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The jolt to consciousness was jarring and nauseating. Shinki sat up with a gasp, every fiber in his being pulled taught like wire. It was bright, far too bright as he blinked spots from his vision and scanned his surroundings to orient himself. A sparse but clean room, a simple cabinet, a nonspecific painting on the wall. The disequilibrium overtook him again and he hunched over to retch into his lap.
“Oi, oi—“ Someone beside him just uttered before there was a clatter and the sound of metal on metal. “SHINKI! IT’S ME!”
The pounding headache that pulsed at his temples barely allowed Shinki to recognize the voice. His vision finally cleared just enough to see a blurred figure, pinned against the opposite wall by spikes of black iron. The trapped young shinobi grimaced, a kunai poised where it deflected a spike from piercing his throat. He clicked his tongue.
“Watch it, will you? You almost got me.” Shinki regarded his cousin through heavy eyes and finally allowed the relief to soothe his nerves. The spikes disintegrated into a fine black powder and dissipated. Shikadai winced as he was freed.
“Where is this?” Shinki intoned as he sat, slumped over. The exhaustion suddenly seemed to wash over him ten-fold, it was hard to even hold his head up.
“Konoha Hospital.” His cousin replied as he dusted himself off and approached the bed once more. “They brought you here after your fight. You’re safe.” Nausea swept through Shinki again and he turned away to silently heave.
“Oi, Shinki, you don’t—“
“How long was I asleep?” Shinki interjected in an attempt to compose himself.
“……Two days.” Came the concerned reply.
Shinki’s vision wavered again. Two days. He had slept for two days and he was still this depleted. He had never used his chakra to this extent before. He closed his eyes, willing the nausea to recede.
“You really don’t look that good, Shinki.” Shikadai muttered. “Maybe I should get someone to…”
“I’m fine.” Shinki said as he lay back down in an attempt to allow himself to rest.
“…This looks like more than just some heavy chakra usage…You should get checked out.”
“I’m fine.” Shinki insisted firmly. The concern that radiated from his cousin was palpable. Shinki sighed without opening his eyes. “It’s because I used too many Third Eyes at the same time. I’ve never used more than three at a time. Without proper training, it can severely disrupt your equilibrium and disorient you. It’ll pass soon enough.”
“How many did you use…?” Shikadai wondered. Shinki could hear the genuine curiosity in his voice.
“Five.” He replied. His cousin hissed through his teeth. “Father can manage more than 10." Shinki muttered, "I’ll be fine.”
“Yeah well, you’re not Uncle Gaara and you look like crap. I’m going to get the doctor. Mom will be pissed if I didn’t have you checked out now that you’re awake anyway and that’ll be such a drag.”
Shinki kept his eyes firmly closed as he heard Shikadai move towards the door. There was no point in wasting energy to protest.
“Oh by the way,” his cousin said as he creaked open the sliding door. “Uncle Kankurou is ok. He survived…somehow.”
Shinki released a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. The soreness, the nausea, the utter dissatisfaction that gripped his body since he regained consciousness seemed to loosen its hold ever so slightly. His eyes cracked open the slightest, vision still blurred, to regard the mottled ceiling. His voice came barely above a whisper, not trusting himself to maintain composure if he spoke any louder.
“I’m glad to hear that.”
There was a confirmatory hum and the click of the door sliding shut.
The ensuing physical exam was obnoxious. All pokes and prods and bright lights flashed into his eyes that only further spiked his headache.
“Well, you certainly look better.” The doctor concluded with a tick on her clipboard. “Neurological function is stable, normal mentation. Physically you’re a little worse for wear but nothing serious,” Shinki could only nod with curt politeness. “Get plenty of rest while you’re here. I was told your father will be around to see you later.” That news surprised him. Shinki had not expected his father to personally make the trip to Konoha.
“Father is here?”
