Chapter 27 — They Kicked the Chair
She was being set up for failure, surely.
Almost two dreadful weeks flew by in what felt like a matter of seconds. There was so much work to do at Suna's hospital that it left her without a moment to herself—she hadn't even started any of her official classes yet, either.
The first week was spent in back-to-back postponed surgeries then supporting the ICU, which was outrageously overwhelmed. It was there that Sakura discovered how overworked the medics were, the sights of their haggard and defeated appearances prompting her to finally enlist the aid of her own medics (even those who weren't in her group), if only to give the others a well-deserved break.
Unable to change working schedules too greatly (for it would cause a negative impact when they left), Sakura had the directors of the hospital come up with a system of their own to better support their medics. However, it soon became established that unless they had a major influx of licensed medics (not those in training), then change wasn't likely to happen any time soon. They were stretched too thin.
Knowing how quickly it'd all gone downhill since last year's programme, on a few occasions, Sakura found herself half-tempted to officially request that she stayed in Suna even after it was all over. Each unit was overwhelmed, the medics overworked and as a result, patient care was severely lacking. It didn't come as a surprise to Sakura to eventually discover (after sending Rin to investigate) that their mortality rate was creeping up unsettlingly. That horrifying fact was what prompted her to suggest the possibility of staying behind to her husband the next morning.
"We can discuss it at the end of the programme," Itachi replied when she shared how she was feeling regarding it all. "I am not opposed to you extending your time to help out—the elders, on the other hand…"
Would likely rip them a new one, Sakura realised with a sharp exhale. They were supposed to be keeping their heads down, too.
It was her first morning off after nine days of constantly working, and she'd yet to climb out of bed since collapsing into it the night before. Even the cup of tea brought to her couldn't convince Sakura to move and she knew by now it would be cold. Utter exhaustion finally granted her a full night of uninterrupted sleep, though it seemed it ran too deep to be sated by a single night.
"If this is how I feel after less than two weeks, I dread to think how the others must be feeling after a year of this," she mumbled miserably into the pillow. Even her residency hadn't wiped her out as badly.
The words concerned her husband who knew she was not one to whine without genuine upset; Sakura could feel him assessing her during the prolonged silence that almost sent her back to sleep. A hand came to her back in a comforting gesture, but he was swiftly one-upped by Kyo, who managed to shake the entire bed when he jumped onto it before using her back as his latest bed. Paws coming to the back of her head, his body seemed to stretch out across the entirety of her torso, and Sakura huffed at the feeling of his tail tickling the backs of her knees.
"It appears Kyo is also worried about you," noted Itachi fondly.
Sakura read into his intentions with a roll of her eyes. While a part of him was concerned for her well-being, in that moment, he was just hungry and reminding her of his presence. That was proven by the insistent shifting that transformed into full blown rubbing his head against her shoulder, like she could somehow forget about the fifteen pound furball.
"Kyo," she complained sleepily when he had to catch himself before he rolled off her back. "Waiting five minutes for breakfast won't kill you, y'know."
"You did start feeding him earlier to accommodate your shift pattern," recalled Itachi with a sigh. Standing and making a vague tutting sound that instantly captivated the large cat, her husband headed in the direction of Kyo's personal belongings. "It seems he believed that to be his new breakfast schedule."
Meaning she was essentially being punished for making him wait. The punishment only continued when she was used as a vault to gain better momentum to run across the room, coming to an enthusiastic skidding halt. It was accompanied by a squeaky meow; his overall commotion covered her muffled yelp as her head was shoved further into the pillows.
Feeling an ounce of motivation trickling back in, Sakura managed to roll onto Itachi's considerably cooler side of the bed with a groan of exertion, back arching with her drawn out stretch and yawn.
"Did they finish serving breakfast—"
A swift but polite knock silenced her from finishing her question, and she pouted at the intrusion to her only morning off. She'd hoped for at least another hour in bed with her husband—the only time they saw each other in the past nine days were in the briefest moments between unconsciousness and leaving for the hospital. He appeared just as unappreciative of the visitor but hid it well by the time he reached the door.
"Good morning, Uchiha-san. I apologise for disturbing your morning." The voice was vaguely familiar to her and prompted Sakura to sit up in bed, knowing that the angle of Itachi's body prevented the person on the other side of the door seeing her. "Paediatrics have requested Sakura-senpai's assistance."
Her stomach dropped.
Paediatrics.
Shockingly, Itachi disputed and said, "It is her only morning off—"
"I know," came the apologetic response tinged with reluctance. "This is the last thing I want to do when Sakura-senpai is already doing so much for our hospital, but the situation is…" It was the waver of their voice that brought Sakura to her feet, heart stuttering at one of Suna's medic-nin's loss of composure. "It's not looking good, Uchiha-san."
