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[Sep. 27th, 2013|11:02 pm]

hatake_kakashi
“Slept nine hours last night,” Kakashi said shortly.

Incredulity wove through Genma’s voice like red thread. “Nine hours? That’s more than I got. Well done.”

“Helped not having a hole in my stomach,” Kakashi said. “Also, not being poisoned.”

Water slapped gently against the side of the boat. The engine’s steady pulse shivered through the deck, like a metal heartbeat. A cool breeze brushed his shoulders between the criss-cross of bandages.

“You make very good points,” Genma said finally. He drew one knee up and stretched the other leg out, moving with the slow fluidity of deep hurts. “I think I’ll try not to do that on our next mission.”

“Good plan,” Kakashi said.

The silence crept back, busy with the sounds of other people. Deckhands shouted to each other. Children squabbled inside the big cabin. Katsuko’s clones cat-called quiet insults among themselves, because even her mirror images couldn’t stop talking.

And two-hundred miles south-east, down the winding curves of the river, Konoha was in trouble.

If he left the team behind and pushed himself hard, he could be there in a day. Day and a half, if he wanted to arrive on his feet and actually be effective. Team Six still had Raidou to watch them, and Genma wasn’t useless now that he could move and heal. Katsuko would be fine once she’d slept more. She was probably fine now, except for a collarbone tweak and a few scrapes. Any decent ninja could cope with that. Ryouma was the only one in trouble.

And Hisa.

But they had three ANBU to protect them. Against the dangers of a gentle river cruise. They’d be fine.

And Kakashi would be the man who’d abandoned his teammates again. Not even for a mission this time, which was sanctioned, but for the threat of—something. Broken Link. Political attack. A strike against the Hokage, or the Hokage’s only son. Or the tactical execution of a foreign policy ambassador, like his mo—

“Thank you,” Genma said quietly, slicing through his thoughts.

Kakashi looked sideways.

“For getting me out of there yesterday,” Genma explained. He added wryly, “I was pretty sure my dad was going to get one of those ‘your son served with honor’ letters before you showed up.”

“More like, ‘surprise, you’re a granddad, send child support’,” Kakashi said. “‘Sorry about the six legs.’”

Genma laughed hoarsely, then pressed a flat palm to his stomach. His breath hissed between his teeth. “That’s not funny. Owww.” He straightened up carefully. “My dad would probably go daily to my grave site to remind me he’d told me not to join ANBU.”

“Not a ninja, then,” Kakashi said.

The laugh was shallower this time, like scraped sand. “He’s a baker. You never heard of Shiranui Bakery?”

He had, he just hadn’t made the link. That’d make Genma civilian-born. Or at least half-blooded. Weaker, according to some schools of thought.

“I like Yamasaki’s better,” Kakashi said, and pushed himself to his feet. “I should walk the ship.”

“Yamasaki-san’s mochi is too stiff. When we get back, I’ll bring you some of my dad’s yatsuhashi.” Genma said quietly behind him. “Can you check in on Hisa-san for me?”

Kakashi tilted one shoulder in acknowledgement, and left Genma’s thanks and bakery overtures behind.
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