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(closed) everything you feel, and everything you think
WHO: Uchiha Sasuke & others.
WHERE: Around Stygia.
WHEN: Month of October.
WHAT: Catch-call for event prompts / other scenarios.
WARNINGS: None atm, will updated if needed.
[ ooc — plotting comment for the event here, comment for the general CR meme here. flexible to do things outside of the event as well!]
WHERE: Around Stygia.
WHEN: Month of October.
WHAT: Catch-call for event prompts / other scenarios.
WARNINGS: None atm, will updated if needed.
[ ooc — plotting comment for the event here, comment for the general CR meme here. flexible to do things outside of the event as well!]
𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐫𝐚 | parade
The parade is chaotic: a mass of moving bodies clad in colorfully patterned fabric, rhythmic music in the air, children darting around longer legs to wedge in closer to the street for a better view. Sasuke isn't there with keen interest in seeing or participating in the parade as its audience — it's simply impossible to escape. He'd taken one road to navigate out of Mirth in the deepening night, only to find his way obstructed by streamers and volunteers blocking the path of the procession. So he had turned and doubled back and found himself further enmeshed in gathering crowds, somewhere closer to the heart of the district.
He considers, in a state of heightening agitation, the feasibility of leaping to the tops of the buildings to take a more direct exit. In readiness, he even gathers chakra into the soles of his feet and begins looking for an accessible route.
Then he catches sight of a head of pink hair in the crowd, accompanied by that familiarly crisp, cool chakra signature, and Sasuke hesitates too long. They're close — it would only take a few steps to reach her. He wonders why she's here. For the parade, or some other aspect of the festival? It's the first he's seen her outside the docks up to her elbows in medical work. He remembers their last conversation, sharp as it had lingered in his mind. So when a child rams into his legs from behind, Sasuke is off-guard enough to stumble, right hand out to catch her shoulder—]
Sakura, wait—
[... only, as his stomach swoops with the tilted nausea of sudden disorientation, he finds himself looking up at... himself? Looking up?
At himself?]
What...
no subject
it's funny, that even years after the fourth war, her mind can relate everything back to it somehow. this innocent gathering, where there's no real danger to be had, harkens strongly to the mobs of white zetsu they'd fought on the fields, and she finds herself smelling blood and offal even when there's none. the crowd presses in, people butting shoulders and arms against her, children careen senselessly into her legs, shrieking in what has to be delight but that translates through that war-filter to horror and fear. perhaps that's why she misses him at first. why, when he stumbles into her she barely reaches to steady him, and when her fingers clasp on at his arm it's as if the world has given way beneath her feet. the weightless lurch leaves her breathless, and her vision is strangely blurred. she feels completely severed from her senses, the uncanny out-of-body experience she's heard people describe near death — looking at her own face wearing a mask of confusion and lingering horror.
at first, it's taken clinically. she's experiencing an adverse reaction to the crowds, she's disassociated from the experience — she just needs to sit somewhere quiet a moment and breathe. but when she opens her mouth to say as much, her teeth feel wrong. they sit strangely behind her lips and the press of her tongue finds a faint chip to an incisor she's certain wasn't there before.
she blinks, and looks down. why is she so tall? and what is she —
she wearing?
she makes a sound that's a perfect marriage between dismay and shock, and then claps a hand over her mouth because the sound that came out was absolutely nothing like her. that hand — the right one, because that's the only one this body has — stifles the high-pitched squeak that would have otherwise followed, because this is sasuke, she's in sasuke's body somehow.
her first thought, apropos of nothing, is that she's somehow performed ino's mind transfer jutsu completely by accident. enough strange things have gone on with her powers that she'd be willing to believe it, but even that explanation falls feebly flat.
one thing is certain, they need to get out of this crowd.
she grabs... herself, her own body, and starts cutting diagonally to get out of the crowd. later, perhaps, she'll think of the fact that people developed a tendency to scatter rather than remain in the path of her onward march, but at the moment she's only thinking of getting out.
safety, in this instance, is the beacon of a crumbling wellhouse, and she shoulders the door in and hauls both herself and — her...self? inside. her chakra feels wrong, static and ozone rather than the gentle solidity of earth, and it's making her so unsettled she feels claustrophobic. ）
Sasuke — （ no time for honourifics, her voice is low and urgent and as familiar as her own in a way that's still startling to hear — ） is this something the Rinnegan can do?
no subject
The nightmare doesn't end even when they've stopped moving, and Sakura — supposedly it is Sakura who looks like him, wearing his eyes and his face — asks him a question that he almost can't hear. He reaches out to take his own body by the throat and slam it against the wall, pulsing with someone else's chakra, with her chakra, monstrous strength in the swing of his arm driven by the spike of reactionary alarm and his own Shadow's propensity for violence, and — he stops with his hand on his own throat.
