| [Jun. 10th, 2013|01:19 am] |
The blue-chakra warning of changing fate lines still didn’t give Kakashi quite enough time to dodge. One of the scrolls stored in his flak-jacket crunched under the man’s knuckles. His ribs flexed inward; his breath thumped out.
He'd known ANBU would be violent, but he'd assumed enemy ninja would be a feature first.
He righted himself and glanced sideways. "Problem?”
The Sharingan caught every detail of the man’s dark scowl and flagged a memory. “‘Problem?’’ Tousaki Ryouma, the face-melter, mimicked back. “You asshole, she’s Konoha. She probably invented that jutsu herself. You don’t just steal it!”
Oh, he was one of those.
Kakashi considered it. “Says who?” he asked, after a moment.
Tousaki’s mouth dropped open. “You serious?” he demanded. “You’re serious. Look—”
“Tousaki!” Across the field, the vice-commander gave a sharp gesture.
The dark, angry head jerked around. “Shit,” Ryouma said, and scrambled up — and up, and up. The man had about twelve foot in legs alone. He looked down at Kakashi from all of his height and visibly sought for a threat dire enough. “If I catch you watching, Hatake, I will liquify your lungs.”
“Noted,” said Kakashi.
Even the sharp lines of Ryouma’s shoulders looked angry. Kakashi leaned back on his hand, feeling the morning dampness soak into his glove, and watched. The vice commander had already sealed the gaping trenches cut into the earth. Just beyond that spot, two heavy wooden poles had been driven deep into the ground, with a crossbar nailed across the top. Hanging from the bar, a pig carcass swung gently from a rope.
Just before he reached the target, Ryouma turned on his heel and yelled, “SHUT IT, HATAKE.”
A confused murmur went through the other candidates.
Try to make friends, Rin had said. Just try.
Kakashi waved one hand and pulled his hitai-ate down, stripping the chakra-meaning out of the world. He blinked once, adjusting. Full color, no depth perception. He tried not to use the Sharingan on teammates who were—loudly—against it, even with the temptation to ruffle Ryouma’s tall feathers.
He regretted the courtesy, just a little, when Ryouma’s infamous rot jutsu melted the pig to black slag, leaving only bones behind. |
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