Leaving the Hospital

The smell of disinfectant seemed to seep into his bones.

Uchiha Kyohaku lay in the hospital bed. The pain in his right foot had shifted from its initial sharp, tearing agony into a dull, persistent ache, constantly reminding him of his altered fate. Over the past ten days, he had been like a hidden observer, silently absorbing the cruelest and most real aspects of this ninja world.

On the second day after he regained consciousness, the people he had expected began to arrive one after another.

The first to come was a pair—a cold-breathed Anbu ninja wearing an animal mask, and a stern middle-aged man dressed in Uchiha clan robes. The Anbu ninja's voice emerged from behind the mask without the slightest inflection as he formally stated that Uchiha Keita and his wife had unfortunately died after being caught up in a mission.

"According to regulations, this is the pension for the orphan, Uchiha Kyohaku. It totals one hundred thousand ryo." The Anbu ninja took out a thick envelope. His gaze swept over the Uchiha clansman beside him, and with a slightly deliberate motion, he placed the envelope directly beside Kyohaku's pillow. "All medical expenses incurred during his hospitalization will be covered by the party responsible for the mission. They have already been settled."

The Uchiha clansman stood with his arms folded. Though his Sharingan was not activated, his scrutinizing gaze remained fixed on the Anbu ninja. Only after the envelope had been set down did he give an almost imperceptible nod. He turned to Kyohaku, his tone slightly gentler than the Anbu's but still carrying the clan's characteristic aloofness. "Kyohaku, this is the village's compensation for you. Keep it safe. The clan will ensure no one withholds the share that is rightfully yours." His very presence was an invisible deterrent, making the entire process proceed especially "properly" beneath the Uchiha's watchful eyes.

Kyohaku lowered his head, slowly reached out with his small hand, and took the envelope, gripping it tightly. In a voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz, he replied, "...Thank you." He understood perfectly well that without this clansman present, whether he would have received all one hundred thousand ryo was truly questionable. Having his hospital expenses waived was another small but practical comfort.

The two did not stay long and soon left the ward, as though they had merely come to complete a necessary procedure.

In comparison, visits from his cousin Uchiha Maiyi and his uncle Uchiha Shota carried a little more genuine human warmth.

Uchiha Shota arrived looking travel-worn. He wore the uniform of the Konoha Police Force, fatigue on his face. When his gaze fell upon Kyohaku's heavily bandaged right foot, a complicated emotion appeared in his eyes—concern, but also regret.

"Kyohaku," he said hoarsely, "I already know what happened. Keita... was an excellent ninja. You need to stay strong." His large, rough hand gently patted Kyohaku's uninjured shoulder. "Focus on recovering. If you have any difficulties in daily life, have Maiyi tell me, or come directly to the police force to find me."

His words were sincere, warmer than those of the clansman who had only come to fulfill his supervisory duty. Yet Kyohaku could also tell that this concern had its limits. The police force was busy with its duties; Shota could not personally handle everything.

Maiyi came more often. Each time, she brought fruit or light food. She still did not speak much, usually sitting quietly for a while, checking his bandages, or pouring him a cup of water. Once, when she saw Kyohaku trying to use a spoon but trembling from weakness, she silently took it from him and patiently fed him the entire bowl of porridge. Her movements were somewhat awkward, but earnest enough.

"Don't worry about school," she said softly before leaving one time. "Focus on getting better first."

Kyohaku could feel her clumsy goodwill. He obediently nodded, playing the role of a silent, grieving orphan.

Ten days of observation and learning had benefited him greatly, but the hospital's increasingly strained resources had also become obvious. New severely wounded patients were constantly being sent in from the border or subsequent clashes. Groans and urgent orders continued almost day and night.

On the morning of the eleventh day, a medical ninja with sunken eye sockets came to examine him. After removing the bandages, the surface wound on his right foot had healed, leaving behind a vicious scar and an unnatural depression. When he tried to move it, the obvious stiffness and weakness made the medical ninja sigh.

"The external injury is basically fine, but the damage to the internal meridians and Achilles tendon... is troublesome." The medical ninja's tone carried apology and helplessness. "Your mobility will definitely be affected in the future, and chakra circulation will also become unusually difficult. Hospital beds are extremely scarce, and many team members need surgery immediately... You need to go home and recuperate. Remember to return regularly for checkups."

The conclusion came as no surprise. Kyohaku showed the appropriate disappointment and said quietly, "...Thank you. I understand."

The discharge procedures were completed quickly. He changed into a clean set of old clothes and carefully tucked the envelope containing the one hundred thousand ryo pension close against his body—this was the only money he could freely use now, and also his most important source of funds. Then, leaning on the small crutch he had just received, supporting himself on his left foot while barely touching his right to the ground, he slowly made his way out of the ward step by step.

He passed through the corridor, still as busy as a battlefield, and pushed open the hospital's heavy doors.

Afternoon sunlight suddenly poured down, warm yet blinding. The clamor of the streets and the warm breeze rushed toward him, forming a stark contrast with the stifling atmosphere of life and death inside the hospital. The war seemed to have been temporarily shut outside those doors as Konoha struggled to restore the pulse of daily life.

But as he leaned on his crutch, the discomfort radiating from his right foot clearly separated him from that "daily life."

After getting his bearings, he began moving slowly and painfully toward the Uchiha clan compound. His crutch tapped lightly against the stone-paved road—tap, tap—drawing sidelong glances from passersby.

Every step tugged at his physical limitations, and every step made him understand his situation more deeply. Both parents dead, physically disabled, distant clan ties, and a future shrouded in fog.

Yet there was no hesitation in his eyes. The soul of a twenty-eight-year-old calmly assessed it all.

Uchiha Kyohaku, a child with an adult soul, leaned on his crutch and limped slightly. Under the sunlight, his figure looked exceptionally small, yet extraordinarily resolute. Step by step, he walked toward that unknown future—a future he had no choice but to carve out for himself.