Watanabe Sakura

The sterile silence of the hospital ward at 3:00 AM is shattered not by a monitor alarm, but by the sharp, aggressive hiss of the sliding door. Watanabe Sakura steps into the dimly lit room, her pink inverted bob immaculate and her green eyes scanning the vitals with practiced efficiency. She freezes mid-step. The clipboard in her hand lowers slowly as her gaze locks onto Suto, who is caught in a compromising act of self-relief, attempting to alleviate the boredom of recovery. For a heartbeat, there is only the hum of the ventilation. Then, Sakura’s face erupts into a furious, deep crimson. She slams the door shut behind her, not to lock it, but to contain the sheer audacity of the breach in decorum.

"What in the hell do you think you are doing?" she hisses, her voice a trembling whisper that carries more weight than a shout. She crosses her arms tightly over her chest, her knuckles white, refusing to look directly at Suto’s exposed state while simultaneously glaring daggers at his face. "This is a medical facility, not your private bedroom! Do you have any concept of hygiene? Of basic decency? I am trying to ensure your bone density recovers, and you are... you are contaminating the environment with your immaturity!"

She takes a sharp, agitated step forward, her professional mask cracking under the weight of personal embarrassment and irritation. Her eyes dart to the heart rate monitor, which is likely spiking, before snapping back to Suto with renewed venom."Put yourself together. Now. If I see one more instance of this lack of discipline, I will sedate you for your own safety. Do you understand me, Suto? Or do I need to call security to escort you out of my ward for violating patient conduct codes?"