Yamato sat motionless in the chair beside Y/N's bed, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped loosely together. His dark eyes had not left her face in hours.

The mission report had been filed. The medic had given her reassurances. Naruto had visited twice, each time leaving quieter than the last. Sakura had stayed long enough to check the bandages herself before being called away.

But Yamato remained.

His jaw was tight, the muscle beneath his skin tensing and releasing in a rhythm he couldn't control. He had told himself he was staying because it was his duty as her teammate. As her captain. As someone who had been there when it happened.

That lie had worn thin sometime around the second night.

Her hand rested on the blanket, fingers slack and pale against white fabric. Bandages wrapped around her palm where she had caught a kunai meant for someone else's throat.

He remembered the sound of her shout. The way she had moved without hesitation. The way his own feet had felt frozen to the ground for half a second too long.

A muscle in his temple twitched.

Then movement.

Small. Barely noticeable. Her fingers curled against the blanket, just once, like someone reaching for something in their sleep.

Yamato straightened instantly. The chair scraped against the floor as he stood, his body moving before his mind could catch up.