café au lait

[Sandy]

The front door of the house swung open and slammed close. The sound was loud enough to elicit an angry response from Botan Gozen’s parents, cause a distant dog to begin barking, and scared her elderly neighbor into spraying the second-floor deck with water from his garden hose.

“I’M SORRY!” Botan shouted, though her loud voice and haste only angered more people. As she scrambled down the stairs, she looked up at her still-rattled neighbor and took notice of his thirsty plants. The war had nearly exhausted Sunagakure’s water supply and conservation was essential. He was using far more than what he was allotted, but Botan said nothing.

She jumped the last four steps and hit the ground running, minutes from being late to the last chance she’d ever be afforded. Though no one blamed her for mourning the death of one of Sunagakure’s finest and most dedicated shinobi, desperate times demanded that everyone pull their weight. While she was grieving, squads left without a iryōnin and received avoidable injuries. Everyone seemed keen to remind her of this.

Botan’s eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and endless hours of crying, but her own psychiatric knowledge told her that keeping one’s self occupied was the best way to recover from a loss. As she sprinted towards the now-visible hospital, she began to think of only Tsuma, the lives she inconvenienced, and those that she’d hopefully be able to save today.

Because of that, she wouldn’t report her elderly neighbor for watering his plants. She had caused enough trouble and didn’t need to bring more attention to herself by shoving her nose in someone else’s business. Water was vital, but she didn’t think anyone would go thirsty.

[Haran]

"Hm, what to get, what to get..."

By now, the poor food vendor was getting infuriated. Haran had been standing in front of the stand for a good twenty minutes, alternating between pulling out his wallet, looking up at the menu, putting his wallet away, looking up at the menu and pulling his wallet back out, all without ordering a damn thing! To anybody who actually cared about saving time, this was absolutely ridiculous!

Ah, but Haran had his reasons, now. He was due at the hospital for a checkup on his left arm... or rather, what was left of the damn thing, since it'd been cut off at the shoulder by a fuma shuriken. Oh, those doctors would most certainly not be happy to know that the amateur kugutsu user had fit himself with a puppet arm and attached it to his stump with the help of his Iryo-nin mother, all so that he could keep up with his career as a shinobi. Knowing the hospital staff, they'd pummel him into the ground, disinfect his wounds with the most painful shit in their possession, heal him just enough, and then pummel him into the ground again!

"Kid, either order something or get outta here!!"

"Uh, I'm thinking!"

"You've been thinking for the past twenty mins, now hurry up or go! I've got other customers!"

"Fine, fine! I'll have thirty skewers of yakidori!"

The vendor gave him an incredulous look, shrugged and walked to the back of the stand, returning two minutes later with thirty fresh skewers in a carry-out case. Haran payed the man what he was owed plus a little extra for his patience and skipped off towards the hospital.

On the way, he pulled out a number of yakidori skewers, three in total, and started chowing down. He hadn't had time to get lunch, and had eaten the paltry quantity of a ration bar after his early morning training that day! Could anybody fault him, he thought as he walked towards the hospital, eating his tasty chicken in closed-eyed contentedness, for wanting to get some food in his stomach?

THUD!!

[/right]
Well, the answer was... yes. And that person was whoever he'd just bumped into and probably knocked down just outside the hospital.

"Ahh!! Oh crap, I didn't see ya there! Are you okay!? Say yes!"

Possessed of a guilty conscience at times, he was. When not in a combat situation, Haran was too kind for his own good... unfortunately, the one and a half skewers he hadn't managed to finish didn't agree with him, cause they found themselves sitting in the middle of the road, no longer consumable.

Oh, the humanity. [/justify][/font][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Sandy]

Botan had an incurable disease her academy teachers called W.E.S., or “Wandering Eye Syndrome”. She never cheated off anyone or eavesdropped where she was unwanted, but nevertheless her inattention got her in trouble with instructors who demanded the floor at all times.

Once again, her nasty case of W.E.S. would get her into trouble. It was early in the morning and the sun was not yet fully above the tall buildings that dominated Sunagakure’s landscape. The scene was quite striking and as Botan ran out of the residential district and crossed the flat plains of the park, she became wholly entranced by the beautiful rising sun.

