[Log] Fight Like A Girl Who: Kamizuki Izumo, Uchiha Itachi When: November 4th Where: The dorms What: Izumo's been thinking about being a girl. He's come to some wrong conclusions, and has decided to work on his taijutsu. Warnings: Izumo, swearing, BOOBS flashing Itachi Open or Closed: Closed Observable: No
*NOTE: Izumo's girl-body is not metabolizing his medication the way he's used to; so he's being more paranoid and aggressive and his narrative in this log reflects that. His perceptions are not entirely true. Izumo is the unreliable narrator.
Izumo had made his rounds. He'd touched base with all his informants. Some fifty percent had changed gender. There were varying degrees of distress. Izumo had spent some time these past days in comforting people, petting and coaxing and reassuring, giving hints and suggesting bra sizes. He was now widely known for being able to estimate bra size with a look, which made some of the women he'd known look at him askance. Izumo hadn't bothered to tell them it came with being able to guesstimate weight, distance, and depth of penetration for a weapon to a vital spot.
Rumors were flying fast and thick. People were upset. Izumo had no less than three nearly-catatonic friends. He'd been able to rouse them enough to get them mildly functioning; he'd stuck two with other friends and taken the third to the medics. Izumo had been gathering information hand-over-fist, as had many of his rivals. And by now he knew what he needed to be doing.
As a girl, he needed to change his behavior. What was acceptable in a man -- the aggressive flirting, the easy familiarity with personal space, the sleeping around -- was frowned upon in a woman. Bodies had changed, minds had not, but what the eyes saw dictated so much in the mind. Izumo knew it and knew it well. It was a key concept in genjutsu, after all! Comments had already been made, and Izumo was following up hard and fast. He needed to flirt more subtly, more a little more elusive, discreet about his lovers now. It certainly wasn't fair but it was the perception. Izumo had a good reputation, and he needed to keep it. So. He was going to keep it.
Another thing; he was going to have to be more aggressive. Threats he could laugh off as a man he was going to have to clamp down on as a woman. New threats had already been made by those who hadn't changed. His enemies saw him as weaker now; he was going to have to be twice as hard to make them realize he was not. Again, not fair but it was what he would have to deal with.
He'd already broken Misha's nose and ribs, and sent Grobain to the infirmary with a lacerated, collapsed lung. He was not to be fucked with and he had to restate it louder than ever now. A little compact woman with curves was far less intimidating than a little compact man with heavy shoulders. Izumo still had more muscle than the average civilian, was still an athlete of the highest caliber, but he was now the "weaker" sex. That was ignored in the face of his large breasts. With chakra Izumo could hit just as hard as ever and move even faster, being lighter. He'd proved it but he was going to have to keep proving it.
This was why he was out in the forest again: it was a daily thing now. He was flinging himself through another attack routine, chakra snapping, body swaying. Need and desperation and anger bolstered him. Oddly, his control was improved, but he hadn't noticed. Every so often he wobbled as he new weight or balance threw him off. He kept going, correcting, adjusting. He needed to be good to hold his own and keep his reputation.
He was not a pushover. He was not weak. He was not going to stand for the bullshit they'd already tried to put over him.
Knowing Izumo was more inclined to chat than to fight, Itachi had been surprised to hear the man was throwing punchs as he was. Itachi had gone to see if the man had stirred up serious trouble, and now crouched in a tree to watch Izumo move. Izumo’s kata hadn’t significantly improved, though he was faster and he did seem more graceful.
Itachi had known Izumo had changed sex during the recent fiasco, though he hadn’t gotten around to seeing how Izumo was doing. Itachi had been knee deep with Collaborator business for a few days, but it might be good to shake Izumo down for some information.
And testing Izumo with a spontaneous drop into his kata tempted Itachi. The threat of having Liam’s warhound held him back a fraction, but Itachi decided that if Izumo was trying to learn to manage his new body (which is seemed he was), but Itachi decided it would be better to see how Izumo reacted to a fake surprise attack first than a real one. That very flimsy justification in his mind, Itachi grinned and then jumped, landing five feet behind Izumo.
