| [Dec. 8th, 2011|08:40 am] |
“The structure collapse is that bad?” Ibiki asked.
Pakkun’s wrinkled face took on an even more worried look. “There’s just enough room for the two of them and Baiji, an’ I crawled out of a hole I could barely fit through. You’re both too big.”
It would he easier to find the place if they had Pakkun as a guide. And if the old bunker was that badly collapsed... Ibiki had seen a caved-in concrete bunker in the hills near Kusa’s border during the war: the men and women inside had been crushed, some beyond recognition.
He turned to the medic. “Can you stabilize him enough to tolerate the journey?”
“I’m not a veterinarian,” Saiyuri said. “I’ll do what I can. At a guess, he needs to warm up, rest, eat, drink... And I need to do something about those paws.”
“Y’said five minutes, lady,” Pakkun rasped.
“It’s been two. Give me five and I can bandage your paws and give you something warm to drink,” she replied. “You. Hand me that box.” She pointed to a blue plastic bin labeled ‘cuts and abrasions’. Ibiki pulled it from the shelf and handed it over.
“You’d better tell your names,” Saiyuri said, as she slathered greasy ointment over Pakkun’s paw pads. “Give me code names if you have to, or I’ll just call you Scarface and Scruffy.”
Ibiki chuckled. He definitely liked Saiyuri. “Morino Ibiki,” he told her. “I’ll let Scruffy tell you his own name.”
“Actually, I kinda like Scruffy,” Asuma said.
Saiyuri snorted. “Scruffy it is. See that water boiler over there, Scruffy? Make a bowl of tea for my patient. Tea’s on the shelf next to the boiler. Bowls are next to the sink.”
Pakkun looked like the delay was killing him. He also looked like he was about to collapse, with his sides still pumping harder than Ibiki would have expected, and his mouth hanging open for each panting breath.
“Can you take soldier pills?” Ibiki asked him. “Or something like it?”
“Not unless you want me to throw up everywhere,” Pakkun said. “I can take some of your energy, though.”
“A chakra transfusion?” Saiyuri asked, eyebrows raised. She looked at Asuma and Ibiki. “How are you gentlemen doing for energy? You both smell like you’ve already been working hard.”
Ibiki grimaced. Before he could speak, Saiyuri added, “I’m not complaining. Honest work, honest sweat. But if soldier pills and chakra transfusions are options, then I’d rather see you top off here, before we’re in the field trying to dig your friends out of a pile of rubble in a snowstorm.”
Asuma came back with the tea for Pakkun, setting a small enamel bowl down near the dog’s head. Saiyuri was nearly done wrapping heavy cotton padding and canvas bandages around Pakkun’s feet, making neat white booties for each paw.
“I’ve got chakra to spare,” Asuma volunteered. “Caught a nap on the boat ride over. And I’m half certain he ain’t human,” he added, hooking a thumb at Ibiki, “so he can probably lend a battery.”
Ibiki nodded, ignoring Asuma’s goad. “My chakra is fine, and I’m not too fatigued, though I suggest we eat something.”
Pakkun groaned. “They are dying. We don’t have time for this crap.”
Ibiki stepped in and pressed his hands to either side of Pakkun’s ribcage. They engulfed the little dog. Beneath his palms he could feel the threads of the dog’s chakra, like slender, braided ropes. It was surprising how similar it felt to any shinobi’s chakra, and yet at the same time so different. He set his own chakra flowing down through his arms, a rising tide of current. Pakkun understood immediately, opening his own channels to receive the surge.
When Ibiki finished, Pakkun looked ten times better than he had.
Saiyuri nodded at the ANBU when she’d finished packing her medical kit and shrugged heavier clothing in. “Lead the way,” she told them. Ibiki handed Pakkun to Asuma, pulled his mask back down, and stepped out into the darkening snowstorm. |
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