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"What could he possibly have done to himself at this ungodly hour?" Haruichi's hoarse voice automatically snapped back. Even as his mind struggled to extricate itself from peaceful unconsciousness and the warmth of Hoshi half-sprawled on top of him, Haruichi's trusty snark impulses still functioned. Groaning quietly, he rubbed a knuckle against his eye as he tried to focus on the ANBU at the foot of the bed. "Can't the hospital..."
ANBU at the foot of the bed. That fact decided to repeat itself in Haruichi's brain and jump-started most of his nerves and wits ridiculously quickly. Haruichi simultaneously sat up, Byakuganed whoever it was to get their identity, and put himself squarely between them and Hoshi. Best he could manage anyway, with her asleep and curled on her side. Hoshi might be deaf, but she most certainly made up for it by being aware of everything else, so Haruichi didn't count on having long to deal with this... whatever the hell it was.
"What--Genma, bugger off!" he managed to snap, the effect somewhat wrecked by the yawn that truncated the last word there. Not to mention the fact that he was sitting there in a t-shirt and sweats, trying not to rub sleep out his eyes or swat at his dishevelled hair as it fell in his face, and Genma was standing there in full on ANBU gear, perfectly capable of chopping his head off with any of the many weapons Haruichi knew were on his person before he could so much as hurl a glib repartee in his direction. Oh how truly the world had gone upside down.
Pika, Hoshi's dog, had clearly picked up on this situational flaw and decided to nudge her mistress in the ribs and then hop up onto the futon next to Haruichi and bark once at the cougar mask before sitting down and eyeing Haruichi like a disapproving mother-in-law. Behind them both the girl under the blankets stirred and Haruichi's face honestly, for truly, took on a minor degree of pleading. She was going to be frightened if she woke up and saw this. Hell, Haruichi knew Genma and he was still trying to contol his blood pressure. Though, of course, demanding, asking, or begging for a degree of civility from somebody in that uniform was likely to be the height of failed endeavour... Haruichi tried anyway. "Tell me what the hell is going on?"
"Get up and get dressed. You're coming with me," Genma said, with no hint of compassion in his voice. It was interesting to see Haruichi worrying about his lover. Surprising that she hadn't reacted to the noise in the room. She was either a really sound sleeper or she had some very effective earplugs, Genma decided. The alarm on Haruichi's face, too, was interesting. He'd expected the snark. Maybe even expected some degree of tension. But it was easy to forget just how fearsome a figure a uniformed ANBU could be. He remembered his own induction, and the moment of heart-pounding terror when the masked agent had come for him. It was the rookie's chance to see himself, what he was about to become, from the outside.
"Up," Genma repeated and stood stock still, bristling with energy, scowling at Haruichi under his mask.
Why had the medic come back as a field agent? Yes, ANBU desperately needed field-capable medics, but Haruichi had never struck Genma as the type to want to leave the comfort of his infirmary office. In the intervening years since he'd seem him--since he'd thought Haruichi had died, and there was a story there he wanted to know the details of--something had changed. Of course the woman at his side told him that as well. This wasn't exactly the same Haruichi-sensei he'd known two years ago.
Haruichi was trying to do too many things at once. He was trying to wake up, while trying to deal with the intruder in his room, while asking why this intruder was both Genma and thoroughly alarming (two facts which had never coincided in Haruichi's mind before) and most importantly of all he--
--suddenly had a knee thump him in the hip as Hoshi saw the advent of something any godfearing resident of the shinobi countries was terrified of at the foot of her bed and bolted upright in the covers. And the first thing she did was grab her dog by the collar and Haruichi by the shoulder and try to pull them back away from the ANBU who had shown up to do gods only knew what to them. What she managed to do was pull herself forwards, but it had to do, and she stared in bright-eyed fright at the white mask hovering at the foot of the bed whilst making it abundantly clear that if it wanted to do anything to one of them it was going to have to get all three.
To hell with multi-tasking and to hell with everything else, Haruichi shot the dirtiest look Konoha had ever seen up at Genma. "I'll be there, just... I have to, you've scared her," Haruichi managed to say to the dark silence - to the ANBU who just happened to be Genma. He was suddenly finding it hard to be scathing when Hoshi was so clearly afraid. He was finding it hard to be anything, besides convinced he had to get whatever was scaring her to go away. Finding her hands in the prohibitive darkness, Haruichi squeezed them tightly. It was alright, he promised. He pushed her shadowed, brightly coloured hair away from her face and tugged her hands around Pika's flank. Now that she wasn't holding on to him anymore, so he could move. Pika whined and nuzzled Hoshi's cheek as Haruichi got up and went to flick the light switch on.
Yellowed light from the bare bulb swamped the room, making Haruichi's eyes flinch even though he'd expected it, and poor Hoshi's bright orange eyes squeezed shut entirely. In the second's gap where she couldn't see either of them, Haruichi crossed back over and looked at Genma on the way. If he'd hoped shedding some light would put away Hoshi's fright in a visceral and immediate sense he'd been glaringly wrong - somehow ANBU managed to look even more alarming when fully illuminated. It figured. Haruichi padded back over, then knelt down between Hoshi and Pika and Genma and gave her an encouraging look as he signed to her. That it was fine. This was a friend. He simply had no manners whatsoever. None at all. Nor did he have a watch, apparently.
That last part raised a timid smile, though Hoshi didn't let go of Pika and she didn't take her eyes off of Haruichi. He gave her an encouraging half-smile in return, and signed again that it was alright. He had to get dressed and go see to some work.
And it had better be work, he thought as she looked up at Genma's mask, then waved slightly as he pulled his clothes on at the other side of the room a minute later. Because if it wasn't life or death hauling him out his bed like this this morning there'd be more than hell to pay. He tied his hitae'ite around his neck and looked from Hoshi, still sitting on the bed with her arms around Pika, to Genma, in his ANBU gear.
"Ready," he said. Signed it too. Anything more he'd like to say about the affair was clamped down for once he was out Hoshi's line of sight. Having just told her everything was alright he had no wish to prove himself a liar right in front of her.
Sign. Interesting. So Haruichi's lover was deaf. Genma watched them interact, and was a little sorry he'd terrified the girl. She looked young and small and frightened, with that candy-bright hair and eyes that were too sharply reminiscent of a pair of pale orange eyes Genma'd once had to cut from the corpse of a child. He stepped back a pace and held up his hands to her in a placating gesture. He was here for Haruichi, not her, after all.
