Hiro watched from the corner of the room, apart from the chaos, his Byakugan still active and cataloging every minute motion of pained limbs, every flicker of too-wide eyes; every skip of limpingly rhythmic hearts, and every surge of wisp-blue chakra almost too weak to see.

His mission had started from the moment he walked through the door.

What he saw were two ninja, reaching towards each other with all the strength that they didn't have. Two ninja, reassuring each other before they reassured themselves.

Don't even think about them separately, Kotoe-san had said; Kotoe-san was a very perceptive woman. They barely even thought about themselves separately anymore. It was obvious, if you knew where to look: every hitch of breath, every panicked lunge practically screamed it out. The threadbare words, scraped hoarse from throats worn with screaming--they didn't even scratch the surface.

He watched the medics bustle around the two pushed-together beds, and kept silent as they injected swift-acting narcotics into the veins of his main subject. He had waited for eight hours so far; he could wait a few more. Meanwhile he stood in his corner, and observed the slowly steadying heartbeats of two ninja, grown together like trees.

Disaster having been averted, the medics were already rushing out to their next task. The girl--Mitsuko--paused for a moment in front of the door, though, nodding respectfully on her way out; "Hyuuga-san," she murmured, and he inclined his head in return. An orderly tried to slide through in the medics' place, but he intercepted her as she froze gaping in the entrance-way, ushering her straight back out again and reassuring her that she could return later. He shut the door solidly on her rising exclamations of protest, and the room was returned to blessed hospital-silence. The monitors harmoniously chirped their contentment, and the two ninja were wholly absorbed in each other, barely even acknowledging his presence.

Hiro pulled up a chair, and settled in.