Izumo spun and launched a handful of kunai at the perceived threat, chakra speeding his motions, eyes wide and chakra snapping behind the moves.
Itachi ducked and rolled, coming to on Izumo’s left, his hands loose at his side as he waited with a small grin to see what Izumo would do.
“Good reflexes.”
Izumo got halfway around with a hard tanto strike, and then Itachi spoke. Izumo snatched back to draw the strike, overbalanced, and went head over heels. he narrowly missed slitting his own throat with the blade.
“Godsdamn fuck you sonuvabitch!” he wailed, from the ground, equally angry and shaken.
“But you should work on reacting without panicking,” Itachi added as he walked over to Izumo, close enough he could be stabbed, but not really worried about it as he checked Izumo over. No obvious injuries, but Izumo had just toppled.
Itachi offered Izumo a hand up, expecting to get stabbed.
“Next time I’ll just gut you,” Izumo spat, though part of him knew how very unlikely that was to ever happen. He sheathed his tanto and scrabbled up on his own, leaves in his hair and teeth bared.
“Having some trouble adjusting?” Itachi asked lightly, dropping his hand and watching Izumo curiously.
Izumo’s answer was decidedly unkind and involved suggestive gestures with the kunai in his hand. He was not in a good mood today. And especially not after that spike of adrenaline.
“Are you going to break my ribs too?” Itachi asked dryly, eying the man as if there might be something wrong with him.
“...no, why would I do that?” Izumo wanted to know, startled by that. He blinked at Itachi, not quite following.
“You seem to be getting very violent in these recent days.” Itachi pointed out, watching Izumo carefully.
“Oh.” Izumo belated connected Itachi’s comment and kicked himself for not making it earlier, scowling. “Can’t let people think they can take advantage of me. Or that I’m weaker because I’m not.”
He glared and dared Itachi to challenge that declaration.
“I didn’t say you were. You’re just not handling yourself as you normally do.” Itachi wondered if Izumo was psychologically thrown by the shift to female, or if he could be having trouble adjusting to a different hormone load.
“You’re acting like it, but I didn’t say you were.” Power, to Itachi, was not having to follow through with your threats. And, if you were going to make someone an example, you did it well. You decimated them and terrified anyone who would ever think of trying. Personally, he thought Izumo should have ended anyone’s doubts with the first assault.
“Acting like what?” Izumo asked, suspiciously. He’d made his examples, and he had to be able to follow up on any further threats just as easily. He didn’t think there would be any more but he couldn’t know that for sure.
You’re acting like you’re vulnerable and paranoid. You’re unsettled by your new body, and you’re screaming it.” Itachi looked Izumo over. “You gained things and lost things. You should be able to compensate for what’s happened.”
Izumo sneered. “I am compensating.” He was up and walking again, anyway, and up to fighting condition again. Good to go for the little straightforward brawls needed to prove he wasn’t an easy target, anyway.
“You’re not usually one to make waves. It makes you a target,” Itachi pointed out.
Izumo’s lips twisted. “As if this body didn’t make me one anyway,” he retorted, shortly. He unconsciously shifted his stance, wary.
Itachi eyed Izumo. He frowned, then twisted his hands through signs, create a simple henge. Now Itachi looked like a sixteen year-old girl, slightly mimicking Izumo’s curvier form for effect. Itachi made himself smaller, slimmer, delicate.
“Do I look like a target?”
“You look like someone could knock you down with a feather,” Izumo retorted, grudgingly amused at Itachi’s appearance. Scrawny teenager suddenly reduced was always an interesting happening.
Itachi raised his chin. “Would you try it?”
“If I didn’t know better, yeah.” But Izumo knew better and knew that even in a normal state he couldn’t take Itachi down. He had no hope of it like this. He sighed, and shifted his weight, frowning at Itachi unhappily.
