| Shoot the Messenger | [Jan. 4th, 2014|01:07 am] |
[Takes place the evening of May 4, Yondaime Year 5, a few hours following Breakfast of Champions.]
Kakashi slept until the late afternoon, sprawled comfortably on the couch in a moving sunbeam, until Naruto burst back fresh from school.
“Is he still here?” Naruto demanded.
Kakashi hooked a thumb towards Minato’s room.
Whooping, Naruto charged in like a tiny whirlwind and pounced, rousing his father in a cloud of bed hair and confusion. Despite familiar surroundings, Minato was still operating in a mission frame of mind; he immediately tried to go to the office. It took a combination of emotional manipulation, small boy tears, and Otter—the afternoon ANBU guard—leaving and returning with a message from Sagara that simply said ‘No’ before he could be persuaded to have dinner instead.
Since it was a special day, they ordered take out ramen (Otter taste-tested for poison, while Naruto watched in fascination) and cued up the old favorite movies that Minato rarely had time to watch anymore, since there was only so much Captain Seaweed he could tolerate before declaring mutiny. Naruto settled belly-down on the rug, feet tangled up with his father’s, and drew increasingly incomprehensible pictures with his crayon set. He presented each one to Minato, who declared them all a work of mad genius.
It was proven fact that Minato had questionable taste (see: opinion on Captain Seaweed, frog motif, his son’s name), but Kakashi didn’t argue with him.
Minato dozed off again halfway through the second short movie, and didn’t stir even when Naruto clambered into his lap. Kakashi left them—the couch was comfortable enough, and Naruto was happy—and put his own vaguely restless energy into making Naruto’s next-day bento and re-reading a few of Minato’s more esoteric scrolls.
When the light was dwindling and Naruto was starting to head-nod, Kakashi stirred them both and sent them to bed. Naruto made no attempt to get into his own bed; he clambered into Minato’s, snuggled down on Kushina’s side, and demanded that Minato read to him.
Minato managed to stay heroically awake long enough to make it through half of Mr. Bunny's Big Adventure, then his eyes hazed, his voice blurred, and the book drooped until it was resting on the slow rise and fall of his chest. Against his side, Naruto was already asleep.
Kakashi flicked the light off, closed the door halfway, and left them to it.
Turtle had swapped shifts with Panther, a tall, dark-skinned woman with an easy looseness in her shoulders. She was standing in the usual guard-spot by the front door. Kakashi nodded as he stepped over the threshold.
She nodded back.
Belatedly, he realized she was at least his senpai, if not more superior, and he probably should have saluted. The lines had gotten a little blurred over his two days of temporary, out-of-uniform guardianship.
“I need to step out for a minute,” he said. “If they wake up and ask, let them know I’ll be back.”
“Are you staying inside the village?”
“Yep,” Kakashi said, and added, more dryly, “I have a Hiraishin kunai. If I trip over my laces, I promise I’ll throw it.”
“Disturb him for a prank, and I’ll gut you,” Panther said pleasantly.
Kakashi blinked. “Noted.”
He saluted, got one back, and slipped away with the weight of her eyes resting on the back of his neck.
Genma still didn’t have his own place. He was living with Yamashiro Aoba in one of the jounin-exclusive apartment blocks on the north-east side of the village, just beyond where the Hokage’s monument melted back down into Konoha’s thick surrounding wall. Technically, Kakashi wasn’t supposed to know that, since the captain had described Genma’s living circumstances as ‘in flux’ and left it there, but Kakashi didn’t like loose ends.
Besides, it had been good practice to quietly stalk the lieutenant back to his (temporary) home-base after the third day of practice. A test against another chakra-sensor, and confirmation that Kakashi could hide the betraying ANBU spark they’d tattooed into him. Genma hadn’t caught him.
Neither had Katsuko. Or Raidou.
This time, Kakashi went to the front door. Someone—Aoba?—had added the personal touch of two small fruit shrubs either side of the doormat. The apartment block was one of the newer complexes, rebuilt after the Kyuubi attack. Everything was fairly clean and well-kept. The door numbers were brass, still shiny.
Kakashi knocked.
There was a muted flare of chakra seals. After a moment, a lean man with dark sunglasses, lopsidedly spiked hair, and a scowl opened the door—Aoba. He tipped his chin down; pale eyes regarded Kakashi over the top of the glasses. Then he leaned against the doorframe and drawled, “Yes?”
Kakashi hooked his hands into his pockets. “Shiranui home?”
“Maybe,” Aoba said, like Kakashi couldn’t feel Genma’s restrained chakra signature from here. “Who wants to know?”
Apparently it was gatekeeping hour.
“Hatake,” Kakashi said, playing nice. “I have a message for him.”
Aoba gave him a cool look. “Gen’s just off a mission, which I’m pretty sure you know. He’s sleeping. Give me the message, I’ll pass it on.”
That was not a sleeping signature.
Kakashi let his chakra ripple subtly, enough for another sensor to catch. “I can wait.”
“Suit yourself,” Aoba said. “If you have a crush, there are better ways to get his attention, though.”
Dropping his housemate into a river might be one.
Kakashi controlled his gathering irritation. “I can wait,” he said again.
Aoba shrugged. Kakashi was starting to think he’d actually interrupted something, except that Aoba was fully dressed, unrumpled, and didn’t seem in a hurry to get back to anything. “Of course,” Aoba added, “if you have orders for him, that’s another matter. Just show me the scroll.”
“You police all his mail?” Kakashi inquired.
“I’m in Intel,” Aoba said. “Making sure documents are legit is part of my sworn duty to Konoha.”
“So, yes,” Kakashi said.
“How else would I know when I needed to worry about him?” Aoba said, wryly.
Maybe Genma hadn’t gotten a new apartment because he lived in fear of being ax-murdered by his rejected roommate.
“I hear some people use words,” Kakashi said, slouching back on his heels.
Aoba opened his mouth—and paused when a door clicked somewhere behind him. Steam and soap caught Kakashi’s nose. A moment later, Genma came around the corner wearing a towel knotted sarong-style around his hips, and not much else. He’d clearly just stepped out of the shower; his hair hung loose and wet between his shoulderblades, and steam curled up from his skin. The demon scar cut a livid pink line across his lower belly, knotted and angry-looking. “Leave Hatake-kun alone, Ao-chan,” he said calmly. “Weren’t you on your way to the store or something?”
“Oh, it's like that, is it? Guess your tactics worked out after all, kid.” Aoba tipped a wink at Kakashi—who thought about deeper rivers—and stepped out of the way. “I'll just go to the store then. You need anything while I’m out, Gen? Cigarettes? Lube, cond—”
“Aoba,” Genma said.
Aoba put his hands up, disarming, and left.
“He’s pleasant,” Kakashi said, after a pause.
“He’s actually a really good guy,” Genma said. “But he can be kind of an ass when he’s trying to impress you.” Clearly, ‘impress’ and ‘irritate’ lived a little too close together in Genma’s mental dictionary. He waved one hand at the couch. “Have a seat. Captain tell you where to find me? I know we have training tomorrow, but I can’t imagine he’d tell Sagara we were ready for a mission alre—”
Kakashi closed the door, but didn’t step further inside or take his shoes off. “I have some news.”
“You have—”
“Asuma’s alive.” |
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