Sideways

II

When you finally reached the place where the boy was, Tajima almost destroyed the door with his bare hand when he slipped it aside. He stormed inside the room and you followed him, but for a second you lingered in the doorway.

Nothing in that room differed from the others where injured soldiers were resting or receiving treatment, except for the things you saw beyond the obvious ones. That boy lying on the futon with a bandage wrapped around his chest while agonizing and sweating was Madara – Tajima's son; the people who were around him were not just his partners, but also his family and direct subordinates of his father. And the man who fell on his knees beside the futon was not just any father, but the clan's head. The man who carried this child with him to the battlefield. Who exposed him to what he was getting through now.

The man you once loved.

When Tajima turned to you, you saw everything you expected to see when you first looked at him: the lines of worry on his face; the redness in his black eyes that was not his Sharingan, but the sign of hours without a moment of rest; the blood on his clothing that he got while carrying his son all over the way to the place where he was now. Beside that, you saw what you didn't want to see there: that glimmer of relief that he couldn't hide, that said how happy he was for you to have responded to his call; that slight curve that appeared on the corner of his mouth, an imitation of a smile that he wanted to give you because you came with him, because you were there.

Because you said yes.

In other times, the first thing you would do was to hug each other as he would explain the situation and you'd immediately start to work. Now the only thing you had for him was the brief look you gave him that soon turned to the injured boy before you.

Tajima's voice was harsh despite his efforts to control it.

- Y/n-san, you...

You didn't mind the other shinobi's presence and interrupted him without even looking.

- Everybody out! – you commanded as you prepared your tools – The boy's father is the only person I want here until further notice!

You felt Tajima's eyes on you as you sanitized your hands and heard the steps of the other men leaving the place without questioning your order. If there was something you were always proud about yourself, that was you command voice, something essential to a doctor like you. When there was none but you and Tajima with the boy, you knelt before his futon and started to work.

Things were not going well to Madara. You didn't need to touch his forehead to see that he was burning in fever because of the wound that remained opened and untreated for too long. When you unwrapped the improvised aid around his tiny body, he shivered; if it was because of pain or anything else, you didn't want to know. Tajima suffocated a scream beside you. You ordered him to sanitize his hands right now and he obeyed.

It was an ugly thing, what he got there: a deep cut under his chest that would go from one side to the other, something made with a specially sharp sword, an expensive weapon that only someone from a privileged clan like the Senju could afford.

- I will clean this to know its exactly aspect – you explained as you took clean sheets from the suitcase you brought with you – Hold him. The less he moves, the better.

Madara was half conscious and you had no ways to know the amount of pain he was enduring, but it surely was great judging by the roar that came from his throat. But you had the firmness to finish the cleaning despite those noises right in your ears. You threw the dirty sheets aside and told Tajima to step back.

- I will start the healing now. It will take time.

The look you gave him before activating your chakra said what your mouth refuse to, and what he already knew. That children were harder to save. And that he couldn't expect things to be different with Madara just because he was his son.

You've put your hands united right above the wound, and the greenish light that emanated from them illuminated the entire room. You closed your eyes and took deep, long breaths as your chakra left your hands to reach the boy's body, touching every cell, bringing them back to their original state and accelerating their reproduction, so that the unnatural gap among them would slowly disappear.

You didn't know how long you've been there. Sometimes it felt like five minutes; other times, it was like you've always lived in that room. You no longer knew what was that place, who was that person you were trying to save, why you were so worried, why your hands were trembling. You no longer felt your surroundings, no longer acknowledged your own presence. The only thing you felt was your chakra.

That was the state you always needed to reach if you wanted to see your efforts' result. Nothing – not even yourself – should be in the way of your chakra's hands and the patient's decease. Your heart should contain only one desire and your mind should bear only one thought, and it was about healing them. Closing the wound. Purging the fever. Keeping death at bay.

It was easy when it was with unimportant people. When you didn't know their names or ages, or if they didn't have family and friends waiting for them to wake up. You've done this so many times you didn't even need to concentrate to start the technique.

That time, however, you struggled as it was your first time. You had to fight your own body to do its work, but you had to take care not to spend much energy on this. As your last resort, you had to appeal to your early training method.

Heal him.

Close the wound.

Purge the fever.

Keep death at bay.

You repeated the mantra – with your mouth and your heart – until your hands stopped trembling. Soon, the whole room was silent. When you opened your eyes again, you released the sigh you have been holding.

The wound was closed; a dark mark that crossed Madara's body was all that's left. He was no longer struggling to breathe, and the fever diminished. The green light vanished as you moved your hands away, tired but relieved. The boy was going to survive.

You organized your things, but didn't take them with you. You stood up and walked toward the door.

- The fever is going to disappear before tomorrow, but he lost too much chakra – you explained, glancing to the child sleeping right behind you – He needs to rest. I will see him again in a few hours.

You opened the door and went to the porch, breathing the fresh, cold air of the night as if you haven't done it in a long time. Now it was you who needed some rest.

You walked to the grass and were in the middle of the way when you noticed he followed you. So he didn't stay with his son? Suddenly, the conscience of being followed awakened all the feelings you were containing to perform the healing.

When you turned back to Tajima, you had nothing for him but rage.