“It’s not as if they don’t know what you’re capable of.” Itachi crossed his arms. Maybe Izumo hadn’t built his reputation well enough.
“Some still think they can remove me if they try hard enough. Everyone’s upset, a lot of people aren’t functioning. It’s a good time to try,” Izumo retorted. He left out he’d done a little removing himself, weaseled in two very good agents into a ring to replace two who just weren’t functioning well these past few days.
Itachi would say that was untrue, but it had happened. Upheaval made people stupid. Made them think they had an actual chance to do change things. “So why did you let more than one person try it?” Itachi asked.
Izumo grimaced. “I knew Misha would start trouble, but I didn’t think Grobain would try to r-rape me.” He stumbled over the word, tried hard not to, and gritted his teeth.
Itachi blinked. That he hadn’t expected.
“You didn’t kill him?” It seemed an appropriate response, especially since death wasn’t permanent here. Maybe a painful maiming would have been better. Hm. “Do you want me to kill him for you?”
“No,” Izumo spat. “Fuck no. I don’t need anyone to do my dirty work for me. Not with scum like him. I made a fuckin’ example of that gutter-bred-rat and I’ll do the same to any who think they can try it too.”
He was drawn tense into a fighting stance, unaware of it, chakra flickering erratically, hands clenched into fists. He wasn’t weak and he wasn’t a whore and he hated people who assumed that a women was just there to be had.
Itachi put his head to the side, letting his eyes slip red. “You can’t win against all of them.”
“I can give it a damn good try,” Izumo answered, sharply. He knew he couldn’t but he’d go down fighting, at least.
“But you don’t want help, but you’re going to lose eventually...” Itachi frowned and wondered if Izumo always lacked such a back-up plan. He’d admired the man’s ability to manipulate people.
Izumo grimaced and stomped his foot. He instantly regretted the childish action but what the hell Itachi was not making sense. “Yes. I’m going to lose one day. I know that. Everyone does. I don’t need it to look like I’m depending on you for my dirty work for things I can handle. Now if you want to stab Fletcher and his annoying bitchy-ass two-bit-whore, go right on ahead.”
Because Izumo certainly wouldn’t be doing it: the man was far too powerful for him to even attempt a pass, but he’d been very insulting lately and being turned into a girl had only made it worse. He was getting too uppity and while someone was going to knock him down a peg soon, Izumo had been brainstorming ways to do it himself.
“Also, you should know, Jaken on the third floor is gunning for your head in the next match he has against you. Apparently the kunai to the tongue was not taken with all the love and care I’m sure it was delivered with.”
“I don’t like people with long tongues.” Itachi grimaced. Slimy nasty things. He watched Izumo’s agitated movement, still frowning. It didn’t...Izumo could be stressed from a body change, or from the unsettling experience of having someone do something to him against his will, but Izumo was an old ninja. He might be Chuunin, but he was competent.
“You seem a bit....frantic.” And not like his normal, suave Izumo self. Maybe this was Izumo being normal. Maybe Itachi didn’t know Izumo well enough to say whether or not the man was acting like himself, but it seemed to Itachi that Izumo should be handling this all better.
Izumo scowled, thought about biting Itachi’s head off, and bit his tongue-piercing instead. “You try juggling this kinda fucked-up shit and about twenty freaked-out informants and about a thousand rumors which may or may not be true and see how calm you are,” he retorted, gesturing to his body, which made his chest jiggle.
Dammit, he’d tried a bra and he really sould have been wearing one but he couldn’t stand the tightness around his chest. It wasn’t fun. So instead he got to jiggle which wasn’t very fun either. This sucked.
Itachi wrinkled his nose. “That is just an excuse. I thought you were a good intel agent.” Itachi dropped the henge and gave Izumo a level look. Also, Izumo should have done something about the bouncing. This was most disappointing.
Izumo snarled, and pounced.