He waited quietly. Still, silent. Enduring the venomous looks Haruichi shot him, and the terrified glances from the girl. When Haruichi was dressed, he was relieved to be able to leave. He really hadn't anticipated there being a lover. It was interesting to see how gentle Haruichi was with her, how caring. How human. It was a side to the man Genma'd never seen before. Evidently two years could bring about a lot of changes in a man.
He waited until they were outside in the frosty, pre-dawn air before he spoke. The sky was cloudless and the moon had set, leaving the stars to glitter like ice shards in an inky-black field. Haruichi's breath huffed out of him in white clouds, and his anger rose from him in a miasma you didn't need Byakugan to see. Suddenly Genma wasn't so sure what his script was supposed to be any more. With a rookie he didn't know, he'd have been formal, forbidding. Impressing upon the rookie his place as a new ANBU. He'd have made some speech about masks and tattoos and giving up the self for the sake of the village. But this wasn't some anonymous rookie, this was Haruichi. A man who'd set Genma's bones and stitched his wounds, administered antidotes and lectures when Genma'd been poisoned. A man who knew Genma's history and was one of a tiny number of people permitted to ask about his hands.
The speech died in Genma's throat. Haruichi might be a new hunter, but he'd been ANBU for years. This whole exercise was a strange farce. He took a deep breath and sighed, pushed his mask off his face and turned to look at Haruichi. "I'm here to take you in for your induction. We're comrades now, Hunters, not doctor and patient. And this is a formality you'd probably appreciate a whole lot more if you didn't know me and you'd never been ANBU's medic." It wasn't quite an apology, but it was close.
The other thought that had been sitting at the back of Genma's brain since that day he'd found Haruichi concussed from his spar with Raidou and rushed him over to the hospital burbled up then. "Damn, Haruichi. I'm glad you see you're alive. I was sure you died two years ago."
Shifting his thoughts away from Hoshi, Haruichi wondered for a second if he was still half asleep and had thusly misheard what he was being told. He drew his thoughts fully into the present and the present company and paid attention to Genma, suddenly immeasurably less disturbing a sight now that he didn't have to look past that mask to know he was there.
"So glad you just couldn't wait until a civil hour to drag me out my bed to tell me things I already knew?" he inquired, darkly sarcastic. He glared up at Genma's brown-eyed profile as he walked alongside him for a few steps... then forced himself to give it up. Anger could wait. This conversation wasn't more important than Hoshi being startled like that, but it was more important than taking Genma's head off over it.
Haruichi clenched and unclenched his fists before shoving his hands into his pockets. The tension was still there, but the alarm and anger was bleeding off with his body-heat into the frigid air. Despite what he'd just said, Genma was right and Haruichi hadn't even considered it; things had a new angle now. Comrades, not patients. Squadmate and medic.
That was right. He was in thick with these people now, and starting with Genma they were going to start proving it. Haruichi peered up, white eyes to the black sky for a second. He needed to prove it just slightly too, to Genma at least... since he'd been the last to see him before his departure. His voice when he spoke was quiet, not that he intended it to be.
"I'm fine, Genma. Things--" How to say it? Hinata's abduction, Hizashi's sacrifice, Hiashi's hellish determination not to lose anybody else... the implosion of so much that he'd thought was Hyuuga nature. "--things took an unexpected turn."
He honestly didn't know what else to say... hence the reticence he'd been feeling about having to deal with Genma again in any manner that involved talking. Most of the time Haruichi's world spun on the axis of knowing what to say. "My seal was repaired... but it came with a... cost."
To the ANBU he'd been looking after as well as to himself, but Haruichi had been only relieved by how quickly and professionally somebody took over his post - and somehow that relief had translated into a willingness to stay apart from his former patients... probably so that he didn't have to hear about their pains and crises while knowing full well he wasn't fit (nor allowed) to do anything about it.
Still it sounded stupid to think, it'd be worse to say. So far as Haruichi was concerned it was time to be moving on from this extremely uncomfortable topic - which was proving exactly why the dead didn't come back to life... it was utterly inelegant and impossible to justify.
"Sorry."
Haruichi's eyes dropped heavily from the sky to straight ahead.
"But it's repaired, right?" Genma asked. Costs... costs were to be expected. You didn't ever get to skate back away from the edge of death and not pay a price for the privilege. He didn't have to look any further than his own fingertips to know that. "Whatever it cost, I'm glad you had the coin to pay it," he said, looking at Haruichi--his comrade. Maybe even his friend.
Those first few months after Haruichi had fallen ill and vanished, Genma had spent considerable effort and skill on trying to find out where he'd gone. It hadn't been pretty. All avenues had been blind ones, all his efforts had gotten him was, eventually, a direct order from Arakaki, countersigned by the Hokage, to let it drop.
"You know, I might have pissed off a few people in your family when I was looking for you. Sorry if I fucked that up. I kind of showed up in mask and gear and possibly threatened the head of your clan if they didn't give me some answers. I was uh..." Genma looked up, examining the sky for signs of dawn, avoiding milk-white eyes that could see right through him. "Reprimanded. Officially. So I figured you'd died and the clan was covering it up. I know they have some kind of beef against you. Found out you're from the main house, not branch." He could feel Haruichi's chakra draw in, the defensiveness of a cornered jounin.
"Don't worry, I'm not telling anyone. Truth is, it kind of pissed me off even more, that whole fucking seal thing. I know it goes back to some kind of historical point, but it really just seems kind of barbaric. Like something they'd do in Mist, maybe, not here." He glanced at a shop window, seeing their reflections. Himself in ANBU dress, Haruichi next to him in jounin blues, with the symbol of his allegiance to his village knotted loosely around his neck, walking with the kind of stiff posture and grim determination that marked him as both ANBU and Hyuuga.
"Kind of surprised they let you re-up, really."
Haruichi's stomach felt cold, hearing that. All of it. His secrets were important to him, for a long while they'd been nearly the most important thing. Closed walls, privacy, silence, letting people assume whatever they pleased... it was the Hyuuga way. Even the existance of the curse seal was supposed to be a secret to all but the highest ranks but Haruichi refused to hide his, unlike all the rest he had earned his seal.
Not that that meant he was so proud he'd expound all the details of who and what he really was to anybody, not even Hoshi had the full... well, she knew that though. Haruichi's heart snapped a beat. He kept walking in silence alongside Genma for a moment longer, then forced himself to say something.
