Oh Amaya, how do you get yourself in these situations..., Amaya thought to herself as she leaned against the wall outside of the surgical suite, just inside of the prep chamber. She ripped off the glove from her left hand and then her right, folding them in on each other as she did so so that the blood they were coated in didn’t get on her skin. After depositing the pair into the nearby trashcan marked with a bio-hazard symbol she turned to the sink and gave a quick but thorough scrub of her hands and arms. Once they were dry she took to leaning back against the wall, looking for something else to distract herself with.

She pinched at the bridge of her nose, frowning, as she closed her eyes. She hated losing patients. She hated how, no matter how hard she tried sometimes and no matter what skills she knew and used, there were just people who died on the table. There was no stopping it, and yet that didn’t help make her feel any better. It certainly wouldn’t help the family waiting outside in the waiting room feel any better.

Amaya sighed softly and dropped her hand, opening up her eyes. She took a deep breath, calming her emotions completely. It reminded her of her days in the Academy. It was something she was constantly having to do, at least until years later when it just came natural. But, there was a difference between being out in the field and losing someone and losing someone at home because of an accident. Either way she didn’t want to be an emotional mess when it came to confronting the family and having to give them the bad news. Shaking her head and figuring that more time wasn’t going to make this task any easier she pulled off her surgical gown, revealing the deep green colored scrub top she wore and the matching pants. She deposited the surgical gown into the nearby bin and then picked up the doctor’s jacket she wore with Doctor Amaya Uchiha, MD embroidered into it with green thread, putting it on so that she looked ‘official’. She turned toward the door, pausing again as she remembered the surgical hat that was keeping her hair up and hidden. She pulled it free, perhaps a little harder than she normally would have out of frustration at herself and perhaps the gods themselves, revealing her long white-blond hair which was back in a ponytail. She crumbled the hat up, tossing it too into the bin, before pushing her way out the door before she could find something else to distract herself or prolong the inevitable.

She made her way down the hallway, nodding to the random individuals she passed without really seeing who they were. Her albino-red gaze focused on the elderly male and female who Amaya knew to be her patients parents. She stopped in front of them, hands sliding into her pockets to hide the fidgeting she wanted to do. They looked at Amaya with hopeful expressions which only caused Amaya to begin feeling like she couldn’t breath: she had done this sort of thing before, but it never got any easier. ”I’m sorry… there was nothing we could do.” The father broke down crying first, followed almost immediately by the mother. Amaya stood there, giving them their moment while wishing she could teleport herself to anywhere else in the world but that exact spot at that exact moment in time. ”If you wish to say your goodbyes I can take you to your son...” They nodded in response, unable to bring themselves to speak, and it was perhaps better that way for Amaya – she didn’t want to answer anymore questions. She directed them into the room where one of her surgical nurses took over, allowing her to step away.

Amaya didn’t hesitate to escape either, punching through doors that led her into the staff-only area of the hospital. Once she was a decent bit of the way down the hallway she hit the wall back first, and then allowed herself to slide down until her butt hit the floor. She kept her knees bent in front of her, her arms resting on her knees. She stared forward at the ivory colored wall, another sigh escaping her.

"Fuck!"

Word Count: 725

"Why now of all times.", Daremo silently mused, holding back the grimace as he walked into the bathroom, paying little mind to the other occupants, washing their hands. Only acknowledging them when they spoke in his direction on their way out of the lavatory. Opening the other stalls, making sure no one else was in here with him, once cleared, he let loose a string of colorful swearwords. That started out in a language understandable by all before divulging into a deep, gluttonously, archaic, language that, even though spoken in a whisper, just felt powerful. If anyone walked in on him, they would've just assumed the man was talking nonsense, not knowing he was swearing.

With a grunt, Daremo pushed off the wall he was leaning on moments ago, stumbling towards the sink, his right hand clutching his side, furthermore wrinkling the light blue scrub top in the process. "Fuck.", he exclaimed, both hands gripping the sink's porcelain corners, as he spat out a glob purplish goop into the bowl. Raising his head, Daremo stared back at his reflection, purple eyes staring impassively at the youthful face, showing grimace of pain, that betrayed a man reaching his earlier, almost mid, thirties. Truly something for him to be older than some of his staff, but look longer than most of them. "Maybe I have the key to youthfulness.", he mused, chuckling softly, trying to take his mind off the pain coursing through him, A bad idea, for a sharp pain shot through him, another expletive leaving his mouth, and another purple goop greeted the other in the sink.