It wouldn’t do a damn bit of good but by gods he wanted to punch Itachi in the face. Insufferable little...!
Itachi hadn’t expected that! He dodged out of the way, taking several steps back, then scowled and ducked forward, going low and swinging a scything kick at Izumo.
Izumo wanted to fight? Fine, they would fight.
Izumo zagged, hopped up in a spring of chakra, and dropped down towards Itachi in a kind of free-fall pounce, hoping he’d catch at least some left-behind limb and thus get Itachi down with it. Itachi was faster but Izumo was still heavier..
Itachi twisted and leapt away, but his ankle--no, barely his foot was caught, just enough to make him stumble and tumble down in a flurry of limbs.
Izumo kept his hold on the foot, then snagged a flailing wrist and sat himself on Itachi’s hips in a rather ungainly flop that had no fighting finesse in it at all.
Itachi wrenched his hips and tried to throw Izumo off, but he realized immediately that was stupid. He would never be able to toss Izumo off, and they both knew Itachi could remove the man easily with violence or a jutsu.
“Feel better?” Itachi asked, just going limp.
“Marginally,” Izumo returned, and scowled. He swung a leg over and got to his feet, lacking some of his usual smooth grace. “I’ll have to work on squashing the desire to break your nose, but I think you manage to get everyone feeling that way at some point. It seems to be a particular talent of yours.”
“I’m impressed you even tried.” Itachi sat up but stayed on the ground. “Which just adds to my growing list of reasons you don’t seem to be very much yourself.” Which unnerved Itachi, because Izumo felt like he didn’t fit anymore. Everyone had a certain place in his mind, and Izumo had rattled out of his.
“I’m feeling particularly pissed today.” Izumo crossed his arms, and had a moment of shifting before he worked them under his boobs which felt less wierd than over. He swore softly at them.
Itachi watched Izumo struggle. “If you spend so much time watching girls, why are you so bad at being one?” Izumo should be good at undercover work.
“Because I am a guy, and this is not my body. You try learning to move with your center of balance in the same spot for what, twelve years, then get it moved.” Izumo grimaced. “Overnight.”
“Is it that different?” Itachi asked. All Izumo’s weight had shifted around, but couldn’t he compensate? Itachi tipped his head to the side. Itachi put his head to the other side, then stood up and walk around Izumo.
“You haven’t figured out how to compensate for it yet?” Obviously Izumo needed help, then.
“I’m compensating. I’m fuckin’ walking. And fighting. That’s compensating.” Izumo thought he’d been doing rather well, honestly.
“You are a very grouchy woman. And paranoid.” Itachi reached out a foot to push on Izumo’s calf.
“Paranoia is a way of life. I would think a missing-nin might know that well.” Izumo scowled at the offending foot. He nudged it aside with his ankle, wobbling a little on one foot.
“I am paranoid, but I’m not...you’re all...frayed at the corners.” That made no sense, so Itachi didn’t look at Izumo as he spoke. Itachi hooked his ankle under Izumo’s and levered Izumo’s ankle up.
Izumo nimbly took his leg back. He looked around, then looked at Itachi. “Kinda feel that way. Good choice of words, genius.” The needling sharpness had softened a fraction.
“You shouldn’t mock temperamental genius teenagers,” Itachi advised. “Maybe we should glue you back together--or re-hem you.”
“Right. You figure that out. I’ll manage my information network,” Izumo retorted, not too impressed with the advice. He knew it wasn’t a bright idea but he was irritated and it didn’t matter as much.
“You’d never talk to me if I used a diagnostic genjutsu on you,” Itachi replied dryly. He’d probably get almost punched in the nose again.
“Fuck you no.”
Izumo grimaced. Those...yeah. No. “Unless you’d like to end up with that one octopus from Mist in your bed.” Izumo could do it, too.
“You make it very difficult to help you.” Itachi shook his head and tucked his hands into his pockets.
“Maybe it’s because I don’t need help,” Izumo parried, and raised an eyebrow.
