| [Jan. 15th, 2017|07:06 pm] |
On Raidou’s personal list of nightmares, a cramped, mouldering tunnel of unknown structural integrity ranked slightly above getting hamstrung. He tried to think open-air thoughts while he bent nearly double, ducking low so Fukuda’s grouchy sister didn’t concuss herself on the roof. Behind him, the occasional thunk of skull on stone suggested Ryouma hadn’t been so lucky.
Fukuda, well under six feet, had no such problems. She jogged with a straight spine and wire-strung tension. Genma and Kakashi followed her with ducked heads; Kakashi’s unruly hair just brushed the brick.
The first sections were storm sewers, designed to siphon rain and grey-water. The sludge underfoot was mostly street run-off, thick with leaves. Immeasurably preferable to the alternative.
In Konoha, it would have stayed that way. Rain and grey-water ran to the river. Sewage filtered through an entirely separate system to keep their drinking water uncontaminated. In Kiri, everything went to the ocean. Ahead, the two tunnels converged and the smell, already nauseating, came down like a hammer.
Kakashi balked first, one hand jerking up to slap over his mouth and nose. The baby whimpered. Genma followed suit a second later, choking quietly against his palm. Kimiko buried her face against Raidou’s shoulder — which, after the day’s events, was probably fairly fragrant in its own right.
Ryouma made a disgusted sound. “Somebody remind me why Thirteen had to set off the ‘distraction’ before we got clear of the walls?”
“To cover Intel,” Genma said, muffled.
Somewhere in Kiri, Kurenai and Satomi were wraithing silently between targets, gathering whatever they could from record offices, highborn homes, and if their nerve held, the Mizukage’s squat palace.
“Intel’d probably do a lot better at covering themselves if they didn’t have to drag Kuroda around behind ‘em,” Ryouma muttered.
Raidou’s private inclination was to agree, but a shinobi didn’t make it to the position of Vice-commander without something significant to back him up. Plus, worse case scenario, Kurenai and Satomi could always throw him at Kiri and run.
“Complain later,” he said, ripping apart a bandage to stuff two fluffy plugs up his nose. “Run now.”
The next leg of the journey was, put mildly, unpleasant. Since they were still limiting their chakra use, wading was unavoidable. Raidou wasn’t the only one who resorted to nose protection. Genma wrapped a cloth around his face. Ryouma just tugged his shirt up over his nose. Except for that first, reflexive gesture, Kakashi was rigidly composed behind his mask, more focused on keeping the fretful baby quiet. Fukuda was stone-faced.
At the city’s edge, the tunnel slanted downward, beginning the long slope to the sea. The stream picked up speed, gurgling around their shins. The walls began to roughen, bricks transitioning to naturally hewn rock.
“We should be able to get out soon,” Fukuda said, as they rounded a bend.
And stopped. |
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