Discharge

The smell of disinfectant seemed to seep into his bones.

Kyohaku Uchiha lay in the hospital bed. The pain in his right foot had changed from its initial sharp, tearing agony into a dull, persistent ache, reminding him of the fate that had been altered. Over these ten days, he had been like an observer lying in wait, 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 appear one after another.

The first to arrive was a pair—a masked ANBU ninja wearing an animal mask and emanating a cold aura, along with a stern middle-aged man dressed in Uchiha clan attire. The ANBU ninja's voice came through the mask without a trace of emotion as he formally stated that Keita Uchiha and his wife had tragically died after being caught up in a mission.

"According to regulations, this is the compensation for the orphan, Kyohaku Uchiha. The total is 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 treatment 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 was 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 yours." His very presence was an invisible deterrent, ensuring that this procedure was carried out especially "properly" under 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, how much of those one hundred thousand ryo would actually have reached him was a serious question. 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.

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

Shota Uchiha arrived looking travel-worn. He wore the uniform of the Konoha Military Police Force, fatigue on his face. When he saw 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 life, tell Maiyi to let me know, or come directly to the Konoha Military Police Force to find me."

His words were sincere, carrying more warmth than the clansman who had only come to fulfill a supervisory duty. But Kyohaku could also hear the limits of that concern. The Konoha Military 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 silently 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 quietly took it from him and patiently fed him the entire bowl of porridge. Her movements were a little awkward, but earnest enough.

"There's no need to rush about school," she said quietly before leaving one time. "Get your body well first."

Kyohaku could feel her clumsy kindness. He nodded obediently, playing the part 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 brought 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 deeply sunken eye sockets came to examine him. After removing the bandages, the surface wounds 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 injuries are mostly healed, 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 be exceptionally difficult. Hospital beds are extremely tight, and many team members need surgery immediately... You need to go home and rest. Remember to come back regularly for follow-up examinations."

The conclusion came as no surprise. Kyohaku showed the appropriate disappointment and said softly, "...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 compensation against his body—this was the only money he could freely control now, and the most important. Then, leaning on the small crutch he had just received, supporting himself with his left foot and barely touching down with his right, he slowly made his way out of the ward step by step.

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

Afternoon sunlight suddenly poured down, warm and blinding. The clamor of the marketplace and a warm breeze rushed toward him, forming a stark contrast with the oppressive atmosphere of life and death inside the hospital. The war seemed temporarily shut outside the doors, while Konoha struggled to restore the pulse of ordinary life.

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

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

Every step tugged at the inconvenience of his body, and every step made him understand his situation more deeply. Both parents were dead, his body was crippled, his relationship with the clan was distant, and the future was shrouded in mist.

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

Kyohaku Uchiha, a child possessing an adult soul, leaned on his crutch and limped slightly. His figure looked especially small beneath the sunlight, yet exceptionally resolute. Step by step, he walked toward an unknown future that he nevertheless had to carve out for himself.