Her picturesque reverie was cut short when she collided with a very sturdy object. The impact threw her to the ground and left a blemish on her hitai-ate, though aside from the disorienting impact and subsequent understanding of what had taken place, she was no worse for wear.

“Ooooh… I’m sorry. Clumsy me,” she said jokingly, though she was still rubbing the dizziness out of her eyes. Once her vision aligned, she looked up at the man that she had collided with. “Are you all riiii - WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR ARM?!”

Botan had smashed headlong into a now tarnished prosthetic. Struggling to her feet she examined the area where his flesh ended and the technology began, heedless of whatever privacy this man might have been enjoying before their encounter. “This is a mess!” She exclaimed. “I’m surprised you’re not dead from sepsis!”

Botan’s capacity for compassion overrode her own well-being. She took the man she had collided with and started to pull him in the direction of the hospital, which was now not but a few blocks away. “C’mon. I’m going to get that cleaned up before your whole shoulder falls off.”

[Haran]

Oh, the huge manatee.

"Hey, what're you doin—Oi, stop poking around there! That tickles! Aha, hey, stop it!"

Oh, crap. No, no, nonononononononononononono... Of course the one person he could've bumped into out of all of Suna's population was a medic. Of course. He was trying to kill time so he didn't have to go to the hospital.

Now, he didn't have a choice.

"My whole shoulder already did fall off! Well, more like cut off, but that's besides the point—hey, let me go! I don't wanna go to the hospital! Noooooooooooooo~ T_T"

No matter how hard he tried to resist, the girl's iron grip on his flesh-and-blood arm wouldn't budge. Apparently, it didn't matter if Haran didn't want to go to the hospital, since the hospital came to him! And so he futilely resisted, mumbling under his breath about strangeness and rude redheads and the like.

"Don't worry my precious, they won't take you from me, you'll always be mine, my precious, precious puppet arm..."

Was Haran insane? No. Did most people consider him to be so?

... Yes.

[/justify][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Sandy]

As she pulled the frantic but surprisingly weak man towards the hospital, she had to remind herself that people with such grievous injuries often suffered from delirium. She was certain that once the wound was cleaned and his rehabilitation began, his mental health would improve.

Or he was just crazy, in which case she’d recommend he have a psychiatric examination - again after his wound was treated.

By the time she managed to practically carry him up the entrance steps and kick open the front door, Botan was late for her shift by several minutes. The attending who was to be her supervisor was waiting there with a severe tongue lashing and a pink slip at the ready, but when he saw the reason for her tardiness, his expression did a 180°.

“My word, that’s quite a nasty injury,” he commented, rubbing his stubble-ridden chin whilst performing a cursory examination on both Haran’s injury and the prosthetic attached too it. Botan nodded and with a huff, deposited Haran on the waiting room floor. Her eyes were observing him closely should he attempt to make a run for it.

“Botan, take your patient to operating room #4. I’ll be along shortly.”

“Yes sir,” she remarked, and with a deep breath and a moment to recover her strength, she stooped over and looked Haran square in the eyes and inwardly pleaded for his cooperation. “Please, come with me. It’s for your own good.”

[Haran]

"Oh Kami-sama not the hospital, please don't make me go to the hospital, I'll resist from doing my Friday dango binge for a whole six months if you don't make me go to the hospital, pleeeeeeeeeeaaaaassseeee!!!!!! T_T"

But alas, Kami-sama obviously wasn't looking out for all of the white-haired pretty boys living in Suna, of which Haran was probably one. And so he was dragged into the hospital after several minutes of futile resisting, only to have yet another doctor poking and prodding at his shoulder!

Oh, the huge manatee.

"O-o-op-but-uh-o-o-op-oper-operating ROOM!? NNNNNOOOO!!! T_T"

Once again, he had absolutely, positively no choice in the matter. He turned towards Botan and clapped his hands together, yes, the prosthetic, puppet hand as well, kneeled down, and looked to be praying.