"They gave up their say on my career a long time ago," he said very quietly. Seven years ago, to be exact. Haruichi rubbed at the corner of one of his eyes, then resisted the urge to snatch his hand down. That had been a tic Hinaji teased him about; when he was small he'd touched his eyes when he was nervous. He was no longer small.
A thought occurred to him then, a worry. He looked at Genma, saw the true state of him in his eyes and his expressions. Curiosity. Relief. Anger. The kind aimed at persons out of reach. Haruichi's mouth moved before his brain for possibly the first time since Genma had met him.
"My family didn't hurt you, did they?"
"I'm still here, aren't I?" Genma asked, not willing to answer directly. "I mean, if they'd wanted to, your cousins or whatever they were could probably have just jyuukened my liver and spleen into purée, or paté, or something, right?" The look Haruichi gave him could have curdled milk. Genma stuck his hands in his pockets and looked away. Eyes on the road. On the light and steam coming from the baker's, where people were already hard at work. At the hooker with smudged makeup and a tired look in her eye making her weary way home after a hard night of earning a living.
"You don't exactly live in the poshest neighborhood, do you?"
Haruichi was still giving him that look.
"They explained to me in terms that stopped just shy of treasonous assault on a fellow ninja, that Hiashi-sama," Genma added a bitter punch to the honorific, "had nothing to say to me about the life or death of Hyuuga Haruichi, and I should concern myself with important matters like my own safety on my next mission." He shrugged and offered Haruichi a twist of the lips that was almost a smirk. "And then Arakaki-san had a talk with me about not making things any worse for you than they already might be." That admission was followed by a deeply felt sigh. "He kind of implied you were dead and gone though. But anyway if I did make it harder on you, sorry."
Why am I not surprised? Haruichi thought, glancing back to his neighbourhood's shabby streets and then up to the sky. Not surprised by Genma, or by the clan, or even by Hiashi actually taking the time to speak to Genma (midway through a "discouragement" or not). He ought to be, he thought, and yet he wasn't. Genma had always been that way. Strident and with the morals. It was, if he was honest and very quiet about it, one of the reasons they could deal with each other. As for his family, it seemed some things changed and others stayed the same.
"You didn't," Haruichi told him, not sure if it was the truth or not and not caring in the slightest. They rounded the corner at the end of the block, and suddenly the more presentable side of the urban heart of Konoha was upon them - quiet so early in the morning - and reinforcing the tiredness Haruichi felt in his head after being woken up like that. He shook his head slightly to waken up a bit more and adjusted his insignia around his neck idly. "And Arakaki only wishes I was dead. He's an industrious man, he'd have killed me by now if it were more than a pipe dream."
"Perhaps," Genma said with a hint of amusement. "You probably shouldn't have crossed him, you know. You'll be getting six-week missions to the Country of Mud in their rainy season if you're not careful. Missions where you have to seduce the ugliest rhino of a dowager while your partner robs her blind. Missions to take out nursery schools and shit like that." He frowned and glanced at Haruichi. "Well maybe not the nursery schools. Arakaki knows better than to break his rookies in their first six months, especially medics. All that noble healing soul and shit, you know?"
At least he'd better know that. It had taken six months of pleading from Genma and the other field medics to convince Arakaki to enlist another fully-trained doctor as an agent. With Kanae-sensei that made a grand total of two. Haruichi was far too valuable to even consider sending on the sorts of missions that drove men to suicide.
Genma was tempted to stop and grab a coffee, but there was a schedule for the day. A glance at his watch told him it was just past 0400. So there was time. Just a little time. He turned abruptly onto a yet-larger street, expecting Haruichi to follow him, and dodged into a little convenience store.
Haruichi had been about to open his mouth and inform Genma that like hell he would be out seducing rhinoceroses and blowing up small children; the reason he'd agreed to take the job in ANBU was his sure knowledge that the agents were so cavalier with their own haemoglobin he would have to be spending his every waking moment on duty rescuing them from whatever the bloody hell presented itself to do damage that day. Only there wasn't much of a chance when Genma darted off into Shibuki's 24-hour convenience store. In full armour. At four a.m. in the morning.
With a tense little sigh (the kind that often went with encounters with Genma) Haruichi darted after him and told himself to be ready to treat a heart attack if the little old man who owned and staffed the place was appropriately terrified. Of course, given that it was this neighbourhood, there was a chance Shibuki wouldn't so much as bat an eye.
He stifled a yawn and winced under the halogen brightness of the store interior, catching up with Genma after a second. "Does the Hokage need us to pick up a late-night snack for him? Is that why you hauled me out my bed and scared the daylights out of Hoshi?" His tone suggested that if this were the case, he was going to clock Genma in the head with one of the cheap wine bottles within arm's reach and then go back to bed.
"Do I look like I'm at liberty to discuss your orders in front of civilians?" Genma asked, voice taking on a frighteningly cold edge. He turned and gave the little old man behind the counter a smile that was as full of charm as his look at Haruichi had been full of foreboding. "I'll take mine with extra cream, no sugar. And my friend here likes his black and bitter, just like his heart." He plunked down a handful of coins for the coffee and leaned an easy hip against the counter. "Busy night?"
"No more than usual, ANBU-san," Shibuki said, turning his back to his customers without so much as a hint of fear and filling two paper cups with steaming brew. "It's a little cold for much more than a few of you boys coming and going from patrols, and most of the ones coming home are more interested in getting into a warm bed than coming in for a cup of my finest."
"Their loss," Genma said and handed a cup to Haruichi. "Our gain. See you next time, Shibuki-san."
"Watch yourself, ANBU-san," the old man said, and raised a hand in a silent gesture, tapping his left shoulder. Genma echoed the move, picked up his coffee, and headed back outside.
"You just never know who else has that tattoo, do you, Haruichi?" It was entirely rewarding to see the baffled outrage on the Hyuuga's face. "Drink your coffee. We have an appointment with the quartermaster at 0420."
In a supreme display of self-control Haruichi managed to bite his tongue and did in fact deliberately burn it on his coffee as they walked up the street (because he knew that was what it would take to keep from mouthing off at Genma in a way that might see him show up at the quartermaster's with a black eye). He was appreciative of the coffee though, and by the time they'd moved a minute down the street his was entirely gone into his system and managing to combat his fatigue in some small way.
