| [Jun. 10th, 2013|01:37 am] |
“Pretty,” Ryouma allowed, watching the Uchiha brush heat-dried hair back from her face and walk back to her place under the trees. “Little too flashy, though. What’s the point of the phoenix at the end? Anybody who dodged the first flame is gonna be gutting her while she’s still breathing smoke.”
Kakashi tapped his fingers thoughtfully against his knee. “Drop that attack low and put it through a crowd—anyone who thinks they'd dodged the first part would get fried by the wings. But you'd need someone to guard her back."
He had a point about the wings. Still... “How much crowd-massacring are we planning to do? Battlefield I could see, but the war’s over.” Ryouma glanced quickly sideways. Hokage’s former student: how much did he still hear? The thin blue mask clung wetly to the angled planes of cheek and nose and mouth, but the stark profile gave nothing away. “Unless we’re planning to start it again.”
One shoulder came up in a loose, wordless shrug. Kakashi’s gaze didn’t come off the field, where the proctors were setting up four straw dummies. Ayane answered the vice-commander’s call; he handed her his own short sword. She took it, tested the balance, and then spun into a chakra-edged whirlwind.
“Not with Earth Country,” Ryouma said, watching her. “Yondaime-sama crushed them too finally at the Battle of Takagawa. I was in Shintama last spring; it’s been six years and they’re still rebuilding.” He glanced briefly sideways; Kakashi’s face hadn’t changed.
“Lightning, maybe,” Ryouma tried. “That treaty’s only two years old. Ayane was up in Frost Country for a mission a couple of weeks ago. She said you couldn’t turn the corner without running into a Cloud shinobi.”
Ayane landed on one knee in the mud, head down, long ponytail falling past her face, with the sword sheathed at her side. A few bits of straw drifted down around her. The rest lay scattered in mud and rain.
Kakashi blinked, tugged his rapt attention off the woman with the sword, and glanced over at Ryouma. “Sorry. I wasn’t listening.”
And clearly wasn’t talking, either. Ryouma shrugged, winced, and just stopped himself from reaching for his shoulder again. “Ayane’s hard to ignore,” he agreed.
The woman herself was coming back across the field, after returning the vice-commander’s sword with a careful bow. Her dark brows quirked. “You seem to be managing,” she said.
“I wasn’t ignoring you!” he protested, scrambling to his feet. “You were magnificent. You’ll make it in.”
Her lips thinned, but she said only, “I’ve heard there’s another kenjutsu-using kunoichi in the ranks. She uses wind chakra, too. They may not be looking for a second."
“They’d be idiots not to,” Ryouma said. He glanced up the field, narrowing his eyes against the steady rain. “I’ve seen—seven, maybe, I’d take for sure. Another twenty who won’t make the cut. Eight or nine on the edge. They usually accept eight or ten, don’t they?”
“Twelve in September, my brother said.” Ayane plucked a bit of straw out of her hair, combed her fingers through the long dripping ponytail to find more. “They may not need as many this time.”
“Older brother?” Ryouma asked cautiously.
She flashed a sudden grin. “Three years, kenjutsu and ninjutsu user. He’s better than me. Don’t worry, Tousaki. I won’t tell on you.” She clapped him on the shoulder and swung past him, squelching in the mud, to take better shelter under the tree near Nakamura Hideo.
Ryouma watched her go. Then he looked down, to find Kakashi gazing up at him. A steel-silver eyebrow spiked beneath the wet fall of hair.
“Judging my choices?” Ryouma asked mildly. “Or her taste?” |
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