“You’re obviously managing things perfectly well, my mistake,” Itachi bowed and then gave Izumo a blank look. “I’ll leave you to your floundering.”
Izumo rolled his eyes. “You need to lighten the fuck up and learn how to be teased.” He sighed and rolled his eyes. Teenagers! They were a headache and a half. He stuck his tongue out at Itachi, piercing and all.
“You should learn not to deflect serious issues,” Itachi responded flatly. This wasn’t funny. It wasn’t good. Something was wrong and Izumo didn’t want to address it, fine. It wasn’t as if his death would be permanent.
Izumo grimaced, and shifted his weight. He knew he didn’t feel just right, but he didn’t want to talk about it with Itachi. Genma was keeping his mouth shut, and Balfour had so far only begun to nag him about taking pills but it tended to really ruin a relationship and Izumo didn’t want to do that. Especially not with how delicately balanced this working partnership was anyway.
“It complicates things. People I work with don’t like complicated,” Izumo answered, after a moment, eyeing Itachi carefully.
“And you do not like to be vulnerable either.” Itachi smiled thinly. Itachi nodded. “You should work on your kata, then. You’re still off balance.”
Izumo made a face. “Perhaps you could give me suggestions.” The words were bitter to say but Itachi was the better fighter. He could, no doubt, help point out Izumo’s errors.
“I’ve never been a woman. I wouldn’t be much help.” Itachi thought it was a peace offering, but he didn’t want to take it. He didn’t want to be pacified.
“I meant in general,” Izumo snapped back, weight sinking deeper onto the balls of his feet. He moved better when he wasn’t thinking about it, of course.
“Stop being uselessly paranoid and nervous.” Itachi smiled. “I’m sure you can figure out the how on your own.” Itachi waved, slightly mocking.
Izumo swore at him, long and low, then sprang again, chakra flaring.
This time, Itachi spun to face Izumo, hands raised to brush the initial charge aside as he stepped to the left.
Izumo thumped a foot down and in a twist of flexibility that looked damn near impossible for someone so thick-framed he slewed around and pounced for Itachi, hands bare, snarling.
Itachi dropped down before Izumo hit him, curling his legs up as he hit and striking out, hoping to kick Izumo off of him.
Izumo’s hands hit Itachi’s shoulders but the kick to his gut thumped all the breath out of him and he went over, dropping; he narrowly missed cracking their skulls together as he rolled over his own shoulders, ending up on his feet with his back to Itachi. He whirled and lunged in again, fast and low.
Itachi could have pulled out a genjutsu or ninjutsu, but that wouldn’t help Izumo learn to move. Instead, Itachi came up, dodging to the side and striking at Izumo’s shoulder as he tried to circle around behind the man.
Izumo skidded, twisted, and wrenched an arm up to block. He lashed out with a foot at Itachi’s shin, crouched low, eyes wide and fierce. No thought not plan, just reaction and action.
Itachi felt the jar of the block, then shoved chakra into his leg to strengthen it against blow to his shin. Itachi twisted and threw his elbow at Izumo’s face in a sweeping downward blow.
Izumo rose in a lash of chakra, crossing his wrists to catch Itachi’s arm. He curled his leg and snapped it back out at a downwards angle towards Itachi’s kneecap. It was a brutal move to use in a spar but Izumo was forgetting that little fact already.
Itachi shoved with his feet, catching the blow barely on his kneecap. He shoved against Izumo’s block, sticking his skin to Izumo’s with a pulse of chakra. He flipped over the shorter man, barely clearing him, and landing very close behind Izumo. As he landed, his knee buckled. Itachi fell down into a crouch and kicked out at the back of Izumo’s knee.
Izumo twisted, got hit, staggered and turned it into a neat one-handed handspring. No chakra to stick him or help him, only chakra when he turned and pounced, speeding his motions.
