| Feuds and Families [Asuma, Tsume, the Sandaime] |
[Nov. 3rd, 2009|05:21 pm] |
Set two days after Kunoichi and Bastards.
As he walked down one of the many twisting corridors of ANBU's hospital wards, Sarutobi Hizuren re-read the battered scroll in his hand and contemplated the new shape of the universe. As ANBU missives went, the scroll wasn't even slightly succinct. Or typical.
dear konoha, it read,
we've landed in inabe. (staying at the Salted Goose Hotel--and no, we didn't ask about the name) we need an extration team for two ninja, chakra depleted but only slightly injured, (SLIGHTLY?) and a lot of money. you wouldnt believe how much food asuma goes through, even though hes not eating meat. he says its okay because its on
(hey! she eats at LEAST as much as I do. More considering she's half a foot tall.)
we have your tickbit thing you wanted and i expect you to explain to hariuchi why i was on a mission before being released. hopefully before i get back.
tell kuromaru i'm fine.
(and tell that pretty desk chuunin I'm bringing her back something sparkly)
your faverite agents,
Inuzuka Tsume and
(P.S. Checked in under the names Yamaguchi Tsubame and Yamaguchi Arata. Staying in room 312. Bring lots of painkillers. GOOD painkillers.)
Lips twisting dryly, he read one of the scrawling additions again. It was strange how little the handwriting had changed, despite five years and a continent's worth of distance. He could remember reading identical scrawls on assignments carried home from the academy--and on walls, in lengthy, misspelled graffiti that gained height as the artist had grown.
He remembered several (dozen) shouting matches on the subject of defacing one's own village.
Of course, being the Hokage, he remembered many things. Including the last sight of a gawky, ill-tempered, impatient teenager storming out of the village to get some damn freedom, dad! And the man he'd become, strolling back.
And joining ANBU.
The Sandaime reached the right door, inclined his head to one of the nurses hurrying by, and let himself in. The scroll vanished into one of his wide robe-pockets, whisked neatly out of sight; he didn't need it anyway, it was already two days old. And the 'faverite agents' it concerned were neatly installed in clean, comfortable--
Completely abandoned hospital beds.
The Sandaime raised his eyebrows at the little party of humans--and one large, ragged Inuzuka familiar--splayed about on the floor, arguing over cards.
"Is this a bad moment?" he inquired. |
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