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Lay Your Body Down [Apr. 22nd, 2018|01:40 pm]
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[User Picture]From: [info]tousaki_ryouma
2018-04-22 09:42 pm (UTC)

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Bed sounded unbearably tempting, especially with Kakashi’s yukata still gaping loose at the chest and firelight shining gold on the broad slice of bare new skin. And Ryouma didn’t exactly want to confront Raidou and Genma with that raw consciousness of Kakashi’s body burning like a young flame, but—

But they were in a strange place, with their team fragmented among strange people, and he’d probably already hit his quota of reckless choices for the month.

“We should at least check in on ‘em,” he said reluctantly. “Where’s this bath? Uh, sir?”

Himself gestured toward the lantern-lined path Fumi had taken, winding away from the village toward a moon-silvered bamboo grove. “It’s right up that hill.”

That was it? No cryptic utterances, no hard bargaining? Ryouma took a cautious step sideways. “Thanks. Uh. Good night.”

“Smooth,” Kakashi murmured.

Yori sighed loudly, climbed to his feet, and trotted stiffly over to join them. Saishou fell in at Kakashi’s other side, like a furry flanking escort.

“You’ll find beds prepared for you as well,” Himself said, sounding amused again. Or still. He drew deeply on his pipe, puffed a perfect smoke ring into the still night air, and added, “To share as you see fit.” With a bob of his head at Saishou, he turned on soundless paws and headed over to join the elderly tanuki on the other side of the fire.

Ryouma dodged back to scoop up a heavy armload of gear before they left the clearing. Genma and Raidou must have gotten permission to take their things, because most of the neat pile had Ryouma or Kakashi’s marks scratched on the inside. Genma’s med-kit was there, though, along with their weapons and the rest of the confiscated equipment. Someone had set Ryouma’s little festival tanuki-toy atop the stack, like the tiniest guardian. He tucked it safely in his belt-pouch with its head sticking out.

Kakashi snatched up his tanto, checked it over carefully, and then thrust the saya through his yukata belt. He gave Ryouma a hand with the rest of it. Sealing scroll pouches dragged heavier with no chakra to access their contents.

“D’you think he was telling the truth about chakra-suppressing auras?” Ryouma asked, when they were on the narrow path between stone lanterns. “Do you think the scar healing’ll last?”

“It could be an elaborate genjutsu,” Kakashi allowed. “But I don’t see the point, unless it’s just to screw with us.”

Yori snorted eloquently.

Ryouma glanced down. “You wouldn’t put it past ‘em, huh? But they’ve been pretty decent to us so far. And Harubi-san seems to feel safe here.” He stepped carefully over a protruding tree root in the sandy path. “I wonder why they didn’t fix Sen’s scar.”

Saishou growled softly. Kakashi hummed agreement. “Maybe she didn’t want them to.”

He could see that. The way Kakashi’d kept the scars on his face and hands, the way Ryouma’d felt so bitterly possessive of his own: I lived through this, I survived, don’t take all those victories away from me.

He shifted the awkward, heavy burden in his arms. “Do we hurt Nomiya, when we get back? We don’t have to tell Harubi-san.”

“I wouldn’t miss him,” Kakashi said coolly.

Kakashi’d seen blood in the Nomiya house. Ryouma considered, carefully, what they’d told Harubi, and what he’d promised Genma.

“We’ll see how things stand,” he said. “Maybe ANBU sniffing around scared him enough we’ll get home and find his corpse hanging from the rafters.” He cheered up a little. “Maybe the lieutenant’ll get his ghost story after all…”

“Pleasant thought,” Kakashi agreed. “Wouldn’t be too hard to stage, either.”

“True. You could probably copy handwriting well enough for a note, right?”

“Of course.” Kakashi ducked beneath a glowing paper lantern hung low in the trees, and said nothing more. They’d found the officers.