The Youngest Uchiha (Naruto fanfic)

Test Before the Test

Much to my relief we had no missions today and I didn’t have to do anything.  Once Kakashi-Sensei had given us the news of being in the Chunin Exams, he sent us on our way.  Even though I had told myself I would go home and rest, I still felt the need to train.  If I were going to participate in the exams and not die, I had to become a lot stronger.  I also needed to make sure my medicine was stalked up, I was running low.

When I got home, Sasuke wasn’t there.  I figured that he felt the need to train for the upcoming Chunin Exams too.  Walking up the stairs, I got to my room.  In the bag that I had taken on our last mission, my almost empty pill bottle sat.  After I dug it out, I was on my way to the hospital.  About every month or so, I have to go for a refill.  It really just depends on how much I push myself in a length of time.  Now that I’ve become a ninja, it seems I’m going through the pills much faster.

As usual, the village streets were as crowed as ever.  People scurried from one shop to another, while others stood in the street talking in groups.  That’s the way it has always been, the people of our village conversing with each other.  A few times before, I had felt an ache.  I hadn’t really known what it meant at the time, but watching them now I could describe the ache as loneliness.  I didn’t want it, but I was craving human interaction now.  It wasn’t too bad, but I could tell it was there.

I shook my head, “I don’t need them or anyone.  You just think you want someone.”  I pushed back my feelings and the thoughts in my head, and pushed through the crowd.  I might’ve gone out of my way to break through the groups of people.  Pushing through the crowds was actually somewhat hard work.  After you’d pass someone, there was already another two people to take their spot.

Once I got to the hospital, I was slightly out of breath. I coughed just a little, but it was nothing bad.  I was relieved when I noticed my head didn’t hurt.  Apparently, resting for a couple hours with my team had helped.  I knew I wasn’t sick.  On that happy note, I found the motivation to push open the hospital doors.

Inside, the building wasn’t crowed unlike the streets.  Of course there was a couple of worried, grief stricken families in the waiting room.  But that was only natural.  A couple of kids watched my back as I strode to the front desk.

The nurse was buried in her own world, tapping a pencil against the desk.  She didn’t even notice my approach, so I cleared my throat.  After he slight startle her eyes glazed over with boredom and she glanced at me, “How can I help you?” Her monotone questioned.  For an answer, I flicked my now empty pill bottle on the desk.

She slightly huffed at me, but snatched the pill bottle up all the same.  Once she had scanned the barcode on them, she looked back at me.  In a tightly, forced, polite voice shed said, “Okay, Eiko.  It will take about ten minutes for your prescription to be ready.  Please wait here for that time being.”

I smirked slightly and used a cheerful tone, “Of course.”  Once I turned around from her view, my face dropped to nothing and I strolled to the waiting room.  Distancing myself from stoic elderly man and sobbing women, I settled into a hard plastic chair.

Having had to refill my subscription before, I knew I would have to wait, but it still agitated me.  I don’t like hospitals.  I don’t like the smell, the sounds, the lights, the people, anything.  All of it bugged me.  Yes, I knew they served a purpose, but they all seemed too chaotic with no control, anything could happen.

A tap on my shoulder brought me out of my nightmarish thoughts.  My doctor was standing in front of me, the one who was there when I had my first episode.  “Good afternoon, Eiko.” He greeted and stuck out his hand.

I glanced at the ticking clock on the wall and noted the time and then stared at his hand in front of me, “It’s still morning.”

The doctor withdrew his hand slowly and what can be described as a little bit awkward.  As I studied his face, I could put two emotions to it: frustration and exasperation.  Neither of which I knew why were there.  With a little pause and hesitation he straightened himself out,” Right.  Then good morning.”