Then a thought occurred to him, just as they were approaching the blocky shape of HQ. It was an odd moment for it, because HQ had been Haruichi's home and protection for five years and it hit him quite suddenly that it no longer was - right at the same moment as he realized for the first time...
"Am I getting tattooed as well?" For some very odd reason it hadn't actually occurred to Haruichi that he might be, and he instantly regretted saying that out loud as soon as he realized. Gods, could he sound any more of a rookie?
"If you successfully meet the challenges placed to you today," Genma answered cryptically, and held the door for Haruichi. The challenge was one, singular, and it wasn't one he expected Haruichi to fail, but it was a critical test. Once they'd gotten him fitted for a uniform and the quartermaster had selected a suitably ironic mask--Genma was betting it would be a snake--they had an appointment with Sandaime himself, Arakaki, the director of ANBU operations, and the members of Konoha's village council who sat on the ANBU oversight committee. Genma would be there as Haruichi's sponsor and witness, but it would be Haruichi's sacred vow being sworn. To become one of the brotherhood who were nameless and faceless. Who did the Hokage's most secret work. The backbone of Konoha. ANBU.
Only after that would he receive the indelible mark of his service in blood-scarlet. His first bloodshed in ANBU's service as a Hunter would be his own, under the tiny prickings of the tattooist's needle.
Haruichi was silent, save for a small nod, as they entered the building. He'd felt an odd beat in his heart just then, reminding him indescribably of Hinaji. His cousin had died to give him a longer life, to save him and protect him as she'd been forced to swear she would. Then he remembered Genma telling him that Yumiko, his sister, had belted him for coming back with the spiral - and then he forced himself to stop remembering or thinking. He was here now, he had to be alert and aware.
It was a quick, familiar walk to the quartermaster's office - but Haruichi hadn't felt so alien in his steps since his first day here over seven years ago. With the same straight back and grace he'd always tried to face challenges with, Haruichi knocked once and then pushed on the door, his hand lingering on the handle for a moment as it opened in front of them.
"Reporting as ordered," he said quietly but clearly to the cluttered room and the person in it.
Genma stood back and grinned when the older man came out from behind a desk littered with papers and bits of armour in various states of repair. "Brought you a new Hunter to outfit," Genma said, and picked up a senbon that lay on the desk, twirling it idly from finger to finger.
"If that's poisoned and you prick yourself and start foaming at the mouth, Shiranui, I'm going to laugh my fool ass off at you. I'm sure the sensei here agrees," the quartermaster said. He picked up a tape measure, beckoning to Haruichi to come closer. "Stand straight, arms out, feet together, Hyuuga. Fidget and I'll find another senbon for you."
"If you're stocking poisoned senbon and don't know what's on them or which is which, you're the one who's gonna be foaming at the mouth," Genma laughed. To prove his point he slipped the senbon between his teeth, twitching it up and down behind his grin. For a second all seemed normal, then he clutched at his chest and fell to the ground.
"Dammit, Shiranui!" The quartermaster grabbed another senbon off the desk and flicked it directly at Genma. It sank into his shoulder, drawing a deeply hurt, "Owww. You fight dirty," from Genma, who sat up, pulling the offending needle out and rubbing ruefully at his bleeding arm.
"Yeah, yeah, and you know I know you're just having fun hazing the rookie here. Stand still!" he added in a sharp bark at Haruichi. "I was just trying to help you make his morning extra special." He wrapped the tape around Haruichi's chest and waist, ran it down his back from neck to waist. Across his outstretched arm from center of the back to wrist. "Alright, legs apart," he said, and knelt in front of Haruichi. "Spread 'em, boy. I'm going to measure your inseam, not give you a blow job."
Genma's laughs filled the room. "You've never given a blow job in your life, old man," he said. "Trust me, I can tell just from looking."
The look on Haruichi's face was definitely making having gotten up so early worth while.
It took half a beat for Haruichi to comply, mostly because he was trying to decide if he should just find one of the aforementioned poisoned senbon and stab himself with it, but comply he did - all the while pinching the bridge of his nose and attempting to concentrate on the fact that yes, this was real and yes, it was not a hallucination nor a nightmare. Genma was still laughing and Haruichi was still fantasizing about knocking himself out with some form of paralytic poison when he abruptly had to move quick as bits and pieces of armour and uniform were flung at him from various parts of the room.
"Catch it, don't blink at it, boy!" yelled the quartermaster as an arm guard bounced off of Haruichi's shoulder and to the ground. Gritting his teeth, Haruichi snagged the rest of the acoutriments from their mid-air flight and was soon left standing with a black shirt, black combats, black boots, arm guards, armour and whatever the hell else had been flung at him in his arms.
He had to activate his eyes to just see through the pile of stuff to the old man advancing upon him with a katana (still in the sheath, thank gods), though unfortunately that also gave him the view of Genma leaning on the closed door behind him and smirking fit to burst at his turned back. The bastard. Haruichi felt his blood pressure rising and didn't bother to check it this time. He was getting inducted to ANBU, it seemed, so to hell with it - bloodthirstiness was encouraged.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" barked the old man. "Strip and put that on, need to see if the sizes are right since you're such a skinny-ass little Hyuuga."
Haruichi snarled and shunted the pile onto a nearby shelf, toeing off his sneakers and socks and pulling off his forehead protector. "Bite me you cantankerous clotheshorse," he snapped adroitly back, facing away from both of them and closing down his byakugan as he unzipped his khaki vest and pulled off his shirt. He was agitated and defensive enough to completely forget about how he usually would hide his scar away, and turned to give Genma a pointed glare as he grabbed the black, skin-tight sleeveless shirt from the pile and pulled it over his head. "This is the second time in an hour, what is your kick with making me change clothes so often?"
Genma would have answered with something witty, but he was distracted. That was a hell of a scar. A jagged X with one vertical line, probably surgical, and one obliquely horizontal and rougher looking, nastier. The kind of scar you got from having your sternum cracked open and your ribs spread apart so that someone could get at your heart, overlying the scar from the wound that had necessitated such a procedure in the first place. It was old and silvery, not even slightly pink. Whatever had caused those wounds, it had happened long enough ago that Haruichi's body had healed it. He'd probably had those scars hidden under his black turtlenecks and white lab coats two years ago, probably longer.
It wasn't polite to stare. And Genma had his own collection of scars, some carefully stitched by the same pale hands he was watching pull on his new ANBU gear. It wasn't polite to stare, but once you'd already done it, it was even ruder to pretend you hadn't. "Shit, Haruichi, that had to have hurt. No wonder everyone thinks you're a heartless bastard. Looks like someone tried to make sure that was true."
