| [Oct. 1st, 2015|01:53 am] |
Which was how Kakashi ended up in the Conference Room 38-C, on the lesser used west wing of the palace, somewhat more awake, surrounded by enough healthy snacks to feed a small battalion. There’d been time to shower, shave, swear at his hair, and dig out a change of clothes from the back of the closet. Ogata had armed him with another cup of tea, and even helped reorganize the room. The conference table was carved from old, heavy wood and set low; designed to be used with floor cushions, not chairs. They shoved it up against the windows to get some light, since Genma surely wouldn’t need all four sides of a thirty-person table. Ogata opened the windows to let fresh air in, beat the floor pillows until they were plump and comfortable, and placed a houseplant borrowed from Minato’s living room in the center of the table.
Kakashi raised his eyebrows.
“Living things promote healthy mindsets,” she said, flicking a speck of dust away from the polished woodgrain. She surveyed the room with satisfaction. “That should do it. If you need anything, have your lieutenant send a clone.”
Kakashi scratched the back of his neck. “Thank you,” he said, after a moment.
She didn’t quite smile, but her single eye warmed for a moment. She nodded and left.
Kakashi folded down to sit at one end of the table, within arm’s reach of some of the more interesting looking platters, and realized that, for once, he was technically early to a meeting.
“There goes my reputation,” he muttered.
Icha Icha, a plate of tai sashimi, and a comfortable lean against the wall went some way towards repairing the damage. He was just starting to head-nod over Ikeda Terumasa-sama’s second intense love declaration (upside down, hanging from a bridge) when his recovering senses picked up the familiar glimmer of chakra in the distance, then closer, and the paper-screen door slid back.
Katsuko bowled through first, a blur of wild hair, civilian clothes, and a dopplering cry of, “I smell foooood!” as she arrowed for the opposite end of the table. For undecipherable Katsuko reasons, her shirt seemed to have canoodling lizards on it.
Ryouma stepped in next, more sedately, and held the door open for Genma to crutch through. They were both in civilian wear, too. Jeans — Genma’s looser, to accommodate a bandaged leg; Ryouma’s tighter, for reasons relating to easier movement or bigger ego, probably — and t-shirts. Dark green with subtle leaves for Genma; red with a graffiti pattern for Ryouma. Genma had his hair swept up and stabbed into place with a senbon. Ryouma’s was messy in a way that didn’t actually look deliberate.
Katsuko and Genma were both varying degrees of bruised and pale. Ryouma just looked tired. He was also holding a stack of papers — Genma’s, Kakashi had to assume.
And they were all, surprisingly, here. |
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