| Working By Hindsight [Kakashi & Genma] |
[Sep. 28th, 2010|07:28 pm] |
[Backstory: Takes place following Break Me Back Together]
Kakashi woke up when a sleepy shift dropped his hand from his face, and light struck his eyelids. Awareness came sharp and instant, bracketed by a carefully slow breath and tension hitting all the long muscles down his spine. He opened his unscarred eye. They were still in the cell. Genma's chest was still beneath Kakashi's head. Nothing had changed.
Except there was daylight.
Genma was asleep, head tipped sideways and down at an angle that was probably giving his neck a serious crick, chin resting a hair's breadth away from the stitches in Kakashi's scalp. His breath was slow and even, settled into the long-haul pattern of a man determined to stay unconscious for a while yet. Which was good -- he certainly needed it.
Kakashi licked cracked, dry lips and resisted the urge to stretch. Both of Genma's hands rested on his body: one wrapped around Kakashi's upper arm, the other splayed open between his shoulder blades, as if Genma hadn't been able to decide between holding and soothing, and had chosen both. Kakashi wondered how long it had taken for Genma to get to sleep. How he'd managed to get back to sleep himself -- and more importantly, how he'd stayed there.
( It probably had a lot to do with those hands. ) |
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| Speak My Language [Ginta & Hiro] |
[Aug. 15th, 2010|04:31 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | ginta, hiro | ] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  discontent | ] |
Takes place April 12, one week following Hiro and Ginta's last meeting in The Little Things Give You Away, six days following Ginta's confrontation with his grandmother and Never What I Expected, and three days following his intervention with Ryouma in This Time Is Different
It had taken a few days following that last surgery, but Ginta had finally been allowed home, with crutches and a heavy cast, and an arsenal of pill bottles that came with detailed instructions about what and how much he should eat (and not eat) with them, which pills could or couldn't be taken within three hours of which other pills, and as complicated a schedule for meals, medications, exercise, and rest as any mission plan.
At a quarter to eleven in the morning, after a few rounds of pushups and some experimental chakra-mediated handstands, he was busy resting.
( In theory. ) |
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| Lightning Strikes Twice [Genma, Rina] |
[Jul. 19th, 2010|09:09 pm] |
[Backdated: Takes place three and a half years ago, in mid-September, immediately following Take a Breath.]
Lulled by the steady pounding cacophony outside, the reassuring safety of her own seal blocking the entrance, and the solid spring-green freshness of Genma's chakra presence resting beside her, sleep was easy to find.
Rina expected to be woken by a calm gloved hand on her shoulder for the change of shifts, or perhaps by the subtle shifting of sounds indicating that the storm was ending. Instead, what felt like barely moments after she'd curled up, she was jolted into adrenaline-pumping awareness by three system shocks in as many heartbeats:
One, the tearing reverberation of a kunai ripping straight through the center of her seal.
Two, Genma's shout, and the slice of a ricocheting shuriken as it carved a path across her thigh.
And three, the skin-pricking electric tingle that gave her an instant of warning--an instant before the entire might of the storm gathered and crashed down above them, splintering their stone hideout into a razor-edged cloud of deadly shrapnel and fountaining earth.
Safely cocooned underground by a flash of earth jutsu as instinctive as a flinch, Rina caught a breath, but her narrow cavern was filling up with the relentless seep of water. ( She couldn't stay. ) |
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| Take a Breath [Genma, Rina] |
[May. 26th, 2010|09:59 pm] |
[Backdated: Takes place three and a half years ago, in mid-September, immediately following Eye of the Storm.]
The shaft was long, winding, and pitch dark. The ANBU's glowstick lent its eerie light, but all Rina could see was Yushiro's white face and savaged chest cavity, his jounin vest shredded and black with blood. Shouji is still alive, she told herself as she climbed, he's still alive.
It helped, some.
