Hoshigaki

The Calm Who Would Learn the Storm

Shino received three signs from his insects—injury; bleeding; non-lethal—that prompted him to step away from the stove to pull down the first aid kit Sakura kept above the fridge. Kiba stopped snapping apart long beans at the table.

"Uh... what're you doin'?" Kiba questioned slowly. He didn't want to panic since Shino wasn't panicking, but Sakura left an hour ago to scout for that sannin dude and said she'd be back when dinner was ready.

They were barely starting to make dinner now.

"The kikaichu planted on Sakura reported an incident."

"God-fucking-dammit."

Screw the beans. He shoved them all, snapped or not, back into one bowl and practically tossed them onto the window sill. Along the way he shut off the stove, capped by pot, and cleared the meat out the sink as Shino popped open the kit and set up everything he'd probably need: clean gauze, tweezers...

Akamaru barked, and his partner translated. "How bad?"

"No word, but I would prepare for the worst. Why? Because why would we dubbed 'Unlucky Eight' if we ever assume otherwise?"

He sounded bitter. Kiba didn't blame him.

With the flick of a wrist, the silencer seals fully activated and rippled a faint blue hue through the entirety of the apartment. Kiba shut the blinds on all the windows, Akamaru tugged the curtains closed, and Shino absentmindedly made a note to fill his wardrobe with more 3/4 sleeved shirts as he scrubbed his hands clean in the sink. They were less likely to get the ends stained in blood.

Finally, finally, nearly two minutes since the announcement, the front door opened and closed with a quiet click. There wasn't the sound of footsteps—there never were—and Sakura stepped into the kitchen.

Akamaru howled and Kiba's knee smashed into the table when his shock sent him scrambling to stand. "What the FUCK?!"

The first thing they noticed was the blood.

The next were the four enormous claw marks that spanned from her shoulder to her neck to just catching up to the right edge of her jaw line, red and weeping and burnt. She winced slightly as she lowered herself into one of the seats and leaned back on her good side.

"Hey," she rasped. Shino was already at her chair with his glasses pushed up on his nose and his eye critically surveying the damage. He grimaced, his vision blurred for a split second, and a part of him wanted to scream. "M'I too early for dinner?"

"The part of your shirt that isn't mangled has melted into your wounds. What does this mean for you?" He reached for the tweezers, rolling it around in his hand reluctantly before gently pulling at her right arm so the tears gaped and glistened under the cheap apartment lighting. Sakura exhaled shakily. "I—I will need to take every piece out before I begin the healing process. It will hurt and I will more than likely cause more damage before I can fix it." The creases in his hands stained red. "I have anesthesia in my kit that may numb—"

"No drugs," she interrupted. "Just start."

"That is highly inadvisable—"

"And m'not taking any drugs. I need somethin' t'bite."

Kiba hesitated, his stare held hostage by torn flesh and pink muscle singed at the edges, before he yanked a dish towel from the oven and twisted it until his knuckles turned white. It was coarse under his fingers as he made sure it was between her teeth before he tied it around her neck. He bet it tasted of dulled soap and last week's vegetables, but he saw the beads of sweat start to form at her hairline the same moment his shirt started to stick to his back. He knew that soon the last thing she was gonna care about was how the feel of threadbare cotton didn't agree with her fucking palate.