Sakura's hand on his throat. His eyes are wide, pale green, staring with an expression contorted with so much fear and anger both it doesn't look right.
Anyway, no. Hopefully that answers your question.]
no subject
she recognizes the fear in her own expression, scraped raw with rage, and she realizes that if she doesn't fight back he might actually choke her unconscious with her own calloused hands. she needs to put distance between them, and fast.
there's a spot on her right side, torn open several days ago from a reaper's scythe, half-healed with the chakra she could spare at the moment but still very much an injury that adrenaline has likely dulled down to nothing in his mind. she lifts his right arm, braces it on her body's right wrist and then twists, delivering a kick sharply to that area to knock sasuke back. her own body may be physically stronger when enhanced with chakra, but sasuke's is quicker, and he's never thought much of her taijutsu anyway — he probably won't be expecting her to use her own vulnerabilities against him. ）
Stop it. （ she hisses out, angrily. ） It's me, it's Sakura — calm down.
（ sasuke has more reason than most to be distraught over someone else being in his body — and she gets that. but she's not going to tolerate him trying to grind her into paste against a wall, either. she can be gentle with him later, but right now she needs him to stop panicking. ）
1/2
It doesn't belong to him. Cemented, then, into the reality of what he's facing, Sasuke stands panting in the narrow, cramped, dark room close to the window, light from festival strings illuminating his harrowed expression.]
What the hell is going on?
[Calm insofar as his mind is functioning again outside the deep pit of panic and fear, but the anger burns cold inside of him nonetheless. He feels weak. The deep pool of his chakra has shrunken, a more finely tuned instrument he doesn't know how to use. Wrong.
Sasuke's head drops, and he looks over himself.]
no subject
Sakura. We need to fix this.
no subject
Stop looking! Stop even thinking about it!
（ ahhHHHHH THIS IS NOT HOW SHE EVER IMAGINED SASUKE BEING INSIDE HER BODY???? ）
no subject
I'm not! [He is.] What are you doing? That doesn't change anything, I'm still—
[A girl. A girl with... on his chest. Even Sasuke is red-faced, color over his cheeks as he fights the cloak Sakura drapes forcefully around him on principle, get away from him. Maybe if he was Naruto, he could handle this better, but he's never tried that stupid jutsu and he's never wanted to try.]
Stop it! We need to switch back. Now.
[......... how.]
no subject
（ this is the story of how two of the most renowned and powerful shinobi in konoha resort to slapping at each other like feral cats over a morsel of fish as they fight over the placement of that cloak. just accept it! accept the cloak! stop being in her body with a tight shirt you pervert! (who chose the shirt, exactly?
finally, sakura steps back and just. glowers at the interloper in her body. the glowering is nice, and feels perfectly comfortable on this face. all her mother's wisdom about 'your face freezing that way' if you make an ugly expression too long comes flooding back... so, that's sasuke's problem, is it?
however, she is still red as a tomato and that likely will not change any time soon, so... ）
Just let me think, will you?
（ since the duty of being the sole team seven braincell falls squarely on her shoulders, she'll have to answer the call. her mismatched gaze slides off to settle on a pile of old buckets that don't look like they'd hold any water at all, rusting and rotten. then: ）
Give me my phone. It's in my back right pocket and don't touch anything else!
no subject
The same goes for you. [Huffing, Sasuke reaches beneath the folds of the cloak into the back pocket as directed, using the very tips of his fingers to free the phone and bring it out.] Don't do anything weird. And don't use my eyes. Keep the Sharingan deactivated; you should consider covering the Rinnegan completely. It's for your own safety.
We stay together until this is solved.
