| [Jun. 10th, 2013|04:56 am] |
Yondaime-sama looked like he should have a cape flaring around him, even when he stood in plain jounin blues. He acknowledged Genma and Raidou’s salutes with a brief nod, and swept an icy pale look around the little tableau, taking in the torn out cave, shattered stone pillar, Ryouma beneath his blanket, Kakashi in his blood-sleeves, and the crumple of Akiyama’s slumped corpse.
He raised exasperated hands. “I should’ve expected to see you, Kakashi. Death disqualifies you wasn’t supposed to be an invitation!”
Kakashi shrugged one shoulder.
The living golden legend of Konoha walked past his former student, gave Kakashi a quick, rough pat to the head, which did strange things to Raidou’s world view, and crouched down next to the corpse.
Hyuuga Iori looked between Kakashi and Ryouma, visibly deciding who needed her attention more, and settled on Ryouma, probably because he was sitting down, corpse-white, and still shaking faintly under Raidou’s hand. She crossed over to them and knelt down, veins bulging around her Byakugan.
“What’s the status on this one, Tanuki?” she asked.
“Imori poisoning by injection,” Genma said, mask still tilted in Kakashi’s direction. “I gave him four CCs of eresine, and heart rate and respiration stabilized. He's got what looks like an incomplete laceration of the median nerve and a couple flexor tendons on the left. I healed the bleeders and skin nerves, but didn't touch the deeper stuff.”
A harder shiver ran through Ryouma’s muscles, but he only said, very quietly, “I’m a ninjutsu man.”
Raidou squeezed his shoulder.
“Hmm,” said Iori, which could have been more reassuring. “Hatake, what’s going on with your arm?”
Kakashi was standing almost directly behind her and she hadn’t looked at him. Even though he’d seen Hyuuga do that particular trick before, it still kind of knocked Raidou down.
The tousled grey head didn’t turn. “Scalpel. Tanuki fixed it.”
“Your other arm,” Iori said.
Kakashi’s fingers twitched, which was pretty telltale, actually. “Minor injury.”
Raidou couldn’t even see an injury under all the blood — unless Iori meant the square of clotted gauze slapped on the inside of Kakashi’s arm, but that would barely cover a scratch.
“Your chakra’s roiling,” Iori said, in the tone of voice of someone discovering something mildly interesting. “Are you poisoned?”
Genma’s head turned sharply.
“He would be,” said Yondaime-sama. He straightened up, wiping his hands on his trousers, and returned to Kakashi. “What happened?”
Kakashi stood at least two inches taller than the Hokage; he had to tip his head down to put his masked mouth next to Minato’s ear, grey hair shading over blond spikes. He must have whispered something, but the mask made it impossible to lipread, and the wind carried any faint words away.
Yondaime-sama’s head jerked back.
Every shinobi present tensed. Even Sagara-sama, standing watchful and silent, put her hand to the hilt of the katana strapped across her back.
Every scrap of humor had fled from Yondaime-sama’s face. “Get ready to move,” he said. |
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