Satoru and Hoshino were still arguing. Their voices overlapped, their points clashed, and neither was willing to concede. Hoshino's pale eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she countered every one of Satoru's arguments. Satoru's irritation grew with each passing moment, his voice rising despite the exhaustion that pressed against his limbs.
Mariko watched them, her expression caught between exasperation and amusement. She sighed, reaching for the container she had brought with her.
"I brought you something," she said, her voice cutting through their argument.
Satoru and Hoshino paused, their attention shifting toward her. Mariko held out a small container, its surface warm, its contents hidden.
Satoru tried to open the container himself. His damaged hands and weakened muscles made the simple task unexpectedly difficult. He struggled with the lid, his fingers slipping, his grip failing. The frustration rose again, sharp and familiar.
Mariko noticed and quietly reached forward. Her hands covered his, steady and sure, and she helped him open the container. The lid popped free, revealing several freshly prepared rice balls arranged neatly inside. Their surface was smooth, their edges perfect, and the faint scent of seasoned rice filled the air.
Satoru stared at them for a moment, his expression shifting from frustration to surprise.
"I thought you had probably been eating hospital food for long enough," Mariko said. "You could use something homemade."
Satoru examined the rice balls, his voice dry. "They look considerably better than hospital food."
Mariko's lips curved into a small smile. "That was not a high bar."
Satoru thanked her sincerely, the words carrying more weight than a simple acknowledgement.
Hoshino made an offhand comment about something Satoru had said, her voice sharp, her words precise. Satoru responded with a sarcastic remark, his voice flat. Hoshino took the comment personally enough to restart their argument, her pale eyes narrowing.
Mariko immediately recognised where this was going. Before the argument could properly restart, she intervened.
"Enough," she said, her voice firm. "Satoru was supposed to be resting."
Hoshino protested, her voice rising. "He started it."
Satoru immediately denied this. "I did not."
Hoshino's response was immediate. "Your denial proves my point."
Mariko had had enough. She grabbed Hoshino's arm and began physically ushering her toward the door. Hoshino protested, but Mariko's grip was firm, her determination absolute.
Satoru got one final sarcastic comment in as they left.
"Thank you for the food, Mariko. It was the best thing I had seen all day."
Mariko glanced back at him. "I will come back to visit later."
Satoru nodded. "I appreciate it."
In the hallway, Mariko released Hoshino's arm and turned to face her. Her expression was a mixture of exasperation and affection.
"You were arguing with someone who could barely sit up," she said.
Hoshino's chin lifted. "He was provoking me."
"He was injured, Hoshino. You did not need to accept every invitation to argue."
===
The room became quiet again. Satoru stared at the rice balls for a moment, then slowly picked one up and took a bite. The taste was familiar, grounding, a reminder of ordinary moments that seemed distant now. He chewed slowly, savouring the simplicity of the food.
He thought about how strange it was that Hoshino could irritate him so easily. He was not genuinely angry; he realised that he had actually enjoyed the ridiculous exchange. The bickering had felt normal. For several minutes, he had not been thinking about Sasori, the mission, his injuries, his damaged chakra network, or whether he would fully recover. The meaningless argument had been a distraction, a brief escape from the weight of his recovery.
He realised that perhaps this kind of meaningless interaction was exactly what he needed while recovering.
The thought was interrupted when the ward attendant entered, her expression professional, her voice calm.
"You have another visitor," she said.
Satoru was surprised. He had already seen Mariko and Hoshino, and he was not expecting anyone else. He set down the rice ball and waited.
The door opened, and Kōichi entered.
Satoru immediately noticed that something was wrong. Kōichi looked much thinner and more exhausted than when they had left Konoha. His face was gaunt, his eyes hollow, his posture slumped. His left hand was covered by the loose fabric of his tunic, but the outline beneath it looked abnormal, misshapen.
Satoru's attention immediately focused on the hand.