The synthetic energy thrumming through her was starting to burn as it coursed through overused channels, and left a sour taste in the back of her throat. Her heart pounded as if it wanted to run away with her, charged with pharmaceuticals, but she tried to keep a lid on it. When they finally pulled themselves out of the ventilation shaft, Rina flinched away from her image momentarily reflected in Inari's mirror: skin too pale, eyes too bright.
( Spun back towards it, all senses wrenched into painful alertness, when the misty gray background in the mirror erupted into fiery red. ) |
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| Hit the Ground Running [Genma, Raidou] |
[May. 20th, 2010|10:48 am] |
Warning: NC-17 for graphic sexual content.
Takes place at night on April 8th, several hours following Chasing the Sun.
For Genma the sensation of waking next to a warm body was nothing new. Nor, for that matter, was waking next to Raidou. But waking next to Raidou in Genma's own bed — that was new. He woke too hot, because they'd fallen asleep in too many clothes, and in pain, because his last dose of meds had worn off while they slept. Woke to the scent of sweat and semen on the sheets, and the soft rise and fall of Raidou's chest under Genma's arm.
That, Genma thought with a sense of wonder and delight, was completely revolutionary.
He shivered a stretch, yawned, and pushed himself up a little, using his elbow and trying to jar his hand as little as possible. To jar Raidou as little as possible. Raidou took a deeper breath, sighed softly, and stayed asleep.
The room was dark but moonlight filtered through the open blinds, casting a soft bluish glow over Raidou's face. Genma's bedside clock blinked a dull red 22:06 at him. How on earth had they slept so long? But he'd been tired — they'd both been tired — and for the first time since their mission, Genma'd felt safe. Truly safe. Home, in his own bed, in Raidou's arms.
In Raidou's arms.
It seemed surreal. A fantasy that Genma would have ascribed to a particularly vivid dream, but for the fact that Raidou was still there, right there, hot as a furnace next to him. Genma shifted a little closer, looking down at the sleeping face of his best friend. In sleep Raidou's scowl had evaporated. His unscarred cheek took on a softness that seemed surprisingly young. His mouth relaxed so that his lips, thin on the top, fuller on the bottom, fell apart just a little, showing the gleam of even, straight teeth. Stubble littered his upper lip and the side of his jaw.
Genma let his eyes trace over the familiar features again and again, because somehow just looking at Raidou, asleep with his head resting gently against Genma's shoulder, made it seem a little less dreamlike. Bandages still covered the other side of Raidou's face, the side farther away from Genma, hiding scars, and skin where his beard was sparser. It was strange to realize that Genma missed seeing the scar. That the scared side was as much of Raidou's handsomeness as the unmarked side.
Genma's lips lifted in a secret smile. This was real. The feeling in his chest — with a frisson of nervousness because this was so very new and the stakes were so very high — was like nothing he'd ever experienced. Before he'd really thought it through, he leaned in close and pressed a dry kiss to Raidou's brow. |
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| Hair of the Dog [Kuromaru, Ginta] |
[May. 3rd, 2010|10:03 am] |
[Takes place one week after Tsume and Asuma get out of the hospital inFeuds and Families, which followed the pirate thread, and six days after Ginta was in This Time Is Different, with Ryouma.]
Kuromaru stood on the streets of Konoha, holding his new hands out in the streetlamp just to see them turn a pale gold. As a canine, he had limited color vision, but in his human form everything was brighter. Things tasted different, too. He knew. He'd tested a lot of foods in both forms.
The night air felt funny on his skin, clad in mesh rather than fur. He knew he should probably put on a coat, but it was a nice feeling. Different. Different was fun, sometimes.
Putting his lips together so he could whistle, he practiced as he headed down the street, sliding through clusters of people out after dark, watching as they made a path for him.
Tsume hadn't wanted to come with him tonight, but that was okay. She'd at least turned him human, so he could play in all the restaurants without getting in trouble. ( And he'd remembered his dogtags, so he had ID. ) |
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| Eye of the Storm [Genma, Rina] |
[Apr. 19th, 2010|09:27 pm] |
[Backdated: Takes place three and a half years ago, in mid-September, about a year and eleven months after the Kyuubi attack, and six months after Genma's rescue from the Iwagakure prisons.]
