[Thread] Wakey, wakey, Sleeping Beauty [Tsurude, Zabuya]
Tsurude sat back in the small wooden chair, his green jacket laid across the back of it. He rubbed small towel on his arm, removing the last traces of ink, and then let it drop to the ground. With a yawn, he laced his hands above his hand and stretched his back, hearing a series of unhappy popping as he did. Lovely. Nothing like a marathon session of healing to deplete the chakra completely and screw up the muscles too. With both Sakurai and Rin under strict rest orders after their work and Shizuya trying to cover for all three, there was little chance he'd get some relief soon.
Unless he called in a masseuse. Like the pretty one that always offered a free back rub when he passed by her shop. Sometimes it was good to be the Hokage.
But that was for another time. Now, he concentrated on the prone form in front of him. It had taken a lot to convince the ANBU with him that it would be better if they weren't there when she woke up. After all, she was as depleted as he was when it came to chakra. And even though the ANBU captain pointed out that she was still dangerous, Tsurude quite enjoyed pointing out that so was he.
So now, all he could do was wait. The room was small and windowless, there was barely enough room for a bed. The air was stagnant, a mix of sweat and ink. By all accounts the procedure worked (as best as it could considering who was responsible for the lock) and now it was just a matter of seeing if she would wake up.
Unless he called in a masseuse. Like the pretty one that always offered a free back rub when he passed by her shop. Sometimes it was good to be the Hokage.
But that was for another time. Now, he concentrated on the prone form in front of him. It had taken a lot to convince the ANBU with him that it would be better if they weren't there when she woke up. After all, she was as depleted as he was when it came to chakra. And even though the ANBU captain pointed out that she was still dangerous, Tsurude quite enjoyed pointing out that so was he.
So now, all he could do was wait. The room was small and windowless, there was barely enough room for a bed. The air was stagnant, a mix of sweat and ink. By all accounts the procedure worked (as best as it could considering who was responsible for the lock) and now it was just a matter of seeing if she would wake up.