He was lost. The cold wind swept viciously around him, shielding his view as he struggled to push through the knee-high snowbanks before him. The biting wind was eating away at his flesh, prickling like needles against his naked arms as they tried to provide his chest with warmth. It was futile, he knew. Exhaustion was creeping up on him and he had no idea how long he'd been searching for someplace to rest. Two katanas strapped to his hip scraped against the snow, staining the white with newly-shed blood while he fought his way through the frosty landscape.
The Marines had found them in the middle of the night. Cannonballs rang through the air in an attempt to stop the pirates. Their navigator had done her best to get her crew away, tried to save them, but the unpredictable weather of the Grand Line lived up to its rumor. It was indeed the infamous Pirates Graveyard. A wall of water had washed over the vessel and sent the ship straight toward the reef where an underlying rock had scraped open the hull of the Going Merry. An intense chase had led the swimming crew through the chilly floes toward the nearby cliffs of the closest island. However, the Marines were prepared and had another platoon waiting to ambush them on land. Rifles and swords glinted in the moonlight as they slowly made their way over the dangerous ice in hopes of capturing their prey.
He had fended the attackers off, slicing their flesh with his beloved swords while trying to keep the marines from his Devil Fruit user of a captain, whom had lost consciousness after falling into the ocean. Tugging the half-frozen body of his captain across the ice-clad landscape had been a hassle. He had found himself thrashing about on top of the slippery surface, trying to get further onto land on trembling legs while slicing left to right in an attempt to survive.
A flicker of darkness had passed him from above while the shitty love-cook's battle roar pierced through the screams of injured soldiers. The chef's heel slammed into the face of a marine, abruptly stopping the poor youngster from executing a deadly blow, and sent him sliding across the frost. The glacial ground crackled beneath the swordsman's feet from the impact while arctic liquid inched its way through the growing cracks.
"Shitty Marimo! Don't leave them half-dead!" he heard before he had forced his captain's lifeless body with all his might toward the chef in hopes of saving at least one of them.
Icy water had engulfed him after that. An underwater current had grasped onto his feet and transported him further down into the depths of the ocean.
He had blinked in silence as he slowly sank toward the bottom. 'Is this the end?'
Vibrations reached his numbing body before a cannonball pierced the ice above him with a muted crackle. Dark eyes registered the sphere as it descended into the depths, and he forced his stiff limbs into action; forced them against the underwater claws of the ocean until he finally reached his escape. The palms of his hands glided against the newly formed ice from below. His lungs burned. Every slow heartbeat drummed in his ears, but he couldn't give up. He refused to.
With a forceful strike of his katana, he pierced the ice and kicked with his feet until he managed to push through the thin layer between himself and his freedom.
Panting, he grasped at the white powder underneath his digits while slowly hoisting himself up. Each and every breath burned as he refilled his lungs with fresh oxygen. He had glanced over his shoulder, had heard the screams, but couldn't make out a single character of the people still fighting for their lives in the distance. Was his crew still alive?
A slice against his abdomen had forced his attention back to reality and he shakily thrust his katana into the skull of his attacker while another youngster roared as he sprinted toward the panting swordsman. The marine's knife nicked his arm before he lifelessly slumped onto the ice beside the warrior. His head bounced toward the broken ice and disappeared with a pathetic plop.
Crimson stained the ivory powder while he slowly rose to his feet. Eyes darted left to right. Knuckles whitened around the katana, ready to strike if needed. He cast another look on the battlefield. As much as he hated it; there was no other option but to flee, and he hoped his crew had decided to do the same. Heading the opposite direction from the fighting scene, he had ended up at an open landscape where the snow was whirling around him.
Fighting the urge to give into his fatigue, he took a couple of more steps against the unforgiving wind. The ivory depths reached higher and higher the further he walked. Were the others okay? Glancing over his shoulder he noticed his tracks had already been covered by the whirling blizzard, and he cursed under his breath as he realized there was no way in hell he would make it back to his crew in this weather if they had somehow managed to survive the onslaught. He had no idea what island he was on and it irked him.