[Sasuke hands over the device, oblivious to how offensive his words may come — first on the assumption that, out of his sight, Sakura might take advantage of his body in some way due to her feelings for him, and second that he doesn't trust her with his power. Then again, perhaps she's a better candidate for test-driving the Sharingan than any other Restless currently present.]
cw: ... idk man, 'cultural internalized misogyny/patriarchal impact on female sexuality'?/??
there's a small part of her that stumbles over the realization she'd actually wanted him to — notice, to see her, to touch despite her protests, and the burst of quiet horror and self-directed shame has her turning away from him the instant she plucks her phone from his hand. she needs to think about something, anything else that isn't just being alone in a room with him in the state they're in now. so, she turns to the network, trawling through it to see if anyone else has mentioned the effects they're currently mired in, and hits on someone else's post detailing the very same thing.
she chews absently on her (his) bottom lip, the only real manifestation of her anxiety as she scrolls, and pointedly does not look at him. the walls of the small room seem to lean in against them, and she suddenly feels claustrophobic in his body, as if the muscles and tendons and sinew and bone have constricted in on themselves, caged her consciousness and flattened her out to nothing. ）
It looks like other people are experiencing these effects as well — someone is already back in their own body. It seems to just be a matter of waiting it out.
（ she takes a deep breath — it's meant to be bracing, but instead it hitches on his ribs and instinctively she puts a hand against the radiating pain, identifying an old, badly healed fracture beneath an instinctive questing pulse of chakra sent along the leylines of his body. in fact, now that she's thinking about it and it poses something, anything else to seize on, there are myriad things standing out in her medic's mind, injuries left untended to mend poorly on their own. very likely he's stopped noticing them altogether — but when she's able and has chakra, she keeps her body entirely free of lingering maladies, and the shift is her awareness puts a few things in salient perspective. the amputation is perhaps the least of all the not-inconsiderable damage done to him — no lingering nerve pain to speak of — but then she'd done that surgery herself.
the rest...
she gestures again to her own body, wrapped now in a black fabric tent and rather than bicker about his mistrust, says: ）
Give me a bandage, left thigh pocket. And then come here.
cw: 'kishimoto writing women' i fixed it for you
Then he begins to see the tells of Sakura's inhabitance, subtle in the rounding of shoulders, how — even in his body — she appears to make herself smaller in stature, whether consciously or not, whether a result of her own normally slighter figure or something else. How despite her appearance, it still feels like Sakura is there. The panic eases; he would rather have her in possession of his body than nearly anyone else, who wouldn't understand the Sharingan, who wouldn't keep a clear head about the problem. His own relief surprises him.]
If we don't have an idea of how long it could take, then we have to be careful in the meantime. Neither of us are trained in the same areas of specialization. We're dangerous to ourselves and our surroundings. [The thought of Amaterasu accidentally being triggered... He struggles against the negative spiral of that thought.] And it would confuse anyone who interacts with us.
[Naturally his mind goes to Naruto, but it doesn't stick there long. The idea of Naruto finding him in Sakura's body...
A questioning glance is thrown her way before he obeys the direction and unpockets the bandage, holding it out as he takes a few steps closer.]
Why?
u are not wrong
Blindfold. Help me tie it off.
（ the rinnegan is always active, and she can feel the press of its cold chakra up against her awareness. but she doesn't know what triggers the sharingan to be on or off, and while she could ask him so she could either avoid or do it safely, she doesn't think he'd tell her. so, the next best thing is to mitigate the risk altogether. she can function blinded — if unhappily — and like most ninja she's done at least some practice cut off from every sense. ）
I know your eyes are important to you. I'm not going to use them on purpose.
（ she tries to sound reassuring rather than petulant about it. he doesn't trust her, and that's fine. she tells herself it's fine. after all, he barely knows her now. it feels like they haven't said more than five sentences to one-another since the valley of the end, and being in this place makes her all the more intensely aware of it. what has she ever done to earn his trust, really? she's just some silly girl to him. ）
no subject
Sakura. [... Now he has to use his words, doesn't he.] There's no need to go that far. The Sharingan is about chakra control, and you're good at that, so with my assistance you can avoid triggering it. That's why I'll stay with you until we're back to normal.
[Surely there won't be any problems. Right? They can just remain in each other's presence, awkwardly, however long it takes to revert to their own bodies.]