"Of course," he relented without showing his own reluctance. "My wife will meet you there."
By the time the door was shut, Sakura was already dressed and in the process of tying her unwashed hair back, inwardly grimacing at the oily feel of it that was exacerbated by the intense heat. However, working upwards of eighteen hours per day left little downtime if she also wanted an adequate amount of sleep—even eating had to be wherever it could be squeezed in, usually when on the move between patients.
"Sorry. Fighting against the request felt immoral—"
"Don't try apologising," she warned him offhandedly, then realising how distracted she sounded (and potentially insincere), Sakura shot a small smile over her shoulder. "I would have gone even if you did manage to shoo him off."
Something about her countenance had Itachi pausing in handing over the bag of essentials that she carried to each shift with her. For a moment she wondered if it was concern over how tired she'd been only a minute prior, but then she noticed his gaze sweeping down to her hands.
"You're nervous," he soon said, not asked.
Still, while attempting to shake out the minute tremor, she explained with a sigh, "I'm always nervous when they ask for me to work with a child's case."
Realisation had Itachi falling silent once more. It was a silence Sakura greatly appreciated, for she knew no number of pretty words could ease the intense weight trying its damnedest to keep her down.
Being one of the best oftentimes came with heart-shattering consequences, after all.
"I will meet you after your shift," he softly said instead, and her heart melted. It only continued to do so when he added, "I replenished your bag earlier—there are ration bars in there, however you need to try and eat a meal soon."
"I will," she promised, then smiled at the tender kiss placed to her forehead. "Thank you, Itachi. For this and for understanding."
The next kiss was to her lips, and Sakura made sure to savour the contact. "I am a medic-nin's husband," he said like that should have explained everything. "I will support you in every way possible."
Twenty-seven medics had quit over the past year. A further twenty were hospitalised due to stress related conditions. Four more had died.
Their working conditions were unsurmountable and what made it worse was that there genuinely wasn't much that could be done. They needed more medics—permanent medics. Calling for reinforcements from Konoha was all well and good on a temporary basis, but then what? They tumbled all the way back down to square one within a few days of their leaving.
Saying that, trying to persevere when medics were literally dying was ridiculous.
Suna was hardcore—Sakura had thought that from the moment she first learned of their training regimes, and that belief only strengthened over time and after becoming friends with the Sand Siblings. But a chunk of the respect she once possessed while saying such a line disappeared as she read the charts Rin procured.
They'd been keeping how severe their struggles were from them purely to save face.
It was infuriating that they hadn't asked for help sooner. No, what made it all the more infuriating was the continued lack of communication. She shouldn't only just be hearing of their problems from Temari or rundown medics—the Kazekage should have informed them sooner, because now her medics were at risk of winding up in the same position trying to ease their burden. To top it all off: where the hell were they supposed to find the time to teach?
She really was being set up to fail.
Sakura shook out her anger as she came to a stop outside the children's unit. It was one she'd yet to visit due to being needed everywhere else, but she knew Rin and a few others were supporting them. They were in good hands with them, she tried to reassure herself.
Deep breaths, she reminded herself.
In the paediatric department, it was imperative to remember that as well as there being a patient requiring their utmost care and support, there were also the guardians of the children. Guardians who were likely incredibly stressed and scared beyond belief and needed someone to lean on; who unknowingly impacted how their child responded to treatments or their situation as a whole. They looked to their child's medical providers for all the answers and grew understandably distressed if they saw even a glimpse of anything negative or uncertain, meaning perfecting her poker face had never been more crucial.
With that important point in mind, Sakura finally pressed the buzzer to alert the others of her arrival and introduced herself once it was answered. Only seconds later and the door was unlocking and swinging open to allow her entry; the sight of the medic greeting her alerting Sakura that she likely needed to send more of her own to the unit. The poor woman was wiped out.
"Sakura-senpai, you're here!"
"Good morning," she greeted with a warm smile. "I haven't been filled in yet, but I heard there was a child you're struggling to diagnose?"
Wispy brown hair was smoothed back with a hasty swipe before the medic stepped aside, the timer on the door alerting them they were about to set off the alarm if it wasn't shut soon. It closed with an unmistakable bang, and she wondered if the jarring sound was purposeful on the hospital's part—to act as a deterrent or a warning, perhaps.
"Ah, yes. I'll take you straight to him."