Tired eyes scanned the frosty area before him. He pushed another wobbly step forward. The ground beneath him crackled dangerously and before he had time to react, he found himself falling. Ivory dust whirled around him as he tumbled down. In a desperate attempt to cling onto something, onto anything, he felt the stinging sensation of blade-sharp ice dig into his arm. He sucked in a breath and groaned when a rock or two grazed his back before he collided with the ground, his head slamming into the rock hard ice. Red pooled around him while he coughed in distress from having the air knocked out of him. Lips parted in anguish as air tore its way back into his lungs. He willed his eyes open, fighting to keep himself conscious. He had to keep going. This wasn't how it was supposed to end. His surroundings spun when he tried to force himself back up. Black dots danced among the ivory snow-crystals until fogginess captured his being with its claw-like grasp.
The cold snow burned as it seeped through the trashed fabric of his clothes. He wasn't sure if it was trying to either milk his pain or keep him alive for as long as possible. Another shaky breath cooled his insides even further while he found himself thinking about his goal, his crew and the emptiness deep within his soul. And he absentmindedly wondered if things would have ended in another way if he'd chosen a different path entirely from the one he'd been walking so far. Succumbing into darkness, he missed the crunching sound of footsteps inching closer to where he had fallen. Said footsteps stopped near his bleeding form and the woman whom they belonged to curtsied next to his beat up body with a suspicious, yet worried expression evident on her pale face.
Emerald-green eyes flickered over his frame while another cannon-shot boomed in the distance. Reddening fingers pulled the hood further to shield her face from any onlookers while she silently let her eyes wander around the perimeter she had set. The commotion had awoken her from her slumber only moments earlier and forced her out of her safety. But they hadn't found her yet.
"Are you okay?" she half-whispered and placed a hand on his shoulder. Wary eyes scanned his bleeding frame until she noticed the two swords strapped loosely to the sash around his hips. "Hey?"
The swordsman was out cold. His chest heaved slightly as he breathed, but his heartbeats were irregular and beating slower by the second. 'He won't make it,' she deduced and flinched as another shot was fired. Pushing every radical thought into the back of her mind; she leaned over him again and wrapped one of his arms around her shoulders. A white katana escaped his grasp and landed in the snow. She glanced at him in a hurry and bit the inside of her cheek. Pink brows furrowed as she bent a knee and snatched the katana in her hand. 'Doesn't mean I can't try.'
"Hang in there," she muttered and slowly rose to her feet.
His katanas dangled like wind chimes by his hip as she balanced his heavier weight against her smaller frame. Step by step she pushed through the snow. Her cloak flapped angrily against the roaring winds. Maybe she should have offered it's warmth to him. Another icy gust forced her hood to thrash against her back. Emerald-eyes narrowed against the biting wind. An arm snuck around his waist while she sent him a glance.
"You need to stay awake," she told him while slowly trudging through the snow and cast the stranger another glance. His head hung forward and she wasn't sure if he was alive or dead. 'What the hell happened?'
The cabin she had inhabited for the past couple of days wasn't too far away, but with the added weight from the male and the whipping winds roaring around them, returning there turned out to be much more difficult than she had first anticipated. After what felt like forever she finally saw the silhouette of her temporary home.
"Almost… there," she groaned and attempted to get a better grip of his body. His lifeless frame slumped against her smaller one and almost sent her toppling over. One knee sank into the snow while she tried to keep him steady. "Tch," she sent him an irritated look, knowing fully well he wasn't doing it on purpose.
She flung the wooden door open, letting a gust of snow-mixed wind into the tiny cottage in the process. The metal blade of the white katana clanked as it hit the wooden floorboards. The ninja stumbled through the narrow hallway with the unconscious male half-dragged over her shoulder. His boots left traces of snow on the creaking floor until she made it to the futon she had slept on since arriving on the island. The frame underneath creaked agonizingly when she roughly let him down onto the tattered material before hurrying to shut the door in order to keep the cold out.
Boot-clad feet sprinted into the small kitchenette where she filled a bowl with water. She had to work fast if he was going to survive.
