| [Dec. 17th, 2017|02:46 am] |
“My name is Namiashi Raidou,” he said, meeting the silver tanuki’s dark eyes levelly. “I’m a soldier from Konohagakure, of Fire Country. These are my team members. Yuuhi Kurenai.”
Kurenai nodded, elegant and unruffled, as if she were not smeared in grime and awkwardly wrapped around a pole.
“Tousaki Ryouma.”
Ryouma bobbed his head, dark-eyed and serious. You had to know him reasonably well to understand how much nervousness that professional veneer covered.
“Hatake Kakashi.”
With some slack to work with, Kakashi finally succeeded in wrenching the bag off his head. He emerged wild-haired and wrathful, but caught Raidou’s eye and bit short any response before it made it past his teeth.
“And Pakkun, Saishou, Yori, and Kin.”
The four summons were a collection of white-ringed eyes, flat ears, and bristled fur — except for Pakkun, who was still bagged. The silver tanuki’s eyes lingered briefly on Saishou’s heavy belly, and Yori’s grey muzzle. Both dogs looked singularly unimpressed.
“My second-in-command was taken earlier today,” Raidou said. “His name is Shiranui Genma.” He repeated Kurenai’s description: lighter hair, eyes the same color, dressed like us, red charms on his wrist and a red spiral on his shoulder. “We’re here to get him back.”
Himself took another draw on his pipe, shifting to a more comfortable position on his rippling throne, and looked at Kenta — who seemed small, now, by comparison. “I don’t see how the flea-factories fit into this story, but did one of you take the human he’s talking about?”
Kenta’s ears flicked. “We didn’t, Greatest Grandfather,” he said. His tail curled sheepishly around his ankles. “But—Azami’s checking on the kits now.”
From Pakkun’s bag of muffled swearing, an acidic comment slipped out. “Of course Shiranui got kidnapped by children.”
Himself — did he have an actual name? — creased up with amusement, eyes twinkling. “Oh, this sounds fun. Take the sack off that little one so I can see him.” Quick, clever claws plucked the knots free and drew the bag off Pakkun’s head. The little pug shook himself and glared around. Himself said, “If you’re the ambassador from the Dog Pound, they really must be developing a sense of humor. After only 1563 years, too.” He broke off into booming laughter, slapping his belly until his whole body rippled.
Pakkun’s eyes bulged. “Dog p—,” he began. “Listen, you woman-stealing, kid-snatching, sake-thieving sons of—”
Saishou’s back paws, bound but still mobile, skidded down the pole and smacked Pakkun between the fuzzy eyebrows. Raidou glanced at Kakashi, but Kakashi had gone completely expressionless behind his mask. Either from reaching a critical mass of outrage, or because he’d moved on to a higher plane of concern.
Himself gestured his free paw at several of the larger tanuki. “Bring the tall one and the angry one here.”
That— did not seem ideal.
Raidou traded a glance with Kurenai, who gave him a helpless shrug, while tanuki descended on Ryouma and Kakashi. There was a ripple in the air, like a distant shift of pressure. The slice of ropes. Kakashi and Ryouma were hauled to their feet, wrists still bound, and marched away from poles that had once again become twigs. Ryouma walked stiff-backed, head and shoulders above his handlers. Kakashi moved with a focused grace that seemed feral.
Addendum III: I’m sorry to report your soldiers are dead because their captain was stupid. |
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