Thank you cards and children's paintings decorated the wall of the reception desk, their vibrant colours and happy drawings brightening the waiting area and bringing a smile to Sakura's face. To one section of the room sat a play area that a couple of children currently occupied, their parents not far as they sat patiently in the chairs provided.
"Riku-kun has been here on-and-off for roughly a year now," the medic explained while they walked. Usually, Sakura disliked discussing patients by name when anyone could listen in, but with how stressed everyone was and how limited for time they were as of late, she didn't mention it. "Every time we believe we've got it—we've managed to pin the diagnosis—there will be another flare up of some kind that throws us off."
In the occupied rooms, doors were shut but possessed windows big enough for them to peek through, Sakura noted. That maintained privacy from other patients or visitors simply passing by but gave them easy access to check all was well. They weren't overfilled or even full, much to her relief. It seemed the children had been a priority.
"Flare ups?" she questioned, looking back to the other woman.
"In a sense," came the uncertain response. "Up until today it has only been acute pain—"
"What kind?"
"Bones, I believe—that's what Riku-kun complains about the most, anyway." Gesturing to a particular door directly opposite the nurses' station, the medic came to a halt and faced Sakura worriedly. "There's also reoccurring anaemia."
Likely a bleeder then, Sakura deduced with a touch of concern. "What's changed today?"
She grimaced uncomfortably. "His parents are concerned he is rapidly deteriorating. When I examined him myself, I suspected an enlarged liver, but it may be best to see for yourself."
The poor boy was sleeping when they announced their arrival; his parents were immediately on their feet and their greetings full of hope and relief. Both hard workers, she spotted from their calloused hands, and she soon discovered that the father had taken the day off work to attend the appointment for his son. The dedication warmed her heart and Sakura indicated for them to sit down once more.
"My name's Uchiha Sakura," she greeted warmly and smiled. A file was handed over by the medic escorting her and she nodded her thanks before bringing her attention back to the apprehensive parents. "I heard Riku-kun has been a frequent visitor of the hospital for about a year now?"
"Even longer with our family doctor," announced the mother, frowning. "It feels like Riku's been tested for just about everything, but it's all coming back negative."
It was the sad case for those struggling with chronic pain, Sakura knew. Sometimes they simply couldn't figure out why the patient was experiencing such pain, and those medical mysteries were frustrating as hell both for the medic and the patient.
Riku slept soundly in his bed as his father lifted the railings that protected him from falling out of it. They then each moved the visitors' chairs to the bottom end of the room so that they could sit and talk in detail about all that was concerning the parents.
Of course, Sakura knew she would read plenty in the patient's file itself, but (to her at least) it was always important to have the main caregivers' perspectives. After all, they were the ones who were with the child on a twenty-four hour basis, and they knew the child inside and out. Medics would not be personally capable of picking up on the slightest of behaviour changes—not from appointments alone.
Chronic pain made Riku extremely irritable, his mother informed her with a wavering composure. Like most typical three-year-old boys, Riku was boisterous and happy, always on the go with an endless supply of energy—they could barely keep up with him and by the end of the day, they were exhausted. But that gradually dwindled until one day they noticed Riku wasn't playing as he usually was—a major red flag, in Sakura's eyes.
"He has become so lethargic," expressed his father. "Even when he wants to play, it seems half-hearted."
She made sure to write down all their points into her notebook so that way, nothing was left overlooked.
Chronic pain. Recurring anaemia. Fatigue. Noticeably distended stomach.
The symptoms narrowed it down, but not by much. There was still so much it could potentially be.
"It was mentioned Riku-kun has recurring anaemia," Sakura noted and opened his patient file. It was already thickening up for a child who was barely out of the toddler stage. "Children are always falling and grazing their knees or elbows—what is it like when he does cut himself in some way? Is it difficult to stem the bleeding?"
They looked between each other thoughtfully before listing off past injuries, and Sakura was quick to jot down the frequent nosebleeds and easy bruising points, knowing they could be important for a diagnosis. It was after a further twenty minutes of getting to understand the parents' perspective that Riku soon woke up from his midmorning nap, grumpy at first before he happily accepted a bottle of water.
"Hi, Riku-kun," Sakura greeted. "My name's Uchiha Sakura—I'm a doctor from Konoha here to examine you."
The boy was pleasant enough during their consultation, but she instantly noted the fatigue the father mentioned, which typically accompanied anaemia. There was no boundless energy that struggled to be contained or that often led to his bouncing off the walls; Riku appeared subdued and if she was being honest, fed up. Atypical for a child his age, she jotted down.
