Roses are Red

Emotions Unheard

Recappy From the Last Chappy: Her face looked thoughtful again when she let her left hand fingertips tentatively touch where his abdominal muscles were; they twitched in a little, as though it tickled. "Sasuke. . . ."

"What?" he asked roughly.

". . . thanks."

". . . . Don't mention it."

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Emotions Unheard

The fact that the Sun was out was quite misleading whereas the outside temperature felt quite a bit chillier than it should have been, the day of Krystal's release from the Hospital. It was a few days later than originally planned, a consequence of her escape early in recovery. She sat on the bed which had been hers for a full three weeks, cross-legged, dressed in attire Zakuro had brought from home because she no longer wanted her to wear "The Fox Boy's" jacket.

It consisted of a white skirt that was loose enough to drape over her legs elegantly whilst sitting but showed her zori peeking out underneath. The dark blue hoodie was unzipped at the moment while a medical ninja held a stethoscope to her chest, running a few simple checkups. A comfortable tanktop kept her concealed.

Zakuro stood, distanced, with the clothes Krystal had worn when arriving to the facility, not letting her disgust show from holding something that belonged to him. Her face held no feeling at all and her eyes simply watched as the medical ninja put aside his stethoscope and grabbed a small flashlight that he had Krystal follow with her eyes; she zipped up her jacket to just below her breasts.

"Am I good to go, Sensei?" Krystal asked when he finished the test and stood up from his stool.

"Yes, you are actually. Now is the part where I provide counsel that you probably aren't going to follow, but that I have to give anyway (Darn kids.)" It occurred to Krystal that the ninja was a surly old coot. "Stay away from spicy foods for a bit-I know that there is no indication in your history of irritable bowl syndrome, but it would still be unwise. Avoid molding your chakra for a while; morning exercises like pushups are fine, but don't overdo them. No missions or training for a month, either. (Not that you youngsters listen. . . .) Oh, and don't go crazy with the boyfriend. (Darn kids go to fast in that department; back in my day. . . .)"

She blushed and planted her feet on the tile, standing up. "Hey, Surly Old Coot! I don't care who's piss you drank to wash down your arthritic medicine this morning, but I A: Don't have a boyfriend and B: Clip those nose hairs! (Grouchy old man. . . .)"

"Hyuuga Krystal, do not dare to speak to an elder that way!" Zakuro yelled and then turned to 'Surly Old Coot,' bowing. "I apologize for my daughter's rudeness, Su-Sir."

Undeterred by the outburst or the apology, Surly Old Coot grumbled gruffly and left the room to attend to other patients. The moment he left, a tension fell like heavy sandbags around the mother and daughter. Krystal's arms were crossed; Zakuro was looking up at the ceiling, as if it had words for her to say. During Zakuro's visits following their argument, Krystal had feinted being asleep, so the situation had yet to be resolved.

Next to her, on the bed, was her kunai pouch and shurikon holster. Because she was wearing a skirt, she had no practical way to attach the holster thus, she would have to hold it. Force of habit brought her pouch to the back of her waist. "Let's go."

Zakuro nodded and waited for Krystal to turn around and exit before leaving, herself. "Expect a lecture when we are home, Young Lady." Krystal only rolled her eyes.

Outside, standing a good ten or fifteen feet away from the entrance, they met with Hayden, who had not entered due to a deep loathing for all medical facilities. "You couldn't make this one go into a Hospital even if this one was sick," she had confided into Krystal when visiting. "This one will visit a friend, though. This one cares about friends, so it'd be pretty lame of this one not to."