My main concern is the Rinnegan. You won't be used to it, and you can't deactivate it. Are you feeling disoriented or uncomfortable at all?
no subject
her fingers flex, caught in the strong grip of her own hand, and then she lowers it down. the bandage is kept enshrined against her palm like a temple offering. she doesn't know what to do with it now that it's half unrolled. roll it back up? she feels foolish just thinking about it, and so she fidgets with one frayed edge where she'd torn it from the tapestry of its native shape. ）
No. It's mostly just — （ a frown tugs his mouth into a more natural expression on his countenance, pensive and wan. ） It's heavy.
（ that's the closest thing she has to a description of how it feels, this strange energy holding court in the hollow of ocular bone — it's a weight. not literal, of course, but there's an intoxicating gravity well of power that lurks beyond the black patterned spiral. it must be exhausting, even for one accustomed to having it. ）
I would say I'm aware of it, of the strength, but it's almost like... how I can feel the byakugou.
（ a touch to the center of his forehead, where the diamond would sit if he were ever to master such a thing. gathered chakra, like the tip of a spear. the two aren't comparable, really — one is a birthright, and the other the concentrated effort of years — but certain strengths run along parallel lines. there is a quality to both, of something quiescent, waiting to be stirred up, called upon. the first time she called on the byakugou's power felt like falling into an ocean, and she thinks the rinnegan might feel similarly — except she can only imagine that it would be less like water, and more like an impossible, breathless void. ）
no subject
His focus returns to Sakura, to the way she sits, too-long legs awkwardly tucked to the side in a femininity that would look normal if only she were not in his body. There's an intimacy to this experience that he's not keen to face. She must feel suffocated by the Rinnegan; it's an ocular power too much for many to bear based on his understanding of its history. He's worried it'll have a detrimental effect on her, but if so far she's managing... Then that's testament to her own strength of will.]
It's not easy to ignore, even for me. [The confession is quiet.] It's as much a burden as it is a gift.
[Sasuke turns away, then, as though to look for somewhere else to stand or sit — but the movement twists his body, causing a jagged knife of pain in his side. A hand comes up to cover the injury; it is the one Sakura had targeted to subdue him earlier. Beneath the cloak, he feels dampness.]
You have a wound here. It's bleeding again. What happened?
no subject
instead, she pivots her focus onto what he said, frowning a little when he says the injury is bleeding. ）
Ah — it's nothing, really, I was helping someone with one of the hostile reapers a few days ago. I'd healed the worst of it then.
（ the last thing she wants in this moment of tenuous peace between them is for him to think she shouldn't have been out fighting at all. that the injury was somehow a failing of her skill or ability on the field. she clucks her tongue faintly at him, and then stands, tucking the bandage back in a pocket while she gestures him onto the makeshift seat. ）
Come here, I'll heal you.
（ healing can be either yin or yang release — but most genjutsu is yin release, and the foreign nature of his chakra shouldn't have much impact on her ability to channel it. it will just take focus. ）
no subject
It is only once he's seated, that the frown deepens on his face.]
Can't you show me how to do it with your body? That would be more efficient than using mine. And it won't force you to run the risk of misusing my chakra.
[Surely healing won't be difficult if he's in a body trained for it, even if it isn't an area he knows himself.
Surely.]
no subject
she is so rarely offended by the things he says, years of letting things slide when perhaps she shouldn't have, that it takes her a moment to identify that's what she's feeling now.
easy, she realizes. he thinks it's easy. he thinks that the only reason he's never bothered to learn is because he didn't care to, not that the incredible aptitude and control required takes years to hone to an art. you essentially have to unlearn what you know about chakra, about seals, about elements, and remake your understanding into something that accounts for creation and destruction both.
it's such a slap in the face of the hard, genuine work she put into medical ninjutsu. the years of falling asleep facedown in a textbook, waking in a puddle of her own drool with smudged, mirrored kanji imprinted like a tattoo across her skin, and getting up at four in the morning to join tsunade for her hospital rounds with barely more than her hair pulled back from her face. she still studies nightly. she still practices daily. she didn't have his genetic gifts, she had to do everything the hard way, and for him to dismiss it so completely as something he should be able to pick up in a few minutes of being shown... is this the arrogance of having the sharingan and being accustomed to rote memorization and ease at a blink, or a matter of him thinking that everything she's ever done is beƞeɑtɦ ɦiɱ sσɱeɦσw?
