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ANBU Legacy

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[May. 22nd, 2014|05:41 am]

Ryouma’s spoon dropped into the pot. He stretched his back, jaw cracking on a yawn. Raidou glanced at the door and whistled, short and sharp. A moment later, a clone stepped through.


Raidou scooped the pot off the ground and held it out. “Prisoner can have the rest. Take her some water, too.”

There was a grate in the cell door. The clone could probably figure out how to work it without killing itself against the chakra-cancelling seals.

It saluted, gathered a cup, and stepped back out.

Ryouma’s jaw tightened. Still no fan of Fukuda, and Raidou couldn’t blame him for it. Aoisuke had only faked Katsuko’s death, and Raidou had ripped a waterfront apart to put him in the ground. Fukuda’s team nearly had killed Kakashi and Genma.

It made him wonder, distantly, what would’ve happened if they’d swapped missions.

Kakashi’s Sharingan could cut a genjutsu apart; Ryouma and Genma had no trouble with illusions, either. The children would’ve been the sucker-punch.

And for Iebara—Katsuko’s chakra-storm made her a target for any ninja who wanted to add salt to his Bingo Book entry. She could go toe-to-toe with legends and come up swinging, but not if that first hit bled her dry. Raidou could handle a team well enough, but a team with a monster at their back?

Maybe it was a good thing they hadn’t gotten the chance to find out.

“You ever been taken prisoner, taichou?” Ryouma asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.

He had an amazing talent for tossing out questions Raidou didn’t expect.

“Not so far,” Raidou said, and reached back one-handed to brush his fingers against the crate’s splintery wooden side. Touch wood. “Had a couple friends who did, though, back in the war. One of ‘em made it home.” He paused. “Most of him.”

Ryouma chewed that over for a minute, thoughtful. “Body or mind?”

“Minus three fingers and half a leg,” Raidou said. “He was still sane after, much as you can be. He’s a gardener now, grows medical plants. Likes to stay under open skies.”

Ryouma nodded, eyes distant. “Guess that might not be so bad.” He glanced back towards the closed door, a brief flicker of indecision darkening his face. Wondering what Fukuda’s future would be without that arm? He shook his head abruptly and lurched up to his feet, gathering the meal detritus. “So long’s she doesn’t get a chakra-prosthetic arm and come after us again, I don’t care what happens to her.”

Raidou thought, You’re a bad liar.

“Don’t think they make prosthetics that good,” he said.

Ryouma’s voice ground dark, like glass. “It’s Mist. Who knows what they do? They have puppets in Suna.” He circled back to the shelves and poked half-heartedly through supplies. “D’you want more tea? They don’t have coffee.”

“Y’know what I really want? Fresh air.” Raidou creaked back to his feet. “Want to see if the rain’s stopped?”
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