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Bottle of Smoke [Mar. 27th, 2015|10:19 pm]
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[User Picture]From: [info]shiranui_genma
2015-03-28 02:56 am (UTC)

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Genma’s slumber was shallow enough that the sound of the opening door and the sunlight-on-polished-bronze feel of the new chakra presence in his room worked their way into his dream. Asuma leaned against the closed office door, broken shards of his bird mask in his hand. There was blood on his face, dripping from a gash on his forehead. Sooty stains blotched his armor. He held a scroll out towards Genma. “Lieutenant says you need to take this to the command center. Taichou’s being court-martialed for improper conduct.”

“What?”

No. Wait. Aren’t… Aren’t I the lieutenant now? There was his desk, and Raidou’s. Or was that Hyuuga-taichou’s? Asuma’s not on my team anymore, he’s serving the Daimyou in Hikouto. How does he know about Raidou?

The room darkened, and a hard rain spattered against the window. The walls trembled as an earth jutsu shuddered through the foundations. Asuma swayed and grabbed at the door, leaving a smeared red handprint on the worn wood. For a moment he locked eyes with Genma, then he slumped to the floor in a spreading pool of blood. So much blood. Hundreds of cuts shredded his uniform and crisscrossed his skin like he’d been caught in a whirlwind of blades. Or Iebara’s blood-senbon. Genma lurched towards his friend—

And jerked awake.

Asuma was standing at the foot of the bed in slightly rumpled jounin blues, looking almost entirely uninjured. His right forearm was wrapped in a soft brace—remnant of the fracture he’d gotten defending the Daimyou two weeks ago. He jostled the bed frame with one sandal-shod foot. “Sorry. Looked like you were having a nightmare.”

Genma took a deeper, mind-clearing breath and eased himself up in the bed. “I was,” he said, blinking the sleep from his eyes and grounding himself in the present reality. Hospital room, his own. Late afternoon sunlight tinting the tiles orange and shadows violet. No one was bleeding out. He was the lieutenant. Asuma had served the Daimyou, and survived it.

And Raidou’s conduct was under investigation. It wasn’t a court-martial yet.

Asuma eased around the side of the bed to lean against the wall next to Genma’s crutches. “So I hear you're getting discharged,” he said. “Ready to blow this joint yet?”

It was probably the combination of painkillers and unsettled emotions from the nightmare, but for a second Genma wanted to grab Asuma and cling. Instead, he reached for the glass of water on the bedside table to take a long drink. When he was sure his voice wasn’t going to crack, he said, “I was born ready. Are you springing me? My dad brought me clothes already. He had to go back to work.” He pointed to a paper bag on the floor next to the crutches.

“Aoba volunteered me for the job, yeah.” Asuma retrieved the requested bag and handed it to Genma. “Would have shown earlier but I didn't get word you were in.”

“Oh. Yeah. I… It’s been an interesting few days,” Genma said. “I didn’t really tell anyone. They notified my dad when I was brought in. And Aoba found out because he’s Aoba.” And worked in Intel, and had some kind of sixth sense that allowed him to gather gossip like black shirts gathered white lint. It hadn’t even occurred to Genma to tell anyone else.

They’d disconnected his IV already, so it was easy enough to skin out of the hospital gown and into the t-shirt his dad had brought. The jeans were another matter—without a slit up the thigh, they were going to be a challenge to get on over the bandage.

“Did you get a new place? Or is your sister being uncharacteristically
nice and letting me crash with her, too?”

Asuma shook his head, watching Genma change with a casual air. “No, Aoba gave me his spare key. You get the bed at least until he gets back from his mission.”