she clenches his hand, feeling his short, blunted nails bite into his palm, and forces herself to say, calmly: ）
It's knowledge, （ she says finally, bluntly. sure, her body is attenuated for the use of medical ninjutsu, but if you put someone who's never done martial arts a day in their life in rock lee's body, they won't instinctively become an expert at it. ） it's not an ability that's native to my body. Healing is up here. （ she forces his hand to relax, and reaches up to tap her temple. ） Me healing you is the more efficient option. I can certainly show you how if you'd like to learn — but I'd start you on fish like any academy student. That injury is in close proximity to my lung, I'd rather not risk permanent damage by an amateur.
（ which is the kindest word she can call him in that moment, as her anger flares supernova bright. ）
But if the idea of me misusing your chakra is so terrible, I can show you how to release the Byakugou and use Creation Rebirth. That would heal you instantly and requires no medical skill.
（ the only consequence would be that she would have to replenish it later, but it's suddenly, abruptly preferable. ）
no subject
Now she speaks to him with sternness, unravelling his logic and criticizing his judgment. His experience with medical ninjutsu is, admittedly, limited. Kabuto was not a teacher; he administered the results of Orochimaru's experiments and Sasuke didn't care to learn that process. Karin, likewise, fulfilled a convenient and necessary role on his team. And all he had to do to benefit from her skill was bite her.
It isn't the first time they've spoken since all that has happened to bring Sasuke to the awareness he doesn't know who she is anymore, if ever he did.]
Fine. We'll do it your way. [The words are said less sharply than they are matter-of-fact.] You'll just have to be careful not to activate the Sharingan when you do it. With your precision control, that shouldn't be an issue, should it?
[There's a challenge inlaid in there, if Sakura's willing to find it. It's not disparaging, because it's the same way he talks to Naruto as well, but she may take it in a different light given how rarely he's turned that challenge on her.]
... I'll need to lift your shirt.
no subject
but at the same moment she feels dizzyingly out of her depth — unselfconsciously, unknowingly — she does respond to that challenge. she lifts the point of her chin in something very like defiance, and there is a rush as it bruises through her — intoxicating and heady as a drug. it feels a little like the first time sasuke has ever actually looked at her. not with the tenderness she's yearned for nor with the adoration she hoped might one day be returned, but with the faintest susurrations of respect.
it's as if it flips a switch she didn't even realize she had — and it occurs to her, belatedly, that she wants that more than all the rest of any emotion she could ever desire from him. ）
I'll do it. Just hold still.
（ the cape gets pushed back over her body's shoulder, and the shirt drawn up. she is very carefully not thinking about sasuke's hands on her body, for all that it's something she's dreamed of for so long — that thought is pushed firmly from her mind. she is a doctor, and regardless of the body she's in, there is a patient beneath her hand that requires her attention.
sasuke's chakra is a dark, boundless pool, but instead of still water it's rather like a net of energy, constantly crackling, roiling with power and sharp points of violet light. there is nothing of healing in it, from the highest peaks where its brilliance shimmers like a lattice of stars, to the lowest depths where everything tastes of rust and the muddied, dusky taste of a gathering storm.
it sends a shiver through her. it's difficult to say whether or not it's different than how it felt when they were children, or if it's his experiences that drew the darkness to the surface and eclipsed the rest, but it takes her a long, long time to find echoes of the boy he had been in the tangled web of electric essence. she felt she had known him then, even if she's realizing she never had at all.
she finds what she is looking for eventually. a little spark. something almost like hope. that's what she pulls from, and when she opens her eyes again her hand is awash in the soft blue of healing chakra. she can see it differently, through the rinnegan. chakra isn't normally visible like this — one senses more than sees it, but it's not a surprise the dōjutsu can piece it apart like this. she finds herself making clinical notes in the back of her mind, parallel to her work to heal the injury. she'll never get this chance again, after all, and it may improve her own precision.