Her cloak puddled at her feet while she pulled her pink hair up in a ponytail with trembling fingers. After briefly blowing onto her digits in an attempt at warming them; she grabbed a handful of washcloths from a nearby cabinet, along with a first-aid kit, and went back to the futon and the unmoving male. His skin had turned a sickly pale color; border-lining more toward icy-blue while his lips were taking on a purple tint. She leaned over his frame and pressed her ear against his chest. …thump …thump …thump
Emerald eyes narrowed as she sat up again and scanned his form. 'Hypothermia, arrhythmia, hemorrhage…' She raked her brain for a plan, knowing fully well there was a chance she wouldn't be able to heal him in time.
Trembling fingers ripped at his torn t-shirt. Teeth dug into her lower lip. Brows furrowed unconsciously while she tried to will her shaky fingers to strip him from his chilled clothes. A long scar stretched from his shoulder to his hipbone, she noted while tugging at the torn pieces of fabric, careful not to agitate the cut in his abdomen further. The tips of her ponytail danced along the exposed curve of her neck while she cast the dying fire from the night before a glance. Heat. She needed heat.
A soft glow filled the cabin only moments later. Rising flames licking the newly added dry wood while crackling softly from the new life it had been given.
Her attention was back on the swordsman. Piece by piece of the torn up t-shirt landed on the floor next to his two swords. His boots dunked against the wooden floorboards as she tugged them off and started pulling at his soaked pants. Cutting into the fabric would have been the easier choice, but she doubted he would appreciate wearing her clothing if he survived.
She pulled at the comforter thrown messily near the wall and covered his lower body, pleased he seemed to only have sustained injuries on the upper half, much to her inner's disappointment.
Icy fingers wrung out a soaked washcloth while she scanned his frame again. The rise and fall of his chest alerted her he was still breathing. Half-frozen blood lined his left forearm beneath a bandana. The cut seemed deep, but not life threatening. She pressed the soaked material onto the wound and glanced at his face for a reaction. Nothing.
Cleaning it didn't take long, and soon enough she placed one of her hands over the cut. A green glow emitted from her outstretched fingers while she closed her eyes in concentration. Inch by inch, his skin stitched itself together under her touch until it was fully repaired. Dark lashes glanced at her work with a heavy heart, completely missing the trembling which had started in his hands before it raked through his entire form.
Blood seeped lazily from the wound on the male's stomach. The cut was clean and probably made by a knife or a sword from the looks of it. However, the purple shade covering the skin around it bothered her. If her intuition was right; had been poisoned.
"Fuck!" she muttered through gritted teeth and sent the warrior a glance. "Hang in there," she mumbled and placed her hands in the bowl of water. The liquid enveloped her hands as she closed her eyes in concentration. 'Sorry sensei, but I have to do this. He has to survive.'
Steering every thought, every ounce of concentration to her hands; she soon had them glowing in a sheen of green while a bubble of water formed itself around her right hand. Both hands were slowly brought toward the swordsman's body. She carefully set one hand over the poisoned wound while the green glow from the other hand pierced his skin as she placed it right above the cut. He jerked underneath her touch, eyebrows furrowing as he unconsciously responded to the pain. An unconscious 'sorry' left her lips while she focused on saving the stranger's life.
Sweat formed on her brow as she concentrated on the task. She had done this twice before. Both instances had been successful, but this world was different, and she doubted herself and her abilities at the moment. The technique was one she had developed herself after studying different ways poison could attack ones body. Her eyes remained closed as she worked her chakra into the male. Cellular-lever wounds were tricky, but not impossible. After prodding around with her chakra she eventually found herself extracting the poison from his veins. Blood and deep purple poison squirted into the bubble. She extracted it from his stomach and let it burst over the bowl while keeping the other hand over the wound. His skin started to patch itself underneath the green glow from her hand. She flickered her gaze up to check on him. His eyes were closed, lips slightly parted and he seemed to be in pain, which was a good sign. He was still alive, but far from being safe.