It had been so straightforward, to start out.
Two chuunin and a jounin; one sacrificial Konoha bunker in the depths of Rai no Kuni. Half a day to weave trapping seals so tightly into its foundations that the floorboards quivered and it seemed to stagger beneath the weight.
It would be one more needle in Cloud's side, and yet another proof of Konoha's overwhelming martial superiority -- that was what Sandaime said. To prevent another all-out war, he said, during political briefings when the still-straggling upper ranks of Konoha ninja rattled about in a room meant for so many more.
Rina didn't quite understand, but she believed him when he said it.
The booby-trapping itself had been easy: after nearly two years in Konoha's seal division, with full access to its massive library, Rina knew more than enough official and unofficial nastiness to trap ten bunkers the same size without resorting to repeats. She'd never worked with her current teammates Shouji and Yushiro before, but they seemed like solid ninja, relaxed and easy in their competence; knowing they were standing guard outside, Rina had felt safe.
( A muffled thud and screech of metal echoed against cragged granite walls, and half a foot of solid stone no longer felt thick enough. ) |
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| Escape Velocity [Haruichi, Katsuko] |
[Mar. 30th, 2010|05:40 pm] |
[Backdated!! Takes place directy after Reconaissance and Recovery].
Everything hurt.
The desert laboratory and the flaming wreck they'd made of it seemed lifetimes ago. Katsuko heaved in a gasp of dry desert air and tasted blood. Each step jarred her wounds; her checks on the steady feel of Haruichi's chakra grew more frequent.
They ran with the night. No one from the labs came after them, but why should they when sustained wounds and harsh desert winds would do the job? Katsuko and Haruichi needed to find shelter before daybreak, and fast.
Haruichi signaled and veered abruptly left just as dawn broke over the horizon. She blinked and followed. Too tired to be puzzled, she fixed her gaze on Haruichi's back as he rounded a large rock outcropping. He stopped abruptly, and she stumbled and nearly slammed into him.
She blinked again, ignoring Haruhime's squawk of outrage, and looked up.
Oh, thank the gods. A cave. A nice, cool, hidden desert cave. Katsuko sighed in relief and followed her partner inside. |
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| Break Me Back Together [Kakashi & Genma] |
[Feb. 24th, 2010|01:28 am] |
[Backstory. Takes place in the early hours of September 19th, several hours after Don't Like It But I Guess I'm Learning.]
They slept for hours, until it was dark and the cell chilled down enough that both ninja curled up tight beneath their blankets, hands and feet pulled in, heads tucked down. Twin cocoons of self-made warmth. The room was utterly silent, broken only by quiet breathing. They were left undisturbed.
Then Takajin came back.
There was no warning -- the cell door didn't clang open, alien chakra didn't shiver, no scent change hit Kakashi's nose. There was just sleep, unbroken and dreamless. Then there was Takajin's hand clenched around Kakashi's throat.
He woke with a throttled gasp, eye flying wide, choked silent when another hand clamped over his mouth. The cell was pitch black. Kakashi struck out blind, hitting something that felt like pure muscle. There was a quiet grunt, then the grip around his throat tightened brutally and hauled him up. He kicked, aiming for a knee, a thigh-muscle, anything breakable; grabbed wildly for Takajin's face, couldn't find it, and scrabbled at the twin holds around his mouth and throat. They didn't flinch.
He couldn't warn Genma -- he couldn't get air.
His back slammed into stone. Warm, solid weight pinned him there. There was no slow-burning cigarette glow, only Takajin's breath on the side of his face. Hot and damp through cloth.
"Did you think we were done?"
