| [Jun. 2nd, 2009|11:04 pm] |
"Sorry, Ma," Asuma said dryly. "Wasn't aware we had to put a limit on fun." His fingers ghosted briefly down his left side, touching the outline of a long gauze pad through bandages and yakuta. Beautiful new scar was one way to think about it. Kickass babe magnet was another. He smiled to himself, perfectly aware that most kids grew out of the scars are cool stage, and entirely comfortable with the fact that he hadn't.
Besides, scars were cool. Especially ones that kick-started off a conversation with the sentence 'oh yeah, I got this when I leapt off a bridge to rescue a pretty lady' in it.
Natsumi was giving him one of her lifted-eyebrow looks, as if she could read his thoughts. Quietly, the abbot chuckled. Asuma grinned at them both, covering another yawn, and flicked his chopsticks in a neat circle over the back of his wrist.
"Besides," he added, "who said anything about dipping into any emergency funds? You can't tell me you've never tried to barter? We're ninja, love. We've got a whole skill set that most civilians would give their firstborn's teeth to catch a look at."
It was how he'd survived, after all, those first two years out of Konoha. Well, that and a reasonable talent for creating genjutsu'd money--but he was pretty sure Natsumi wouldn't go for that.
"And I'd like to see you get something pretty," he said, a little more seriously, putting his chopsticks down and propping his chin carefully on his fist. The little table creaked beneath his elbow. His side ached, but didn't burn. "Unless you want all your memories to be about broken fingers and running like hell." |
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