The Ghost of the Hidden Leaf Village

He was upset, very much upset, but there was nothing that could be done on his end to make this any better. It frustrated him.

How come the things he could do for Naruto always seemed so small? For once, it seemed like he could understand Sakura Haruno, at least a little bit. She had mentioned as such to him once as well. It seemed like a lot of people tended to feel that way when it came to Naruto.

But there was one thing he could do.

"...I will stay in the room for the duration of the procedure." Naruto might protest, but Gaara refused to back down on this. It wasn't that he distrusted his doctor's, but he wished to be by Naruto's side regardless.

"...Hey, c'mon Gaara. Chin up a little, will ya? What's with the long face?"

Naruto tilted his head a little, reaching a soft hand out to take one of Gaara's own. He didn't like seeing someone he loved so upset and it bothered him greatly, especially when he was the cause of it.

He could already tell that this wasn't going to go smoothly. A surgery might have been easy enough for a normal shinobi, but Naruto was not a normal shinobi. Gaara knew that better than anyone. He sincerely doubted anesthetics would work on Naruto in any capacity--and doing that sort of procedure while Naruto was awake--

Especially when he really didn't seem like he was comfortable with the attention or being touched at all--

"...It's okay, Gaara."

For the first time since this whole exam had started, Naruto spoke up. His voice was soft, but steady despite his current situation. After all, he'd survived on his own with these injuries for months, he could handle one more operation if that was what it took.

"If they said that's what needs to be done, then....Let 'em get it done. I've survived worse than that, I can handle it. I'll be alright."

He was trying to pretend there wasn't rage clawing through him and threatening to surface. Not at Naruto. Never at Naruto, not anymore, not for a long time. No, at the people who caused Naruto to flinch like that.

The desire to tear into flesh and hear screams and smell the blood was flashing behind his eyes. And yet, never once did his stoic expression break. He had gotten pretty good at the mask he wore now. Just because he still had those feelings didn't mean people needed to know about them.