Both hands were placed on his cool chest while she closed her eyes in concentration, silently scanning his healing body with her chakra. Sea-green irises peered at his face. His heart was beating too slow and wasn't circulating enough blood to keep him warm. She moved one hand to rest above his heart and closed her eyes again in order to focus on the pumping muscle beneath the tissue of flesh and bones. Sending chakra directly into his heart; she felt him jerk underneath her again. Another spark had the muscle beating strongly against her palm.
A pained groan from the male brought her back to reality. She stopped the flow of her power momentarily but kept her hands on his chest as she studied his features. Slim, dark eyebrows set in a frown. Dark thick lashes lined his closed lids. A slender nose protruded ever so slightly above his parted lips. She noted a bit of color returning to his otherwise deathly pale skin. That was a good sign. 'Maybe he'll make it.'
Light fingertips trailed over his squared chin, and with a light push, she tilted his head to take a better look at the darkened hair above his left ear. Three earrings jangled in the process. Their golden hues glittered in the dancing flames as the light reflected against their shiny surface. She regarded them briefly before skillfully climbing over the passed out swordsman in order to see what she had to work with.
Warmth was slowly spreading throughout the cabin. The crackling from the fire and the occasional hisses from the burning wood was rather relaxing compared to the whiny winds outside. It had been a while since the last cannon had been fired. A yawn broke through her lips. She had no idea how much time had passed since she started working on her patient, but the brightening landscape outside the window told her morning was just around the corner.
Nimble fingers combed through his damp, green tresses. Blood covered her digits. The burgundy stain on her pillow was a view she had witnessed many times in the past, yet it always left her with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Forcing the feeling aside she left her hand above the injury, casting the cabin in a soft glow once more.
She jolted awake, bumping the back of her head into the wall in the process. Her skull pounded angrily at the rude awakening while an agonizing hiss escaped her. Glassy irises blinked against the burning brightness from the kitchen window. Her senses tingled alarmingly through her newly awakened mind. Something was very wrong.
Cool steel came into contact with her skin. The blade rested heavily against her throat, threatening to tear through the flesh the moment she moved. Pins and needles prickled in her feet, yet she couldn't get herself to move the legs tucked underneath her ass. If she acted without thinking she would be done for. She squinted against the harsh light, unable to see anything in its overexposed burning glow.
Her pulse rapped against her ribcage and she was sure whoever held the blade could feel the tremors through the steel.
"Identify yourself." the voice was deep, tinged with an underlying tone of menace while the blade pushed harder against the vein in her throat.
"I, uh…" the hoarse grumble which escaped her lips had her internally face-palming herself. Two hands rose slowly in front of her chest while she cleared her throat. "I… I'm Sakura."
She spread the fingers on one hand and managed to block the glittering snow from blinding her vision further. A blurry silhouette of a male appeared in front of her. He twisted the blade, skillfully capturing the sun rays and blinded her with its forceful sheen yet again. Her eyes burned behind the lids. Liquid trickled down her neck, much to her dismay.
"What did you do to me?"
A pink brow rose in question. She sucked in a breath and forced one eye open in order to get a better view of her attacker. Seconds ticked by as she willed her racing heart to calm down before speaking. "I don't-…"
The blade trembled against her skin, the glare disappearing momentarily, but long enough for her to kick into action. She lounged at the assaulter as swiftly as she could. One hand flung against the back of the blade before she forced a numb leg forward in an attempt to shove him away. The katana clanked against the floor while a rage of violent coughs spluttered from it's owner. Emerald widened mid-attack as she realized whom it was. She half-slid over the tattered futon and accidentally knocked over the basin from the night before. The wooden floorboards darkened from the spilled liquid. A gasp slipped through her lips when he fell onto his hands and knees within arm's reach in a coughing mess.
"Shit," she muttered and glanced to the side. Every ounce of fear she had felt moments earlier disappeared as she went straight into medic-mode.
Nimble fingers tugged at the comforter underneath her numb limbs while his coughs filled the otherwise silent cabin. 'Pneumonia,' she thought. 'I should have seen it coming.' The comforter finally came loose. The pinkette wasted no time, and quickly threw the quilted fabric over his bare shoulders. She cast a glance at the fireplace. It was slowly dying. 'No wonder it's so cold.'
