| [Nov. 16th, 2016|09:19 pm] |
One stellar advantage of Ryouma’s height was that it put him at the perfect level for an elbow in the sternum.
Otani made a final note and translocated while Ryouma executed a hasty dodge. Genma sighed like the old man he secretly aspired to be, and started back towards the barracks. Ryouma followed, grinning, and Kakashi took the rearguard, using the short trip to practice his skills at walking without leaving a blood trail.
Personally, he didn’t have a problem with the smell. Blood was mineral and metal, cleaner than rot, less cloying than the lanolin-and-fruit smell of most soaps. But he knew he was in the minority, along with Inuzuka and the occasional blood-thirsty obsessive. Most shinobi preferred not to smell like work.
The rookies' showers were empty, with the exception of a tired Aburame shaving over a sink, and a kunoichi sitting on one of the long open benches to carefully dry and tend her feet after a shower. She had no blisters, Kakashi noted, just well-filed callouses. He didn't recognize either of them, so they were probably last year's rookies.
Ryouma stripped first, with his usual disregard for warnings or audiences. Genma took the initial step of selecting a shower stall and turning the water on before he collected a basket for his personal possessions, but he shucked his clothes with equal indifference. “Alright, Tousaki, which of your fancy soaps am I using?”
The kunoichi cocked her head with interest.
Ryouma dug his lightweight, non-mission belt out from the tangled collection of clothes, and produced a scroll with sealed towels, a wash kit, and several small paper-wrapped packages of soap. “I’ve got plum blossom, cucumber-mint, and green tea. The lemon verbena's in my room, if you want it after all.”
“Green tea,” Genma said immediately, and caught the bar Ryouma threw him. He unsealed his own wash-kit, selected a clean, fluffy towel from the public supply, and pulled his hair-tie free. Red-dappled hair fell loosely around his shoulders, fine and straight except for where the tie had kinked a wave into it.
Without his clothes, the lieutenant was more sturdily muscled than you might have expected for such a lean man. Long, ragged scars started at his right shoulderblade and raked down across his back, demonstrating an essential unkillability. Narrow blade scars curved around one hip; a moon-sickle slice narrowly missed his spine. When he turned, Kakashi glanced away, but not before he caught a look at the injuries he knew: belly slash from the demons, shoulder slice from Iebara, hastily healed, and the ugly, curving gash down one thigh, still livid purple.
Someone really needed to talk to the Quartermaster about more effective armor.
Genma stepped into his chosen shower stall, vanishing into a cloud of steam, and closed the door.
“Well?” Ryouma asked, waving his remaining bars of soap.
Kakashi wrinkled his nose.
“Do you make them?” the kunoichi asked curiously, leaning closer to take a look.
Ryouma blinked at her, then smiled. “No, I just spend half my pay on them. These are from Escentuals, down in the village.” He glanced at the kunoichi’s feet and added, “They do body scrubs and lotions, too.”
The kunoichi looked intrigued. Kakashi told her, “Ask him about the time he got paid in soap,” and took advantage of the following distraction to escape to an empty, far away shower stall before further proselytizing commenced.
He stripped, scrubbed, and showered in blessed and only slightly paranoid privacy, using the scentless soap he’d purchased from the grocery store like a normal ninja. There was a fogless mirror attached near the shower-head for shinobi who preferred to shave under the spray. Kakashi tilted it away and shaved by feel. When the soap was gone, he allowed himself the rare luxury of just standing under hot running water, until his chakra started to feel clean again. |
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