"Lets see.", nimble fingers fumbled with unbuttoning his scrub top that once done revealed his lower half wrapped in a black medical bandage. Slowly and carefully, partially unwrapped it, giving air to a grotesque wound on his right side. Just below the rib cage, four inches in diameter, the purple bruise, with four puncture wounds on the corners covered in a stone-like substance, pulsated rapidly. Black, spidery veins extending from the wound was slowly receding, as the pain started to ebb away. A few minutes passed before the unbearable pain became a tolerable ache. Letting out a sigh of relief, Daremo went back redressing the wound, using the same bandage out of conventions. He didn't really have a chance to grab a roll of it out of his locker within the staff only area. The pain had struck him immediately after the procedure was over, leaving him with hardly any time to make it to the staff area.

"Going to be hell explaining this to my superior.", he groaned, having left without much of an explanation to the other doctors and nurses once the surgery had ended with the patient's death. He will have to come up with a plausible excuse for his abrupted exit. Maybe he could say the loss of a patient got to him? No, this wouldn't be the first patient he had lost. Well, technically, it would be the first Daremo had lost; so, the excuse could work. Hopefully, she, his superior, believe the excuse. If not, he would have to think of something else on the fly.

With his top now buttoned back up, Daremo brushed aside a strand of black hair, tucking it behind his ear. With his hands now washed and dried, Daremo left the restroom, acknowledging a fellow colleague entering.

Stepping out into the hallway, the door behind him clicking shut, purple eyes looked around, taking note of the few people to and from various offices and room. Going left, Daremo made his way down the long hallway, greeting those who he passed, even if he didn't know their names - mainly doing out of courtesy.  The sound of something slamming cause some of those in the hallway to jump, many looking around at each other before going about their way - none having no inkling where the noise was coming from.

Daremo, himself, continued his walk through the hall, finally making it to the double doors separating the staff restricted area from the rest of the facility. Walking through them, his eyes immediately took notice of the last person he wanted to see at the time. Sliding down the wall, knees bent in front of them, arms resting on top, and exclaiming a loud expletive, was none other than his superior: Uchiha Amaya The woman who he had walked out on some time ago without much of a good explanation.

Shit.

Seeing no way around the confrontation, Daremo made his way over to the woman in question. Keeping a healthy distance between him and her, Daremo slid down the wall, his legs folding under one another, as he sat cross-legged. If the woman hadn't noticed him, a silence would descend upon them both, before Daremo spoke, "Senpai, you okay?"

Of course the woman wasn't okay if the expletive was anything to go by, and what he remembered of the surgery was any indication. "You tried your best to save them.", he tried to reassure, "There wasn't anything else you could have done, at least to my limited knowledge. You did the best anyone could ask for." He didn't know much about his superior only she was one of the few Uchiha medics and recognized as one of the best medics in the Elemental Nations.

He had to bite back a snort at that for reasons only he will ever know.

"While, I'm relatively new here, with this being my first time working with you. I can say without a doubt, you with above and beyond what others in your shoes would've done. And, I have no doubt the parents appreciated everything you did even if the outcome wasn't favorable.", an optimistic outlook, sure. But, to the rest of the staff, that is exactly who Daremo was. A man who always looked for the positive in any situation, no matter how bleak it is.

---

[1002]

How many more people am I going to lose? How many more am I going to be incapable of saving… How many will I have to stand by and watch fade away..., came the thought fluttering across Amaya’s mind. One that had come before, and likely would once more the next time she lost someone.

Amaya had to fight the urge to repeatedly bash the back of her head into the wall behind her: it wouldn’t do any good, it certainly wouldn’t bring the person who had just died on her table back. Plus, a raging headache was not what she needed at that moment in time. Still, it felt like a fitting punishment nonetheless, even if she wasn’t going to do it. Instead, she tilted her head back, resting it against the wall as she closed her eyes for a moment, unaware of the people whom she had startled nor of the male coming in her direction. No, she was far too deep into her own thoughts and the head fuck she always seemed to have going on when she lost someone to really pay much attention – not exactly good considering her status within the village. But, it couldn’t be helped: it always brought back memories of losing a very important person in her life and that was torturous at the best of times.

