| [Jan. 22nd, 2010|02:56 am] |
Kakashi fought not to lay his head down on the table and--something. Cry, maybe. Or sleep. Or burn the furniture to chakra-scorched cinders.
In Masuru's massive hands, the seventh flip chart was entirely dwarfed. He held it delicately, fingers stroking along the edges as if it was made of some precious material, and began pointing out all the selling points of complex carbohydrates with enthusiasm.
They'd covered Kakashi's typical diet already. Masuru had been unjustifiably horrified that the bulk of it included ration bars, protein powders, anything Kakashi (rarely) felt like cooking, and whatever ANBU's canteen had in stock. He'd been even more horrified when the nurse had presented Kakashi's medical chart with a flourish, including the detail that he was fourteen pounds below his last weigh-in. Of two weeks ago.
If Kakashi hadn't already been soul-scorched on the topic, he might have seriously considered murdering that nurse.
Or Masuru, if the man hadn't been so unfairly nice.
Masuru had even gone out of the way to make his soul focus in life interesting. The flip charts were colourful, his lectures were thoughtful, everything was entirely geared towards the lifestyle of a hard-working shinobi...
And Kakashi was about to do some grievous bodily harm if Masuru gave him one more concerned glance.
"Okay," he said, for what felt like the millionth time. "Understood. Thank you. That's very usefu--"
"Mm-hm," Masuru interrupted, with a look that was far too knowing. "Tell me, Hatake-san, have you ever worked with an Akimichi before?"
Kakashi paused and thought. "Probably," he hedged, trying to remember.
"Then you were not paying attention," Masuru said with a grin. "Because if there's one thing we Akimichi excel at, it's the ability to re-build ourselves. Fourteen pounds, wasn't it?"
"Uh," said Kakashi, watching the man uncertainly. They were in a small office. Masuru was between him and the door.
Brown eyes gave him a look that was suddenly sharp, measuring. "That'd put you at about one forty-eight normally, am I right? Maybe one forty-nine."
Kakashi's eyebrows arched.
"Still too thin," Masuru chided. "Far too thin. With your height you should make one-sixty easily, especially with the muscle weight. Who an earth fostered your nutritional education, Hatake-san?"
Kakashi shrugged uncomfortably.
"Vegetables," Masuru said forcibly, whacking a hand down on the table. Kakashi jumped. "Meats! Carbs! Fats -- lots of fat in your case, Hatake-san. I'm talking about a proper, healthy, balanced diet! Containing actual food."
If Kakashi edged his chair back quickly, he could make a break for the door...
"And these," Masuru added, spreading out a fan of multi-coloured packets on the table. Kakashi blinked, paused, and then leaned closer.
"Are those...?"
"Yes," said Masuru, with rumbling satisfaction. "The Akimichi clan's secret to success. The Hokage--" here the man's tone coloured with deep respect, "--asked me if I wouldn't mind paying you a visit. Apparently you are trust-worthy, and also deserving."
Kakashi was starting to feel hot behind his mask. |
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