Stomach was distended and there were complaints of pain in the left side of the abdomen; tenderness when she felt the areas of complaint. With a quiet apology for causing further discomfort, Sakura continued to examine the area, keeping her expression neutral as she discovered an enlarged spleen. Then, because the previous medic believed she'd found evidence of an enlarged liver though was unsure, she double checked and inwardly frowned when she found the medic to be correct.
Enlarged spleen and liver.
"I want a full blood count, including a BGL test," Sakura ordered of the medic who approached, her nod of understanding quick. However, it was only once they were outside with the door shut fully that she shared her concerns with the medic. "If the results are as I'm expecting then I'd like you to prep for an ERT—we'll start the first treatment today. Repeat every two weeks—"
"Wait. Sorry, Sakura-senpai, but I need you to slow down. ERT? Why?"
The response wasn't all that unusual, she had to remind herself. However, knowing that others could often perceive her to be arrogant or a know-it-all, Sakura watched her tone and expression while explaining, "Hokage-sama thought it was important to familiarise myself with all kinds of diseases that are often overlooked or unknown altogether during my internship."
There was no frustration or envy or dislike. Only awe. "You know what it is already?"
"Suspect it to be—we shouldn't get ahead of ourselves," she corrected kindly and smiled. Indicating with her chin to be followed, the medic did so closely, eagerly listening to the brief lesson Sakura gave to her. "We'll need to wait for the lab results."
Medical ninjutsu was great for trauma, but when in the hospital, Sakura preferred to use a more natural approach if the situation allowed for it. That way, she was able to work more efficiently for longer because she wasn't draining herself trying to examine, diagnose and treat every patient who walked through the door. Did it take longer? Sure. But there was only so much chakra could do, anyway. They needed those lab results to get specific answers.
"Hokage-sama is a stickler for rare cases," she explained with a roll of her eyes. "She loves the challenge."
The medic by her side showed her second nature as she collected the utensils necessary to perform the tests without breaking conversation or stride. With that same awed tone, she said, "To this day, the miracle she performed on the Konoha-nin from the chūnin exams is spoken about highly—it's legendary around here." It was with a notably more reserved demeanour that she then added, "Even now, if a victim of Gaara-sama's sand is brought in, there isn't much we can do. Not if the damage is extensive."
That, Sakura could fully understand and empathise with. Even after spending literal months studying the procedure Tsunade performed that saved Rock Lee's future as a shinobi, Sakura couldn't quite get to such a delicate, elitest level. It required a lifetime of experience and precision, of not only confidence but arrogance too. The odds were stomach-bottoming and continued to make her uneasy when she realised just how desperate Lee was to essentially reverse the clock. In his eyes, the high risk of dying was worth taking because life as a retired shinobi wasn't worth living.
"That's Hokage-sama for you," Sakura answered the other medic and her own thoughts simultaneously.
A tinkering laughter illuminated the quiet corridors, and she looked up from the patient file in time to watch Rin leave one of the rooms only to pause in the doorway. She continued to joke with the patient who was twirling around her room, the sight of the child's parents standing in absolute astonishment and relief allowing Sakura's shoulders to relax.
"I'll have the bloods sent off urgently," announced the medic by her side. "We should have them back within an hour or so."
Blood tests generally only took a few minutes, but knowing how understaffed the hospital was explained the extra waiting time. "In the meantime, keep a close eye on our patient, please. Send for me immediately if anything changes."
"Of course, Sakura-senpai."
Paediatrics was without a doubt the most orderly ward within the hospital. Everywhere else was drenched in chaos that even she struggled to straighten out after almost two whole weeks of supporting them. It was perhaps the only unit Sakura instinctively knew she didn't have to be overly concerned about, particularly not with Rin at their side.
Heaving a sigh, she set to finishing the rest of her morning assisting the unit.
"I leave him in your capable hands," Sakura concluded the explanation of Riku's diagnosis with a polite bow of her head.
As she'd suspected: it was Gaucher's disease. A surprisingly common but difficult to diagnose disease simply due to it often escaping a medic's mind until it progressed to a stage like, or even worse than, Riku's. Luckily for the young boy, he was type one—treatable. With appropriate treatment, he was going to live a typical life with very few, if any, restrictions.
The rest of her day passed in a blur of medical masks, sterilised rooms and blood. It wasn't until Itachi respectfully made his presence known that Sakura realised how late into the evening it had gotten. Not only that, but she'd yet to eat.
"Sorry," she said with a wince. "Have you been waiting long?"
The fact he dismissed the question led her to believe it was an unfairly long wait—not that Itachi would allow her to feel guilt over it. He was much too understanding, and Sakura smiled at the chivalrous gesture of easing her of the medical bag that threatened to make her shoulders lopsided if she continued to wear it solely on one side.