"Please miss I-don't-know-your-name-but-you're-pretty, please help me get outta here! I don't like hospitals or needles or the smell or all the white or—just help me get outta here!"

Oh yeah. Did I forget to mention Haran's developing phobia of hospitals?

No?

Okay then. Now you know.

And despite his pleading, he looked up to see... cute girl staring at him with pleading, puppy dog eyes.

Puppy Dog Eyes no Jutsu: An S-Ranked Kinjutsu that can only be utilized by the female gender. Nobody really knows exactly how it's performed, just that once it is, the affected male will be horribly unable to resist doing whatever the female has asked of him.

"... Finei'llgowithyoupleasedon'thurtme!"

[/justify][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Sandy]

Botan flashed Haran a winning smile and helped him to his feet. “I would never hurt you… intentionally.” She cleared her throat, hoping his minor state of panic would chalk that comment up to just another fevered hallucination. “Besides, it looks like you cut off your own arm with a hacksaw. I don’t think we have anything here that’ll hurt as bad.”

“Well, except for the bone drill…” she thought to herself, but decided not to frighten him any worse.

Operating room #4 was typical for a hospital; the walls, floor, and ceiling were sterile white and plastered with posters promoting better living through good hygiene, calcium intake, and other after-school advertisements. Against the right wall was a gurney covered by a fresh paper sheet and shadowed by a blood pressure meter. When Botan ushered Haran inside, however, she went straight for a particularly intimidating cabinet…

“Please take a seat,” she gestured at the gurney and began to remove an array of plastic-wrapped instruments and a small silver tin filled with alcohol-soaked swabs.

Looking over her shoulder, she smiled again and tilted her head in the direction of Haran’s prosthetic. “Can you please remove that? This shouldn’t take long.”

[Haran]

"H-hey! It wasn't a hack saw! It was a fuma shuriken! Well, I guess it was really bad luck that I just happened to jump into the path of the damn thing right as it ricocheted off of a sword, but that's beside the point!"

Well... he had to admit, she did have a point when she said that there probably wasn't anything at the hospital that'd hurt quite as bad as having a fuma shuriken chop off your arm while you were fully conscious. Now, that was really. Fucking. PAINFUL! He lost a limb, and yet he'd somehow managed to find a way to continue as a shinobi.

Ah, the joys of puppetry!

He let the girl lead him to the operating room, and was somewhat surprised to find that... well, it would be more fitting to call it an exam room. Although the fact that they did call it an operating room was not helping his paranoia.

Not. At. All.

He took a seat at her beckoning, but at her next request his jaw dropped, eyes widened, and he stared. And stared. And stared.

"You want me to take off my arm? I spent weeks working on this damn thing, and you want me to..."

Puppy Dog Eyes no Jutsu: An S-Ranked Kinjutsu used by the female gender. It cost absolutely no chakra and could be used at a whim, without hand seals. The number of men who could resist it could be counted on one hand.

"... Fine." He brought his right hand up to his shoulder, played with the shoulder and puppet prosthesis a bit before he detached the limb and placed it on the gurney, holding on to it with his remaining hand.

"So... Botan, is it?" He could remember the doctor's saying her name, now that he wasn't in his hospital panic, anyways. "I'm Haran. Nice t'meet ya!"

[/justify][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Sandy]

Botan spun around wearing a surgical mask, latex gloves, and in each hand brandished a wickedly-sharp scalpel. The lights appeared to dim in the room as she spoke, shrouding her eyes in a menacing fashion.

“Nice to meet you!” The lights immediately returned to normal, unable to withstand Botan’s punishing niceness. “Now, don’t you worry about a thing, m’friend. This whole procedure should only take a few minutes.” Kicking over a chair, Botan took a seat beside Haran’s gurney, smiling warmly through her mask. At her feet she placed a bucket, which would soon serve a grisly purpose.

“I think.” Truthfully, Botan had never performed this procedure before, but she knew of it via what she had read during her training. The book had described it as being easy enough; the worst part, as illustrated, was the excruciating, mind-wrenching agony the patient would be forced to endure. Luckily, she had a solution to that.