Itachi’s left knee would not shove properly. He kicked with the right and spun himself vertical to Izumo’s pounce, scrambling backwards.
No change of direction, he’d committed, so when Izumo did land he bounced right back up and pounced at Itachi’s trailing leg to grab him.
Itachi could have kicked Izumo in the face. He could have yanked his leg. Itachi jerked himself forward, aiming a fist for Izumo’s face--the side with the green eye.
Izumo flinched, twisting, but still thumped hard into Itachi, shoulders colliding. He immediately rolled his weight over the smaller man, digging an elbow into Itachi’s ribs, a knee into his hip.
Itachi’s first instinct, as he felt Izumo’s knee might crush something important around his hip, was to go for Izumo’s eyes. His knee was throbbing, and Izumo didn’t outweigh him by much, but he was heavier in build. Itachi wasn’t a brawler.
And he was stuck. After a almost panicked, spasmodic wriggling jerk that only dug Izumo’s elbow and knee in harder. Brawling would mean hurting Izumo or himself.
The answer was jerking himself up and trying to smash Izumo’s nose in.
Izumo tucked his chin, then in a jerk move that had always annoyed Kotetsu, he went limp and blanketed himself over Itachi like a large rug. Smoosh.
What? What kind of a move was this? What?
Itachi tried to buck Izumo off, but he couldn’t. More wiggling proved ineffective. He couldn’t get out!
Then, Itachi started snickering. Laughing, because he, missing-nin, renowned killer, couldn’t get out from under a Chuunin, who was pulling a move five year-olds used to keep you from getting up and taking them back to their own bed. And laughing made it even more impossible to get out.
This was stupid.
Izumo grunted. “I win,” he declared, somewhere around Itachi’s shoulder.
“Get off,” Itachi demanded. Izumo-as-a-girl was very...squishy. In a kind of smothering way.
“What do you say?” Izumo retorted, and felt a smile coming on. Oh why the hell not? He had managed to not get flattened, somehow.
“If you did lasting damage to my knees, I’m making you pay for healing.” Itachi managed to twist his hand enough to dig a thumb into Izumo’s side.
“Say please,” Izumo insisted, and sighed, thinking himself heavier.
“Are you five?” Itachi asked tartly. He glared, but he knew Izumo wouldn’t let it go. “Please get off of me before I hurt you.”
Izumo rolled off and ended up with Itachi’s hand under his shoulderblade. “Ow. I think I pulled something.”
“I hope you did,” Itachi replied caustically, pulling himself away from Izumo.
“Are you mad ‘cause I won?” Izumo wanted to know, sitting up.
Itachi rolled up his pants to look at his knee. Only bruised. “No, and why is your chest so pointy?” Izumo had been all soft flesh, except for two definite hard spots that had dug in.
Izumo looked down. “I don’t know? What was pointy?” he asked, puzzled. The breasts were pretty squishy.
“I don’t know.” He wasn’t magic. It hadn’t been large enough to be a hidden weapon.
Izumo pressed gently against his boobs. Nothing hard? Oh, wait. He pulled the shirt tight over his breast. “That?” he asked, pointing to the outline of his nipple-piercing. He had bars in today.
“Yes.” Itachi nodded. Whatever those were anyway.
“Oh. Well, sorry for stabbing you with my nipple piercings, I guess,” Izumo managed, keeping a straight face though he very desperately wanted to laugh. That was one of the most ridiculous things he’d ever said to Itachi.
“Your what?” Itachi’s voice cracked. He gave Izumo a look between horrified and shocked. Why would you pierce something like that.
“My nipple piercings.”
Without the least trace of remorse, Izumo whipped his shirt up and flashed Itachi.
Itachi flinched back, expecting an attack, not to be flashed. As he glanced back, it turned into an open stare. He could see why Izumo might have balance problems. His breasts were large, and unlike breasts contained in a bra (as most of the dancer’s in the Domus had, Itachi’s best sampling of how breasts acted), Izumo’s fell more and moved different.