( Panicked, Kakashi tried to drive a knee up into the bigger man's groin. ) |
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| Morning, Alone [Katsuko] |
[Feb. 23rd, 2010|03:05 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | katsuko | ] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  contemplative | ] |
[[Takes place the morning after Let's Not Speak of It Again]]
She should really be freaking out right now.
Like, now.
Any second.
Katsuko stared up at the ceiling of the inn, breathed a bit, and failed to freak out. A small breeze filtered in through the opaque rice-paper windows, making her shiver and pull the linen sheets up over her bare torso. The human-shaped lump beside her let out a soft sigh, barely audible amidst the early dawn noises of the old ryokan.
She stilled, not wanting to wake her partner, and glanced over at the other side of the futon. Ryouma’s dark brows were relaxed, the usual lines of tension in his angular, lean face smoothed out in sleep. It made him look younger, more innocent, and for a brief moment Katsuko could see him as a carefree teenager--a civilian, even. Some rake who was apprenticed to a respectable trade, and whose biggest concern was whether pretty Hanako would dance with him at the spring festival. Someone who’d only heard of shinobi in ghost stories and plays.
Katsuko’s lips quirked in a fond smile as she leaned over, callused fingers ghosting over a stray lock of hair that had fallen into Ryouma’s eyes.
( He frowned in his sleep and rolled away from her with a drowsy murmur. ) |
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| Don't Like It but I Guess I'm Learning [Genma & Kakashi] |
[Feb. 20th, 2010|08:24 pm] |
[Backstory. Takes place September 18th, four years post-Kyuubi. One and a half days after Learn the Hard Way, and only a few hours after Mightier Than The Sword]
Low light, hushed voices just out of hearing range, the scent of alcohol blended with chemicals and blood, and the fact that he felt as utterly ill as he ever had in his life told Genma he was in a hospital. For several heartbeats he lay unmoving on his back, trying to remember why. Then he wished he could forget. He tried to move his arms, and found his hands shackled and aching, one to each side, anchored to cold metal bed rails. His ankles, too, were strapped down, with his feet cramped and his legs wrenched apart. Belly up and vulnerable. It felt like night, but he had no idea how much time had passed since he'd last been conscious. Or what time of day that had been.
Someone came in. A young woman with long blonde hair and elfin features. She didn't smile. Not even a little. Her lips were stained a garish shade, waxy and wrong for her in a way that emphasized flaws in the symmetry of her face. She glanced at Genma, pressed a button, and raised the head of his bed. Then she snapped on a television set, added something to the IV in Genma's arm, gave him another cold, unreadable look, and left.
For the next long stretch of time -- long enough that Genma couldn't tell if it spanned hours or days -- he was left almost entirely alone.
( The room was not in Iwa's hospital, Genma determined, but a medical treatment cell in their prison. ) |
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| Learn the Hard Way (Kakashi & Genma) |
[Feb. 12th, 2010|07:13 pm] |
(Backstory. Takes place September 16th, four years post-Kyuubi. Half a day after How Many Ways Do You Wanna Die? and a day and a half before Mightier Than the Sword)
Kakashi thrashed his way back to consciousness to find no light in the world, his head splitting open, and his wrists in chains. He stifled a groan and lifted his chin off his chest, popping every vertebrae in a neck gone brittle-stiff. Strobing pain pulsed in the base of his skull. Dried blood flaked away from the nape of his neck.
As bad wake ups went, this one ranked about the middle of the list.
The room -- it felt like a room -- was cold, musty, and smelled of stone. Of old blood. He tried to move and realized he'd been manacled to a metal chair, tied at ankles and wrists. Thick straps of something more flexible, probably leather, wrapped tightly around his forearms, torso, and legs. Someone was taking no chances.
He twisted his hands, searching for a weak spot in the manacles, and hissed when hot, sick agony crashed up his right arm. For a lurching moment he thought someone had already started in and broken his hand, then he remembered the sword wound. Untreated, judging by the feel of dried blood caked all over his fingers and the lack of anything like a bandage. If it had scabbed, he'd just cracked it open.
