| [Jun. 2nd, 2009|11:05 pm] |
"They aren't," Natsumi said.
Asuma tipped his head, inviting explanation. At her other side, the abbot crunched his pickled daikon as if nothing in the world could interest him more. He wouldn't judge her, Natsumi thought; his ironic eyes were far too kind. But Asuma was the one whose opinion mattered. And Asuma's eyes, caught between justified sleepiness and unusual solemnity, were still too close to laughter.
"I can add falling to my nightmares now," she said lightly, angling her chopsticks across her tray and rising to her feet. "Drowning. Exploding trees. I think your jutsu triggered the traps you set, by the way; it's a good thing neither of us ran into them later. Dripping heads is a good one..."
"Natsumi-san," the abbot said gently, "you sound as if you need rest. Would you like an escort to your room? Or to the baths, perhaps?"
All right, so he wouldn't judge her. He would assume she was treading the exhausted edge of hysterical. Natsumi clenched her good hand around the hard leather edges of her utility belt, and bent her stiff back in a bow. "I would be grateful, kanchou-sama."
The abbot clapped. A paper door slid open immediately on a young, anxious-looking acolyte. He hurried to the abbot's side and bent his head for whispered instructions. Natsumi smiled wryly at Asuma.
"I'll try not to nag so much tomorrow. I do have other skills; if we find a bar I can clean up in arm-wrestling or darts..."
The acolyte hovered at her side. "Shinobi-san?"
"I'd like something pretty," Natsumi said quietly, and turned to leave. |
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