Setting down her scalpels, Botan ungloved one hand and willed a technique into being. Her hand emitted a golden glow and with the lightest of touches, numerous short-lived arcs of electricity leapt from her hand into what remained of Haran’s appendage. Sakuya Kiyasurō was designed to affect the whole body and she wasn’t entirely adept at toning down its effectiveness yet, so he’d likely feel a far more expansive numbness creep across his body.

“That should do it!” She chirped, then picked up the scalpels again. Making sure to avert Haran’s eyes first, she began the process of slicing away all the flesh that had healed over, periodically dumping bottles of antiseptic on the wound. The flesh fell and quickly accumulated into the bucket, but Haran wouldn’t be able to see that now or after Botan finished.

[Haran]

Twitch

Twitchtwitch

TwitchtwitchtwitchtwitchtwitchtwitchSNAP

"Uh... eh... ehehehe... eheheheh eeeeeehhhhhhhhh AAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHH faint xP"

Poor Haran. Botan had scared the living daylights out of the puppet-using boy, and now he was, quite literally, out like a light. Botan would be able to go about her merry way without worrying about Haran squirming and twitching like a madman during the whole procedure, and within a few minutes Botan would be done.

Sadly, that did not happen.

By some magical, mysterious coincidence, Haran's mind chose to reboot, restart and turn back on right as she said "that should do it".

"What should do—uh, I'll just be looking the other way, you keep doing whatever it was you were doing, slicing me up and the like, you know. Don't have too much fun..."

So instead, as the procedure went on and his entire left side (and some of his right) was numb, he just looked down at his puppet arm, hand on his chin every so often, looking at what he could add to the darn thing to make it even better. Well, just from this first glance he had quite a few ideas on how to improve it, but he still kinda, sorta, maybe needed to acclimate himself to using the other features of the puppet before going on to adding the ones he thought of, he'd have to write down a list of possibilities once he got back to his workshop, a flamethrower would be pretty cool—

"You a Genin like me?"

Trying to make small talk while the other was busy slicing away bits of tissue from your arm was a really bad way to pass the time. But Haran did it anyways.

[/justify][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Sandy]

“Ya-huh,” she remarked cheerfully, still diligently cutting away and sterilizing his now bloody and tender stump. While it looked positively dreadful at the moment, in a few months it would heal and look far better than the mangled slab of ground beef that she initially saw.

“That’s a good eye you have there,” she remarked, looking up from her work for a brief moment before resuming. “Intuition or were we in the same graduating class?”

Botan didn’t know many people from her year because she didn’t have much free time to offer. When she wasn’t in class, she was with Tsuma, and all the time between was devoted to study and hand’s on practice of her skills. Now that she was a full-fledged Genin, she had even less free time. Field work and moonlighting at the hospital ruined any chance of her building a lasting relationship, and the recent death of Tsuma left her unwilling to even try.

Furthermore, she was still on probation as far as the ruling council of Sunagakure was concerned. At any moment they could deem her unfit to be a shinobi and boot her into some retail job within Suna’s civilian population. She didn’t want the dearly departed Tsuma to think her time had been wasted so Botan had every intention of sucking up her grief and soldiering onward.

Speaking of soldiering, Haran was enduring this procedure with far more calm and composure than his arrival would have suggested. Botan smiled again, proud of his courage… then dumped another bottle of alcohol on the wound.

“So Haran, tell me about yourself.” Scrape, scrape, scrape. “How did you end up fighting in the war and losing your arm?” Scrape, scrape, scrape.

[Haran]

"Well actually I didn't know until you confirmed it for me, but I guess—YOW! Ow, oh Kami-sama what did you just dump on that! I've heard of killing with fire but seriously OW!!"

Before today, Haran would've sworn up and down that "kill it with fire" was just a silly phrase used for things like mice, roaches, bad jokes, etcetera, so on and so forth. That it was just a silly little thing that people said to make each other laugh.

Those people obviously haven't had a bottle of rubbing alcohol poured over AN OPEN WOUND.

Scrape. "Ow." Scrape. "Ow."

Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. Scrapescrapescrapescrapescrapescrapescrape

Ow.

