| [Mar. 5th, 2014|02:12 am] |
And Team Six's lieutenant, Ryouma suspected, was very diplomatic. "If 'focused' is the best you can come up with, no wonder it only took Hakone two beers to start complaining."
A soft huff of breath betrayed Genma's stifled laugh. "Oh? Is Hakone usually more reserved than that? I guess he gets that from his father."
Of course all of ANBU knew that Team Nineteen's rookie was the T&I commander's son. It was only Hakone's friends who hadn't known, for the two years they'd been drinking buddies and occasional mission partners. Ryouma scrunched his tee-shirt in his hands. "I don't know his dad so well. Met him once when I turned a prisoner over and then failed to impress him at the Trials. Hakone never talked about his family." It was one of the few things they had in common.
"Like father, like son," Genma said wryly. "There were more than a few people who had no idea Shibata-san even had an ANBU-age son when this year's candidates were announced." The chakra warmth seeped out of Ryouma's flesh, and Genma's callused fingers drew away. "Okay, that's it. I should have just made you go to Toushirou-sensei like I said I would, but it turns out I'm a soft touch."
Ryouma bit his tongue on a very unwise comment about touching. If he wasn't going to cross the line with Kakashi again, even verbally, he definitely wasn't going to cross it with the lieutenant. He wasn't going to lean back into Genma's hands, either, no matter how good he suspected an actual backrub would be.
Too many uncrossable boundaries on this team. Dammit, why had he wasted last night drinking with two straight guys instead of getting laid?
He wrestled into his shirt, which helped a little. "Doesn't hurt to lift my arm anymore. Thanks."
"Good." Genma did sound pleased this time, almost smug. "I'll teach you that jutsu when we start working on stuff. It's great for strains and tightness."
He still meant it. For real, even now. Even after—
Ryouma had to press his hands to his thighs to stop them shaking. "When are we going to start? Have you asked taichou yet?"
Genma moved around to the front of the bench, propped a heel on it, and bent over his leg, stretching out his hamstring. At the full fold of his stretch he grimaced and pressed a hand to his belly, but he held for the count. "Haven't had a chance to talk to him about it yet," he said, the sandy voice only a little strained. "But I'm sure he'll be fine with it as long as it doesn't interfere with training or missions. I figure we can have practice sessions whenever we have downtime, but I can show you stuff on missions, too." He paused, as he switched legs and bent over again. "I guess I should have been talking you through what I was doing while I was working on you."
"Next time," Ryouma said. "There'll probably be one soon." He curled his fingertips in toward his palms. "Guess I'll have to survive this mission in better shape than the last, though, if I'm gonna be fit to practice."
To learn to heal. To save his teammates' lives, instead of just avenging them. Genma hadn't forgotten, and he hadn't been joking.
"Eh." Genma shrugged one shoulder up, then dropped his heel from the bench and straightened, with his hand still pressed to his belly. "It was a rough mission. But I'm not going to complain if you can keep yourself from getting quite so messed up next time we go out." |
|