It might get him hit, but it also might take the edge off.
"Anyway, you already know I have a thing for sexy naked guys. Course your married and straight--or close to married, or whatever--so obviously this isn't going anywhere, but looking's free, right?"
"Knock it off, kid," the quartermaster said, and gave Genma a rough smack on the back of the head. "Don't pay him any mind. It's his job to bust your balls today, that's all," he added to Haruichi, and knelt down to check the fit of the new uniform. "You need to beef up a little, but this will do."
Haruichi had opened his mouth to snap something harsh enough to strip paint off a wall back at Genma for that line about his heart (though he was mostly pissed at himself for forgetting to hide the scar) but the urge was neatly flummoxed by the smack to the back of the head the quartermaster delivered on his behalf. Keen to move the converstion along, Haruichi shot Genma a sideways glare and mentally reviewed what had just been said to him.
Right, so the quartermaster told him he needed to put more weight on and Genma had just thrown the word sexy in his direction. Haruichi closed his eyes, sighed very quietly, and decided he really, really wanted to go home to his fiancee. And hide.
Then he blinked and looked at Genma curiously, and somewhat warily, "Who told you we were engaged?"
"You did. Just now." Genma smirked and sucked on his purloined senbon. "But I kind of figured she was more than just a pick-up, given the way she was clinging to you, and you being all protective. Plus you're a Hyuuga even if you and the clan heads try to pretend you're not. Traditional guy. You'd be the sort of guy to decide to marry the first woman you fall in love with."
The quartermaster handed Haruichi a white vest, and Genma got on his feet, tugging at straps once Haruichi had it over his head. "Looks like a good fit," he told the quartermaster. "I'll just take him down to the armoury and get him his blades."
"Don't bother with shuriken, kunai and senbon," the older man replied. "I already grabbed up a standard set since I knew you were coming." He handed over a wrapped bundle of leather, heavy and clanking with steel inside. "Now you listen up, Rookie. I know you boys like to think these are expendable and grow on trees in the Hokage's shuriken orchards, but they don't. They're forged by hand, by skilled armourers, and they cost real money. You come whining to me you need replacements too often, and I'll take it right off the top of your pay. Got it?"
Getting even more knocked off-stride by how quickly he was turning into both an ANBU and an idiot, Haruichi took the bundle of weapons in his black gloved hands and looked at the quartermaster as he lectured him. Haruichi didn't let it show but he was grateful enough for the warning about the cost of these things, not that such considerations ever entered one's head when they were in the situation requiring using them. The medic pulled them back to rest against his armoured side, trying to familiarize himself with breathing around the shell-like stiffness of the armour without being too obvious about it. The quiet clink of metal sounded loud to Haruichi's ears. "Yes, sir," he replied quietly, for the first time in a very long time falling back on the familiarity of protocol.
But a few seconds later he was on his own with Genma again, no crotchety old lunatic around, and the two of them were making their way down to the armoury and the part of his uniform that Haruichi had suddenly realized he was just the smallest bit anticipating. He'd never owned his own katana, and he was proud of the kenjutsu skills he'd learned. As he distributed the small weapons he'd been handed amongst the pockets and few pouches of his new uniform - cloth and armour still cold and new - Haruichi reminded himself of a fact he knew very well; what combat skills he had were not of the calibre of those around him. He was an excellent natural jyuuken fighter, but not a genius; and he was a clever swordsman, but still had more to learn than he could know. He had to be careful in a great many ways, now. Hoshi would caution him about the often uneasy match his pride and awkward confidence sometimes made just then, as she was wont to do.
Speaking of... "She wasn't clinging, she was just scared," Haruichi said to Genma, glancing up at him steadily. She'd have been unhappy to hear anyone talk about her like she couldn't take care of herself, whether it was true or not, and Haruichi had more than his own pride to guard. "You do cut quite the imposing figure when you materialise like that."
Genma grinned at Haruichi as he input the codes to unlock the door to the armoury. "That is sort of the point, you know. Wait until we get your katana strapped on your back and your mask on your face, and I'll point you at a mirror. Although you're plenty scary in your white coat. You remember that time a few years ago when I had that little spleen laceration?"
The situation as Genma remembered it had gone something like this: He'd come home from a mission where he'd taken a bad hit to the abdomen, with enough of a belly ache that he should have known something was wrong. Haruichi had given him the once over when he got back, taped up his sprained ankle, and told him to rest. And Genma had rested, but his ankle was feeling better once it was taped up, and he'd figured the belly ache was just a bruise, and all he really needed to do was baby himself a little and he'd be fine. So he'd babied himself for a whole thirty-six hours before deciding to do some stretches to limber up muscles that were getting stiff and a shoulder that hurt for no reason he could see. And then there'd been a little light sparring with Uchiha Masanori. He hadn't told Masa to be careful of his abdomen, because it was just a bruise, and what kind of wuss told a sparring partner to be careful of his bruises?
So when he'd showed up in the infirmary ghost white and writhing on a stretcher, carried there by a frantic Masanori and an equally alarmed chuunin who'd happened to be nearby when the sparring match ended abruptly in Genma's collapse, Haruichi had been just a touch upset. Or perhaps livid and threatening Genma with the death he so richly deserved for his utter stupidity would be a better description.
Haruichi did indeed remember the "little" spleen laceration. He remembered Genma's idiocy nearly costing him several crucial internal organs. He also remembered having a sore throat for two days afterwards due to cursing and ranting so much while performing emergency surgery on the idiot.
The Infirmary where all of that had happened was only feet away from where they were now, but thinking back to it made Haruichi realize how distant it seemed in the armour he was wearing. He rolled his eyes slightly for Genma's comment and pushed the feeling aside without letting it show. "Not scary enough, since I was wearing it when I told you not to exert yourself in the first place and was ignored." And numerous other times. "Perhaps I should just wear this on-shift in the Infirmary and see if it increases the rate of agent acquiescence to sane medical advice."
He doubted it, but one could hope.
