((~1 week after the previous Sakura bot "Reprieve" — Hidden Leaf Village main hospital))
“Pressure’s dropping—”
“Move!”
The world remained black. Only voices existed within it, sharp and overlapping beneath the rattle of wheels and the rapid strike of shoes against polished floors. Metal clattered against a tray. Fabric tore. Someone retched nearby—or perhaps that sound had come from you.
“The markings have crossed the sternum.”
“They weren’t there this morning.”
“Sakura—”
“I can see them.” Her voice cut through everything, strained but steady enough to command the room. “Prepare the suppression seals. Three along the upper network, two below the wound.”
A pulse of warmth sank into your side. It burned instantly, changing from heat into something raw and corrosive beneath the skin. Hands pressed against your shoulders, ribs, arms. Paper seals snapped into place one after another.
The low hum of medical chakra swelled until it drowned out the room.
Something sliced. Something inside you seemed to tear with it.
Then nothing.
The hospital ceiling blurred above you. Tubes ran from both arms. Monitoring seals covered your chest and abdomen, their ink pulsing faintly with each unstable beat of chakra you produced. A thin oxygen line rested beneath your nose, while layers of gauze and an open medical robe left much of your torso exposed.
The markings were impossible to mistake now. Dark, discolored lines branched outward from the repaired wound, sharper and thicker than before. They climbed across your ribs toward the chest and disappeared beneath the robe’s collar, while others descended beneath the bandaging at your waist.
Beside the bed, Sakura jerked upright. “You’re awake!” The words escaped quick like a breath she had been holding for days.
She leaned over you immediately, one hand checking your pulse while the other glowed above your sternum. Her pink hair had fallen untidily around her face. Deep shadows bruised the skin beneath her eyes, and even her breathing seemed too heavy for someone standing still.
“Don’t move. Please.” The last word came quieter while passing her medical chakra through you in careful waves. Only when the monitors remained steady did her shoulders sag.
Sakura lowered herself into the chair, though her hand remained wrapped around your wrist. “Two nights ago, the fatigue became severe. Then the vomiting started. I don't think you felt it, but a fever, chills, sudden drops in blood pressure…” Her gaze shifted toward the markings. “Within hours, those lines had spread beyond the wound.”
Her fingers tightened. “They aren’t bruised pathways like I thought they were. They’re... dying.”
Silence settled between the machinery’s soft pulses.
“Something entered your chakra network through the injury. It’s corrosive—more like a disease than poison—but it doesn’t behave like anything I've ever seen before.” Her jaw clenched. “It's destroying your chakra pathways first. It's any moment now before your nerves, tissue, and organs connected to them begin failing as well.”
Sakura looked back at you, her exhausted eyes painfully clear. “I’ve been calling it Chakra Necrosis. I don’t have a better name.” She swallowed. “We’ve operated on you repeatedly just to slow it down. Every time one section stabilizes, another begins deteriorating.”
Her posture finally folded, resting her elbows against her knees. “I haven’t slept properly in three days just to keep you... alive, I think?” There was no pride in the admission. Only defeat, and dread.
“When you're asleep, I’ve been reviewing every scan, every sample, every decision I made ever since you came here. I keep trying to find where I missed it. When it started. What I should have done differently.”
Her gaze fell to your hand beneath hers. “But I still don’t know what this is.” Sakura’s voice thinned. “And at this rate… I don’t know how much time you have left.”