Few people were out during the walk back to the inn, though fortunately it wasn't so late that there was nowhere open for them to grab some food. Truth be told, Sakura wasn't feeling particularly hungry, but she knew that she needed to take considerably better care of herself if she was going to keep up with Suna's medics—not to mention it would be one less cause of concern for Itachi.
Sent to wash up while he set the table in their room, Sakura did so lazily at first before scrubbing deeply upon realising just how filthy she'd gotten over the past couple of days. How none of the patients or other medics hadn't called her out on her lack of personal hygiene was beyond her—or maybe it was that they understood how strained they all were for time that they excused her? Besides, it wasn't like she didn't wash her hands between every patient and task (or cleansed intimate areas daily), and she didn't believe that she smelled too bad.
At least her hair was finally clean and everywhere else was shaved, Sakura thought with a relieved sigh as she made her way back to their room. The halls of the inn carried voices that acted as a warming background sound that reassured her, and she smiled to herself hearing a collection of giggles from a room she knew Ino was grouped in with.
"I needed that," she confessed shyly to her husband. Ducking her head to hide the embarrassment, Sakura soon added, "Sorry you had to deal with how gross I was."
"You don't need to apologise—"
"My husband's a clean freak," she giggled, the mirth only increasing at the playful affronted deadpan that flitted over his expression. "I know it's been killing you."
After only a beat of silence, his shoulders slumped and Itachi admitted, "It has been a tortuous couple of weeks."
Was that her typically stoic husband playing around with her? Snickering at the light-hearted atmosphere that complemented their takeout feast, Sakura joined him at the table and showed her appreciation by leaning into his side with a pleased sigh. The responding pressure was comforting and reassuring, and she found her muscles were considerably easier to relax than they usually would be.
"Treatable," she informed him with a smile that was soon hidden as she chewed more food. It seemed hunger had lunged upon her the second that she smelled the food, and it became unbearable resisting the urge to eat everything in front of her. To try and satiate the desire so potent it caused her mouth to water, Sakura heaped portions of each dish onto her plate. "Once the treatments kick in, the patient will be able to live a normal life."
"That is quite the turnaround," he commented lightly. Then, perhaps feeling an urge to explain when she belatedly realised that she was taking too long with eating, Itachi added, "Considering the messenger's demeanour."
Swallowing the mouthful, she replied, "They're distressingly worn down, and Gaucher's disease is commonly overlooked in children. It was only a matter of time before the effects of being overworked started to crop up in cases like this." Finally taking a breather in shovelling everything within reach into her mouth, Sakura's shoulders sagged with her heavy exhale. "I dread to think how many other patients have potentially been misdiagnosed."
It was another issue she needed to raise with the board of directors and the Kazekage; they were going to hate her by the time the exchange ended. Of course, that was essentially what the programme was all about, but so far, all Sakura had found were more problems. Whenever she met with the Kazekage as of late, it was always negatively, and she left each meeting feeling worn down.
"How are you expected to teach in such conditions?" Itachi commented, and it took her a moment in her rundown mind to note he didn't mean it unkindly.
Genuine concern was filtering into his expression the longer he spent assessing her, and Sakura couldn't resist leaning into his touch when Itachi delicately brushed the wet hair from her features. That touch alone reminded her of how supportive her husband was in the past couple of weeks—no, from their first meeting after discovering they were engaged—and she shut her eyes to fully appreciate the tenderness.
"I'll figure it out," Sakura assured him quietly.
It was obvious that the one-to-one teaching wasn't going to work out for them now; the combination of the traitors being detained, and the overwhelming state of the hospital was making it increasingly harder to determine numbers.
Sakura knew her best bet was to create classes taught by only one medic for both the academy students and established teams. They could be more trauma response based rather than delving into the extensive medical methods. If they had four classes of perhaps eight students dotted throughout the week, then that could work, right? That way, the rest of the medics could fan out around the hospital and anyone wishing to go further in terms of education could shadow them.
Would the Kazekage feel comfortable with the change of plans, however? Pride was undoubtedly the reasoning behind Suna's silence on their struggles—now she was about to meet with him and express further concerns and implement more strategies. There was no sugar-coating how dire the hospital's situation really was.
Not only that, but her original plan only worked if Suna's current medics were able to take over the teachings following the end of the programme. Where in the hell were they going to find the time for that? Only so much could be taught in a month (less than, she reminded herself in a mental whine), and Sakura knew she wouldn't feel comfortable leaving partially trained, unlicensed medics to provide critical care.
But what choice did they have?
