Leaving the Hospital

The smell of disinfectant seemed to seep into his very 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, constantly reminding him of his altered fate. Over the past ten days, he had been like a lurking observer, silently absorbing the cruelest and most real side of this ninja world.

On the second day after he regained consciousness, the expected visitors arrived one after another.

The first 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 passed through the mask without a ripple as he mechanically stated that Keita Uchiha and his wife had unfortunately died after being caught up in a mission.

"According to regulations, this is the compensation payment for the orphan, Kyohaku Uchiha. 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 hospitalization will be borne 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. Turning to Kyohaku, his tone softened slightly compared to the ANBU's, though it still carried the detachment characteristic of the clan. "Kyohaku, this is the village's compensation for you. Keep it safe. The clan will ensure that no one withholds the share you are entitled to." His very presence was an invisible deterrent, making the entire procedure proceed especially "properly" under the Uchiha's watchful eyes.

Kyohaku lowered his head, reached out with his small hand, and slowly took the envelope, clutching 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 hospitalization expenses waived was another small but practical consolation.

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, exhaustion on his face. When his eyes fell upon Kyohaku's heavily bandaged right foot, a trace of complicated emotion surfaced in them—concern, but also regret.

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

His words were sincere, carrying more warmth 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 Konoha Military Police Force was busy with its duties; Shota could not personally handle every matter.

Maiyi came more frequently. Each time, she brought fruit or light meals. She still did not speak much, often sitting quietly for a while, checking his bandages, or helping him pour 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 quietly before leaving one time. "Get well first."

Kyohaku could feel her clumsy kindness. 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 dire lack of resources had also become clear. New critically injured patients were constantly being brought in from the border or subsequent conflicts, and the sounds of groaning 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 wound on his right foot had healed, leaving behind a ghastly scar and an unnatural depression. When he tried to move it, the obvious resistance and weakness made the medical ninja sigh.

"The external injury is mostly fine, but the damage to the internal meridians and Achilles tendon... is troublesome." The medical ninja's voice was filled with 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 rest. Remember to return regularly for follow-up examinations."

The conclusion came as no surprise. Kyohaku let the appropriate disappointment show on his face and murmured, "...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 close against his body—his only freely disposable funds now, and also his most important source of money. Then, leaning on the small crutch he had just received, he supported himself on his left foot and lightly touched his right foot to the ground as he hobbled 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 noisy sounds of the marketplace and the warm breeze rushed toward him, forming a stark contrast with the suffocating atmosphere of life and death inside the hospital. The war seemed to have been temporarily shut outside the doors, while Konoha struggled to restore the pulse of everyday life.

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

After getting his bearings, he began slowly and painfully making his way toward the Uchiha Compound. His crutch tapped softly against the stone pavement—tap, tap—drawing sidelong glances from passersby.

Every step pulled at the limitations of his body, and every step made him understand his circumstances more deeply. His parents were dead, his body was disabled, his relations with the clan were distant, and the future lay shrouded in mist.

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

Kyohaku Uchiha, a child with an adult soul, leaned on his crutch and limped slightly. Under the sunlight, his figure looked especially small, yet exceptionally resolute. Step by step, he walked toward that unknown future, one he would have to carve out for himself.