the skin is split where she'd stitched it shut, and she peels the bandage carefully back. it feels like an indulgence to be using chakra to heal herself — but she'd rather sasuke not deal with any ill effects. dead blood beneath the skin has left a patina of wild colours painted against her skin, sickly yellows and greens blooming into violet-black, a livid red from where she'd landed the blow that drove him away.
healing it is a clumsier, slower affair than usual. but, by degrees, the bruises hollow out, the lividity fades, the skin knits together, pushing out the catgut stitches she'd used a clone to gather the edges of the wound together. the bones of the ribcage are trickier, but manageable, and she's aware of the fact she's pushed his body's tolerance for this manner of work by the fact she can feel sweat gathering on her brow.
it's going to scar, she thinks ruefully, thumbing over the jagged crest of the fading mark. she only has a few, more pride in her ability as a healer than vanity as a woman, as she doesn't consider scars to be anything but a sign of what the body has survived. there's a part of her that thinks he might judge her for that, for the lack of skill it suggests not to be able to completely erase it, but that clamouring voice is choked down. surely even sasuke must recognize that the way stygia affects chakra, coupled with her being in a foreign body will impact how efficiently she can heal.
she rocks back on her heels, balancing strangely with only one arm, and nods vaguely towards the injury. ）
How does that feel now?
no subject
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...]
no subject
It's nothing. What are teammates for?
（ she doesn't give him room to answer that, instead briskly moving on. she doesn't want to give him a chance to deny they're teammates at all. she rolls her right hand, feeling the tendons crackle as she works it in a circular motion. when she speaks, it's with a doctor's surety and authority. ）
There's a lot of damage to your body that hasn't been tended to by a healer. （ 'damn girl, you live like this?' ） So if you would ever like me to fix it, I will. Some things will need to be rebroken to mend properly.
no subject
So what are they now?]
It doesn't bother me. [Discomfort is hardly some new phenomenon to shinobi.] Wouldn't it be more of a hassle to deal with after all this time than to leave it alone? It isn't affecting me.
no subject
（ it sounds strange to say that in his own voice, and it's punctuated by a sigh as she drags a hand through his hair the way she would her own. even the texture of it is different — silkier, but less soft without the products she uses — and the varying lengths give her muscle memory a brief twinge as she comes to the end of his bangs expecting there to be more. ）
It's painful. I can feel it. Just because you're used to it doesn't mean you should have to live with it.
（ but it isn't as if she can force him to listen to her.
it isn't as if she could ever get him to do anything she wanted at all. he's neveɾ listeƞeɗ tσ ɦeɾ, ƞeνeɾ cɑɾeɗ ɑbσut ɦeɾ, ƞeνeɾ wɑƞteɗ ɑƞʮtɦiƞg tσ ɗσ witɦ ɦeɾ except wɦeƞ sɦe wɑs useʄul tσ ɦiɱ, ɑƞɗ tɦσse ɱσɱeƞts weɾe ʄew ɑƞɗ ʄɑɾ betweeƞ eνeƞ ɑs cɦilɗɾeƞ. ɑƞɗ ƞσw?
tɦeʮ'ɾe still stɾɑƞgeɾs, ɑʄteɾ ɑll tɦis tiɱe.
iʄ ɦe wɑƞts tσ be iƞ pɑiƞ? L̵̞̣̈́Ȩ̵̛̗͉́T̷̫̘̋ ̶̩̈́̕Ĥ̷͉̲͖̈͑Ǐ̴̞̰͒M̵̙͙̉̊.
a sudden wave of bleak, roiling dizziness washes over her. she presses the heel of her palm over the rinnegan, sways with what feels abruptly like the complete severance of her chakra, and the world around her abruptly shifts. changes. from the small wellhouse to the acrid smell of burnt flesh, and she's sprawled on the ground with no honest idea what's just happened.
she's never been through one of sasuke's portals, and it leaves her sprawled flat on the ground, stirred quickly up to action by the distant, echoing sounds of screams. the air is thick and acrid, burning her nose and throat so badly she's immediately pulling sasuke's shirt up over it, suppressing the urge to choke on the air.
—
when she emerges from the cavern what seems like an eternity later, she makes a line right for her clinic. she can't hope to find sasuke like this, worn down and nearly out of chakra from the healing, the use of the rinnegan and choice amounts of shunshin to escape notice in the underground, and she can only trust he'll know her well enough to seek her there as well. ）