"Puppeteers get drafted for ambush squadrons often. I just had bad luck in getting put in the—ow—one that was stationed furthest from Suna. On the way back we—ow—got ambushed by a group of foreign nin that didn't quite get the memo that the war was—ow—over. We fought, somebody deflected a fuma—ow—shuriken, it ricocheted through my arm, our medic, myself and one other were the only survivors, one of my puppets was—ow—wrecked so I made a makeshift arm from its parts, did I mention that hurts!?"

Scrape.

"Ow."

[Sandy]

Scrape, scrape, scrape.

Scrape, scrape, scrape, STAB.

Scrape, scrape, STAB, scrape, STAB.

After several more minutes of this sickening, slicing crescendo, Botan wiped her brow and set her scalpels down. She hosed off Haran's fresh wound with more alcohol and covered it with a thick padding of gauze. Whistling now, she walked across the room and from behind the door, extricated a large, silver briefcase. She walked back and set it down on her lap, opening it up to reveal a plethora of horrific medical instruments.

“This is the bad part,” she told Haran with an apologetic hiss. The first device she pulled out was a one-foot long syringe, followed closely by what appeared to be a bench grinder. One was to apply the anesthesia, the second was to apply the thick metal staples that would ensure his wound stayed closed and healed evenly.

Botan stabbed the needle into a jar filled with blue fluid, drained about three-fourths of it, and held it up accompanied by a reassuring smile. “SO! I recommend you look away for this next… ten minutes or so. And… ah… try to breathe normally.”

[Haran]

Twitch, twitch, twitch.

Twitch, twitch, twitch, WINCE.

Twitch, twitch, WINCE, twitch, WINCE.

Several more minutes of ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. If Haran had known this was what'd be happening when he lost his arm, well hell, he'd have been more careful in the first place!

Ow. OW!

There came the alcohol, and then... gauze!?

"Uh... Am I done now or whaaaaaeeellll that answers that question," he switched gears mid-word as she saw her pull out MASSIVE SYRINGE.

He hated needles.

But if he was right, then this thing would make everything feel all light and bright and loopy and whee!

But eh, this would be the bad part. So out of his pocket, he produced a small, brass ball the size of a tangerine, and then wings and a tail came up off of it!

Oh, how he loved using Onmitsu as a blindfold.

"Okay, I'm ready! Do your worst—wait, wait, wait! Actually don't do your worst cause that'd hurt like hell, do your best, yeah that's what I was looking for! Oshit..."

[/justify][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Sandy]

“The pain difference between my best and worst is minimal,” she said with a cheerful grin, then hooked a finger under her surgical mask and replaced it over her mouth. “Remember: deep breaths!”

Once the needle went in, Haran would soon drift away into a land of happiness and sunshine. In this land, there was no pain, sweets were plentiful, and buxom nude women dotted the landscape. It would be a very enjoyable retreat from the real world, where Botan went about her business with a song in her throat, a bounce in her step, and the fervor of a madwoman.

Several times during the procedure Botan would find that while the staples would close the wound where the length of the strip was secure, the insertion itself was quite gory. Thankfully Haran would be unconscious for well over an hour, so she had time to staunch the blood, get a few opinions from the veteran iryōnin, and even eat the pudding snack from her bagged lunch.

When Haran came to, he would find his entire left side was no longer comfortably numb, but rather sore and throbbing with a dull ache. Botan had mostly finished cleaning up, and was once again in her typical mission-expectant attire.

“Hello!” She said with a gleeful wave, splashing the floor with soapy water from her rigorous hand sanitizing. “How are you feeling?”

[Haran]

"Botan-chan, that doesn't reassure me you know, I don't really like the thought of *prick* ooh I feel dizzy, god I hope I don't fall on my *thud* ZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzz..."

In his newly sedated, unconscious state, Haran was having a great time. He was surrounded by food, naked buxom women, and what do ya know, no pointy things or doctors or anything! Man, this was great, but he couldn't help but think that something wasn't quite right.

... wait, where was his arm?

... Oh.

