| [Jan. 22nd, 2010|03:31 am] |
"Noble of you," Kakashi murmured. "Perhaps one day you can can go a step further, for the sake of pride, and pay for your failing with a clean death. I know several places you could buy a tanto."
Mother and now father. Soon he was going to run out of family tree for her to insult.
Chihiro's blue eyes narrowed and flashed, stick-thin fingers biting into the arms of the wheelchair. "Disloyal child!" she snapped, as if he was a boy to be cowed. "Your father was a great man, and a great friend to my husband. Say what you will to me, but do not disrespect his memory."
Or perhaps he was the one breaking branches.
Kakashi regarded the furious woman through a silver-grey curtain of overlong hair, then raked it back and strangled a rusty laugh. "I wouldn't know where to start. Your ungratefulness, your inconsistencies, the fact that you'd rather sit out here and argue with me than be in there, holding your grandson's hand." Chihiro's spine went rigid; Kakashi leaned forward, watching her intently. "Or how about your sheer arrogance at using my dead parents for a life lesson without letting me do the same."
Even if he'd already done that, standing in front of Ryouma and a stone carved with fallen names. Done it so well, in fact, that Ryouma was already halfway to the border and Kakashi was here, with his back to a door, arguing with some godforsaken stick of a woman about old wounds he had no particular desire to revisit yet again.
Waiting to see Ginta, who'd undoubtedly pick another kind of fight, and were any of these people worth it? |
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