| [Aug. 17th, 2008|11:36 pm] |
Raidou had gone through the usual ritual following his and Genma's we-have-nothing-better-to-do-so-let's-hit-each-other-and-call-it-practice spar. It was always the same sort of ritual that preceded an evening spent with his best friend the night before a day with No Mission. He took a four minute shower and washed his hair with soap, accidentally ensuring it would maintain its bottlebrush appearance when it dried again. Cleaned his teeth thoroughly without the aid of a mirror, and used the same deodorant he always did--one guaranteed to keep him both sweat-free and scentless. Which was everything a shinobi could ask for, really.
It had been a good spar. Spars, actually. A short, fast-paced warm-up designed to reveal if either one of them was hiding an injury that would make them call the whole thing off--something that had happened once or twice, resulting in the now sacred Warm Up ritual--and a longer, slower, and infinitely more satisfying dance between men at the raw peak of their game. Raidou had won, but he hadn't missed the opening Genma had given up to take the fall. Genma hadn't thrown the fight--they'd both given up a lot of similar strikes that could've ended the fight and probably their friendship along with it--but Raidou still appreciated the gesture.
Clothes weren't generally something he spent much time thinking about, but standing buck-naked in front of his small closet, he found himself engaged in a minor threads debate. Eventually he decided to forgo underwear--something he generally did when he wasn't mission bound and required something to hold his cup in place--and settled for a pair of loose jeans, a shirt, and an old, soft sweater in a dark blue he'd never admit to liking. His rings and dogtags were already in place. He tucked away his weapons--just the basics, a few kunai and shuriken, and a couple tags slipped into one pocket on the basis of surprise being a ninja's very best friend--and added a slim paperback to his back pocket just because.
He locked up his apartment, made it three steps, and then went back to change his shirt. Then he locked up again, walked the nothing distance to Genma's door, and let himself in with a perfunctory rap of knuckles against the wood. "Ready to go, lover boy?"
Genma looked nice in blue. |
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