Genma held the door open for Haruichi. The armoury was utilitarian in some ways, breathtaking in others. Racks on one wall held swords both short and long. Tall cabinets with slender drawers held senbon in cases marked by size, from the tiny 000's to the massive 40's that were almost more kunai than needles. Variously sized shuriken filled two shelves floor to ceiling, and kunai two more. Another wall held nunchucks, kusari gama, and other chained weapons. There were spools of rope and wire, bins of ninjutsu scrolls, rolls of exploding tags, piles of knuckle dusters and clawed weapons and makibishi, shelves of bottles of poison powders and liquids. Every piece of weaponry a ninja might need on a mission was in this room.
"Since Quartermaster gave you standard issue throwing weapons, I guess all we need here is a sword for you, and any special equipment you'd like to work with." He grinned and watched Haruichi scan the room, waiting to see where his eyes alighted.
"How tall are you? Do you prefer a long katana, or a shorter one? I use a sort of mid-length ninjato myself. It's pretty much the standard choice for most ANBU, but I'm enough taller than you mine'd probably be too long for you."
Haruichi's white eyes were quite wide as he walked a bit further into the room and turned on his heels to look at every wall, shelf and weapon in sight. He was impressed, but not so much by the weaponry as the organisational skill that had gone into arranging it so neatly.
Indeed, he probably did need to get out more.
Genma's questions finally seeped through to his thoughts and Haruichi realised he had something of a search on his hands. He was finnicky about most things, and he was most certainly very particular about his weaponry. This sword was going to be his lifeline, and it was going to be his primary weapon after the jyuuken. He had to choose the correct one.
He'd probably need help. "I probably will need something shorter than you use... lighter too, if possible." Haruichi's eyes scanned the hundred swords in plain sight and he bit the inside of his cheek, wondering which he'd need.
"You need to build up some muscle, Sen... Haruichi." Genma told him, and reached for a black-handled ninjato that looked nearly identical to its mates beside it. "Here, give this a try." He handed it to Haruichi and watched him pull the blade from its sheath and make a few passes through the air. The medic had good form, Genma decided, but he was worried about how much power Haruichi could pack into a blow. He'd definitely need a lighter weapon, at least for now.
"It's weird to not call you Sensei," Genma said conversationally, as he got another sword down, this one slightly shorter, with a more pronounced curve to the blade. "Does it seem weird for me to call you Haruichi? I mean, obviously if you're in your white coat in the infirmary, then you'll still be Sensei, but out here in armour we're comrades." He handed the second sword to Haruichi and offered to take the first back. "Although by the looks of it I could probably kick your ass. You definitely could stand to bulk up. Bet your sweetheart will like it if you do."
Accepting the new sword (the last one had been just a fraction too weighty), Haruichi looked up at Genma and rolled his eyes. "Genma, I've had you calling me a bastard white-eyed whoreson on more than one occasion - calling me by my given name is an improvement I won't argue over."
Haruichi unsheathed the new sword, carefully balancing it in his grip, noting the lighter weight, and repeating the testing maneuvers with it. This one was a much better fit, and it showed, Haruichi could tell how much the slight weight difference and new shape suited his style. He'd realized that relying on his hands as he did meant if he was using a weapon it had to feel as close to an extension of himself as possible.
"And yes, you probably could kick my ass," he allowed, not looking (nor aiming) at Genma as he tried a few more sweeps. "But it isn't because I don't weigh as much as you. Hyuuga don't exactly need dense musculature."
This was actually a good one. Haruichi looked down at the black-cloth wrapped hilt in his hands and regarded it silently for a moment. "Right," he said, resheathing it. Haruichi looked back to Genma. "This one works. Do I have to sign for it?"
"Wow, that took a lot less time than I'd expected," Genma laughed. "I figured you'd be picky and unsure, but it looks like you actually have some sword skills after all." The way Haruichi moved with the second blade bespoke considerably greater skill than Genma had expected. It gave him a good deal more confidence about this whole business of inducting Haruichi into the Hunters than he'd had previously.
"If you weighed as much as me you'd be seriously beefy," Genma said. "I mean, look how much taller I am, and I know I'm not exactly a heavyweight or anything, but seriously. I mean your buddies down at the hospital are always harping on me about reserves and shit when something goes wrong, 'cause I get underweight too fast, but if you bulked up to my weight, maybe you could do sumo." Genma laughed and stomped his feet, throwing imaginary salt into an equally imaginary ring.
Haruichi calmly regarded Genma as though he was quite mad, before holding up the sheathed sword and lifting his eyebrow along with it. "Please tell me I only have to sign for this, not prove my worth to ANBU in a ramen eating competition followed by wrestling."
Because gods above, he wouldn't be surprised by this stage. Haruichi was used to being called out for being small and scrawny - ironically his cousins and agemates in the clan had been fond of teasing him about his stature - and now he was realizing this 'camaraderie' thing would mean he'd be in for more of the same from ANBU. Damn.
"If you can survive the cafeteria's food, you can skip the ramen contest. You just have to pass your physical assessments when they come up, which I know you know about, since you conduct the medical ones. Or at least you used to. You're a hard ass about it, too." Genma glanced at his watch again. Nearly time now.
"You sign this, yeah," he said, producing a clipboard with a stack of curling papers attached. Taking a pan in hand, he filled in a fresh form with Haruichi's name and reg number, a list of the non-specific equipment he'd outfitted him with, and the number of the sword they'd chosen.
"I wonder if anyone ever checks this stuff. I have no idea what my sword number is. It's etched into the tang, but I never do my own handle wrapping, so I never see it." He pointed at the blank space marked Signature of Receiving Agent. "Sign here, and if you have your hanko on you, seal it."
Yes, because filling his pockets with various identification acoutriements was what he'd instantly thought to do back at the flat. Haruichi pinched the bridge of his nose, then located his glasses and flipped them on before signing his name in a neat, angular and utterly illegible scrawl.
"That's it," he said, handing the paper back to Genma and looking at him once through his glasses before pulling them off and tucking them away in a knee-level pocket. "Is your watch just that attractive or am I keeping you from other things?"
"We have an appointment. Or more specifically, you have one. Although I'm supposed to be there too." Genma put a hand up to slick his hair back, and gave Haruichi an enigmatic grin. "Are you ready to make this official? You look the part. There are only two more steps to go."
Haruichi did indeed look the part. He looked somehow both younger and more menacing in his new ANBU uniform. The sleeveless black exposed muscles Genma'd known Haruichi had, but had never had a chance to see before. The stark black and white of the uniform echoed Haruichi's own coloring, and gave him a hard-edged look.