"We could try enlisting the retired medics to teach the classes," Sakura thought aloud. Just as Itachi opened his mouth to agree, however, she dropped her head forward and whined, "Although that means risking teaching the students old methods Kazekage-sama wanted me to update."
"Kazekage-sama will have to accept it for what it is," came Itachi's blunt response that had her frowning up at him. "He knew the struggles of his hospital and withheld the information to save face." Sakura grimaced at that, but certainly couldn't argue against the obvious truth in his words. "You are already doing far more than what was asked or expected of you, Sakura."
Defeated, all she could respond with was a lame, "I know." The brush of his knuckles to her cheek had Sakura adding in that same defeated tone, "But it doesn't stop me from wanting to do more for those suffering because of his pride."
Dark eyes gentled at that. "Then let's try."
For the rest of the evening, they continued to bounce ideas off one another regarding teaching methods and ratios. Anything that had previously seemed too risky to go through with was rationalised by Itachi, who was remarkably reassuring while making at least half of the crazy ideas somehow work. It was a marvel watching how practical his mind was in those moments of contemplation, and Sakura found herself in awe of his ability to overlook or tweak minor inconveniences for the bigger picture. It seemed so effortless for him.
Not having to process everything in her aching, exhausted mind allowed Sakura to find more peace in her plans and to straighten out the kinks (collectively) threatening to make them impossible. Another's perspective was always highly appreciated, particularly when that person boasted plentiful experience in leading large groups.
It was creeping up to two in the morning by the time their brainstorming drew to an end; Kyo's eventual return raising their eyebrows as he sauntered inside and sat down beside his food bowl demandingly. In response, he merely slow blinked at them and shifted in his position, though soon pawed at his bowl when it remained empty.
"Don't pretend like you haven't eaten all day," Sakura accused. "I know Ino's been feeding you too."
"She has?" murmured Itachi disapprovingly before he settled Kyo with a stare. "Rin-san has also been feeding him."
Her eyebrow twitched when Kyo spiritually let it slip that they weren't the only ones.
"Hungry," came his mental demand.
That…
The skidding of his bowl across the room was purposely in their direction before Kyo turned to his bag of belongings. In seconds, he had them growing annoyed with the constant rustling that ground on their nerves—that was until he finally managed to retrieve a pouch and slapped it to the ground, clearly intent on feeding himself.
That time, Itachi was the one whose eyebrow twitched when Kyo punctured the packaging and the gravy leaked out.
"Kyo!"
"First things first," Sakura started their daily breakfast meeting by saying. "As kind as your intentions are, I'm asking that you stop feeding Kyo." At their concerned or borderline horrified expressions, she resisted the urge to slap a hand to her forehead, because of course, he'd played them into believing he was a victim of neglect. "I promise you all, he's not being starved. If anything, he's overfed and it's going to become a health risk sooner or later." That part was what prompted her to soon add, "I also promise he's up to date on worming treatments—he's just greedy as hell."
"Maybe the poor thing's depressed," murmured one of the older medics, her hand coming to her lips with palpable worry. "He doesn't go out at all, does he?"
She inwardly groaned. "His own choice. He hates the sand."
At the theories that shortly filled the room regarding her ninneko's well-being, Sakura finally brought a hand to her face and shut her eyes, rubbing at her temple to soothe the building irritation. Soon enough, she was shaking her head in disbelief when she picked up on potential plans to find him a friend to play with for the duration of their stay—like it was so easy to carelessly pair animals together.
Kyo was certainly coming on in leaps and bounds, but with that came the typical arrogance, sneakiness and other behaviours of cats who knew how to manipulate others. He was doing a damn good job of it too and Sakura wasn't sure whether to feel proud of the progress or frustrated that he was using it for such purposes.
"We won't stop until Kyo-san is happy again," someone announced louder than the rest.
"Hell yeah," came the agreement of someone who had Sakura suddenly glaring in her direction, then deadpanning at the playful glint in her blue eyes. "Justice for Kyo!"
Justice—
"Ino!" she reprimanded in shrill disbelief.
Justice for Kyo? Justice? That sneaky ninneko was spoilt rotten! But it was clear that no amount of arguing could assure the others of that as they rallied together to share plans; Sakura was left in astonishment of how effortlessly her own goddamn ninneko managed to turn her own medics against her.
The tickling of fur brushing against her calf had her shooting daggers down at the so called victim, and she knew from the final flick of his tail against her skin that he was smug as hell about it all. But just as she made to chastise him also, his soothing voice filtered into her mind and instantly soothed the ire.
"You humans have the most intriguing conversations when you believe no one is listening in," he informed her while rubbing his head into her leg once more. Sakura could only stare at him in barely concealed admiration. "Then again, nobody expects a cat to understand your strange words."