Kōichi noticed him staring. He followed Satoru's eyes downward, his expression shifting. Rather than hiding it, he raised the injured hand, the fabric falling away to reveal the damage beneath. The skin was discoloured, the fingers twisted, the tissue wasted. It was a ruin of a hand, the poison having eaten away at its structure.
He explained that the poison had caused severe tissue damage. The doctors had wanted to amputate the hand to prevent further complications. Kōichi had refused. His reasoning was practical rather than sentimental; losing the hand would not significantly change the outcome of his career. He had already decided that he would no longer continue as an active shinobi. There was little point in undergoing a major amputation if he could retain whatever limited function remained.
Satoru was visibly unsettled by how casually Kōichi discussed losing part of his hand. The words were flat, matter-of-fact, as if he were describing a routine mission report.
Kōichi dismissed it as the consequence of the mission.
Kōichi took a seat beside the bed, his movements slow, his body carrying the weight of exhaustion.
He asked Satoru how he was doing. Satoru gave him an honest answer; his body remained weak, his chakra circulation was still unreliable, he could not move properly, and the doctors expected recovery to take time. He made one small joke about being unable to escape the hospital.
Kōichi gave a tired but genuine reaction, a faint smile that did not quite reach his eyes.
"I understand the feeling."
Satoru admitted that his memories of the end of the battle were incomplete. He remembered confronting Sasori and remembered the Mind Mirror backlash. After that, everything became fragmented. He asked Kōichi how they had actually gotten back to Konoha.
Kōichi explained what had happened.
Sasori had withdrawn after taking Uchiyama and the Kagerō Scroll. He had not pursued the survivors. Kōichi had waited until he was certain the Akatsuki presence had disappeared, then checked the condition of the remaining team members.
Shōta was already dead. Ayame was dead. Tetsuya was critically wounded but still alive. Satoru was unconscious and barely responsive.
Kōichi realized he could not carry everyone while moving normally. He improvised an emergency extraction, using whatever supplies remained to stabilise Tetsuya and Satoru as much as possible. He created a crude stretcher from available materials for the worst-injured survivors. He carried or dragged the injured through the forest while maintaining concealment, avoiding the settlement and taking a longer route back to an outpost to minimise the chance of encountering the Akatsuki again.
Satoru was surprised that Sasori had not pursued them. Given his overwhelming advantage, he had expected the Akatsuki member to eliminate the survivors.
Kōichi agreed that the decision was strange. He speculated that Sasori simply had no reason to waste time; he had already obtained Uchiyama, the Kagerō Scroll, and the information he actually wanted. The surviving Konoha shinobi were no longer strategically important.
Satoru remembered Sasori's detached attitude and realised that this explanation fit what he had experienced. Sasori had not spared them out of mercy; he had simply stopped caring about them.
Kōichi's tone became more serious. He told Satoru that he intended to retire from active shinobi service after the mission. The mission had taken too much from him. He had lost two members of his squad, another member was critically injured, and his own hand had been permanently damaged. The encounter had demonstrated to him that he no longer wanted to continue operating at that level.
Satoru understood the decision rather than trying to argue against it. Kōichi then turned the conversation toward Satoru. He apologised, taking responsibility for what had happened to the team as its leader. He explained that he had been responsible for the mission and had ultimately failed to get everyone home. He knew Satoru had been brought in as a replacement and should never have been placed in such a situation.
He told Satoru that now he had to live with the consequences of that failure.
Satoru rejected the idea that Kōichi alone was responsible. He reminded him that Sasori had been an S-rank threat and that the mission had become fundamentally impossible once the Akatsuki appeared.
Satoru gave Kōichi a faint smile, telling him that they had both survived and that he would recover. His reassurance was sincere, even if his current condition made the statement seem optimistic.
Kōichi paused after hearing Satoru confidently mention recovery. His expression changed, his eyes narrowing slightly.
He asked Satoru a simple question.
"You do not know about the poison, do you?"
Satoru became confused. He answered that he knew he had been injured by Sasori, but he did not understand the question.
Kōichi studied him carefully, his gaze steady, his voice flat.
"Satoru… you were poisoned too."
=====
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