( Upper-middle of the list, maybe. ) |
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| Something We've Been Missing [Kakashi, Katsuko] |
[Feb. 8th, 2010|04:46 pm] |
(Takes place on April 10th, the day after This Time It's Different, and an as-yet unposted Kakashi/Genma thread.)
It could have been the start to a wonderful day. There'd even been birdsong and blue skies, which should have warned her straight off that everything was going to go to pot--but hell, she'd always been an optimist.
Katsuko rolled out of bed somewhere between late breakfast and an early lunch, shrugged on a shirt (that was, strangely, several sizes too big for her) and loose pants, and meandered down to one of the training fields. Her swords she left in their gleaming armor stand on her dresser, not wanting to handle live steel when she was still sleep-dazed. Dredging up the effort to go find her wooden practice bokken had been quite beyond her, so it was only with her hand-wraps and work-out bag that she found her way down to a wooded field near the outskirts of the Village.
She hadn't practiced her kata in gods-only-knew how long, so after contemplatively chewing on a stale meal bar for a few minutes Katsuko sighed, stretched, and started on the first empty-hand set.
It didn't take long for her to fall into the half-trance that repetitive movement and exertion induced, sweat running from her hairline and the nape of her neck as she kicked and spun her way across the clearing. Worries, petty annoyances, the latest mission with Ryouma--it all faded away. There was just her, the wind, and the next move in the pattern-dance.
Of course, then it all went to pot. |
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| Never What I Expected [Chihiro, Ginta] |
[Feb. 8th, 2010|01:29 pm] |
Takes place April 6th, immediately following Meant to Live
Chihiro gave her grandson three hours. Three hours to talk to Sakumo's son, calm himself down, and get over his unspeakable rudeness. She used her three hours for a social call on an old friend, who agreed completely with Chihiro that Ginta had been far out of line, but he was Gousuke's grandson, what could you do? At least he was recovering. But after all the worry he'd put Chihiro through...
The matter of Ginta's choice of friends also came up, though not, thank heavens, his deviance. Still, Sakumo's son all grown up, imagine that. How far had that particular apple landed from the tree?
She went by her kimono maker's shop, and looked through the bolts of summer silk that had just arrived, choosing a sedate blue with a subtle pattern of koi at the bottom for herself. In memory of Gousuke, of course. For her daughter she picked something a little more vibrant, grass green with darting purple dragonflies. Yukari would like it, and it would make a nice gift. And she would give last summer's mauve kimono with the geometric pattern to her maid Suki. Suki had liked that one, she remembered, especially with the dark green obi. So the dark green obi with it. Yes.
By the time she had finished, she judged that Ginta had had more than enough time to visit with Sakumo's son, especially so soon after surgery. He should be resting not confronting his... What was Kakashi? An ex-lover, or at the very least a boy that Ginta had been pining over. Her lips twisted at the thought as if she tasted something sour.
( It was time, she told herself, that Ginta stopped this nonsense. ) |
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| Mightier Than the Sword. (Arakaki & Sandaime) |
[Feb. 8th, 2010|07:26 pm] |
(Set two days after How Many Ways Do You Wanna Die?, September 17th, four years post Kyuubi.)
Sarutobi Hiruzen, Konoha's third Hokage, did most of his important paperwork at night. It was a carry-over habit from his field ninja days, most likely, back when things had been simpler. And more brutal, if he was being truthful. When Konoha had been younger, sharper, and less diplomatic. When the world had been halved on the edge of a steel blade, rather than divided by the sweep of a calligraphy brush.
As one of the current brush-holders, Hiruzen wasn't entirely sure this system worked better. There was still blood -- there was always blood with ninja -- but it was stained blue now, mixed with ink.
( Also, he suspected, he was getting much less sleep nowadays. ) |
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| This Time Is Different [Ryouma, Ginta] |
[Jan. 31st, 2010|12:29 am] |
[[Takes place the morning of April 9, four days after All My Regets Are Nothing New, three days after Meant To Live, and a day and a half after Let's Not Speak of This Again.]]
