She hadn’t been expecting guests, and once she turned to the door, she found herself wishing she didn’t have any. The woman she had to blame for her condition had all the stealth of the shinobi, but it was hard to miss the rare movement around her. Worry was the first feeling to creep into her mind, but she quickly realised the woman wasn’t there to finish the job. Then… why? The concern for her wellbeing didn’t show, but her cynicism and scorn did. Mostly scorn. What reason did she have to hide her disdain for the woman, after all? Did she really think a few chocolate bars would suffice as an apology, or that she cared to hear anything from her in the first place?
…Still. She was there, and Asami wasn’t in much of a position to leave the conversation (thanks to her). If nothing else, that solved one problem. In the absence of any ‘bystanders’ to report the incident’s details, the hospital staff helped to fill in the blanks as best as they could. Once she was conscious and able to tell her tale, all the staff had to do was check which shinobi had been assigned to her class. She had a name, and every intention of dragging it through the mud once she was on the move, but it seemed that the woman would save her the trouble of having to find her.
How was she feeling? Oh, she would have loved to give the woman a piece of her mind, but she barely got to open her mouth before another entered the scene. She couldn’t tell whether her attacker had dragged the boy along for the ride, or if he had decided to seek her out of his own free will. Probably the former, considering that they’d known each other for all of two minutes before she checked out. His ‘gift’ added weight to the theory. There was probably some good intention on some level she struggled to find. The suggestion that her injury could have been eased by her treating herself made her wonder whether or not he was trying to rub salt in the wound. It would make sense, if he had been forced to bring some contribution along with him. Perhaps she was just assuming the worst of her fellow shinobi again. It came easily to her. Too easily, maybe, but she couldn’t say her last attempt to trust one of them had ended well for her.
Her glare shifted from the book to him, but it weakened as soon as he got his words out. There was no way she could have blamed him for her injuries, and yet, he did what the other would not, and show some form of regret. It became a little harder to see his efforts as ingenuine, but he still came off as… odd. In appearance, in personality and in dialogue. She couldn’t say it was anything new - her forced line of work seemed to attract and create the broken ones, and she knew that wasn’t just her bias talking. Not many of them found their way to her hospital bed, though.
Again, she opened her mouth, and again, a newcomer stopped her. She’d been too caught up in her thoughts to notice something was fighting the door. She gave her former classmate a dismissive hand gesture (conveniently dodging the question of her health for the time being) and turned just in time to see a familiar face scatter goods all over the floor. And then attack them. That was the Saeko she remembered, alright.
There was some small comfort to be taken in the woman taking the time to visit her; Asami knew her one-time leader probably had more important things to tend to. At least, she hoped she had come because she cared, and not to investigate any potential link to Cloud’s nobility. She remained silent as the woman attempted to recover her presents. Her little dig at the Raikage might have gotten a smile if Asami hadn’t been doing her best to show a mix of irritation and growing discomfort. Oddly enough, it was the mention of cake that eased her expression, but it didn’t last long. Something about the image of the father of the man she’d stolen from and the broken glass brought about a confused, saddened, pursed ghost of a smile, and even that was killed by her new nickname. She had to admit that the jewel was nice, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that the ‘typo’ might have been their small form of revenge.
Another gift – one that appeared to be of the ‘insult to injury’ variety. Osu had only added to her reasons to hold Kumogakure’s killers at an arms’ length, and she found it hard to see his offering as anything with good intentions. They would have to force that thing onto her head – and not just because the swelling made most hats a tight and painful fit. Then came the threat. Or promise. It was always a bit hard to tell with Saeko, and under normal circumstances she would do her best to not find out. Given the circumstances, however…
She turned to the door, as if to ensure she would be able to get her words out that time around. Hopefully, the group hadn’t assumed the accident had rendered her mute. “…Right.” She narrowed her eyes, then closed them and sighed. Where was she to begin? Probably with the fun part. She forced a smile on. “Thank you for coming, Saeko-sensei. I can’t say I expected it, but it’s nice to have a nice surprise for once. If you’re looking for my attacker, you don’t have to go far.” In an oddly casual move for her, she jerked a thumb in the culprit’s direction. Her other hand claimed the amethyst, allowing the other gifts to rest on her bed and table. The gem rested in her palm as she turned to the puppeteer. “You too, I hope. I’m sorry that I don’t remember your name. Things are still a little fuzzy sometimes.” That, and they had never introduced themselves. “But you didn’t have to come, and you did anyway. Thank you. I, er… wish I had something to offer, but I guess we have cake now…?”
She dropped all semblance of niceties when she returned her gaze to… Well, her. Eishi, according to the staff. She had a lot of questions to ask – and some sense of closure to gain from them. She had half-convinced herself that voicing them was a waste of time; they all implied basic human decency, and that the woman had cared for her trainee’s life when she stepped onto the field. If that was the case, she would still be up and walking. She knew she couldn’t expect an answer she could consider acceptable, but curiosity got the better of her. “Why?”