| [Aug. 1st, 2016|10:35 pm] |
Kakashi jolted back. His hair, always irascible, achieved new vertical lift born of outrage and static cling. “What?” he demanded.
Ryouma smacked him again, making a tiny drift of goose down explode from the pillow seams. Kakashi caught the pillow on the third attack and wrestled it away. “This is not conducive to learning,” he said. “I’m helping.”
“You’re trying, is what you are,” Ryouma shot back. “I know enough of ‘em. The ones I’m likely to run into, at least.” He stabbed a finger at the picture. “Stone Needle jutsu, right?”
Maybe he wasn’t completely hopeless. The man had made jounin, somehow.
Kakashi stole the picture back, flipped to a new page, and pointed at a Suna kunoichi with grey dreadlocks and a lantern jaw. “What about this one?”
Ryouma squinted. “Dual wield war fans. They’re in the picture.”
“And?” Kakashi demanded.
Ryouma vented an exasperated sigh and flopped onto his back. “Poison on the fan blades. Turns into mist. Norita Takeshi ran into her in Kiyomizu. People talk, y’know, even if the Bingo Book doesn’t.”
“That’s a terrible system to rely on.” Kakashi flipped towards the back of the book, where Kiri’s section lurked. There were no pictures here, just a few hazy sketches. Kakashi picked one without even that and leaned forward to hold the book open above Ryouma’s face. “This one.”
Ryouma cracked a grudging eye open, studied the page, and groaned. “All right. Let me brush my teeth, and you can do bedtime stories.”
“We’re adding these to your flashcards,” Kakashi said, sitting back in pyrrhic victory. “This is information that can save your life. Your genin-sensei should be exiled.”
Halfway off the bed, Ryouma paused to give Kakashi a dark look. “She did what she could.” He grabbed one of the crutches, dropped his plate on the weapons chest, and hop-shuffled into the bathroom, shutting the door with a very final click.
Possibly Kakashi had gone too far.
He shut the Bingo Book, sat for a second, then bent forward to whack himself on the forehead with the book. Gesture uselessly achieved, he got up to wash the dishes and put the leftovers away.
Ryouma stayed in the bathroom long enough that Kakashi started to wonder if he was waiting for Kakashi to leave, but then the lock shunted back. A cloud of steamy air escaped, and Ryouma stepped out smelling of mint and soap, and — Kakashi blinked once — shirtless.
Casual nudity was a feature of locker-rooms and missions, unless you valued your privacy, like Kakashi, or had scars to hide, like Katsuko. Ryouma, Genma, and Raidou would cheerfully shuck clothes and change in full view of anyone nearby for the sake of expediency. Ryouma’s bare chest was nothing new. And yet, for a very brief moment, Kakashi stared at the amalgamation of scars, skin, jewelry, and tattoos, and saw something beyond a lineup of target points.
Then he looked at Ryouma’s face and saw someone he’d just offended. Or hurt.
“Sorry,” he said, before Ryouma could open his mouth. “I shouldn’t have said that about your teacher.”
Ryouma hesitated for a fractional moment, then hitched one shoulder again. “Well, you’ve got a point about the Bingo Book. And I guess maybe I should’ve learned more of — everything — as a genin, but we kinda had other things to focus on.” He limped back to the bed, stowed his crutch against the wall, and flipped back the blankets to sit down on the mattress, breathing harder than a simple walk across the room warranted.
Possibly Kakashi could have also waited until after Ryouma had slept to disparage his education (again). |
|