The days after the exam dragged on in a haze of medicine and dull pain.
The hospital smelled of blood hidden under herbs, of cloth steeped in antiseptic. Every hall carried the shuffle of sandals, the rasp of wounded breathing, the wet cough of someone trying not to cry out.
Isan lay propped against his pillow, bandages tight around his ribs, his breath steady but shallow. The bruises had begun to fade into sickly yellow, yet every movement still carried the pain in memory of Shira's fists.
Across the room, Shira sat with his arms folded, chin dipped, his face mottled with cuts and swelling.
A clatter of trays came from the hall. Somewhere down the wing, a patient cursed sharply at the sting of a needle. A nurse barked back at him to hold still.
"Did you have any need to hit so hard?", Isan's voice cut through the silence, as Shira smiled a little and answered still smiling.
"What about you? My leg is still bruised."
The two of them smiled while shaking their heads at each other.
"Do you think Daiana will come again?", Shira tone lost it's cheerfulness and was replaced with apprehension.
Daiana had already visited them in the morning, although she spent most of the time berating the two of them for pushing themselves so hard in the match. Her voice sharp as always but softer at the edges when she thought they were not looking.
"She was pretty mad after the exam and this morning."
"I bet she didn't expect us to go that far, even she was surprised by the fight.", a light chuckle escaped Shira's lips.
"She will come to understand why we did it. She might not like it, but it was necessary. This way we saw what we can do."
"You are right about that Isan. It was painful -"
"Better to suffer in this type of situations than out there."
Shira said nothing in response to Isan, he knew exactly what he was referring to. The burden of lives lost was heavy and the survivors felt it more than anyone else, especially since the majority of them were orphans without any parents or family to grieve over them.
The ones that could grieve were the ones that went through the trial as well.
Temari had also visited them, but she never stepped inside the room, merely standing by the door without making any sound, before leaving without a word.
'I wonder how Temari is doing... she seemed a little off although she seemed to be recovering these past few days.', Isan thought while his mind wandered. For some reason the image of a red haired kid flashed momentarily as he shook his head.
The heat outside pressed against the windows, turning the light inside into a pale haze.
Then the floor trembled.
It was slight at first, like distant thunder rolling low through the earth. A tray rattled on its cart. One of the patients down the hall groaned in his sleep. Isan raised his head, his pulse quickening without reason.
"What was that?", Shira's voice sounded a bit distressfull.
The second tremor hit harder, the windows shuddered in their frames.
Then came the sound.
It was a roar, but not of any beast he had ever heard. It was vast, guttural, layered, like a canyon itself had opened to bellow its rage.
The corridors erupted in movement. Medical-nin rushed past their door, sharp voices carrying through the din.
"Evacuate the east wing!"
The order came fast and without room for argument. A masked ANBU appeared at their threshold, eyes cold through the mask.
"Move."
Isan struggled upright, pain stabbing through his ribs. Shira swore under his breath but pushed himself to his feet.
The corridors boiled with motion. Patients half-wrapped in bandages were shoved to their feet, leaning against nurses who dragged them along whether they could walk or not. Healers snapped orders over each other, their voices blurring together.
Someone cried out as a stretcher tipped, the wounded shinobi on it screaming in pain before two more hands grabbed and steadied it. An old chūnin limped past on a cane, refusing help, snarling that he could walk faster without being touched.
The floor shook again. A child in one of the lower beds whimpered, covering his ears as his mother tried to lift him. A nurse pulled them both by the shoulders, voice breaking as she told them they had no choice.
Another shout tore down the corridor.
"Keep them moving, damn it, keep them moving! It's coming to this side!!!!"
They were swept into the tide, the hall narrow with too many bodies, the press of sweat and fear thick enough to choke. A stretcher nearly collided with Isan, the shinobi on it coughing blood into his wrappings. A healer snapped at Isan to get out of the way before even realizing he was another patient.
The roar came again, closer this time, so loud the stone groaned. The lights swung on their hooks, glass chiming against the ceiling. Someone stumbled and fell; three others tripped over him before strong hands yanked them upright again.
Fragments of voices cut through the chaos, human and raw.
"Where's my squad!?! Have you seen them!?"
"He's too heavy, I can't lift him!"
"Then drag him, idiot, drag him!"
"If that's what I think it is, none of this matters --"
"Shut your mouth and move!"
They spilled out into the courtyard at last, gasping for air.
Outside, the world had changed.
The moon was gone behind a wall of sand. It rose in towers and waves, blotting the horizon, a storm given form.
The form resolved into something worse: a body, colossal and shifting, carved through stone buildings like they were made of clay. Its bulk cast the street in shadow, its laugh a jagged and inhuman echo that rattled bones, rolled over the rooftops.
Shukaku
Even from here the pressure pressed down on them, an invisible weight that bent knees and stole breath. Isan's chest seized, his ribs screaming as his lungs struggled to pull air through the suffocating presence.
Isan's lungs burned as he pulled in breath, his legs trembling beneath him.
He knew the beast and of its power, a Bijuu. The One-Tail, one of the nine tailed beasts. A being with incredible physical strength, that could be attributed to his colossal size, and a holder of a large quantity of chakra, giving it a powerful healing capability.
There was another remarkable trait of these beings, they were immortal as even when they died, they eventually revive, albeit in a younger form.
Shukaku, itself, was filled with ridiculous abilities, such as his sand manipulation, something that enabled the Third Kazekage' Iron Sand Manipulation, and, subsequently, the Fourth Kazekage' Gold Sand Manipulation. There was also his natural proficiency in Sealing (Fūinjutsu) due to his natural cursed seal markings.
All of that didn't help right now, knowledge of what a Tailed Beast was ash compared to this. The sheer pressure and killing intent it was releasing in waves was suffocating.
The civillians froze solid in their place, even the hard trained chūnin were frozen at the first sight of such a colosssal and powerful being.
There were a few that muttered a prayer while a handful of them that simply dropped to their knees, clutching their heads.
A few jōnin barked orders, their voices cracking despite themselves.
Rasa rose into the sky in a shimmer of gold, his presence cutting sharp against the storm. His sand surged upward, clashing with the monstrous waves of Shukaku's body.