That…
"You little sneak," she snickered, though there was no mistaking the pride bursting in her chest.
Consider your infiltration successful, Sakura tried to push the praise out to him.
It wasn't entirely clear if Kyo picked up on the thoughts or if he could merely sense how proud she felt of him, but either way he seemed to understand to some degree. He responded with more head rubs and happy chirps that had the others finally registering his presence.
"It's Kyo-san!"
"Look at him, the cutie."
"Poor thing must be starving."
"And lonely," Ino prompted another deadpan glare by adding unhelpfully.
"You're lucky I'm so proud of you right now," she muttered under her breath to him.
The squeaky meow in response definitely sounded arrogant to her.
Screw it, Sakura decided with a giddy, mental squeal of excitement. He was learning!
"It can't be helped," Temari informed her father without a shred of remorse, and just as Sakura risked a glance over her shoulder before the door shut, she spotted the I-told-you-so stance the other kunoichi had taken up in front of the desk. "Maybe this time you should follow my advice, Father."
Wanting nothing more than to be free of the Kazekage's Tower after such a godawful meeting, Sakura walked away just as the door clicked shut. Her gaze briefly met Gaara's at the raising of voices behind them, and they exhaled in unison but had no intentions of returning to break up the domestic poor Kankuro was stuck in the middle of.
It became evident shortly into the programme that Temari didn't only have a foot in the door now—she was asserting her dominance and refusing to be overlooked, in a sense. Showing them that they needed to pull their heads out of their ass and listen to her. She was one of the toughest kunoichi they had to offer, and when asked about her, Shikamaru wasn't ashamed to admit that Temari was perhaps one of his more troubling opponents. Her strategic mind could oftentimes go toe-to-toe with his, keeping Shikamaru on his toes and really using his head in a way only his equally intelligent father could. Being around her was frustratingly refreshing, he'd said.
"You're still not sleeping much."
"Isn't that usually my line?" she retorted to try and brush off the concern. Smiling, Sakura added lightly, "You can't go lecturing anyone about sleep."
Gaara snorted at that before assessing the blinding weather that instantly suffocated them when they left the safety of the tower. His attention remained fixed on the much too empty sky even as he replied, "I can when it's a friend I'm concerned about."
"Gaara—"
"I apologise on behalf of my father for putting you in this situation," he told her without hesitation. Finally looking back to her, Gaara first took in the shadows beneath her eyes (that she was admittedly becoming self-conscious about), then to the careless hairstyle that showed it had once more been a few days since she'd last washed it. A total opposite to her usually pristine appearance. "As Temari reminded him at several points during that meeting: he should have been upfront with the Hokage long before it got to this point."
The reminder had her snickering—now that she was out of the office, of course. When trapped inside those much too small four walls, it had felt too much like she was barely a breath away from death, and the cause was undoubtedly the stressed out Kazekage being prodded until he inevitably exploded.
"She really liked putting him in his place, didn't she?"
Although Temari was undoubtedly assertive from the moment they first met, it was a trait that was tamed when in the presence of superiors. Respect went a long way in Suna, and punishment for insubordination or disrespecting the Kazekage was severe even for his own children, so to hear her confidently reprimanding him (in a sense) was a humongous step forward in terms of progression. It meant he'd shown in the past that he was trying, enough so to grant Temari that confidence.
At least he was doing something right, Sakura thought sulkily.
"It isn't undeserved."
No, it certainly wasn't. A petty part of her hoped Temari made life harder for the stubborn leader who'd essentially ruined her plans of surpassing all previous years for the medical group. The goal was to rake in the numbers and set the groundwork for the improved treatments, but they were now two weeks into the programme and hadn't even started lessons at the hospital yet.
Their saving grace (so far that she knew of) was that Rin and Ino were remarkable in their efforts to balance shifts at the hospital and group lessons. They were doing all they could to fully support her, and Sakura ensured their efforts were not unappreciated as she found different ways to try and thank them.
"How did it get this bad?" she asked quietly, aware that anyone could be listening in. The Kazekage requested that she kept the unsettling truth of the hospital's dire situation to herself, for the last thing he wanted was to cause his people to worry. "For nobody to show an interest in becoming a medic…"
It was at the disbelieving shake of her head that Gaara sighed. "My father overlooked the dip in numbers believing last year's programme would bring them back up."
But unfortunately that was the year Shizune chose to deliver long-winded lectures at the target audience. Totally not her fault in the slightest, however the delivery hadn't aided an already difficult situation.
