"I listened," Kakashi's head lolled forward, that was just not on. He forced himself to sit up as much as possible, leaning against the mastiff and Ginta. "My lungs didn't. I'll punish them later." He hacked and spat, wincing. "You couldn't have mentioned the village, say, an hour ago?" He was being a brat and he knew it. Heading for a village was desperate, especially in their condition. You never knew what kind of people you'd run into, what sort of fighters. And that went double for villages in countries Konoha wasn't exactly currently peaceful with.

Kakashi leaned back and looked at the dogs, Hoshika's alert waiting expression, and the mastiff's patient brown eyes. He cleared his throat and growled. Two sets of ears flicked up and then flattened back. Hoshika whined. Kakashi growled again, lower and louder, it cut off when his breath caught. More coughing. More spitting. Yellow-grey, flecks of blood. He caught his breath back and glared at both dogs until they looked away.

"They'll listen to you," his voice was wearing away, huskier then a rasp now. "Big fella's Baiji. You know Hoshika already." Kakashi leaned back and shut his eyes, resting for a moment. "Won't fight you, just... give me a minute." Breathing would be nice. Home would be better.

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God damn, Kakashi looked bad. Worse every second. At least the hail had let up, turning into a steady snowfall instead. "So now we know why they called it Rain Country," Ginta said, bracing himself on Hoshika's steady shoulder before getting shakily to his feet. "The Land of Shitty Weather looked too bad on the tourism brochures."

Now was the time to keep Kakashi's mind off how crappy he felt, Ginta decided. And time to pull a magic apple out of his ass. That's what his sensei would have said. When you've run out of options, that's when you need to pull a magic apple out of your ass. "Hope you like apples," Ginta said somewhat cryptically, smiling at the memory as he leaned over Kakashi, steadied himself, then pulled the other shinobi up to drape him somewhat gracelessly across Baiji's shoulders.

"Do you have to be so damn tall?" He leaned against the dog, his own head against Kakashi's side. He could hear the ocean burbling in Kakashi's laboring lungs. Could feel something like an ocean in his own chest. The lifting had not helped with the whole ribs hurting thing. And everything still looked foggy.

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Kakashi inhaled dog fur for a moment before he turned his head to look at Ginta. He couldn't see anything but the ninja's shoulder from this angle. Ginta didn't sound completely together anymore, neither of them did really, but now he was talking about apples. "You lose your mind on me now," he muttered, "I'm going to hurt you so much, you have no idea."

Baiji shifted just a little beneath him. Kakashi shoved his hands under the wide leather straps of the dog's harness and twisted them to lock himself in place. The effort made his head spin. That was just pathetic. "C'mon, jackass, get your hide up here." Cough. Spit. Repeat. His mouth felt full of clotted blood, bitter phlegm. A mint would be nice.

Snow outside. Kakashi hunched his shoulders a little and pressed his face into warm, wet fur. This was going to be cold.

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"You keep threatening that, like I ought to be scared." Ginta didn't move for a moment. He picked up one of the blankets and draped it over Kakashi's shoulder, wrapped the other around himself, then slowly, carefully, put his hands on Baiji's back behind Kakashi, and tried to lever himself up.

The strain it put on his broken ribs was outstandingly painful. He let go almost at once, yelping like a kicked dog and falling to his knees. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe through it. Tiny, gasping, panting breaths. Half choked little sounds. Gagging and trying to hold it back when the pain added nausea to the mix.

Okay. Okay, he could do this. Just stop being a wimp and get up and they could go somewhere warm. He dragged himself up again, this time with help from Hoshika, and channeled chakra to his hands. He'd get up on this dog if he had to climb it like a fucking tree.

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"Genius ninja," Kakashi reminded him, feeling useless, "Very scary." He waited for Ginta to get up and get himself settled, wishing he could lend a hand. Hell, wishing he could move and that he had enough chakra to get them both the hell home.

Maybe just that he could breathe properly. That would be nice. Fucking Rain country and their fucking weather that made you fucking sick.

Ginta sounded wretched. Kakashi cursed himself for not blocking that blow. He should have just taken the damn mission solo. More fuck.

