Chapter 8

The trail of blood continued into the clearing, where Kurenai saw it disappear into the grasses. She looked about the clearing for anything that was potentially dangerous and marveled at the sight. A large, full-grown cherry tree grew in the middle of the field on top of a smallish hill—this must have been the tree that she caught scent of earlier, before she smelled the blood.

Having decided that there was no immediate danger, Kurenai crept forward, brushing aside the grasses, keeping an eye on the trail of blood. Whatever it was, despite the severe injuries it had suffered, had managed to haul itself up the hill. Kurenai trudged up the side, and saw the path of blood disappear around the trunk of the tree, where it most likely continued down the other side of the hill.

She walked slowly up to the tree and laid her hand on the thick trunk, feeling the bark under her skin as she walked around the tree. Peering around the old trunk, she jumped back in surprise—the trail of blood had ended, to reveal crumpled figure at its base. Kurenai clutched at her beating heart—she had not expected there to be anything at all.

Throwing aside her fear, she quickly knelt down next to the figure. A boy—no, a young man—around his mid-late teens was sprawled out at the base of the trunk, leaning against the strong bark. His dark hair was matted with blood, along with the clothing he wore. His chin was resting on his chest, and his longish hair covered his face. The left arm was broken and bent at a grotesque angle; both arms were covered with numerous cuts and burn marks and his clothing was torn to shreds. Some of the blossoms from the cherry tree had drifted down and landed on his unconscious form, creating a poetic and grotesque juxtaposition. Kurenai felt pity in her heart—he was so young to die so soon.

A slight movement caught her eye, as she was about to leave, feeling grim from the sight—she thought she saw the young man's chest rise and fall faintly, like taking a shallow breath. Perhaps it was just the cloth fluttering in the wind, but nonetheless Kurenai reached out to find a pulse at his neck. Much to her surprise and wonder, she found one, thumping weakly against her fingers—it was a miracle he was alive.

Raising a hand to her ear, she turned on the emergency radio, adjusting the frequency nimbly and quickly, "Asuma, Kakashi—there's something you should see."

"Gotcha, what's up?" came Asuma's voice.

"Just come!" Kurenai replied frustratedly, "I'm northwest of your position by about a click. Look for me at the base of a flowering cherry tree in a clearing."

"We'll be there soon," came Kakashi's voice, the lazy tone dropped.

Putting the radio away, Kurenai turned and lifted the boy's right arm. Her healing abilities were limited at best, but at least she could bandage the wounds on his arms and legs while she waited. Maybe if the two of them did not come quickly she would set his arm in a sling. Taking out a small salve out of the pouch at her hip, and opening her water bottle, she began to clean and dress his wounds. She wished Kakashi and Asuma would hurry—again, it was almost a miracle that the young man was alive after how far he dragged himself through the woods. But miracle or no, if she did not hurry to assist him, he could die regardless.

A rustle came from behind her and Kakashi and Asuma appeared at the young man's side, bending down to examine him.

"Glad you came," she said turning to them, "He's still alive. Asuma, you have some basic medical training. Help me set his arm."

Asuma nodded dumbly as he took the boy's arm gently in his. He held the two parts of the arm in his hands before speaking, "He could be beyond hope still—if we get a reaction from setting his arm then there's chance he might live, opposed to no reaction, which would mean he's a dead man."

Kurenai nodded as she readied a long bandage while Kakashi found a branch to use as a splint. Asuma turned the broken arm in his hands, bringing the two pieces together—Kakashi and Kurenai watched the young man anxiously for a reaction, and both breathed a sigh of relief as a painful groan came from the unconscious figure. His head lolled slightly to the side, and rested on his right shoulder, a cherry blossom drifted down and landed on his forehead. Kurenai blinked at the state of his face.

A long gash ran across his eyes, and the blood from that wound had run down his face and dried. There were burns and cuts on his forehead and cheeks, and they looked dirty and painful. The fabric of his tattered shirt shifted as he moved, revealing a darkish mark on his neck. Kurenai's eyes widened as the boy's identity became apparent to her. She opened her mouth to speak, but Kakashi beat her to it.

"Good gods," he remarked quietly in shock, "It's Uchiha Sasuke."

It was 1:00 a.m. when Sakura's mother shook her hastily awake. Sitting up groggily, she murmured an incoherent question as she winced at her sore back. The position she had fallen asleep in had been very uncomfortable and as a result she was stiff and sore all over. Her fingers had also evidently stiffened as well as she had trouble prying them off the frame that she was still clutching in her arms. When she set the photo aside, she faced her patient mother, who was standing worriedly above her.

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