Damn it, although it wasn't their place to, they should have noticed the struggles back then. Just as the Kazekage overlooked the dip in numbers, so did they. They hadn't thought twice about the zero sign ups, rather choosing to update medical treatments the staff genuinely didn't have the time or energy for. That was why none of it stuck—they'd been fighting a losing battle the whole time.
Why hadn't they noticed? Why hadn't anybody warned them?
"What's done is done," said Sakura with such a conscious effort to move on that it was visible in her grimacing features. "Pointing the finger or adding to his guilt is counterproductive at this point. We need to focus on improving."
Ignoring the irritation of having to change her plans once again, she rolled out her tensed muscles and followed Gaara as he guided her in the direction of the orphanage.
It was at his shockingly forceful insistence that Sakura was granted a day off from the hospital (even after so much growth, nobody dared to argue with him, and it stunned her to find he too had a say in the office). However, after sleeping for most of the morning and despairing at the intimidatingly empty schedule, she tracked the redhead down and ordered him to rectify the boredom that was creeping in. Everyone else was busy with the programme, including her husband who was currently teaching at the academy. "The least you can do is hang out with me," Sakura had pouted when Gaara tried arguing that she was supposed to be resting.
It was only days after gifting the children at the orphanage with their winnings from the festival that Gaara approached his father. According to Temari, it'd gotten astonishingly heated—they had never witnessed such a passionate side of Gaara. Unfortunately, all funding was being directed at the hospital and academy, leaving little to spare. And due to being involved in those meetings and seeing for himself how dire the situation with the medics was, Gaara was unable to argue any further.
But that didn't mean he stopped trying.
Instead, Gaara returned to those who wished to make a difference for the children and cashed in on their offers. Naruto and his clones spent an entire afternoon clearing out the neglected garden. Sasuke fenced it off from the rest of the village to create a safe outdoor space for the children to play in. Itachi and Kakashi worked tirelessly around the home completing all repairs, soon enlisting the aid of the ever helpful Obito when they found there was more to do than initially believed.
Their hard work was noticeable the second the once creepy looking home came into view. Everything was cleared out, windows were repaired and unlike every other building in the village, the orphanage boasted a picket fence that surrounded the building—one the children were currently painting.
"They couldn't decide on a single colour," Gaara replied when Sakura asked about the vibrant choice. "After hearing of the dilemma, Kankuro made a point of leaving several cans of the paint he uses on his puppets on their doorstep."
Snorting, she noted, "So much for hating kids."
Childish laughter filled the otherwise quiet section of the village, and Sakura glanced to the peacefulness that blanketed over her friend as they came to a gradual halt to appreciate the moment. Wordlessly, she looked back to the home and smiled fondly at the younger children running around their yard happily, then to the older kids who made competitions of their task of painting. What truly captured Sakura's attention was the sense of homeliness that welcomed them once the children spotted them—more specifically, Gaara, who accepted their giddy greetings with a minute smile that showed more in his eyes.
Rumours were impossible to escape even for those on the outside, yet because they understood the pain of isolation and loss, their pure hearts refused to cast another away. They couldn't see another being suffering, no matter who that person was. So unlike everyone else in the village, they surrounded him without a shred of fear, without a flicker of disdain. They treated him like he belonged—like he was a person.
"Wait—"
"Go," Sakura insisted, chuckling at the sight of one of the youngest of the group tugging impatiently on Gaara's sleeve. "I need to go speak with the housemother before getting started anyway."
Even though it was her day off, she was determined to examine the children of the orphanage and ensure they were up to date with vaccinations, just as she'd promised. Sure, Sakura knew she could have sent some of the others to do it in her place, but she had genuinely enjoyed her visit last time. It was like a breath of fresh air being in the presence of such pure hearts.
Gaara was all but dragged away, and she grinned at the acceptance.
If only it could be as easy to bridge the divide between Konoha and the Uchiha clan, she thought sulkily. Maybe if she managed that difficult feat, then they would feel less resentment towards the village that ostracised them. But how the hell did she do that? Sincerely too?
A few good deeds wouldn't unwrite such a murky past and the elders on both sides were stubborn as hell. Earning their trust wasn't going to be as easy as the children's. There was too much bitterness, anger, and disappointment between them all—with good reason.
Movement from her peripheral captured Sakura's attention and she felt her heart warming at the happy squeals of the youngest children. Their hands came together ecstatically as Gaara used his notorious sand as nothing more than a child's source of entertainment, creating shapes they requested; his own features were equally sincere, and she found her hope restored at the sight everyone once previously believed to be unattainable.
No matter how hard it was to make it happen, they could achieve change. It wasn't impossible.
She would find a way to bridge the gap between the village and the clan.