couple who need it spelled out for them. I'll give you a more detailed list of instructions, and we can arrange for your next appointment now."
"My next appointment?"
"To remove the stitches," Sakura said. "And to make sure there aren't any problems. If there's an infection or a bad reaction, I'd want to catch it before it gets serious."
"Uh… Am I likely to get an infection?"
"Not as long as you follow the instructions," Sakura said. "But even then, there's always a chance. Better safe than sorry. And you won't want to leave the stitches in, of course."
"No," Temari said. "Of course not."
She nodded, and they finished up. Sakura gave her the directions and the bill (which Temari tried to avoid staring at for too long before she gave Sakura the payment information), and when this was done, they parted ways.
