The downside of handling genjutsu from a non-Uchiha was needing to extend the usual courtesy of not using the Sharingan. He was accustomed to Itachi's illusion-work, used to being immersed in a genjutsu in the span of a breath, so actually watching Sakura form seals was an interesting experience. It made restricting the Sharingan more of a pain, the instinct to watch the chakra shape rising until he quashed it and let his control on the rest of his chakra ease.

It was subtle: he would give her that. Details faded in smoothly, as if they had always been part of the environment, birdsong giving way to distant shouts and then closer screeches of metal on metal, a battlefield as busy as an outright war -- nothing Sasuke had experienced personally, but certainly distracting -- and when he looked down to see a wounded man in front of him, it seemed to follow naturally as a matter of course.

He was impressed.

And then he was scrambling forward to react when the man coughed and blood gurgled out of his mouth; most likely a punctured lung, Sasuke automatically catalogued, and drew a kunai to slice the faceless victim's uniform apart and expose the injuries. A handful of scattered cuts -- definitely sword-work -- and the deeper stab wound that was most likely causing the hacking of blood.

Green chakra buzzed to the surface of his hands, Sasuke brushing over the other cuts just enough to ascertain nothing else crucial had been hit before focusing on the stab, probing chakra through it to determine whether there was significant flooding of the lungs yet.

It wasn't an unconvincing injury.