“He arrived earlier this morning.” A different voice confirmed. Shinki looked up as another figure entered the room. Her distinctive blonde hair, bright like the desert sun, pulled into four pigtails was instantly recognizable even with his still-poor vision. His aunt gently closed the door behind her as she continued. “He’s making a report to the Hokage first, he should be here soon.” Shinki greeted her with a polite bow of his head. She leaned against the wall, her posture deliberately ginger with each movement. A hand rested on her abdomen. Evidently, she was nursing her own fair share of injuries. “How is he?” She inquired to the doctor, sharp eyes making her own assessment of him from head to toe.
“Young and healthy, Ma’am” The doctor replied, getting up from her seat. “His vision’s taking some time to return to normal, but that’s expected given all that excess sensory input. Same with the nausea. But as I said, he’ll be fine with some rest.” Temari hummed in satisfaction.
“Tell Sakura I’d like her to give a final evaluation, if possible.”
Shinki pursed his lips. It was hardly necessary to call upon the hospital director for something so insignificant. On the other hand, he knew that arguing with his aunt was a fruitless battle.
The doctor bowed her head as she prepared to exit. “I’ll see if that can be accommodated. Now if you’ll excuse me.”
Temari made her way to Shinki’s bedside. “Shikadai said you were looking pretty rough, but it seems you're recovering quite well.” She settled herself in the chair the doctor had vacated. Shinki didn’t miss the wince that flashed across her face.
“Aunt,” he murmured. “I’m fine, you should get some rest yourself…” Temari scoffed through her nose and reach over to gently take his chin. She tilted his face every which way, eyes flitting across his features for any sign of concern. Shinki found it difficult to meet her gaze; it was a level of scrutiny he was not used to. Finally, she sighed and smoothed his unruly hair back from his forehead before withdrawing to settle into her seat.
“Honestly,” she huffed, “You’re just like your father. Getting yourself all battered up like this. I know you wanted to do the best that you can, but you should know better than to exert yourself this much.” Shinki avoided her gaze, face growing hot despite himself. He was definitely not used to being scolded like this. She sighed again. “I’m glad you’re ok…I’m glad you all are.”
Shinki kept his gaze to his lap, where his hands, scraped up and bandaged, sat neatly folded.
“So it’s true then,” he asked quietly, “that Uncle’s condition is favorable.”
His aunt pinched her brow to rub out the tension there. It was a gesture Shinki found awfully reminiscent of both his father and his uncle.
“Yes, Kankurou is fine, thankfully. The idiot goes and blows himself up and thinks he can just get out of it like when he was 19 years old. Give me a break. He’s lucky he’s alive.”
Shinki tensed his hands in the face of his aunt’s agitated worrying, a sliver of guilt gnawing deep his chest. He flinched when she spoke again. “You did more than what was expected of you, Shinki.” He glanced at her in surprise at her statement. “My anger is at Kankurou, not you. Your uncle made his choice and to waste the opportunity he gave you would have made his sacrifice pointless.” He thinned his lips at her uncanny ability to read him and couldn’t bring himself to reply. She simply crossed her arms and hissed another sigh. “Besides, you shouldn’t have been sent on that mission anyway.” Shinki twitched in indignant protest as she continued. “Even if you weren’t supposed to face the enemy, my other idiot brother should have had other options. Being tailed by an Otsutsuki was far too dangerous, even with Kankurou with you.”
“There was no time to return to the village for reinforcements,” Shinki argued quietly. “Father and Uchiha Sasuke had already been fighting for hours to defend Master Shukaku. Sealing the Otsutsuki was probably the last thing he could do. There was no other option.” His aunt frowned in disagreement.
“When your children are involved, there’s always another option.” She replied sourly. “Enough.” She huffed with finality and waved a hand to dismiss the topic before leaning forward to pull his blankets. “Get some more rest.” She laid him back down and insistently tucked him in. “Gaara will be around soon enough. You’ll need the energy to make the trip back home.” Shinki couldn’t bring himself to protest as his eyes began to droop despite himself. With the click of the door as his aunt’s departure, he drifted to darkness.
