| [Jan. 22nd, 2010|02:57 am] |
"Blue, purple, red, yellow, green -- in that order," Masuru said firmly, pointing at the packets with the correct corresponding colours. "Five meals a day -- and I mean proper meals, Hatake-san -- with these powders included, and you'll have the weight back in time for your next mission. Not to mention the chakra reserves. I've drawn you up a two week list of meals--"
A heavy folder dropped down in front of Kakashi's nose.
"--and you will follow them, Hatake-san. Or I'll know about it."
"How--?"
"You don't want to know."
"... right," Kakashi said slowly, and flipped the folder open. The first page contained an index. The second page held neatly written, precisely detailed instructions on how to make some kind of nourishing rice porridge. With fruit. There were pictures.
He looked closer.
Annotated pictures.
When he looked up, Masuru was regarding him with the fond, beatific expression of a man observing a pet project. Kakashi almost didn't have the will to glare at him.
"If that's everything...?" he began, with something like hope.
"Ah! Of course, forgive me. I'm taking up all your time, I expect," Masuru boomed. He stood up, almost knocking his chair over backwards, and grabbed Kakashi's hand again before the copy-ninja could dodge. "It's been a pleasure meeting you, Hatake-san. A pleasure."
"Don't mention--"
The hug happened before Kakashi could fully appreciate the looming threat. Masuru's eyes twinkled, his arm moved, and Kakashi found himself swept up and crushed against a meaty chest; half asphyxiated, yanked up onto his tip-toes, the ham-sized hand still clutching his. From a distance of nothing, Masuru smelled of honest sweat, kitchen spices, vibrating sincerity, and some mix of subtle chemicals.
Kakashi made a strangled sound and very pointedly did not stab the man through his kidneys.
Masuru thumped him heavily on the back, apparently in a gesture of good cheer, and released him. Kakashi tried not to sway on his feet. Sparkly black dots were gathering around the corners of his vision.
"Well!" said Masuru, beaming. "I'll leave you to it, then. Good luck, Hatake-san! I hope I don't have to see you again."
"Mm," said Kakashi, who didn't quite trust himself to speak.
Masuru nodded, gathered his flip-charts, and made for the door. Kakashi waited until he was around the corner and gone before collapsing into an abandoned chair. When he dropped his head down on the table, little coloured packets scattered and crunched.
There was a sound, curling around the edge of hearing. It took Kakashi a second to realize it was him. And a second longer to realize what it was: not quite laughter, nothing close to crying. A shaky, ragged, raw kind of breathing. He swallowed it down, crushing himself into silence.
Slowly, he shoved himself back upright, and swept the packets into a neat stack. Shoved them into the folder. Staggered back to his feet. Made for the door.
It was a shame Ryouma wasn't here, Kakashi thought bitterly. He'd have loved this. |
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