| [Dec. 22nd, 2013|04:57 am] |
“Why, did you want to play with me?” Kakashi said, because it was three A.M. and the universe contained an unfair amount of Katsuko.
She laughed, bright and slightly tired. “You looked like you were having a good time. Wouldn’t want to get in the way of that.”
Kakashi straightened up. The point of being on a training field at three A.M. was that it contained an abundance of space and an absence of people. He could train in peace without the watchful analysis of outside eyes. And he could stop when he wanted, if he got tired enough to actually sleep.
Which hadn’t happened yet.
Katsuko’s swords hung at her hip: her usual katana, and what looked like a standard ANBU-issue kodachi to replace the broken one. Kakashi tilted his head, looking at them thoughtfully.
“We haven’t sparred with swords yet,” he said.
Her mouth curved in a slow smirk. “You’re on. No ninjutsu, no Sharingan.”
“No fun,” Kakashi said.
“Afraid you won’t be able to beat me without them?” she asked sweetly, unzipping her jounin vest and shrugging it off. She tossed it onto the field’s wooden perimeter fence. Beneath, she wore standard jounin blues and sandals. It was only the second time he’d seen her out of training clothes or her ANBU uniform. The loose jounin uniform made her look younger, though no less knife-like.
“I’d be lying if I said the thought of burning your eyebrows off hadn’t crossed my mind,” Kakashi said, rolling his shoulders. “You want a minute to warm up?”
“Thoughtful of you.” Katsuko cracked her neck with a bone-shifting pop. “Give me three.”
He shrugged and stepped aside, letting her have the field. The fence offered a place to sit while Katsuko went through a fast series of stretches, limbering up and getting her blood moving. She was still stiff on the right side, he noted. Collarbone healed enough to forgo the sling and heft a sword, but that arm was weaker. She was slower than she’d been before the mission, too.
In fairness, so was he.
At three minutes on the dot, she turned to him and grinned. “Bring it.”
He slid off the fence. Katsuko wasn’t in any formal stance, but he’d seen enough of her to know she could fall into one in less than a breath, and she favored the samurai practice of one flawless draw-and-strike. She wouldn’t show steel before they started.
She would use both blades.
He had a kodachi, ANBU-issue, and his tanto. Both shorter than her katana, but his arms were longer. Against someone with her skill, used to fighting against bigger opponents, that would barely give him an advantage.
She lifted one eyebrow when he walked over bare-handed. “I’m going to refrain from asking which sword you’re sparring with,” she said, eyes watchful.
“Mature of you,” he said.
“You’re welcome.”
The wind whispered between them, rustling the grass as they sized each other up. Katsuko didn’t have a traditional poker face—of the whole team, only the lieutenant came close to maintaining a smooth mask of concentration when he fought. Ryouma and Raidou both liked to grin, broad and bloody. Katsuko tended to smirk when she wasn’t outright laughing. She was smirking now, one eyebrow cocked like a challenge. It still gave nothing away. No eye-flick to suggest a direction. No tensing shoulder muscles to reveal which hand would strike first.
For a woman so obvious, she could be very subtle.
Kakashi waited. |
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