[The number of times Sakura has healed him beneath her hand is less considerable than someone might imagine as teammates. Prior to the day he left Konoha, still a member of an intact Team 7, the majority of their low-rank missions hadn't required treatment — and Sakura's skill paled in comparison to the breadth of her ability as her current self. He remembers lying on that rock in the sun, in the Valley of the End, cognizant to Sakura above him, mending the severed flesh of his left arm. The feeling of that healing chakra flowing into him, cool and fresh as spring water as it gathered within every crevice of pain his body held. The vulnerability of it too, and how he'd been driven to apology as a result, cracked open on the core of his own regret with Naruto at his side the whole time. Washed clean.
Now, the ordeal is turned on its head given their traded positions. He has rationally understood the need for medical ninjutsu as a shinobi. Wounds require care; certain individuals are trained to provide that care from an ancillary role on a team. He'd utilized Karin's ability for that reason, but their exchanges were an impersonal transaction. There was a time he was willing to let her die — willing wholeheartedly to kill her himself — in the path to his goal. She was more tool than teammate to the person he was then.
It doesn't feel the same now. He hadn't needed to tell Sakura of her injury; he could have suffered it until returning to himself. And the strangeness of this vulnerable position, in a body that is not his own, is magnified exponentially. The only other person he'd allow beneath his guard in this state is Naruto. So predictable, the two of them, anchoring him to the world once again.
He holds himself stiffly as the shirt is lifted, head turned aside. There's a surreality to looking into his own eyes, one that risks disassociation. Or a worse imagining of someone else whose brotherly resemblance would be too cruel to consider. Seeing Itachi in himself...
Skin begins to mend slowly. He can tell the difference of chakra, how Sakura's touch is cold and sharp compared to the Valley of the End, an icy static in the flow, almost oppressive enough to make him hold his breath. She demonstrates her expertise to be able to do this at all, he knows. And there is some marveling at that. Because he was wrong, and perhaps he could never have done it so efficiently even in her body. Would it be worthwhile to learn a bare minimum of medical ninjutsu? He's never entertained it before. Strength went only in one direction in his mind.
The pass of a thumb across the mark causes Sasuke to flinch, less with pain than surprise. His chin jerks back, and their eyes meet, her own pale green wide with a naked look that soon shutters back into resilient composure in a heartbeat.]
It feels fine. [Clothing yanked inelegantly into place, he also stands, frown freshly affixed.] Thanks.
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Now, the ordeal is turned on its head given their traded positions. He has rationally understood the need for medical ninjutsu as a shinobi. Wounds require care; certain individuals are trained to provide that care from an ancillary role on a team. He'd utilized Karin's ability for that reason, but their exchanges were an impersonal transaction. There was a time he was willing to let her die — willing wholeheartedly to kill her himself — in the path to his goal. She was more tool than teammate to the person he was then.
It doesn't feel the same now. He hadn't needed to tell Sakura of her injury; he could have suffered it until returning to himself. And the strangeness of this vulnerable position, in a body that is not his own, is magnified exponentially. The only other person he'd allow beneath his guard in this state is Naruto. So predictable, the two of them, anchoring him to the world once again.
He holds himself stiffly as the shirt is lifted, head turned aside. There's a surreality to looking into his own eyes, one that risks disassociation. Or a worse imagining of someone else whose brotherly resemblance would be too cruel to consider. Seeing Itachi in himself...
Skin begins to mend slowly. He can tell the difference of chakra, how Sakura's touch is cold and sharp compared to the Valley of the End, an icy static in the flow, almost oppressive enough to make him hold his breath. She demonstrates her expertise to be able to do this at all, he knows. And there is some marveling at that. Because he was wrong, and perhaps he could never have done it so efficiently even in her body. Would it be worthwhile to learn a bare minimum of medical ninjutsu? He's never entertained it before. Strength went only in one direction in his mind.
The pass of a thumb across the mark causes Sasuke to flinch, less with pain than surprise. His chin jerks back, and their eyes meet, her own pale green wide with a naked look that soon shutters back into resilient composure in a heartbeat.]
It feels fine. [Clothing yanked inelegantly into place, he also stands, frown freshly affixed.] Thanks.
[...awkward silence...]