| Guilty Filthy Souls
||[May. 21st, 2014|08:44 pm]
“I plan to,” Genma told it. He got his upper body as clean as a two minute wash would allow, and found every cut and bruise he’d earned in the fight with Iebara and company in the process. Scrubbing his scalp pulled on his broken nose enough he didn’t even want to try to wash his face. When it came time to do his legs, he gave his own clone the washcloth back. It squatted just outside the shower stall, reaching into the spray to do what it could.
Katsuko’s clone remained mute throughout, ignoring him as he contorted himself trying to get clean without brushing against it.
“Alright,” he said, when his mental clock said his time was up. “Go ahead and go. I’ll get dried and dressed.” The clone obeyed instantly, shutting off the water and shimmying out past Genma.
It was almost at the door when he stopped it. “Wait.”
It glanced up, saw he was still dripping and towelless, and ducked its head so fast it probably gave itself whiplash. After the last mission, Katsuko’d made a beeline for the door when she’d come in on Genma changing. For a woman who made every effort to get a good look at her other teammates unclothed, she was remarkably shy around Genma. He was starting to wonder if it was personal.
Focus, Shiranui. Maybe he should take that third soldier pill sooner rather than later.
He grabbed the towel from his clone and wrapped it around his hips. “Is there anything else I need to know?”
“Ask the captain,” it said cryptically.
So there was something.
“Also, um,” it said. “Katsuko's happy you're okay.”
Before he could respond to that, it made its escape, leaving him with his clone and a muddle of complicated feelings in the dull yellow light.
“I’m glad you’re okay, too, Ueno,” he told the closed door. How bad had Raidou and Katsuko’s side of the mission been? They’d headed out in the storm to look for their team well before the 0400 drop dead mark, too. Something had spooked them.
Not without reason, given what Genma and his team had run into.
He turned to stare at his painfully distorted reflection in the steamed up mirror. Really should fix that nose, but two seconds’ prodding convinced him he didn’t want to touch it again until he was high on painkillers. And that wasn’t going to happen until he’d finished treating the rest of the team.
While Genma dressed, his clone rinsed the gore and grime from his armor in the shower. He didn’t bother putting it back on. It could use the time to dry, and he needed the freedom of movement for now. His medkit was still in good order when he checked it over. He grabbed the vial of soldier pills and shook one out, crunching it down dry. As he chewed, his nose throbbed, and a trickle of blood ran down over his lip like a warning. Three soldier pills in twenty-four hours was already pushing past what was safe, and his leg…
Was still bleeding inside from some vein or lesser artery he hadn’t managed to seal.
He spat the remains of the pill into the sink and rinsed his mouth. The tingle of artificial chakra burned in his pathways, but it felt feeble compared to the usual buzz a soldier pill gave him.
The clone looked at him with an arched-eyebrow expression Genma recognized too well.
“Nobody asked you,” he told it.
It kept the rest of its opinions to itself as it helped him limp back to the others.