— Guy, how's your arm? — I asked, watching him closely.
He was slumped in the cart, slightly frowning. Even through the thick bandage, wrapped by one of the caravan women, it was clear: he wasn't feeling well. The cloth on his forearm had darkened with blood, and the skin around his wrist had turned a sickly bluish-purple. He could barely move his fingers.
— It's fine, — he replied too quickly. His voice was hoarse, as if from deep within. — Just a bruise.
I glanced skeptically at the bandage. "Just a bruise," sure. Best case — a hairline fracture. Worst case…
With an arm like that, he couldn't throw punches anymore — even forming hand seals might be a problem.
— Did Sensei check it? — I asked.
— Said he'll heal it later if it doesn't go away, — Guy muttered and turned away. That stubborn expression on his face looked carved from stone.
I nodded, but inside, the worry kept growing. He was my friend — and an injury like that could turn into something serious.
We kept moving — through the woods, then across low hills and plains. The road got smoother, but we couldn't drop our guard. Less than half a day to the border, and even with the bandits gone, it was too early to relax. The forest's quiet could deceive. Threats weren't always noisy.
I walked a bit behind. Genma was on the right, Sensei led ahead. Guy rode in one of the carts. His bandage had soaked through again, but he didn't complain. On the contrary — sat like everything was fine. Even though I knew it wasn't.
Animals peeked out of the bushes now and then. A couple of times we heard branches snapping off to the side, but everything stayed quiet. The merchants had stopped fussing — those who were trembling earlier now walked silently, their faces tense. They knew: as long as we were here, no one would touch them. But the memory of the raid still pulsed in them — just like in us.
When the forest opened up, a flat stretch of land appeared, overgrown with swamp grass and sparse trees. A wooden watchpost stood on the horizon. This was the border of the Land of Swamps.
Several border guards in dark gray uniforms came out to meet us. One raised his hand to signal a stop; another already had a spyglass aimed at us.
Sensei gestured for us to stay out of it and went forward to speak with the officer on duty. Shobura stepped down from the cart and followed him, holding a roll of documents.
I leaned on a wheel, stretching my shoulders. Genma crouched by the road, took the senbon from his mouth, and spun it between his fingers, deep in thought.
About ten minutes later, Sensei returned.
— That's it, — he said, brushing off his hands. — The border guards will take the caravan and assign an escort to their city. We've fulfilled our part.
He paused, eyes passing over each of us — measuring. We were exhausted, bruised, but alive.
— From this point, Shobura goes on his own, — he added. — We return to Konoha.
We leapt into the trees, traveling along the upper path — the fastest and safest route. The canopy let us move unseen, avoiding swamps, bandits, and any traps on the roads. The leaves rustled overhead, and the thick branches flexed beneath our feet.
Guy, despite the injured arm, had perked up a bit by midday, though moving like that clearly wasn't easy.
— Almost home! — he shouted, jumping from one tree to another. The bandage on his arm swayed with the motion.
I saw how he landed — just a bit harder than usual. His left-hand fingers clenched, and for a second, he paused, like the pain had stolen his breath. But a heartbeat later, he was already smiling like nothing happened.
— Guy… — I said, landing beside him. — You should slow down. We're already ahead of schedule.
He looked at me with the same stubborn glint in his eyes but said nothing. Just nodded — as if to say, "Got it." But I knew him too well to believe it.
The first day passed with almost no stops. Just a couple of short breaks at streams to refill flasks and rewrap the bandage — which by evening was bleeding again. Sensei treated the wound, applying a temporary compression seal, but didn't sugarcoat it:
— One more hit, and the bone might fracture completely.
At night we stopped in a small hollow, sheltered from the wind. We built a faint, barely visible fire. Genma took the first watch, I was second. Guy snored softly, lying on his side with his injured arm pressed to his chest.
By morning, we were on the move again. The weather had changed — a thin mist floated among the trees, and even the birds seemed quieter. The road home always felt shorter, but the body disagreed: every jump ached in the joints.
Still, by the second evening, after crossing the last hills and passing a lake with a strange gnarled root at its edge, we reached Konoha's western outskirts.
The village lay behind its tall wall, but the sound — soft, steady — was already in our ears. Konoha breathed with its own rhythm.
Genma landed first.
— Home, — he said briefly, limping slightly, but smiling.
I followed. The ground felt especially solid underfoot — like it was telling me: you're back, you can rest now.
Guy landed last, almost silently. He took a few steps, stopped, inhaled deeply — and only then allowed himself to exhale, tiredly.
At the entrance, we were met by the on-duty chunin. One silently looked us over, then gave a slight nod and handed over a paper — the standard return report. Sensei signed it and, without wasting time, headed for headquarters.
— Guy — hospital. Immediately, — he threw over his shoulder without even turning. His tone allowed no argument.
— I'll head out, then, — said Genma and was already turning on his heel before anyone could answer.
It was like he'd just been waiting for that phrase.
He almost… faded a little, I thought, watching him go. Guess the fatigue got to him too.
I looked at Guy.
— Well? Shall we go? — I asked.
Guy didn't look at me — his eyes followed Genma.
— You can head home too, — he said, his usual straightforwardness in place. — I'm fine.
I snorted and gave a crooked grin, no malice in it.
— Hey, come on. We're friends. Who leaves a friend like this?
Guy looked up. There was something in his eyes — gratitude, maybe embarrassment. Maybe both.
I nudged his uninjured shoulder and added in a lighter tone:
— And besides, your dad would definitely chew me out if he found out I left you behind. Can you imagine?
The road to the hospital was familiar. We passed shops with lanterns dimming, shinobi heading home from training, kids playing near the bridge.
In front of the clinic, he suddenly stopped, looking at the sign. I stopped too, turning back.
— Guy?
He clenched his jaw.
— I hope they won't ban me from training.
— If they do, it's for a reason, — I said. — The main thing is getting your arm healed.
He nodded, finally stepping inside.
White lights, the smell of antiseptics, and the familiar, almost homely bustle. Medics moved quickly through the halls, someone carried scrolls, someone in the corner was complaining about a sprained leg.
A young medical-nin in a pale green hakama came over.
— Injuries? — she asked, giving us a quick once-over. But her eyes locked onto Guy immediately — even the bandage didn't hide the state of his arm.
I'm fine, but my friend's arm is injured —
— This way, — she said, motioning to one of the examination rooms. — I'll call the senior medic.
Guy stepped forward, and I almost instinctively followed, but the girl raised her hand gently to stop me.
— Only the injured. Please wait here.
I nodded and didn't insist.
Guy disappeared behind a semi-transparent curtain, and I stayed in the hallway. Sat on a wooden bench against the wall. My back ached from the long journey, but I barely noticed. The tension still hadn't left me.
A chunin came out of the neighboring exam room, his shin wrapped. An older nurse followed him, scolding him about something. He just waved her off, mumbling something about "not the first time."
A few minutes later, the curtain where Guy had gone rustled. A silver-haired man in a white coat stepped out — clearly the senior medic. He looked around the corridor, saw me, and came over.
— You with the boy with the injured arm?
— Yeah. What's the situation? — I asked, standing.
He paused for a second, as if choosing his words. Then said calmly:
— Radius fracture. Significant contusion of the elbow joint. Bones started to shift, but we caught it in time. We'll use healing techniques and a splint. He'll need to stay in the hospital for a couple of days. In a week — he'll feel better. No training or missions for seven days…