He was pulled out of his wallowing by the smaller ninja finally making it onto the dog. Ginta straddled Baiji just behind Kakashi and slid his arms under the copy-nin, pulling him close. Kakashi blinked, opened his mouth to say something when the mastiff grumbled and got to his feet with a lurch that jostled them both. Ow, ow, ow. Kakashi hacked again, and lifted his head to spit--the only good reason to have his mask down--before settling back with a shudder.

Then there was snow. It was blizzard quality.

"I think--I may--hate this--country," Kakashi managed.

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"This place sucks," Ginta agreed. He tugged the silvery blanket up higher over Kakashi's shoulders and head, did the same for himself. There wasn't much else to say, really. Sometimes missions went to hell. This one hadn't seemed like it was going to be the type to do it, but you could never tell, really. He just held tight to Kakashi, shuddering when the other man coughed, harsh and ragged; coughing himself, high pitched and choked with pain. It was a cold, miserable trek, and all Ginta could do was hope Kakashi was hanging together. Would hold together long enough that he could get them someplace warm.

Of course riding into town on a giant dog was a sure way to attract attention that they didn't really want. As they neared the village Ginta swallowed hard, then whispered to Kakashi, "I'm casting a genjutsu now on both of us. Make your dog look like a mule. Make us look like refugees." There were still plenty of refugees from the various wars that plagued this country.

He could feel his chakra reserves getting into that critical state. And if he felt like shit running a little low, how bad did Kakashi feel? Was that fucking sharingan really worth it? Why didn't they just send the Uchiha kid on this mission? Fuckers. Maybe it was a suicide mission after all.

The first big building they saw was a temple. Ginta cheered. A temple would take in a couple of refugees, right? But as they drew closer he saw the charred ruins of a temple. It was empty. Burned. Even with his vision still hazy, he could tell it was lifeless.

By the time they were halfway into town, Ginta was pretty sure the gods really did have it in for them. It seemed utterly deserted. Then he saw a girl. She was walking alone, carrying a pail. And she was, Ginta decided, their best chance. "Follow her," he said, and slid off the dog. Now for the acting job of his life.

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Kakashi's job consisted primarily of staying still and not messing up the illusion. He could, however, play the role of pitiful wounded refugee. It wasn't terribly hard to find the motivation. Fever burned through him, bright and hot and curling around his bones. Roasted bones; that wasn’t a good thought. He coughed, not a new thing, but it was raspier, half-choked, tearing something in his chest. He hacked and spat a bright mouthful of warm blood, bitter with phlegm. Fortunately, the way he lay across the dog, Ginta couldn't see this new development. Kakashi elected not to tell him, there was nothing the other ANBU could do about it anyway.

The blood looked especially bright against the snow. Kakashi looked at it and traced a shape. It was like pictures in clouds but... red against white, not white against blue. Not really fluffy, the snow was made of slush and mud, greyscale snow except he wasn't looking through his sharingan. Greyscale normal sight. Maybe this was what it felt like to have two red eyes rather then a mismatch? He couldn't see chakra though. No blue, just red and white. Not really white. Grey.

His skin burned. Too tight, too hot, clamped around his head and squeezing, crushing his skull. Lying on his chest was crushing his lungs. Crushed by himself, that was ironic.

Little girl. Look. Was she a target? No. Not a target. Little village girl. No price on her head. Kakashi couldn't move to say anything to her, to gesture, couldn't make his mouth smile--scary smile anyway, he wasn't good at them and now it was red-soaked--couldn't breathe really. Rattle in his lungs. Rattle in his limbs. Lots of shaking. He should stop that, but it was a good thing, body trying to get warm. No, bad thing, too warm. Kakashi twitched his shoulders, sliding the heat blanket partway off. Cold air on his back. Snow on his neck. Much better.

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Ginta didn't look back at Kakashi anymore. He couldn't. He had to trust that his genjutsu would hold, that Kakashi would survive, at least for as long as it took him to get the girl's help. Cooperation wasn't really what the game was about. Coercion was more useful in this situation. Ginta pushed all his energy into walking normally, not betraying the pain he was in. He fell in step next to the girl just as she turned to go in the door of a fairly tidy looking farm house. "Let me help you carry that," he said, taking the pail from her surprised hands.

She blinked up at him, and Ginta smiled. It wasn't a pleasant smile. "We need to talk, your parents and me and my buddy there," He gestured at the man on the mule behind them. When the girl gave a frightened little squeak of a response, Ginta's smile broadened. "Good, you understand me." He had a blade to the girl's throat so fast she didn't have time to react at all.

