| [Jan. 22nd, 2010|03:22 am] |
In many ways, it was strangely like facing down an enemy ninja. Albeit one he could have snapped like a toothpick. But the tension was there. The lurking undercurrent dance that meant not breaking eye-contact, not allowing a hit to land, searching for a weakness...
Which was exactly why Kakashi didn't flinch when Chihiro stumbled over Ryouma's title. Instead he inhaled again, stone-faced, and caught the waver in her scent. The little uncertain-anxious-scornful flicker that made one eyebrow lift. Was that it? She didn't like Ryouma?
Or didn't like Kakashi and Ryouma?
Well, it wouldn't be the first time he'd run into an upper-echelon snob with an aim to keep Konoha's bloodlines pure. Girls with boys, boys with girls -- and everyone else out in the field where they could die unremarkable deaths and keep their peculiarities to themselves. Though it wasn't often he found that particular bigotry-bite in the relative of a man he'd almost killed himself trying to drag home.
Of course, he didn't often meet relatives.
Kakashi braced his chidori-burned hand under his chin, fingers curled over his jawbone, and smiled like ice. Took a shot in the dark.
"Tell me, Chihiro-san, when Ginta confessed his reasons for liking sparkly shoes as a kid, did you kick him out straight away, or were you just relieved when ANBU took him in?" |
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