When Shinki awoke next, his vision had cleared significantly, and he felt a moment of relief as the ceiling’s mottled texture focused to sharp clarity. A soft afternoon sunbeam streamed through the window into the hospital ward, so different from the harsh relentless rays of the desert. His neck prickled as he sensed a presence beside him and he turned his head to see another figure now occupying the seat by his bed. The Kazekage sat primly with his arms and legs crossed, eyes closed in a light doze.
To anyone else who knew the Fifth Kazekage Gaara, the dark rings around his eyes, though unique to his visage, were an unusual but expected feature. But Shinki knew his father better than that. He could see the deeper set bags beneath those shadows and the faint crow's feet forming at the corners of his eyes, brought upon by the stress of responsibility and the passage of time. His father never had good sleeping habits, a remnant of his sleepless past, but lately, his sleep had been further interrupted by his protracted recovery from the battle with Otsutsuki Momoshiki during the Chunin Exam. It was a secret kept to a close and select few, as alarming the public about their Kazekage's health in the face of the rising threat from the Otsutsuki would be detrimental. He had hidden it well and was steadily improving. There was no concern that the Kazekage wasn't still capable, even in a weakened state, his father was a formidable shinobi. But, Shinki still worried, which was why he had insisted on accompanying him and his uncle to defend Shukaku from Otsutsuki Urashiki. Undoubtedly, this second battle had paid a harsh toll.
The Kazekage’s eyes opened then and Shinki’s gaze was met with clear icy blue. They softened as a faint smile curved onto his father’s lips. “Glad to see you’re awake, Shinki.” He intoned, shifting in his seat. “Temari said you’re doing well. How do you feel?” Shinki nodded reassuringly as he moved to sit up with a restrained wince. His body was still tender but he was relieved the nausea had resolved, too.
“I’m fine, Father. You didn't have to come all this way.” He replied. The gentle smile on his father’s lips twisted wryly.
“I sent you on a mission that could have killed you. I could hardly be called a father if I didn’t at least come fetch you myself.” Shinki didn’t know how to reply. “I already got an earful from Temari. I’m sorry to have put you through that, but I had complete faith that you would do spectacularly.” Shinki curved a slight smile at the praise, chest warming with pride.
“Thank you,” He murmured, “but I still have a lot to learn. There were several missteps that could have been avoided…”
“Of course,” his father replied, a glimmer of amusement glinting in his eyes, “we can discuss the details at a later point.”
They sat in a comfortable silence that was a familiar occurrence between them.
“I was told,” The Kazekage continued thoughtfully after a while, “that you produced several Third Eyes. How many?”
“...Five.” Shinki answered. His father hummed, impressed.
“If I recall, your record is three.”
“Four was already pushing it…” Shinki muttered. “Evidently, five was enough to send me to the hospital.”
“Hardly.” His father disagreed. “You maintained several other jutsus as well. Your potential runs deeper than you think, Shinki. You’ve been training well.”
“You can produce more than ten, Father.” Shinki retorted. “Uncle said you could manage at least eight by the time you were my age.”
“At your age, I had spent my entire life fighting off Shukaku from taking over my psyche. My unconventional experience can’t be compared to your hard work. Don’t sell yourself short.” His father’s tone was firm despite its soft timbre. “It’s important to consider areas of improvement, Shinki, but you should recognize your accomplishments as well.” Shinki dropped his gaze to his lap once more as he felt his face grow hot. A reassuring hand came to rest briefly on his head. “You did well, my son.”
“I still don’t understand though,” Shinki murmured, “what Father meant when you said I had something to learn from Boruto.” When Shinki looked back to his father, his gaze was met with another amused glint. The Kazekage crossed his arms once more.
“That is something you’ll have to figure out for yourself.”