Well, he managed to enjoy his hour or so of being under, but as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. And so Haran woke up to the world, most of his side blissfully numb with no pain whatsoever, but the rest of him?

"Ugh... I feel like I just got run over by a stampede of angry bulls..." He pulled his small, tangerine-sized golden puppet off of his face and used his arm to try and push himself up, but fell back down due to complete and utter lack of energy. What, he'd just come out of being sedated and knocked out for goodness' sake!

"Ow. Huh... you clean up nice. Can I reattach my arm now?"

[/justify][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Sandy]

“Oh, that old thing? I threw it out. We’re gonna find you a nice proper prosthetic aaaaaaand… ”

Botan watched his expression the entire, then grinned wickedly, unable to maintain the ruse any longer.

“I’m kiddin’. It’s under the gurney.”

While Haran was getting all of his parts in order, Botan answered a momentary knock on the door. She accepted a piece of paper from an older, far more grizzled iryōnin, and with a cheerful “thank you!”, slammed the door in his face.

“These are your prescriptions. Mostly just pain relief and antibiotics.” She waited to make sure his arm was attached before handing it over; she wasn’t sure if there was some sort of unwritten rule of tact when it came to amputees. “Would you like me to show you where to pick them up at or are you good?”

[Haran]

"Y-you're kidding right? Ah... ehehe... hehahaha, nice joke there Botan-chan, ehehe. No, seriously, where's my arm?... Oh Kami-sama you weren't kidding how could you do that to me I spent hours working on that damn thing do you have any idea how long it takes to make a puppet with only one arm that took me DAYS to—... >_<"

Haran really couldn't find a way to get mad at Botan for that. So instead he settled with a deadpan expression that clearly read "yeah, really funny, you got me, laugh it up, I'm so gonna put a snake in your toilet tomorrow". He reached under the gurney with a couple of chakra strings, pulled the arm out from underneath it, silently swearing the whole time about the insidious vengeance he'd take upon this plucky girl, and grabbed it once he reeled the strings in close enough. He reattached the arm with its various connections and flexed it once or twice, making sure the damn thing worked right still, popped the hidden blades out of all five fingers (nasty claws!), retracted them, then reached out with normal!hand to grab the prescriptions.

"Uh... I haven't been in this hospital in ages; I can't remember where to get them. Can'ya show me, please? :3"

[/justify][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Sandy]

“Of course!”

If needed, Botan would offer her assistance in getting Haran off the gurney. A combination of heavy medication and post-surgery drowsiness left most people feeling quite weak, but considering what he’d already been through, he was obviously not “most people”.

The prescription counter wasn’t far away; because of budget cuts, the hospital had never gotten the funding it needed to expand. That made it easier to navigate the short distance but murder on the staff who were forced to deal with limited space and dwindling supplies. Botan was just an attending iryōnin, however. The politics that governed the coffers had nothing to do with her.

“And here we are!” She chirped as they walked up to a bored-looking man on the other side of a secure booth. “Tan-san here will help you with anything you need. When you’re finished, please find me in the lobby. I want to discuss scheduling your rehabilitation. Bye!”

That finished, Botan skipped away.

[Haran]

"Heh, thanks." Haran accepted her assistance in getting up, using the puppet arm to push himself up off the gurney since it wasn't prone to the same exhaustion and stupor as the rest of his body. He stumbled off of the gurney, stumbled a few steps forward, stumbled into the door, and hit his head against it.

"... Ow."

He let Botan lead him to the prescription counter and received quite a few different pills. Painkillers. Antibiotics. Something that was called an "anti-inflammatory". Whatever that was. But now that he had all of his pills, so he could meet Botan back out in the lobby of the hospital. Whoopee! Stumble over like a mad drunk man! And stumble like a drunk man he did.

... wait. Did she say "rehabilitation"?

... Crap.

"Hey! Botan-chan!" He drew close to her, his stumbling slightly lessened now. The gold puppet from before was perched on his shoulder now. "Ya wanted t'see me after I got my happy pills?" He held up the bag of pills and bottles, wondering how this little "chat" would go.

Maybe then he could get out of the hospital!

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