（ she might as well be talking about the weather, tbh. her voice maintains that soft, storyteller's cadence as she continues — ）
Here, focus on your breathing and the sound of my voice. Keep your eyes closed for a bit, I'll handle the first part.
（ the needle is threaded, and she wipes down the wound with a fast-acting analgesic, something from aspen's stores. she knows from experience it won't take too long to set in, and while she waits she tacks the edges of the wound together with temporary fixtures just so it's easier to stitch everything back up. if she had the chakra to spare to deaden the nerves, she would — she's tough, but not a masochist by any means.
a few exploratory jabs along the faultline of the laceration proves the pain relief is mostly working, and then she starts. the pop of the needle through flesh has a remarkable similarity to the sound of pulling grass up by the roots.
her sutures are incredibly neat and her hand is steady as she works, though every once in a while she'll stop and steady herself, blood caked into the leylines of her palm and fingertips, trembling on the ghost of her exhalation before she continues. ）
We were at war. Our enemy was someone we didn't think we would be able to stop. He was incredibly powerful, and wasn't able to die in the customary fashion. I was so eager to show off the fact I'd improved as a shinobi I pretty much jumped on his sword. It was stupid of me. I'm lucky I survived it, actually.
（ haha, remember that time i almost died? sick story, bro. ）
poor fukawa, sakura's just traumatizing her all over the place
（ she might as well be talking about the weather, tbh. her voice maintains that soft, storyteller's cadence as she continues — ）
Here, focus on your breathing and the sound of my voice. Keep your eyes closed for a bit, I'll handle the first part.
（ the needle is threaded, and she wipes down the wound with a fast-acting analgesic, something from aspen's stores. she knows from experience it won't take too long to set in, and while she waits she tacks the edges of the wound together with temporary fixtures just so it's easier to stitch everything back up. if she had the chakra to spare to deaden the nerves, she would — she's tough, but not a masochist by any means.
a few exploratory jabs along the faultline of the laceration proves the pain relief is mostly working, and then she starts. the pop of the needle through flesh has a remarkable similarity to the sound of pulling grass up by the roots.
her sutures are incredibly neat and her hand is steady as she works, though every once in a while she'll stop and steady herself, blood caked into the leylines of her palm and fingertips, trembling on the ghost of her exhalation before she continues. ）
We were at war. Our enemy was someone we didn't think we would be able to stop. He was incredibly powerful, and wasn't able to die in the customary fashion. I was so eager to show off the fact I'd improved as a shinobi I pretty much jumped on his sword. It was stupid of me. I'm lucky I survived it, actually.
（ haha, remember that time i almost died? sick story, bro. ）