"Strap your katana to your back. There are supports built into the vest for that," he said, and helped Haruichi place the weapon where it belonged. "Make sure you can draw easily from that position. If you need to adjust it, we can do that, but..." Genma glanced at his watch one last time. "After the ceremony. We need to be in the Hokage's chambers in five minutes."
A breath, pushing his chest against the unfamiliar restraint of white armour, and Haruichi nodded and pushed his hands into a pair of hip pockets he was unaccountably relieved to discover his ANBU combats had. Something was normal about this, at least. His new katana weighed gently on his back, deceptively light along with the heavy armour.
"Let's get moving then," he said, voice oddly quiet. He looked up at Genma again, and the look he was being given in return did little to settle the buzz in his stomach. "After getting so adroitly dressed up I refuse to be late to the party."
After all, late was the one thing the medic could never be. Best to start off as he meant to carry through.
Genma smiled and nodded, and reached for his mask; the eerily cheerful cat face replaced his own. Cool polymer, harder than ceramic, lighter than bone, rested against his cheeks. The warmth of his own breath ghosted over his lips. Mission, the feeling said. Focus. Be alert. He could feel his heart beat a little faster, feel tension along his spine. Anticipation.
He checked his weapons in what was by now a deeply ingrained pattern. Katana seated well on his back, and loose enough in its scabbard for an easy draw. Senbon in place inside each arm guard, ready to be flicked into the fingers for throwing. Kunai and shuriken in their holsters. Med kit and field supplies in their places at his waist. Scrolls and exploding tags tucked into his belt and the pockets of his pants. He couldn't feel for the garrote wire or extra blades in the soles of his boots, but he knew they were there.
He wouldn't need any of them for this ceremony. But he wouldn't be ANBU without them. "Let's go." He nodded at Haruichi and signed come. An ANBU in uniform did not waste words.
In two minutes they were outside the doors to the Hokage's office. A place no shinobi ventured lightly, even those who worked most closely with their village's leader. A pair of masked ANBU chuunin stood outside the door, ramrod straight. They nodded to Genma and Haruichi, offering a subtle salute. The doors opened from within.
"Enter, Genma. Haruichi." Sandaime's rich voice was unmistakable. His privilege to call his ninja by first name alone. Genma stepped through the door onto floorboards that chirped and squeaked like songbirds despite his careful tread. He bowed low.
"Sandaime-sama."
Behind the Hokage, seated on a raised dais, were Arakaki, ANBU's director, and Konoha's two most senior council members, Homura and Koharu. Arakaki was in full ANBU uniform as well, though his face was bare. They said nothing.
Genma straightened. "I present Hyuuga Haruichi for formal induction into Konoha's most sacred ranks. I am his sponsor, Shiranui Genma."
As he stepped to stand to Genma's side, slightly in his senior's shadow (an old and ingrained Hyuuga behaviour), Haruichi saw all of those present but made sure to keep his eyes on his Hokage. Arakaki's presence was to be expected, but the sight of the other two sent a beat of shock through his stomach.
Utatane Koharu and Mitokado Homura. Holy shit. Suddenly Haruichi felt as though he'd dodged a fatal strike in the fact that he was to be at the Hokage's beck and call alone, and not at either of theirs'. There'd always been a willfullness in their eyes that reminded him too much of the Hyuuga elders, and he saw it again now.
The thought prompted him to concentrate utterly on how he presented himself to Sarutobi-sama. He automatically did as he would do in the presence of any of the Hyuuga elders, eyes on the most important man in the room but not daring to meet Sarutobi's own. There was silence and stillness all around him, save for the flickering of the flames lighting the room.
Haruichi did not like it. Rooms like this and people like these always made him nervous. He'd sanguinely throw himself into a warzone, but this sort of ritualised assessment strained his nerves in an unhappy way. At least now he was slightly grateful for the fact Genma had shown up without warning at three in the morning. If he'd known this was coming he'd have been too stressed to sleep for days.
But as he looked at the serious and wizened face of his Hokage, Haruichi knew he'd have willingly put himself through this anyway. Hyuuga could read much from a person's eyes, and in Sarutobi's all there was to see was wisdom and courage that outlasted anything Haruichi could ever imagine himself capable of.
He didn't speak, and not just because he hadn't been invited to. Instead he bowed to his leader, and was reminded why he was a ninja at all. As a Hyuuga he was a failure, but as one of Sandaime-sama's best ninja he hoped he could be a success. Deserve to be trusted with the health and lives of those who protected the village's spirit. It was something to truly aspire to.
Even if his stomach was flipping like a landed fish.
"Haruichi," the Hokage's warm voice filled the silence. "I have known you since your birth. Are you aware of that? Your honorable mother Hotaru-san warned me only a few hours after your arrival in this world that you were going to be troublesome. With prophetic accuracy, she was of course, right." The old man's eyes crinkled in mirth. "Perhaps it should make me feel old, to see you grown to manhood, prepared to take this highest oath to me, but it fills me with pride."
He rose from the platform and stepped down, treading as silently as shadow across the nightingale floor, to stop in front of Haruichi, tipping his head back to look up at him, then Genma. "Kneel, ANBU."
Genma dropped to the one-kneed crouch of the formal salute, watching as Haruichi did the same, stiff-backed and formal. Only the tiny tremor in Haruichi's pale hands betrayed his nerves, a sign on a surgeon that was shockingly telling.
Sandaime held out his own hands, wizened and spotted with age; strong, calloused, ninja's hands. "Place your hands in mine, Haruichi," he said. His tone had lost the kindly edge, taking on something sharper.
"Do you, Hyuuga Haruichi, son of Hyuuga Hotaru and Hyuuga Haruhide, voluntarily present yourself for induction into Konohagakure's most sacred and noble service? Do you pledge to renounce all ties but this, to your village and her leader, even unto death?"
The air in the room seemed to be solidifying, leaving Haruichi with a feeling he hadn't recalled since he was a little child - the utter and complete fear of doing something besides what he was supposed to do. The fear of making a disaster out of carefully choreographed situations by being different. He tried to push the feeling down and bit the inside of his cheek, then gave the Hokage his hands, all too aware that if his nerves hadn't been shooting shakes into them before, they definitely were now.
The Hokage's words hadn't particularly reassured him. All the effort he'd been making not to think of Hinaji, and he hadn't even thought of what his parents would think of this. He couldn't help knowing what their reactions would be. His father would sigh, and stare right at him, and make him wait a good long time for a small nod of acceptance. His mother would have known what he'd done before he'd walked in the door, and she'd arch an eyebrow at him before telling him point blank that he had to do whatever he could believe in.
