| [Feb. 26th, 2017|08:28 pm] |
Hot, damp hands curled over Kakashi’s shoulders. Ginta hauled himself up with a pained grunt and tried to settle himself on Kakashi’s back in a way that didn’t touch his burned chest. When that proved impossible, he let out a long, hissing exhale and eased himself down flat. His breath stirred Kakashi’s hair. “I’ll try not to pass out. If I do, just keep going. Genma can wake me up when there’s morphine.”
“Don’t throw up on me,” Kakashi told him.
“No promises.”
Behind them, Kasumi made a disgusted sound as his clone pulled her up and got her settled on its back.
Ginta didn’t pass out, but he did make a variety of unpleasant sounds, and one dark, half-formed threat when sea-spray splashed his face. Kakashi leapt up onto the deck, landing as gently as he could. A wordless woman pointed him aft, to the long maindeck cabin where the passengers ate. Chairs had been cleared away. Usagi sat on the edge of a scarred oak table bolted to the floor; Raidou braced her by the shoulders while Genma flashed a penlight in her eyes. A few steps down, Abe sat with his injured arm outstretched. Ryouma was carefully unwinding the stiff bandages. Someone had put a bucket on a chair next to them.
Kakashi found a clear spot on Genma’s other side, and lowered Ginta onto the table. The tiny lieutenant slid off him with a strangled groan, managed to sit for a moment, then listed sideways. Kakashi caught him and helped him lie down on his back. Kasumi landed a few moments later, and insisted on being set down next to Ginta’s feet. She dropped a light hand on Ginta’s ankle, and kept it there.
“Lieutenant, instructions?” Kakashi asked Genma.
Genma flicked a brief glance up from Usagi. “Give him a full syrette of morphine, and be prepared in case it makes him sick. If he’s stable, start removing bandages. I need to see how bad it is under there.”
Ginta gave a rough chuckle. “Rather have you undress me, Gen.”
Kakashi rolled his eye at the ceiling. “Tousaki, can we swap?”
“Sure, nearly finished,” Ryouma said distractedly. “Pass me those swabs?”
Raidou tossed him a box. The bandage was entirely off Abe’s arm, and the wrist underneath was so swollen the bruised-black skin looked shiny. A half-scabbed puncture wound marked the place where bone had punched through and receded back. Beads of sweat rolled down Abe’s temples.
“Never mind,” Kakashi said.
He scrubbed his hands, shot a dose of morphine into Ginta’s biceps, and set about cutting and peeling the bandages off. The sickly-sweet scent rolled up as gauze came away. None of the burns were deep, but they were blistered in places, raw in others, and oozing in a way that Kakashi, in his non-medically professional opinion, judged undesirable. At Genma’s direction, he collected a bowl of water, clean cloths, a strong astringent soap, and sat down to make Ginta’s life miserable.
While they worked, the story spilled out. |
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