The soldier pills Ryouma had taken on the long run home hadn't quite worn off when Katsuko left him in front of the hospital doors, but the corners of his vision were beginning to haze with a purple blur. He pushed his mask back and palmed another soldier pill stealthily, behind the potted plant in the foyer. The purple haze didn't go away, but the dying buzz in his veins quickened again. He smiled sunnily at the receptionist. "Morning! Got a medic free?"
The receptionist didn't smile back. Her eyes skidded from his bandaged shoulder to the glossy wetness on his hip and upper arm where the cuts had broken open and bled again, and back to the livid bruises purpling his bared arms. Her lips firmed when she met his eyes. Probably bloodshot, he guessed. At least his nose wasn't bleeding yet. Well, that was what medics were for.
Of course the medic, when he arrived, wasn't happy about it. Eight soldier pills in twenty-four hours was a hell of a stupid move, and the medic wasted no time saying so. Ryouma, who'd heard the same lecture half a dozen times before, smiled and nodded and fell half-asleep on the table. He woke with a yelp when the medic seared a budding infection out of his hip and again when the bandages peeled off his oozing shoulder. But the man's hands were steady and cool as he sank healing chakra deep into the burnt wreck Masahiko's lightning jutsu had left, and Ryouma was used to lectures.
( The IVs of saline and clotting factor helped a little; the new bottle of pain-killers helped a lot more. ) |
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| How Many Ways Do You Wanna Die? [Kakashi & Genma] |
[Jan. 22nd, 2010|08:18 pm] |
Set the morning following No Matter How We Try, four years post Kyuubi, September 16th.
Awareness came long after the sun had risen. Kakashi twitched back awake in the blank space between unhappy dreams and spent a long, thoughtful moment contemplating the green tent canvass two inches from his nose. Suguru was dead; the mission was successful. And Kakashi had definitely fallen asleep in his armour: joints and buckles and hard edges had all pressed themselves efficiently into cold flesh, leaving impressions like marks in clay. His hands were freezing, feet even more so in their open-toed sandals. His back...
His back was a long strip of heat, braced against something solid. His neck was even warmer, tickled by a gentle, intermittent stream of hot air. It smelled like ginseng and poison and morning breath.
Which made sense, given that Genma seemed to have decided the best place to sleep was wedged up tight against Kakashi's spine, with his face against Kakashi's neck. Kakashi could feel the subtle twitches of a dream-in-progress in Genma's hands, pressed into the small of his back; when he paid outward attention, he could see his own breath clouding on the morning air. The canvas was dark with cold morning dew. Birds sung undisturbed nearby: always a positive of an enemy-free forest, when the animals were relaxed.
( Kakashi warred with himself. ) |
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| Meant to Live [Kakashi & Ginta] |
[Jan. 22nd, 2010|02:36 am] |
Takes place April 6, the day after All My Regrets Are Nothing New and The Little Things Give You Away.
Kakashi woke at 6AM when a nurse put her hand on his shoulder. He didn't attack her, or flinch, or do anything much beyond crack his jaw in a yawn and bury his face deeper in the pillow. He'd been in Konoha's hospital enough times--and long enough this time--for the smell to crawl inside his skull and program his reflexes accordingly.
"Sorry, Hatake-san," the nurse whispered. "I just need to check your vitals and get some blood."
"Mmm," Kakashi agreed. He shrugged one arm free of the sheet and laid it out for her, eye still closed. He was still wearing Ryouma's hoodie; something he realized only when she had to push the sleeve up past his elbow to get the needle in.
( Maybe that explained why he'd dreamed of Ryouma. ) |
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| No Matter How We Try [Genma, Kakashi] |
[Jan. 21st, 2010|12:29 pm] |
Backstory. Set immediately following We All Have a Weakness, four years post Kyuubi, September 15th.