Still, to her benefit, when Daremo spoke she didn’t jump or show any sign of being startled at all. In fact, she simply opened her eyes and looked immediately to him as if she had known he was there the entire time – if nothing else she was good at acting when she had to fake it to make it. Her face was impassive as usual, hiding whatever emotions brewed beneath the perfectly controlled surface – hiding the pain at another loss and the anger directed at no one other than herself. He asked if she was okay, to which she couldn’t fathom an honest enough response to, yet she was saved nonetheless as he continued on. Even though they had never worked together before today he seemed to know exactly what was wrong, perhaps what she was thinking, and set about to reassure her. She knew the words to be true, she had absolutely tried her best and had ‘fought’ valiantly against death… it had simply been her patients time. Yet, even with that truth in her mind she still sighed and shook her head a bit, the smallest of a frown forming on her face.

”As much as I know those words to be true… I still can’t help but blame myself. I absolutely hate losing people, whether on the field or off. Even though I know sometimes there’s nothing that can be done… I still feel like that’s not a good enough excuse for allowing death to claim someone else.”, she said softly, keeping her voice loud enough to be heard while soft enough not to carry to anyone else. It wasn’t often she let her guard down, in fact there was a good bit of the hospital staff that was terrified of her due to the rumors of her methods in the field, and she had no intentions of allowing too many people to see her ‘soft’ side.

Absently she reached up with her right hand and rubbed at her face, as if the process would help clear her head and the thoughts from it. She then shook her head some and focused back on Daremo. ”Sorry, I’m kind of a buzz kill sometimes...”, she admitted halfheartedly, a small smile forming on her lips as she did so.

Word Count: 610 | 1,335


Speed A-3 -> S-0: 483 + 1,335 = 1,818 / 1,550
Perception A-1 -> A-2: 268 / 1,150

If anyone else had stumbled over the Uchiha sitting against the wall, only a psychic would have any inclination of their plight. Sure, an educated guess could've been made by another, but the likelihood of it being correct on the first assumption was slim. It only due to him being in the same room, the same operation room, watching as his senpai fought to save boy's life, and failing, did he know what were bothering her at this time. Even still, when she turned to acknowledge his greeting, her face being the picture of calm, cool and collected, emotionless even, for the briefest of seconds he doubted if she had felt anything for the deceased and his family.

A valid question, but one that's incorrect. She did feel something for she was a medic. In the environment, those taking up te occupation must feel something for those under their care. Families and friends who find themselves visiting a relative or friend(s) are strangely acute to the emotions of the doctors and nurses helping their loved ones; something that Daremo, himself, had to learn many years ago. Establishing connections with each patient, family and friends can't truly be done by anyone who is just going through the emotions. If one doesn't, the connection would be non-existence. How can one truthful connect with someone when they feel nothing for them? They simply can't. In his belief, only through genuine emotion when dealing with patients and their family and friend(s) can a doctor become an exceptional one.  

And, looking at the woman beside him, Daremo would tell anyone, Uchiha Amaya is an excellent medic. With the rumors surrounding her habits, some people finding them uncouth for someone of her position and prestige, but he did not. He respected it. Question, debatable, but none of her methods from what he knew, were seen as unethical or immoral by others. They just had a problem with how far she takes it at times. And there was nothing wrong with that in his eyes.

He spoke, grabbing her attention with a simple greeting, and going on trying to reassure the woman before him. He did so not only for his own benefit, whatever that might be but also hers. Despite his own issues within the operation room, the pain of unfinished training coursing through him at the time, he still remembers everything that happens then. Short from performing a resurrection jutsu or one capable of rewinding back time, there wasn't anything else she could've done to save the man that gallantly tried. And it's that what he was trying to convey to the woman with his words.

No sooner after spoke, he focused his attention on her, purple eyes never leaving her gaze and ears tuning out everything around them, except the soft but yet loud voice beside him.

Through it, all there lied a central theme that kept popping up in every one of her sentences; it is a disappointment. An ugly emotion that is the bane of many others. She felt, while knowing she did everything within her abilities, there was more she could've done to save the patient. Having experience losing those under her care before, the growing need to stop losing as much festered and grew in this. She hated that another life was lost underneath her care.  Through it all, he reminded silent.


