| [Feb. 7th, 2015|06:41 am] |
Minato took a surprisingly long time outside the door. When he came in, he brought a lingering edge of Kurenai’s scent with him — flowers and sharp edges. Had he run into her downstairs?
“I brought you a book,” he said, holding up a small paperback with a bright cover, “but it looks like you’ve got entertainment enough already.”
“I’m the most popular girl in the village,” Kakashi agreed, making a gimme gesture. Minato underhanded the book to him. Kakashi turned it over, skimming eagerly down the blurb on the back. Hisakawa’s latest novel promised a feast of corrupt samurai, hill bandits with hearts of gold, and a pair of young lovers trapped between the two. Kakashi grinned behind his mask.
“I was hoping you hadn't read that one,” Minato said, pulling up the chair Kurenai had vacated earlier and settling in by Kakashi’s bedside. The spot he chose had perfect sightlines to three-quarters of the room and the door, but Minato made its selection look entirely accidental. “The clerk said it only came out last month, so I figured I was safe. Let me know when you finish it, and I'll buy the second trashiest book I can find.”
“Just because it’s not highbrow doesn’t mean it’s trash,” Kakashi said, tucking the book protectively under his pillow, where his tanto and First Mate still lurked. “But feel free to buy me a book any time you want to escape a council meeting.”
Minato’s lopsided smile said, caught.
He looked tired, beneath that. His eyes were still bright, and his clothes were clean and pressed — jounin blues, flak vest, long white hoari with its flame pattern, no sign of the Hokage hat anywhere — but his skin had the faint translucence that came from too many late nights and too little sunlight. A line of gold stubble trailed down one side of his jaw, as if he’d missed the mark shaving. One of his thumbs had a raw, bitten hangnail.
Stress, Kakashi read. Tension. Worry. If Minato was truly skipping the council, he had a much better reason than just boredom, or a sudden desire to visit his errant former student.
On the other side of the room, Ryouma was doing a passable job of standing rigidly to attention, trying to pretend he was invisible.
Minato nodded kindly at him. “Tousaki-san. I understand we have you to thank for Kakashi’s return.”
Ryouma went burning-red to the tips of his ears. “Not me alone, sir. Neither of us would’ve made it back without the rest of the team.”
“He carried me,” Kakashi said brightly, to see if Ryouma would turn more colors. “On his back. For upwards of thirty minutes.”
The flush rolled crimson over Ryouma’s sharp cheekbones. He darted a bewildered glance at Kakashi — are you helping or mocking? — and said, slightly stifled, “That was after he’d burned himself out killing Iebara, sir. Hokage-sama.”
“But not in a reckless or permanently debilitating way that would require anyone to yell at me,” Kakashi said.
Minato had adopted his I’m-fascinated-and-yet-also-entertained posture, elbow on his chair-arm, fist tucked under his chin, blue eyes flicking between Kakashi and Ryouma. He observed, “From the reports I’ve read, you two seem to be trading off who gets burned out and immobilized from one mission to the next. I hope you won’t be making this a habit.”
Even if he could read the cards, Ryouma was never going to make a good poker player. The rising delight on his face, badly concealed, was practically blazing. Kakashi couldn’t decide if it was because Minato was in the same room as him and knew he existed, or, more likely, because Minato had just admitted reading his reports.
“Yessir,” Ryouma said. “I mean, we won’t. Hokage-sama.” His eyes were respectfully lowered, but he kept sneaking glances up between his lashes. “It’s only ‘cause I killed a demon and Kakashi took on an S-class nin alone. We should handle standard missions just fine.”
Alone was unnecessarily specific. But Ryouma’s tone made it sound impressive, not suicidal. |
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