| [Nov. 19th, 2011|06:27 am] |
He stayed absolutely still.
When she showed no signs of letting go, he risked patting her on the shoulder. “I don’t know your name,” he admitted, with a faint cut of guilt. She’d worked the desk for years.
She pulled back, wiping her eyes. “It’s Miyoshi Reiko,” she said, with a watery smile. This close her face was round and pretty, if somewhat splotchy. “Ryouma used to give me advice about my mother-in-law.”
“He would,” Kakashi said reflexively.
She laughed and, thankfully, let him go. “Can you wait a moment?” she asked. “I’m only covering the desk for Machi’s lunchbreak, and then I could go down with you.” The uncertain lilt in her voice made it a question.
In all likelihood, Ryouma wouldn’t be finished for hours. Kakashi shrugged an awkward shoulder and leaned against the reception desk. Reiko’s hands twitched as if she’d very much like to hug him again, but she restrained herself and went back behind the desk, hurriedly tidying paperwork.
When Machi returned, there were more tears, and Kakashi narrowly avoided being fallen upon a second time.
“I’m not taking an entire entourage,” he told them both, and jerked his head at Reiko. “C’mon, if you’re coming. Bring a book.”
Slightly puzzled-looking, she grabbed a stack of glossy magazines tucked in behind the desk and followed at his side, keeping eager step the entire way down to the sub-basement. It was as beige as Kakashi remembered, wallpapered in a faintly nauseated taupe. It stank of cigarettes and misery in a way that made his throat tighten, trapped and suddenly airless.
“Are you okay, Hatake-san?” Reiko asked.
Kakashi cleared his throat. “Fine.”
The solid-jawed T&I woman smoking in the little office recognized Reiko on sight, and gave her a wry look. “Wondered when you’d be by,” she said. Her eyes ticked to Kakashi. “Didn’t expect you.” She hooked a thumb towards the door framed by wilted plants. “He’s in there. Arakaki and a couple others are observing, so keep it quiet.”
Kakashi’s jaw tightened. He led the way, followed by Reiko, and stopped so suddenly in the doorway that she walked into him.
Ryouma’s back was arching off the padded table. Yamanaka Inoichi was leaning over his head, fingers pressed into Ryouma’s wild hair, eyes closed in concentration. Arakaki was seated calmly in the corner, a clipboard resting on his lap. Standing beside him was the tall, scarred interrogator who’d dragged Kakashi and Ginta out of the wrecked ruins of Ryouma’s old base, almost six months ago. Both of them glanced up.
Reiko leaned around Kakashi’s shoulder and caught her breath.
Ryouma’s jaw was clenched, his head tipped back. His hands were boneless-loose, fingers curled lax, but tendons stood out in his stretched throat. Sweat rashed his skin. Behind closed lids, his eyes moved rapidly. He smelled like stress and salted fear.
Inoichi was speaking in a flat, monotone murmur: “—a white room. He sleeps, stares at the ceiling for hours; they stretch him out on the bed. Feed him rice porridge, sit him down—catch him. He paces for hours. There are domed roofs, sandstone, adobe houses: a view of the city through arched windows—”
A memory in reverse, or just too fractured to tell the difference.
I have no doubt he will prove himself loyal
Arakaki’s eyes caught Kakashi. “Get out, Hatake. Reiko, wait outside if you must.”
“I’m sorry, Director,” Reiko said quickly, taking one last look at Ryouma before she left.
For a moment frozen between heartbeats, Kakashi struggled with the urge to murder them all. Then he slid his gaze away, ducked his head, and turned back into the hallway. The door clicked closed behind him, trapping the sound of Inoichi’s voice and Ryouma’s steady, absent breathing. Reiko was standing against the opposite wall, eyes huge in her pale face, hugging her magazines to her chest.
Kakashi went a little ways down the hallway, slid down the wall, and put his head in his hands. |
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