| [Jan. 5th, 2012|08:10 am] |
“No plans, no clue.” Ryouma finished his sandwich, licked his fingers, and reached for another. He’d mostly learned to stop listening to his body’s demands, in Suna; it was strangely bizarre to find himself hungry again, nearly twenty-four hours after he’d last eaten. “Haven’t really had any chance to think. Just made the decision yesterday mornin’, an’ then T&I spent the afternoon playin’ I Spy inside my brain. So—I dunno.”
He drummed his fingers against the side of his coffee cup for a moment, realized it, and made himself stop. “I’ve never actually done the normal jounin thing. Week after the Fox I got my special jounin vest an’ an assignment up to Lightning Country. Spent most of the next five years on border duty, only a couple months at a time back in Konoha in between deployments. Which I guess isn’t any worse than Kakashi—he joined ANBU right after the Fox. So he’s figurin’ it out from the ground up too.” He shrugged, and took another drink. “I got a lot of work to do before they’ll certify me mission-fit, anyway. So least I’ll have time to think.”
Asuma bit off half his remaining sandwich and chewed reflectively. “Y’ever think about retiring?”
He’d always thought he wouldn’t live that long.
“Gonna be a pirate,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “But I still got both eyes an’ all my limbs and no fancy hat, so I don’t think I’m ready for it yet.”
You needed money to retire, anyway. And six months of back-pay wouldn’t go far. He had no other skills; he couldn’t even make jokes about a career as a male underwear model, anymore. And for all their talk about Konoha’s mistreatment of its people... At least he’d found a purpose in service.
Asuma cracked up laughing. “Ran into some pirates a few months back,” he said, flicking a thumb at a thin silvering scar curving over one cheekbone. “Damn near got my hide flogged off. S’less fun than you’d think.”
“I didn’t think flogging would ever be fun,” Ryouma murmured. “I don’t normally play those kinds of games.”
Asuma grinned around the rest of his sandwich. He tapped the side of his throat, mirroring the broken white circle scarred into Ryouma’s neck. “Looks like you play some kind of game.”
“We’re wildcats in bed,” Ryouma agreed placidly. He drained the rest of his cooling coffee. “So you like girls after all. Anyone in particular?” |
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