Kakashi might not know a damn thing about poisons, but he was the tracker. If he said there was a suitable campsite up ahead, he was probably right. A suitable, safe campsite, because deep inside Waterfall's borders only the most well-protected of locations would be worth considering for two battle-weary, poisoned, Leaf ANBU.
Which, Genma resolved to remember to point out once they were safely entrenched, Kakashi still was. Poisoned. Just because the antidote had saved him didn't mean he had nothing more to worry about. In fact it was Genma's responsibility as medic and poison specialist to check on that sooner rather than later. With only one tube of the antidote remaining to share between them, he'd need to titrate the repeat dose for Kakashi very carefully.
"How's your breathing?" he asked. "And your stomach? Are you hungry at all? Hungry would be a good sign."
Kakashi lifted his ANBU mask and gave Genma a look of rank curiosity, as if Genma had just turned orange, or suggested a swim in lava. "Are you hallucinating that you're a nice person, now?"
"I'm doing my job," Genma snapped. "And trying to make sure that you don't drop dead for want of a repeat dose of antidote."
Kakashi's eye flicked wide, then narrowed under a lowering scowl. "Repeat dose? There's only one of your tubes left and two of us. How's that going to work?" Before Genma could answer, Kakashi exhaled sharply, forcing the air out of his chest with a raw wheeze at the end. Testing. He shook his head. "It's fine. Sore, but fine."
"It will work fine, as long as we're careful. You got a much bigger hit of the toxin than I did, and I've got some immunity, or I'd have been lying on the ground choking to death hours ago." And Kakashi was breathing fine. That was also a good sign. His mask must have afforded him some protection...
And he was still wearing it.
"Take your mask off," Genma ordered.
The storm clouds that skated across Kakashi's expression were impressive.
"I'm serious. Take it off, rinse it the fuck out, and make sure you're not just re-poisoning yourself. If you go down again, and I'm not one hundred percent..." He didn't need to finish the threat. "Take it off and clean it. I promise not to look, so your modesty won't be compromised," he added with an eyeroll. |
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| We All Have a Weakness [Genma, Kakashi] |
[Jan. 14th, 2010|01:48 pm] |
Backstory. Set four years post Kyuubi, September 15th. One year after Kakashi and Genma's encounter in a safehouse shower, Love the Sounds When You Come Undone, two years after the mission where they learned to hate one another, How to Lose a Life. One year and seven months prior to Leaves' canon starting.
Genma hated several things about this mission already, not least of which was his mission partner. He ran next to Kakashi through the farmland that covered the plateau above Konoha, still well within the penumbra of their village's protection. A glance to the left showed a sea of vermilion and crimson, where autumn had set the trees aflame. That was another thing to hate: leaving Konoha at the peak of the fall flush, although if he wasn't looking for things to be unhappy about, Genma had to admit it wasn't as if they'd see no trees on their journey. But they were heading north, he grumbled to himself, and the trees to the north were more oaky, less maply, so less colorful. And anyway by the time they got back to Konoha the peak would be over.
Then there was Kakashi, with his disdainful silence, the twitching eyebrow when Genma had entered the briefing room, the dismissive snort that had stood for an answer when Genma had made what he'd considered a generous effort and greeted Kakashi with a shallow head-nod of a bow. Two years later and Kakashi still hadn't forgiven Genma for his dog's death? Just a month ago Genma had stood at the memorial stone, tracing a calloused fingertip over the names Ishida Nobuki and Oda Ayako, remembering carnage and failure, and the feeling of Ishida's heart stilling under Genma's hands. How did a dog's death weigh more heavily than that?
And one year ago there had been that... That incident in the safehouse showers. As far as Genma was concerned, that ought to have set them more than even over whatever karmic debt Genma had accumulated for failing to save Kakashi's dog. In fact the sums were looking decidedly to him like Kakashi was the one still owing something. The bastard.
( But there were other things to hate, too... ) |
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