Book 2: The Three of Us

Chapter 38: Towards The Front

I will admit, I'm not a big fan of writing the war arc. Mainly cause in canon, it only lasts for a total of like two days and that's just ridiculous. And I find it difficult to decide how to go about that, even tho I have written so far from canon in some parts of this story. Either I skim over this arc or I write a whole book about it, and since the book already has so many chapters (and I like to keep each book in a series at a similar length), I will be skimming over this arc and wrapping up this book. The pacing will be off and there won't be much for an overall of the war, but sometimes it's just like that when you don't plan a book all the way through. And if it was up to me, I'd completely rewrite this whole series, but the time that would take would drive me crazy. So, y'all just gotta deal with this dumpster fire of a story. 

:::

The one thing they don't prepare you for when training as a medic is how useless you'll feel at times (and how others at times will regard you as useless or blame you for deaths you couldn't prevent). While others are on the front lines, fighting for their life, you're stuck watching from behind, powerless because your duty is to stay alive long enough to pull the people off the battle field that can't fight anymore, dead or alive. One moment you are waiting in painful anticipation and the next you are surrounded by the smell of death and the cries of people in pain. It doesn't take long for medical procedure to be thrown out the window after that. Nothing goes to plan. No matter how hard you tried to prepare to have an efficient and organized system, once the injured start coming in, everything erupts into chaos. 

It's a hideous thing, filled with desperation and hopelessness. The first wave leaves you feeling horrified, sick to your stomach and leaves your heart breaking for every life you aren't able to save. Guilt fills you and makes you want to give up. Emotions are running high, the chances of making a mistake are higher, and half the time you can barely decide where you should be and what you should be doing next. By the second wave, everything starts to numb, you fully realize that at this time your emotions will only lead to distraction which will then lead to mistakes. It fully sets in that there's no time for indecisiveness. Patients you know you can't save are passed by, left to die by themselves and the least injured are picked out, patched up quickly and thrown back out into battle. 

When the third wave comes around, you're not yourself anymore. You become nothing more then a being going through the motions, viewing the injures not as people of patients anymore. They become just another thing to fix or toss away. There's no more room in your heart to feel anymore pain because if you did, it would become unbearable. It's one of those jobs where having a dissociative disorder is welcome, and in some cases, preferred. 

Before you know it, you've lost your ability to feel the passing of time. Nothing exists but the task in front of you. You work for as long as you physically can, and then eat and sleep in the small moments that you can. No one leaves this place the same as they entered. A part of you will be lost, leaving a hole in your heart that somehow feels horrifyingly heavy. Maybe it's the hearts way of trying to compensate for the brains ability to lock away the emotions of those memories while still somehow being able to remember them. Remembering without feeling seems to be something that the brain comes to find easy but the heart cannot understand. 

In a moment of rest, as I try my best to doze off against the pillar of a tent. One filled with patients, because even in my moment of rest, I couldn't help but feel I needed to be doing something. Even if that something was being a slightly faster responder then the injured incase of an attack. The sound of the tent opening being pushed aside brings me to full alertness, and without conscious thought, my hand is already over my kunai pouch, ready to pull out a weapon in case of an attack. Catching sight of who it is, some of the tension leaves my body and I remove my hand from my kunai pouch. 

Standing up, I look towards the person who's entered the tent, "Shizune, is there something you need?"

The look she gives me is heavy with exhaustion as she nods in my direction, eyes looking at me, but gaze not entirely there, "You're needed on the front lines as soon as possible. Things have taken a turn for the worst and your team needs your help." 

My emotions threaten to break free from the lock my mind has put on them as I take in the information. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I keep my voice steady as I speak, "Status of team 7?"

Shizune allows herself to give me a reassuring smile, "All alive and accounted for. As well as Kisame who as of this last report was fighting alongside them, injured but standing his ground." 

I give her a nod of confirmation, "That's good. I'll be ready to head out in less then ten minutes. Will I be traveling alone or with others?" 

"You'll be heading out with the next recovery group that leaves in fifteen minutes. From there, I trust you will be able to find your ways to the front lines and to your team," Shizune responds, emotions once again gone from her face, and her voice perfectly even and processional.