InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "the rhythm is gonna getcha!"

Akiyama Rina (fallen_rina) wrote in fallen_leaves,
@ 2009-06-27 21:41:00

Entry tags:

genma, rina

Got That Mountain to Climb [Genma, Rina]
[Backdated: Takes place a little over four years ago, on March 19th, about a year and five months after the Kyuubi attack, and a week after Genma's rescue from the Iwagakure prisons.]

Rina tagged along behind Ito-sensei, her head spinning delightfully, clutching a spiral-bound notebook already a quarter-full with clipped notations, sprawling diagrams, and enthusiastic exclamation points. The just-completed burn-repair surgery had been absolutely fascinating to watch--seeing glowing blue chakra-channels spontaneously reform themselves within the carnage of twisted fingers and torn flesh--and she'd noticed that Ito-sensei had used one of the modified sterilization scrolls that had brought her to his attention in the first place.

See, and they'd complained that she hadn't followed the blueprints! Clearly Ito-sensei didn't mind. Rina had been in the Seal Division for more than a year now, and had been making seals for years before that--certainly she knew enough to substitute the more powerful tri-point pattern for a quad-point, even if it wasn't exactly what the design called for.

Actually, if the tri-point was good, what if she used the double-stabilized quint-pattern she'd seen downstairs, instead? ...Awesome. Fumbling through her notebook, she pulled her fountain pen out from behind her ear and drew herself a quick sketch, then had to half-run to catch up with Ito-sensei as he pushed through the door leading to their last patient of the day.

"Genma," she heard Ito-sensei call good-naturedly as she slid in behind him, "there's someone I'd like you to meet."

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fallen_senbon
2009-06-28 12:27 am UTC (link)

"My older sister was a medic," Genma said. "She used to get excited about stuff like this, too. And I'm an assassin. I took the same theory classes on chakra flow. She was learning how to keep it moving and I was learning how to stop it." He stared at the diagram, a broad, complicated tree in which he could see the outlines of hands. At far too many of the junctures where lines should have flowed one into another, there were abrupt breaks, sharp lateral shifts, angled nodes.

"Those are supposed to be my chakra maps? For these?" He lifted both splinted hands a few millimeters, then carefully eased them back down. He kept the pain off his face, but not entirely out of his eyes. "I know what the maps are supposed to look like. Those..." He glared at the papers. "Those are just sick."

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