She'd always told him so. Haruichi finally properly met Sandaime-sama's dark eyes and did what he was supposed to do. "Yes, Hokage-sama."
"All of Konoha's ninja are my soldiers, but ANBU are my elite." The Hokage's hands were steady, his voice strong. His gaze was direct, penetrating the milky white featurelessness of Haruichi's Hyuuga pupils. "You are my eyes and ears, my hands and feet. Every mission you take, you will take from me."
Genma glanced away to Arakaki, whose unsmiling face was as composed and focused as always. The elder advisors, too, looked on with solemnity, as unmoving as ANBU's director. Genma felt an ache in his chest, hearing again the words of the charge that had been laid on him four years ago. The Hokage's voice then, as now, electrified the air.
"Your work will be the hardest, the dirtiest, the most repugnant, and the most noble. You will operate on missions of village security, and missions that will bring Konoha prestige. But your name will not be known. From this day, you will be to the world, nameless. Faceless. When you are in uniform, carrying out my orders, you are Konohagakure's most precious and specialized weapon."
Genma's hands flexed in their gloves. Aching.
"Take this, the face you will present to the world, and swear your allegiance, Agent Hyuuga Haruichi."
Arakaki came forward now, bearing a white mask.
It was almost like deja vu, hearing the Hokage inform Haruichi of the oath he was taking. He'd seen it in blood and breaks and achievement that marked his patients for his entire adult life, secondhand or not, he knew what it was to be the sharpest edge of the blade.
As Arakaki passed the Hokage the mask, and Haruichi found it suddenly in his own hands, he looked down at it. Wide black blank eyes set almost too far apart stared back up at him, the pristine white of its face broken only by a small green cross set below the left eye.
Haruichi knew now what it meant to look through a mirror, darkly. He reversed the mask, and set it to his own face. A dark reflection through which he looked at the world, and through which the world would look at him.
And it was then that he realized he wasn't ready to be changed into one of the people he would give his life to keep safe. It happened the moment his face was hidden, and nobody could see his eyes and the betrayal of his heart writ large in them. He felt his whole being go very still in recognition of the situation he'd put himself in, and didn't even have the wherewithal to concern himself with what it would look like if he held still for longer than a second.
Then he felt the echo of Hoshi's hand on his bare upper arm, and kept moving. He didn't just face the Hokage now, he looked at him, and waited for his cue.
His parents and Hinaji were gone, now. Hoshi was the one who was here, and she had said he could do it. If she had faith, he'd be ready. He'd make bloody sure of it.
Genma felt, for reasons he couldn't quite explain to himself, a tightening in his throat when Haruichi donned that mask. Maybe it was just the memory of his own acceptance into the ranks of Sandaime's most loyal, or maybe it was the fact that Haruichi, for all he bitched and bickered, was someone Genma considered a friend. Most of his friends were ANBU, though. Most of his friends were people who wore that mask and armour. He couldn't really understand why seeing Haruichi in it gave him such an odd sensation of regret.
"Repeat after me," Arakaki said, still standing at attention at the Hokage's side. "I am Hyuuga Haruichi, ANBU. I have no face but this face."
Haruichi's voice was low and quiet, almost subdued sounding, enunciating each syllable with precision as he repeated the oath.
"I have no heart, but the heart of Konohagakure," Arakaki continued.
Genma felt the words in his bones. Mouthed them silently under his own mask.
"I have no will, but the will of my Hokage."
Genma's gaze traced over the wizened face of his leader, and for a brief moment rich, expressive brown eyes looked back into his, sharp and sparkling.
I have no will, but the will of my Hokage, Genma echoed in silence, as Haruichi spoke the words aloud.
Arakaki stepped back. He nodded sharply to Genma. His cue. Genma rose and stepped forward, to Haruichi's side, and snapped his right hand up to touch the tattoo on his left shoulder. Arakaki did the same.
"You will go with Genma for your tattoo," Sandaime said, raising his own hand slowly to touch Haruichi's left shoulder, and trace a spiral there. "But the mark is already on you."
Still not daring to exhale, Haruichi managed not to twitch when he felt a real hand on his arm, and not to dig his gloved fingers too deeply into his palms as the nerves of this business began to hunt him down. He nodded, feeling the way his mask didn't move, and knew when he was dismissed.
"Yes sir, Hokage-sama," he agreed quietly, looking across at Sarutobi's face and feeling the oddest certainty that whether he had this mask on or not the Hokage could see straight past it.
It just made him want to get out of here and find some quiet place to absorb all of this all the more; especially when the wizened eyes of the Kage flickered in a knowing way, and a gesture was made to send him on his way.
It wasn't until the door was closed behind him, and the silence of the corridors of the Palace felt complete, that Haruichi let himself breathe. Now he just had to concentrate on not falling down the stairs as he made his way out of here.
Genma materialized at Haruichi's elbow. He waited until they had rounded a corner into a relatively deserted corridor before tipping his mask back and offering Haruichi a dull black flask with one gloved hand. "Here, you probably need this. It's the good stuff, and strong, so go slow." His personal flask, full of a slightly sweet, amber coloured liquor made from fermented sweet potatoes from Wave Country. "You can keep that. Present from me. That flask'll fit in along the left side of your medkit if you have it organized like mine. Protects the vials a little, too."
His own heart had settled, but he was pretty sure Haruichi was still on a knife's edge of tension. "That was the hard part," he reassured. "Well that and dealing with the quartermaster. Now you just come with me to get your tat, get a little drunk, and we're done. You already know how to pick up missions from the desk and stuff, right?"
Haruichi wasn't sure he trusted himself to put a reply to that into words, but he gratefully took the gifted flask and looked down at it for a moment before remembering to push his mask to the side. He looked over at Genma, white eyes quite wide open for once, even if he was managing to keep his features composed. For a second anyone could've seen right into him, and even though he didn't notice Haruichi's eyes went down anyway.
"Right," echoed Haruichi, agreeing without paying much attention. His attention went back to the small black flask in his hand, and appreciation of the irony of it made him smile just the slightest bit, brought the first flicker of relief.
If it could cauterize his thoughts about as fast as it could sterilize a cut, it definitely belonged in the medkit.
"Thanks, Genma," he said, glancing back up as they started down the stairs.
He didn't really have to say what for. | |
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