| [Nov. 2nd, 2013|03:41 am] |
Katsuko was waiting in the hallway outside, leaning against the wall. Her arms were folded across her narrow chest, and the rumpled fall of hair over her forehead almost hid the dark, focused stare she was levelling at the opposite wall, as if it held the secret of something important. There was no trace of a smile around her usually expressive mouth.
She wasn’t okay, and Raidou didn’t know why.
He waited for her to realize he was there. It took a moment, then she blinked and her gaze slid over. “Hey,” she said.
“Hey,” Raidou said.
“The lieutenant alright?”
“He looks like I kicked his favorite pet, but I think he’ll survive,” he said. “Which makes you the last duckling on my list, Ueno. Where d’you want to go? Home?”
“What’re you gonna do after you’ve got everyone squared away?” she asked, sidestepping the question. “Paperwork?”
“It’s not gonna do itself,” he said.
“Hah.” Her gaze went back to the wall, fixing on an old scratch. “I’m hungry.”
“Still want udon?”
She glanced up at him from under her hair, sly. “You buying, taichou?”
Even if she was actively bleeding out, Katsuko would still try to get people to buy her dinner. Raidou knew; he’d seen it. It was one of her very few consistencies. He smiled. “You think I’m made of money?”
“Love, maybe,” she said. “Which takes the form of money.”
“Your flattery is transparent and futile,” he said, amused. “I’ll buy you a soda.”
“I take it back. You’re made of evil and cruelty.”
“You say that like it’s news.” He tossed his arm around her pointy, lethal shoulders, pulling her away from the wall, and was gratified when she leaned in against his side. She fell into easy lock-step as they headed for the exit.
There was a decent udon stand half a street away from the hospital. The owner saw them coming, and either clocked the slight drag-step in Raidou’s walk, or the paleness of Katsuko’s face, or just knew his likely pool of customers on a street so close to Konoha’s temple of healing, because he called, “Sutamina?”
Stamina udon. Meat, raw egg, healthy vegetables, hearty broth.
Katsuko gave a quiet moan of longing.
“Four bowls,” Raidou said. “To go. And two ramune.”
“Egg rolls,” Katsuko added, like she needed them to live. “All of the egg rolls you have.”
The stand-owner didn’t even blink. He probably saw a lot of shinobi.
A thankfully short space of time later, Raidou had a collection of warm, delicious-smelling plastic bags dangling from his arms, two soda bottles in one hand, and a significantly slimmer wallet. He left the stand-owner happily counting out money, and turned east, towards the looming Hokage’s Monument that shielded the view of ANBU HQ behind their enormous stony heads.
“Make-your-mind-up time,” he told Katsuko, who was still hovering close to his side—though, probably now because he was playing packhorse with dinner. “Where do you want to go?”
She hesitated, which told him everything. “Wherever you’re going,” she said, looking down at one of the swinging bags. “I don’t really have a preference.”
He’d meant to go back to Team Six’s office, and probably fall asleep over the endless sea of paperwork that had become his life. But Katsuko had the same look in her eyes as she’d had on the night they’d found out their old team was dissolving. Five minutes after that, she’d nearly taken Mitarou’s head off. In fairness, she’d thought Mitarou had just killed Raidou, but it had been a training exercise, and if she’d really thought for a second, she’d have known better. He’d stayed with her that evening, and helped her pack up her suitcase of knives and her handful of possessions, and made pretend everything was fine until she’d started to believe it, too.
He was more tired tonight, but he hadn’t lied to Genma: it wasn’t work when it was his team.
“How about we go back to my place?” he said. “The furniture’s more comfortable, and there’s a TV.” |
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