Inside was certainly preferable to outside. The amount of eyes that could fall on you was significantly less when you were behind walls. It took her a moment to follow him. She took a shaking breath before moving her legs. She held all the conviction of wet newspaper with close to the same color. At least there will be reading. She thought in an attempt to make herself feel better. It had the same effect as the other attempts had.
She entered the hospital knowing full well what lie on the other side. The acrid scent of cleaning, the lingering undertones of what was attempting to be cleaned, the soft buzz of unnatural lighting, and the sound of feet moving only fast enough. It was a silent cacophony, as loud as it was contradictory. A place of healing filled with disease, injuries, and death. Hippocratic oaths indeed.
Her steps were only slightly slower than Bolin's and would have likely met his pace had she been stepping carelessly. She was not, however, carelessly placing her soles in just any possible place. The tiled floor of the hospital, often overlooked as most things are, held her attention as they traversed the hospital together. She made a game of it as she always did when given the chance. The checkered colored tiles were self-explanatory; step only on the black tiles, ignore the white.
Peaking up just once since beginning her game, Bolin's question was met with silence at first. Well, almost-silence. Kioko began to hum silently to herself; a faint sound of contemplation. "I have no chakra affinity." She began, explaining that she was not gifted in the control of elemental Ninjutsu. "I focus more on complimentary techniques and styles opposed to offensive. I have studied Ijutsu extensively and I have a knack for both Sensory and Genjutsu. I hope to learn Fuuinjutsu." Each sentence held a pause between them as she found the optimal path of tiles for the next few steps. Then the difficult part of the question required answering.
What did she hope to do as a medical ninja? She stopped in front of the door he was holding open. The room in front of them didn't look special but she wasn't exactly surprised. Other than few bits of personal flair medical rooms always looked the same. No one wanted to make a medical room personal. It was a funny thing, to think about how much people needed hospitals but how much they'd never want to be there.
"What do I hope for?" She repeated, eyes growing dim as the words touched her lips. Someone to notice me. Someone to need me. Someone to thank me, to see me, to smile at me. Someone, somewhere, to think of me. That every time they hug their loved one they think 'It was all thanks to that medical nin!' To save someone because I know I'll never be able to save myself. To mean something, if only for a small amount of time. To mean anything.
"I haven't figured that out."