He was strung away from slumber by loud raps on his door, urgent and fervent and never ceasing despite the late hour of the night. Distraught, he peeled himself away from bed and stepped the unlit living room, a kunai picked up from a passing buffet, and idly wondered why his visitor hadn’t broken a window to break in instead. Then he sucked in an anticipatory breath and turned the knob open. “Sakura?” he inspected her condition minutely before gasping, “did you just give birth?”
If she weren't so low on chakra, she'd reach up and smack him. She so would. But--that would have to be later. For now, he could suffice with a worn, incredulous look. In what way did multiple kunai wounds, bruises from broken bones, and a particularly deep gash in her stomach look like after birth?
She hadn't had the chakra left from the fight with--with what seemed to be ANBU to heal herself any more than she had already, and she knew she didn't have the strength to make it to the hospital, so she'd come here.
Somehow she hadn't expected to need to explain herself.
