| [Jul. 5th, 2008|05:01 pm] |
Hitomi caught the scroll one-handed, sighed, and tucked it away into one of the scroll-pouches on her vest. "I can't believe they have you just running courier duty, so the favors must be something big. Well, I'll do whatever I can."
"Hey!" Ryouma objected. "You can't just volunteer me."
His sensei flicked his earlobe, painfully sharp. "You're a chuunin," she reminded him. "All of us outrank you. Including, I believe, Hatake-kun."
Ryouma stared with a little more interest at the skinny kid leaning against Minato's arm. A brush of filthy grey hair even more untidy than his own; one dark grey eye open, and one, pink and inflamed, closed by a shocking scar a little darker than his pale skin. Tears leaked down the kid's cheek to run into the dirty dark blue mask and crust on his skin. No vest, but that didn't always mean no rank. Without a clear glimpse at his face, the boy's age was impossible to tell; but the slender build and the cracking voice hinted at a young adolescent, at least a couple of years Ryouma's junior.
And a jounin already? Totally unfair.
"Right," he said, grudgingly. He sneaked another glance at the kid, who was staring at nothing but his sensei and, occasionally, his dirty feet. "What's the favor? Favors. Is it quick? There's a storm coming in, and we were supposed to be looking for the nearest safe-house. Until sensei got us lost."
Hitomi hit him again. Ryouma grinned. |
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