The man inside did. He was on his feet, rushing out the door, as soon as he realized his daughter was in trouble. Ginta's voice came out harsh and cruel. "You want your kid to live? You help my buddy in the house. Now."

The farmer lunged for Ginta, making an inarticulate noise. Ginta was suddenly three Gintas, and the girl was screaming as the knife held by a clone bit into her neck.

"Shinobi!" the farmer spat, and a second man came rushing out. Younger. Maybe younger than Ginta and Kakashi. Must be the son.

"Don't even fucking try," Ginta barked. Oh fuck it hurt. But he had to get them inside. Had to get Kakashi dry and warm. He had just this chance to make sure they had someplace safe to recuperate. A second clone held a blade to the old man's throat. "Tell your son to go get my buddy there. He's hurt. Take him inside. We'll follow."

The man gave Ginta a look of pure hatred, but he nodded. "Bunpei, do what shinobi-san here says." He almost spat the words out.

Ginta breathed a huge sigh of relief. Inside, it would be so, so much easier.

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Oh, little girl was the target. Or her family? Kakashi frowned and tried to understand. It was a mission. He was wearing his armour--he could feel it, couldn't see it--so it had to be a mission. Something about copying... from the girl? That didn't make sense.

Ginta. Right. Genjutsu expert because he was holding one up now, Kakashi could see it because he was riding a mule and that didn't make sense. He summoned dogs, not weird horse things. Ginta. Right there. Being stupid because he was hurt. Kakashi felt something click and managed to follow a snail trail of logic; mission, copy jutsu and lightning broke ribs--

Hands grabbed his shoulders, pulled the leather straps from his wrists non-to-gently. Kakashi made a surprised gasping yelp and hacked up blood into the man's face. Baiji shifted under him, growling, but Ginta was the one leading now, and Ginta had told him to follow and nothing more.

---

Bunpei scowled, dragged a hand over his face and yanked the ninja from the growling mule, slinging him over his broad shoulder. He was pleased when the shinobi groaned and shivered under his hands, and held him perhaps a little too tightly. The ninja felt too warm. Served him right. Bunpei rebalanced himself and took the man inside, stepping carefully around the short, dangerous one.

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It was only after they were inside that Ginta dropped the genjutsu. He figured the dogs were smart enough to conceal themselves, and he was too tired to keep holding the illusion on Kakashi and himself. Besides, now that they were inside, it hardly mattered if they were recognized as Konoha ninja.

The little girl was trembling, with big tears sliding silently down her cheeks. But it was the farmer's response that was surprising. He looked at Kakashi slung over his son's shoulder and let out a sharp laugh. "Leaf ninja? You fucking bastards. You're not from Grass?"

Ginta was confused, It was harder to see indoors, in the dimmer light, but the man seemed somehow less on guard now than he had been before.

"We..."

"Bunpei, put him down. Put him in my bed."

Now Ginta was definitely confused.

"Did you have to scare my kid half to death? You fucking bastard. If I didn't know you'd take my arm off, I'd deck you, you little shit." The man stepped two paces closer to Ginta, and Ginta tensed up, tightening his hold on the girl.

"Papa!" she shrieked, and then the man did strike at Ginta.

It was an easy parry to go from holding the girl to fending off the man. Or it would have been easy, if Ginta weren't operating with burns, broken ribs and a damaged lung. He ducked down, let the man's momentum carry him into his own daughter, and vanished in a flash to reappear at Kakashi's side. He was pretty sure that was gonna be the end of him, though. He doubled up, choking, and the smooth grey wood of the floor was spattered with far too much blood.

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Bunpei startled at the same time Kakashi gathered himself enough to twist, throwing himself sideways. He dropped the copy-nin with a yelp and stepped back, wide-eyed at the spray of gore over the wood.

Kakashi hit the floor badly, landing hard on his shoulder and hip. He retched, legs jerking up as pain from his chest shattered out. He caught a dizzy glimpse of blonde hair, blood, and behind that, gathering figures. Someone was yelling. Hands jerked Kakashi onto his back. Someone grabbed Ginta, steadying the small shinobi.

"Gin--" Kakashi had time to swear around a bitter mouthful of blood, and then the dark swam up and swallowed him.

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