| [Apr. 23rd, 2014|05:24 am] |
If it hadn't been for Kakashi's near-second pause, Asuma might have missed that comment entirely. They weren't friends, there was no need for small talk, especially not in Genma's absence. Why the bother?
He must like Genma. Not that it would be a surprise. Genma was one of those people who was hard to hate.
"Who told you?" Asuma asked, before Kakashi could head off again. "I heard the first report out said I was dead."
Kakashi tilted his head slightly, bringing enough of his angled face into view that Asuma thought he could detect a faint smile under the mask.
“Take a guess,” Kakashi replied dryly.
As the son of the late Sandaime, it took less than a second to process what Kakashi meant. Even if Yondaime-sama hadn’t told Kakashi about the coup directly, a lot of stuff just got picked up by osmosis and accidental eavesdropping. Considering the heavy touch of wryness in his voice, though, Asuma was going to go with ‘told directly’.
He wondered what else the Yondaime might have told Kakashi. Then he decided he didn’t actually want to know. That would require thinking, and as far as he was concerned he’d far exceeded his quota for the day.
Asuma wrestled for a moment over what to say—ask more about what Yondaime-sama might have said? get details on this mission they were heading out on? threaten to break kneecaps if Kakashi mistreated Genma?—but decided less would be more, in this instance.
“Thank you for telling him.” He looked away from Kakashi, to the hospital entrance Genma had gone back through. “I appreciate it.”
Kakashi shifted in his peripheral vision; when Asuma looked back, it almost seemed like the other ninja was blushing. Was Kakashi blushing?
“Stopped him moping,” Kakashi said, tone short, and stepped back into the steady stream of people exiting the hospital. It didn’t take long for his distinctive mop of hair to disappear from sight.
… well, the bit about him being a terrible conversationalist hadn’t changed in the last few years. Good to see some things stayed the same.
Almost as though on cue, once Kakashi had disappeared from sight, Genma re-entered it. His hands were full enough to make elbowing through the hospital doors more cumbersome than usual—one holding a box from his father’s bakery, the other a string bag of fruit. The expression on his face implied he’d probably just escaped an impromptu lecture. Or was concerned about the state of his pastries, giving the way he was inspecting the box.
“I think he likes you,” Asuma said without preamble, once Genma was within earshot again.
His friend looked up from the box of pastries, harried expression morphing into something that questioned if they were using the same language. “How strong are the painkillers you’re on?”
“Can’t feel a thing,” Asuma lied, with more cheer than he felt. “And I mean like, he likes you well enough he won’t genjutsu you into walking into walls during training, not like he’ll stay the night and make you breakfast the next day.”
Genma took a long moment to digest that information, seating himself back on the bench as he did so. The skepticism on his face and radiating from his voice was nearly palpable. “He told you that.”
“He said he was glad I made it back, because you were worried.” Asuma shifted to get a better look through the box’s plastic window, sighting doriyaki nestled among plainer looking buns. “I thanked him and he said he did it to stop you from moping. Then he ran away blushing.”
That was apparently news to Genma. He leaned back against the bench, tipping his chin up to stare at the sky above them. “Huh,” he said, after a long pause. “That’s… huh. Now I feel kinda bad about making him do paperwork for being a smart-ass.” |
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