Shaky fingers pressed into her thigh suddenly. His grip on her tightened desperately as another cough raked through his frame. Teeth bit into her lip from the amount of strength he still had in him, but she said nothing. Instead she placed her hands on his back and slowly moved them up and down in an attempt to calm him.
The iron-grip on her thigh finally loosened as a last cough rattled his form and left the two strangers in silence yet again. She retracted one hand uncertainly, noting the brownish stains covering her fingers. 'Must have passed out during the last healing session,'
"Who are you?" he suddenly croaked. "What did you do to me?"
She dared a peek at the swordsman. His eyes were closed, brows set in a concentrated frown. His tanned chest glistened in the sharp morning light with each calming breath he took. She forced herself to look away, suddenly feeling anything but confident in their current position.
"I'm a medi- no, uh…" her pulse quickened, heart drumming forcefully in her chest, "I'm a doctor. Or I will be. When I finish my-…" her cheeks burned, eyes closed in an attempt to block him out. "When I finish my training." she blurted.
"What a waste," he huffed almost inaudibly.
She snapped her head in his direction while fisting the comforter in one hand. "You would have died if I hadn't found you. What were you even doing?" she questioned with a scorn on her features.
"Tch, who knows," he retorted disinterestedly with a shrug and pushed himself up on wobbly legs.
Sakura followed suit with a sour expression. She wiggled her toes and ankles in an attempt to get the blood flowing in her stiff limbs.
"What a shitty way to wake up," she grumbled and rolled her shoulders. A light stretch of her neck, followed by another shoulder-roll had her groaning in delight as everything popped into place. 'I'd kill for a massage,'
'Maybe he's offering,' her inner retorted with a smirk.
'Go away,'
'He's undressed, we could get undressed. He could-'
'Stop it!'
'Just imagine what's hiding beneath that comforter. You have seen it already. His-'
"Stop bugging me!" she wailed and felt her cheeks flushing.
Emerald widened when realization hit her. Frozen to the spot, her fists clenched. Nails dug into the palms of her hands while she slowly inched her gaze to meet his. Chocolate orbs peered at her with an arched brow. Her mouth opened and closed, but not a single sound came out. He averted his gaze suddenly and brought a hand to his injured head while almost toppling over. An arm wrapped around his bicep almost immediately while she supported his weight with another hand on his chest. The heat from his skin seeped through the thin fabric of her shirt. 'This is bad.'
"Are you out of your mind?! You should be resting!"
He flinched at her sudden outburst and attempted to shake his head when his legs nearly gave out on him.
"Lay down," she ordered softer, feet stepping into the bloodied, poisonous water on the floor. 'What a fucking mess,'
"I'm fine," the swordsman rasped.
"You're not fine. You're burning up and I think you have a concussion." she told him and attempted to get him to lay down.
"This is nothing," he grunted before another fit of coughs raked through his frame.
Biting the inside of her cheek, she sent him an I-told-you-so look which he missed. "Just lay down and let me do my job."
"Tch," he managed to get out and met her stubborn glare with one of his own while standing firm against her tugs.
Seconds passed until his fingers finally spread over the tattered futon while he unwillingly did as she ordered. Her victory was short lived. Black fabric caught her eye when she bent over to tuck him in. A look of disapproval was sent his way.
"What now?" he growled.
"You're an idiot," she started and lifted the comforter just enough to pinch and pull at his damp pants. "I don't even," she trailed off with a sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. She'd had her fair share of annoying patients, but this guy, this swordsman took the prize.
Her feet squeaked as she padded over the cool floor toward the fireplace and crouched down. Dealing with the idiot had made her forget about the cold. She relight the fire and moved her hands up and down her chilly arms in an attempt to get warmer. The comforter rustled in the corner of the room. She suppressed a sigh and got back up on her feet. A side-glance toward the idiot had her insides squirming. If looks could kill, she was sure she would have been dead, brought back to life and killed again, only to have it repeat itself at least ten times over.
