| [Aug. 14th, 2008|08:00 pm] |
Some instincts are built in at bone level. Kakashi had a knife in his hand before his brain clicked on, fingers wrenching the blade from his armour. He surged up like a fire jutsu ripped from an Uchiha's lungs, breaking from stillness to movement in the beat between one second and the next. Chakra lashed out.
The sharingan, wide open and bloody red, showed him everything before he realized exactly why his wrist hurt.
There was a man in the room.
Holding Tsume.
Threatening Ryouma.
Adrenaline cut the future into fine shards of crystal. Kakashi bared his teeth and jerked left, falling into a crouch that shielded Ryouma's head and torso with most of his own body. One hand braced against the bed, the other tightened around a dangerous length of blackened steel.
The man was small, heart and throat hidden mostly behind Tsume. A head shot was the only option.
But if Kakashi killed him, and he dropped Tsume--
"Let her go," he snarled, letting the ice-bite of fear become nothing but killing intent and focus, "or I'll break you apart." |
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