It was a dismal evening made pertinently foreboding by the present smell of rain, blood, and the loss of many lives. So many civilians, so many shinobi, so many of her people laid out as gray masses, causalities melting among the mud. 

And there was absolutely nothing she could do for most of them.

The ground was moving beneath her, head swimming, heart racing, vision blurring. Tears were masked under the cover of rain falling on her face, but no one would know.

Sakura was frantically navigating the battlefield that way once happy, carefree, beautiful Konoha, but was now a crumbling, drab and mournful.

And it was heartwrenching chaos.

Anbu racing here, Akatsuki racing there, children screaming in this direction, and battle hardened screams in another.

Sakura’s heart was hammering as she sprung across the rooftops, her eyes scanning rapidly through the tears, through the heavy rain, for any signs of anyone she could help.

Many thoughts cluttered her mind; Where was Naruto, Kakashi, Tsunade; All of the people she treasured. How many civilians were laying on the ground in a hole that she could save; how many burning buildings had trapped women and children?

—Was Sasuke still alive, and worse, was he the cause of this?

Her feet were moving in a haze, but somehow, still slower than the speed of her thoughts, her fears.

And then she spotted something; someone moving among the collapsed bodies of the wreckage and disaster.

She didn’t hesitate even slightly at the sight of the Konoha hiate gleaming. Her feet instantly carried her there.

Landing beside a crumpled form, she dropped to her knees and the squishy ground sucked them in deeper. She peered down, a horrified expression zapping the color from her face, at someone she knew. Not just a Konoha nin, but one she’s went to the academy with. One she knew his subtle smiles, minor amounts of his personality, his team and his family.

Her voice was strong as her training willed it to be, but her hands were shaking as she attempted to gently raise his head and place it on her knees.

“Neji-san,” She spoke, placing his head down carefully. He groaned, his pearly eyes suddenly appearing beneath his wet lashes. The blood was mixed with mud and what wasn’t had been washed away by the rain; it was difficult to determine the extent of his injury from a glance.

She immediately placed her chakra glowing hands to his chest.

“Neji-san, it’s me, Sakura-chan.” She smiled at him, her eyes still leaking tears, though she knew he couldn’t see them.

It was her greatest fear; to lose a patient. To lose a teammate. To lose a friend.

Her green lit hands were shaking as she assessed his wounds. They were extensive, as if he’d taken one of Naruto’s rasengans to the chest.

Internal hemoraging and broken ribs more than she could count.

Damage like this most medics might give up, but Sakura couldn’t.

It was her first patient on this battleground, and she wouldn’t lose him.

Neji was a friend, by most accounts, even if they hadn’t had many interactions, and she wouldn’t let him die here.

His eyelids were sluggishly rising and falling to an irregular pattern. Remaining closed for longer periods of time after each blink.

“Neji-san. Don’t fall asleep.” She told him as her voice peeked a tone higher in fear.

His eye shot open as if she’d given him a direct order to follow or else he’d be sentenced to death. And maybe he would, figuratively speaking. “Neji-san, you’re going to be fine.” She told him, her free hand coming up to rub his hair.

His Hiate had been parted from him at some time, and she could see the marks of his clan on his forhead. Engraved, his birth order, shining for the world to see.

She slid her free hand further down to cover it while her other hand worked diligently.

The strain pumping so much chakra so quickly was having was growing larger.

“Neji-san…” She repeated his name over and over. “Your wounds are not too deep. You’re going to be fine.” She repeated.

She could only wonder if Naruto was safe.

If a medic found Naruto in this state, would they treat him as kindly. Would they whisper sweet comfort to him, and never give up no matter how bleak it looked?

She could only hope so.

“Neji-san,” His wounds were healing, but she was growing minorly low on chakra. She couldn’t risk running out entirely this early in battle. “Neji-san you have to wake up.” She told him.

He was drifting in and out the entire time. Again his eyes cracked open and his silvery eyes held hers. They seemed less hazy after a moment of eye contact.

“Ha-Haruno-san.” He called her very formally, and it amost stung her to think that in a time like this he would be such a way.

She nodded.

His pupils were very small; dilated and hyper vigilant; trying to combat his pain-leaden, disoriented state. For a second, he said nothing, and neither did she. They merely listened to the sound of the chaos as she poured more chakra to the center of his worst wounds. 

“Sakura-san…” He spoke her name, and she smiled brightly. A fresh wave of tears surfaced for her wounded comrade. “Thank you.” His breath was heavy, his face pale, and his wounds present; but much better.

One thing was certain; he wouldn’t die now. He would survive. She had made it.

She shook her head at him, her fingers stroking at his skin, clammy and cold. “You’re going to be fine.” She reminded him yet again.