| Never Too Late [Closed to Ryuichi] | [May. 27th, 2009|08:52 pm] |
Takes place two hours after No Rest for the Wicked.
The past three days were lost in a haze of unconsciousness and morphine. It was an excuse for someone who didn’t need an excuse. Ryuichi knew that other missions were assigned while he was out, and it didn’t surprise him when Ise came in bruised and bloody, her uniform ripped and armor dented. The hospital walls rose up around them, an acid smell of disinfectant to conceal the many deaths that had happened. The sun had started to go down, and Ise slid through the half-open door without a word as the first star came up. Neither of them saw it. The walls were thick, and there was no window.
The medics had seen her coming and moved out of the way. They knew her well. They knew Kaede-sensei better, and Ise had the distinct fortune of looking exactly like her. They had the same scruffy hair, the same hard mouth and harder eyes. It was good for getting people to move out of the way. Not so much when they mistook her for a crazy jounin and expected her to react accordingly.
“I head you were dead.” Ise settled herself down in the chair Katsuko had so recently abandoned. It looked worse for the wear, but this was a shinobi hospital.Everything looked worse for the wear.
“Not yet,” he said, looking first at the pills Katsuko hadn’t taken and then at Ise. There was a new scar across her chin. Ryuichi didn’t know when she’d gotten it, but it wasn’t new. Not from this mission. Maybe not even from this month.
It struck him that there was a great deal he didn’t know about Ise.
“That’s good.”
Silence followed. Ryuichi didn’t want to break it. He had the feeling that if he spoke, he’d say things that couldn’t be taken back.
Ise crossed her legs, tugging her kodachi off her back and setting it across her knees. It took longer than it should have. Her hands shook occasionally. Three of her fingers were broken. Only two of them were splinted. “Goddamn things,” Ise muttered. “You’d think A-ranks would merit a medic, but no.”
“You had an A-rank?”
“Ended up that way. Think it was a C to start, but things went to hell like they always do. Mission-desk bumped it up when we got back. Paid us for it and everything. What happened to you?”
Ryuichi leaned back. Her face was dirty, sweat caked on her skin and deep lines around her eyes. “I overdosed,” he said.
Ise snorted. It was old news to her. Nothing to get concerned about, nothing to be bothered by, and nothing that needed to be fussed about. Ise had overdosed before, too. Once she’d even died, but a medic brought her back with nothing but chakra and stubborn determination. Ise knew how it went. “Kinda guessed that. Who died?”
Half a squad. Bunch of jounin who should’ve made it. “Nobody you know.”
“Small favors. Are you in trouble?”
“Not yet.”
“Good.”
A medic came through the door; Ise’s glare kept his visit short. Ryuichi concealed the pill bottle in his good hand. There was no point in letting the medics see now. Not after everything that had happened.
Ryuichi wondered if Katsuko would ever forgive him. Then he wondered if he really wanted her to.
He’d fucked up. He’d killed a missing-nin. Two sides, one mission. It’d gone bad no matter how he looked at it. Katsuko had a right to be pissed, but things had been said, done. It had made something. Maybe it was bad.
They might’ve been friends. The chance had been there.
Maybe it was gone now. Ryuichi didn’t know if that was a bad thing or not.
Ise fiddled with the ties on her sword, mouth compressed into a thin line. Finally, she said: “I’m taking the jounin exam.”
“When?”
“Tonight,” she murmured, not looking at him. “Thought you should know, s’all.”
Ryuichi nodded once. “I hope you pass,” he said, and he meant it. Jounin-rank meant a lot of things, perhaps the most important of which was the sudden lack of expendability. Jounin rarely went on suicide missions unless they were crazy. Konoha needed its jounin.
It would keep Ise safer, if she was smart about it, and she always was.
He wanted Ise to live. She was stronger than him, the better shinobi. She deserved it more than he did.
There was silence again. It lasted for a time. Ryuichi didn’t know for how long. There wasn’t a clock and he couldn’t see the stars. Ise didn’t wear a watch, either. Finally, the silence was broken by a harsh statement, anger and half-hidden desperation all rolled up into the words: “You said you wouldn’t die on me, Ryuichi.”
“I’m still here.”
“It’s not enough.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Fuck it.” Ise shook her head. “Fuck it all.”
She stood up suddenly, and the kodachi clattered to the floor. Florescent lighting captured the thick bruises crawling up her neck and twisting over her face—yellow, black, green, purple, and yellow again. A small pain that had been bigger a few hours ago, but nothing worth dying over. Shinobi moved on, Ryuichi thought as she stood next to him, shinobi kept going no matter what.
That was the idea, at least. Ryuichi didn’t think he could go on if Ise died.
She touched his face gently, tracing the scars a former teammate had given him. This mission might’ve killed him, but Ise’s could’ve done the same. Their profession was defined by death and injuries that could turn into death. Both of them were good and neither of them wanted to leave. Neither of them could.
There came a point when there was nothing else.
Ryuichi closed his eyes, covered her hand with his good one. “I love you.”
“I know.” She kissed him once, on the forehead. “Just stay alive.”
There was no way to promise that. It was too easy to break the words, too easy to lie. This time, Ryuichi didn’t try. This time, Ryuichi didn’t say anything. |
|