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[Aug. 30th, 2015|10:42 pm]

namiashi_raidou
Raidou tipped his head to one side. “Huh?”

Genma visibly recalibrated his subtle coding down a few filters, and spelled out: “If they took a strip out of you, and you’re not sworn to secrecy, I don’t need you to candy coat it for me.” He paused and looked thoughtful. “Or is this business with the cushions and mints my clue? Because when something sounds like it has to be a lie, well… That’s one way to pass information under duress.”

In fairness to the lieutenant, it had been a very stressful month.

Raidou’s mouth quirked. “I’m not under duress. There were legitimate cushions and mints. I’m not trying to protect you from the horror of a comfy chair.” He snagged the hem of his shirt and pulled it up past his ribcage, revealing bare skin and no secret stab wounds. “See? Totally unharmed.”

Genma gave him an unspeakably dry look.

“The bruising was already there,” Raidou defended, and dropped his shirt.

“I doubt they’d leave visible injuries,” Genma said, looking darkly in the direction of the T&I wing. But when he turned back to Raidou, it was with greater ease in his shoulders, and the edge of a smile touching the corner of his mouth. “But I trust you, Namiashi.”

And I’m really glad you’re not tortured and traumatized, went unsaid.

The honorific seemed to have vanished from the end of Raidou’s name, too. It was familiar — and early, if you went by traditional standards — but Raidou had never set that particular boundary to begin with. Genma had asked, what felt like months ago, and Raidou remembered saying, Captain's fine, Raidou's fine, Namiashi's fine if you want to play it up for the rookies. And then they'd gone and gotten formal anyway, because Team Six needed stricter guardrails than most, and Genma and Raidou had to set them.

Now, alone, it was okay to relax a little. Raidou said nothing and let that be answer enough.

“Back to the team,” he said, “did they give you an ETA on when Ueno and Hatake would be mission fit again?”

“Fourteen days at minimum, but if they certify either of them mission fit after just two weeks, I’m going down to the Medical Office and lodging a formal complaint of negligence. Three weeks is more realistic.”

“Okay,” Raidou said, and dragged a heavy hand down his face. “I don’t think I’ll be back by then. Shibata was pretty clear about this not being a short process. I’ll go as fast as I can, but—”

“We’ll be running a mission with the new captain, more than likely,” Genma filled in.

“I barely trust the team to run a mission with us,” Raidou said dryly. “And I’m getting the impression they’ve finally passed through the teething phase and imprinted on us like a trio of baby ducklings, which means they’re going to be hell on toast for anyone new. We need a game plan. By which I mean you need a game plan, since I’ll be getting my brain turned inside out by a tiny dragon lady.”

Genma’s forehead creased faintly, giving him the look of a man who’d just gotten reacquainted with an old migraine. “I’m not even sure where to start with that. They didn’t give you any idea who the substitute might be?”
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