Konohagakure's Kakashi Hatake & Nina Sarutobi have only lived & prepared to die by the Shinobi rules.
Amid an intensive investigation into a spate of mysterious deaths, a birthday party for the elusive Copy-Nin sets off a chain reaction no one quite...
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(Sunday> September 14 > Konoha> Shikaku Nara's Office)
~Nina~
Dizziness pushed upon Nina. When did I last have a fucking break? Casting her eyes to the clock on the wall directly in front, she tracked the second hand's clockwise movement.
Tick, tick, tick, tick.
The perpetual ticking tapered into an all-too-fresh recollection of hers.
~Flashback~
(About a week ago>Konoha's Hospital>Treatment Room 3)
"Call it!" Tsunade barked out the order.
Only Nina answered, "Time of death, 2.33pm."
One by one, the ear-splitting bleeps from the medical devices ceased to sound. The latex snapped as Nina discarded her bloodied gloves into the over-full bin in the corner of the room. She watched as two staff flumped a white sheet to cover the deceased patient that laid on the steel gurney. The clacking of Tsunade's heels on the tiled floor slowly faded out to nothing as she returned to her office.
Hidden under the veil of a starch-creased sheet was the lifeless body of a young boy. He was barely nine years old. Being the first medic on the scene, and despite their patient being dead on arrival, Nina had made an attempt at revival. However, once Tsunade entered the treatment room, she immediately instructed Nina and the other staff to commence the end-of-life process.
Nina insisted on being the one to inform the parents of the boy's passing. But before that, she needed to slip into the bathroom to remedy her dishevelled state. Her hair was a mess. Little remained held in a loose bun; most had fallen to curtain around her face, which was spattered with drying blood.
Sliding the heavy wooden door along its' metal tracks, Nina entered the small room awash with white features from floor to ceiling. Inside the only furniture was a white leather-backed two-seater chair. Positioned across from it, a single matching chair. The victim's parents were sitting on the larger of the two. Closely clutching each other's hands, anxiously waiting for news about their child.
Although it hadn't been Nina's first time carrying out such solemn duties, losing a young life was notably more difficult. She perched herself on the very edge of the single chair—never shifting her eyes from the couple out of respect. The man embraced his wife while the tirade of their tears fell upon hearing the outcome involving their one and only son. Sadness turned to anger. Firmly grasping the collar of Nina's medic jacket, the woman shook her and bellowed rhetorical questions. Eventually, the anger subsided, making way for the snotty sobs smeared against Nina's clothes until the man took over consoling his wife.