"Of course, I could've possibly saved him.", he silently mused, thinking back on his own medical skills from another time. There was little doubt in his mind that he could've saved the patient. However, doing so would've raised certain questions regarding his clan, something he didn't want right now. So, instead of doing the right thing, he stayed in his role as an upcoming medic from Kaze no Kuni who were looking for improvement in the field. Though, he wondered, how long would he be able to keep up this facade?

Pushing those stray thoughts and 'what ifs' aside, a soft and warm smile spread across his face. A low chuckling emitting from him, as she mentioned about being a buzz kill. Settling on the floor, trying to get at least somewhat more comfortable, he shrugged his shoulders, "It takes a lot more than that to kill my buzz. So you will have to try harder. And good luck with that",  there was a twinkle in an eye as he spoke in a joking and challenging manner. There wasn't any bite behind his words, merely lightheartedness.

A few seconds passed by, Daremo being momentarily lost within his thoughts about approaching a subject that needed to be addressed, but also wondering if this would be the appropriate time to do so. "Senpai, sorry about leaving the operation so quickly. I had an emergency of my own that needed my immediate attention. It's taking care of for now, and it shouldn't be a problem within a few weeks. But, I will need time off to take care of it.", as if it knew Daremo were talking about it, the injured flared, and he couldn't help but grimace.

Fuck


This pain a particularly sharp one, slightly worse than the ones he had in the operation room. What was going on? They shouldn't be occurring, he wasn't actively using chakra. So, what was the issue? He did not know.

---

909[1911]

"See, you only seem to have problems with death when it's happening inside a hospital. Especially when it's someone that died on your watch. Otherwise, you're usually the first one to get a good giggle out of it." Kenta had slipped in totally unnoticed, a hard feat you would thing, for a Kage. But he wasn't ever one to peacock in his robes and hat unless he needed too; so he just looked like another jounin off duty and walking the halls of the hospital. Nothing strange there, he could have been skipping over the broken elevator down the hall and heading up to the long-term care ward two floor up; or maybe heading the long way 'round to the recovery ward on the other end of the floor. Who knew, if they didn't recognize the blonde on blonde of the standing Inuzuka Kage. Those horrible words though, if taken out of context of the relationship between himself and Amaya. Ouch. However, they spoke each other's languages; she would understand his statement as an attempt to comfort via a slightly... dark, humor, something they shared in spades, normally. There was no way he wasn't going to notice that Amaya was upset; nor would he ever not come to investigate if he could help it. Brothers didn't let Sisters suffer; and while he wasn't a Sage, and therefore unable to raise the dead; he was still a comforting shoulder to cry on, or a nice target to beat bloody then heal until she felt better. Doubly so because she was the only medic alive that could heal him. His body only responded to her medical chakra now; the last time another medic had tried, it'd nearly killed him. Chakra rejection was rare, but it wasn't unheard of. He'd spent so much time under her hands that his body refused to allow anyone else to mess it with. At least in that manner. He could still share and merge chakra with Naota and Michizuka; but those where different scenarios, and for different reasons. Otherwise, nope. He was stuck with her; and he liked it that way.

I mean really, who wouldn't want their favorite Sister as their personal medic God.

"So, you have a new friend?" He wasn't sure he recognized the other male; which meant little given he'd just come up from a rather nasty attack of melting-lung syndrome, so his brain was a little fuzzy over the last... 6 months of his life. He could have met this medic dozens of times and not remember him because of it. Nothing unusually; everyone that knew of Kenta's... illness, knew of this problem, and they just went with it. A gentle reminder; usually just clarification of a name, or your passport ID number, would flag your identity in his mind and you where set. He was a walking encyclopedia of his people and the people working for his people, so it wasn't hard to come up with something, normally.

"Why don't we move to the chairs down the hall? Sit and talk, eh? Better than melting the walls here, hm?" To be fair, the only reason the place wasn't on fire was because his chakra was so damn cold that it was counteracting her fiery nature and letting the poor building have a break from the intensive heat blasting she'd been giving it. All in all rather comfortable with him now there to provide some coldness. Fun times. "I'll have someone bring in some tea, we can talk. Then we can go destroy shit until you feel better. Plan?"

622.