He flung his trousers at her and turned to face the wall with a grumble. They landed in front of her with a wet smack. 'Inhale… exhale…' she told herself.
"You know, I liked you better half-dead," she heard herself say on the way to the washroom, but instantly regretted it.
"Likewise,"
Chakra surged through her arm. Blood drummed in her ears. Her fist tightened around the damp fabric in her hand. 'He's injured,' she told herself. 'With a fever…' Her fist trembled as she mindfully willed herself to calm down, resisting the urge to smash him through the wall with every fiber in her body.
"Just get some rest," she offered and shot him a faked smile, only to hear him snore as if she was no threat what-so-ever. Her eyes darkened as her eyes fell on him. "…so I can kill you in your sleep."
The swordsman was out cold for the next two days. Sakura had debated using her own chakra to beat his fever. As a medic; it wouldn't be that hard. However, she kind of preferred him this way- silent and not pushing her buttons.
The days had gone by slowly. She had managed to dry his clothing on a chair near the fireplace and caught up on some reading. His coughing had worsened during the first night and kept her up most of it. Bruises on his back had made her wonder if her first assessment had been wrong. And it had. What she thought was pneumonia was more likely a broken rib pressing against his lung. The symptoms were similar enough and easily mixed up. She had mended the broken rib as best as she could with what little chakra she had left to spare, and he had gotten better. What worried her the most was his head.
She was no where skilled enough to even go there. When he first fell into her life she had reduced the swelling to minimize the risk of an infection. She had kept his head bandaged, but whatever damage he might have sustained was unfamiliar territory. As long as she kept his fever in control, he would be fine. Or so she told herself.
Her boots sunk into the heavy snow as she made her way back to the cabin. She had taken a walk to the nearest village to get groceries, and to see if she could find this Dr. Kureha her sensei had entrusted her with. The villagers had acted suspiciously nervous when the pink-haired ninja had asked about the doctor's whereabouts. She had shrugged it off as fear of strangers and kept to her quest.
An elderly woman had pointed her in the direction of six drum-shaped mountains, telling the medic she would find Kureha in a castle on one of them. Sakura had thanked the lady for the help and had retreated back to walk the snowy path she had came from with her new items resting in a large paper-bag she carried in front of her lithe frame.
The cabin came into view a while later and she found herself sighing in relief. Today's weather had been one of the better ones, yet she was chilled to the bones. White smoke escaped through the small chimney and she gave a proud smile of approval. At least he wouldn't be cold.
Dusting her snowy feet off outside of the door, she gently pushed it open with her hip and entered the warm cabin. A content sigh escaped her lips as she welcomed the pleasurable heat. Nudging the door closed, she felt her senses go off in alarm as the cold steel of a katana suddenly pressed hard against her throat, and she froze momentarily; eyes widening in shock as she let go of the paper-bag.
"Who are you?" a deep voice asked from behind her as she felt their warmth seep into her frozen back.
She swallowed hard albeit the déjà vu, her hand sneaking down toward the kunai she had brought with her just in case. "H-haruno Sakura," she squeezed out and fingered the metal.
"Sa-ku-ra," he repeated slowly and pressed the sharp blade harder against her creamy white throat as he leaned in closer, his breath fanning over her left ear. "What did you do to me?"
She grasped the kunai in her hand, readying herself to strike. "I- I healed you."
The blade left her neck, grazing the milky skin ever so slightly as he pushed her forward and away from his frame. She turned to face him fully, bringing the kunai up in a defensive pose in the process. Another gasp left her lips as her eyes fell on the green-haired swordsman. His hair was a ruffled mess underneath the layers of bandages she had wrapped around his head. His dark eyes watched her intensely. His bare chest glistened in the flickering lights of the fireplace as he steadied himself against the wall, almost unable to keep himself upright. The katana in his hand pointed down toward the floor.
She felt her heart drop as she carelessly lowered her kunai.
Dark eyes locked onto green ones and he frowned as he searched her face for an answer.
"Who am I?"