And had metal bars through the nipple. Itachi wondered what genius had decided that would be a good idea and grimaced.
Izumo let Itachi get a nice long look before he pulled his shirt back down. “That’s a nipple piercing,” he said, and grinned unrepentantly.
“It’s nice to know you enjoy painfully decorating your body with useless bits of metal,” Itachi retorted dryly. Itachi grimaced and stood, gingerly putting weight on the knee Izumo had kicked.
“They’re not useless. They’re for sex,” Izumo retorted, and got to his feet as well. He flexed his ankle. It popped loudly. He winced. Glancing at Itachi, he added, “You should ice that.”
“Somehow, I don’t think sticking metal bars in your body is necessary for sex,” Itachi grimaced and flexed his knee. “I will.” He still had to hobble his way back to his room, though.
“Not necessary, no, but they make things fun.” Izumo considered Itachi. “Do you want some help?” He thought he’d only clipped the other.
“You can’t even walk,” Itachi countered as he took a hobbling step.
“I can walk better than you right now,” Izumo retorted, and took a few steps to prove it. He limped on the one ankle but hey he was moving! Actually limping kinda helped. He pondered this and went back to Itachi’s side.
“So I can’t help you, but you have to help me? Evidently being turned into a woman has awoken your maternal instincts.” Itachi made to pat Izumo on the head. “How sweet.”
“Fucker, come a little closer and I’ll pierce your nose for ya.” Izumo produced a senbon and bared his teeth in a parody of a grin. Irritation flickered but this was Itachi. He was a bastard like that.
“I’m not letting you pierce anything of mine. You have strange ideas about them,” Itachi countered. He smiled sweetly and stepped away from Izumo. “And I don’t think we’re ready for our relationship to take that step.”
Izumo paused, then grinned. “Wow, Itachi! You just said something flirty! I’m so impressed!” He grinned broadly at the younger man. “You learn fast.”
Okay, so it’d been ninja-flirting, all biting words and vicious intent, but hey, it counted.
“I’m mocking you, not flirting. Since flirting seems to be your main language, I’m descending to your level so you don’t miss any of my scorn and derision,” Itachi shot back. And that had been flirting?
Izumo chuckled. “Oh I see, oh mighty Itachi. Can this unworthy one help you in any way?” he tossed back, the archaic phrases stiff in his mouth.
Itachi glared. “Yes, make sure you take care of yourself so I don’t have to find myself another informant.” One he could trounce and that ran its own network of spies. That would be hard to come by.
“Yeah, yeah.” Izumo shrugged. “Sure I can’t help you? Jump you to the medics?” he asked, more seriously.
“I’m fine. I’ll walk it to my room, then ice it. I’ve been injured enough not to be stupid,” Itachi shrugged and waved Izumo off. “Unless you just want me to demand a piggy-back ride so you could put me in a ridiculous situation and begin to climb towards an upper hand in our relationship...”
Itachi shrugged. “You’ll have to find another way to soothe your ego.”
Izumo snorted at the mental image. “If I tried, we’d both fall down. My balance still hasn’t recovered that much,” he retorted. “I’ll leave you to your tedious journey, then.” He offered Itachi a smile, though. He was, he realized, in a much better mood than he had been. Surely it wasn’t Itachi’s company - most likely the verbal sparring, and having actually won the physical spar. That was probably it.
“Good. Having you on top of me once was enough.” Itachi grimaced, but he dipped his head in a bow before he headed for the dorms, smiling just a little as he wobbled along.
Izumo couldn’t resist one last jab. “Yeah I always figured you’d want to top in sex!” he called after Itachi. It was true, he did figure that: people could occasionally surprise you but a personality like that? If Itachi ever got interested in sex, yeah, probably the dominant one in the relationship.
Itachi didn’t dignify that with a verbal response. Instead, he turned and stuck out his tongue at Izumo, again descending to Izumo’s level of insult before jogging off unevenly for the dorms.