| [Oct. 1st, 2015|03:00 am] |
“Looks good to me,” Genma said. “There’s a section for your comments, too. If you have any and want to dictate them, I’ll include them.”
Ryouma pushed the paper and pen back to Genma and stared up at the ceiling beams for a moment. Then he looked right at Genma and said, in a clear and measured voice, “I appreciate Shiranui-fukuchou's thorough analysis of my performance—”
It took Genma a second to realize Ryouma was dictating, and he had to hold up a hand and halt Ryouma while he caught up. When he’d gotten there, he nodded at Ryouma to continue.
“Shiranui-fukuchou's thorough analysis of my performance,” Ryouma repeated, “and will give my best effort to improve upon the weaknesses identified. In particular I understand the trust he has placed in recommending me for field medic training. I'll make him proud.”
There was no hiding the embarrassed flush in Genma’s cheeks by the time Ryouma said in a more conversational tone, “That do it?”
“That’s great, thanks,” Genma said. His voice cracked on the thanks, because of course it did. He’d given up hopes of developing the sort of rich baritone he’d hoped for when he hit puberty, but did it still have to crack?
“Then I'll see you at 0900 tomorrow.” Ryouma unfolded his legs and stood up in a single, fluid motion. He started to step away from the table, but turned back, eyeing Genma and his crutches. “You okay to get home?”
Genma smiled. Ryouma definitely had a caretaking instinct. If he could master the jutsu — and his emotions — he’d become an excellent medic.
“I wouldn’t mind a hand up,” said Genma. “Just a sec.” He added his signature to Ryouma’s review form, then tore off a tab at the bottom of each page, freeing a backing sheet that held a carbon copy of the page it had come from. The originals he paperclipped back together and tucked into his folder, along with Kakashi’s and Katsuko’s. He handed the duplicates to Ryouma. “Your copies, if you want them.”
“Sure.” Ryouma quirked an ironic smile at the pages in his hand. “I can give myself headaches studying kanji before bed every night.” But the care with which he folded the papers together suggested they weren’t going straight into a shredder. He slid them into his back pocket and waited while Genma got up on one knee.
“Okay,” Genma said. He hissed and levered his sore leg out to the side while Ryouma helped him get back on one foot and two crutches. “Maybe next time I’ll specify we meet in a room with chairs.”
“We're meeting in the office next, aren't we?” Ryouma asked. “You should take the couch. I'll run interference with Katsuko.”
“She’s injured, too,” Genma pointed out. “And Hatake. But thanks, Tousaki. I appreciate it.” He let Ryouma hand him his folder, and crutched towards the door. “Hope you and the other two have a good dinner. I’m meeting a friend for dinner, too. Maybe we’ll go for curry. We’ll leave the Akimichi barbecue a commanding-officer-free zone for you.”
Ryouma pushed the sliding door open. “We'll try not to get too rowdy. Wouldn't want you to have to break off your date to come bail us out of the Uchiha cells.” He paused, then added casually, “Is it a date?”
Subtle. So subtle. Genma chuckled. “Not as far as I know.”
“Well, good luck anyway,” Ryouma said. He saluted and started off down the hall, then stopped three long strides away and turned back. “And thanks, lieutenant.” He turned again before Genma could reply, heading down the Palace hall with a springy step.
There was no sign of Kakashi or Katsuko. And he’d forgotten to give Ryouma that note so he could get the herbal sleep-aid from Toushiro-sensei. If they’d been in the office, Genma would have given Ryouma a capsule for the night from his own supply. But maybe Ryouma would sleep better tonight, safe in the knowledge that there was something to look forward to.
And maybe Genma would, too. |
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