| [Jan. 22nd, 2010|03:32 am] |
On the other side of the closed door, in a room filled with sunlight that cast bars across the bedding, Ginta woke. He drowsed a bit, hearing familiar voices in unfamiliar cadences, then snapped his eyes open. Disloyal child! he heard clearly, and the threat underlying his grandmother's voice was plain. Kakashi's voice was lower when he answered, harder to make out through the closed door.
Kakashi. And Grandmother. Why? Why was she raging at Kakashi? Why was Kakashi here? Ginta shoved himself up, hauling the heavy weight of the cast through the bedding with a heartfelt groan.
"Kakashi?" His voice was still raw from the anesthesia, hoarse and whispery. "Grandma? Kakashi?" It made no sense, but it felt like a battle was raging right outside that door. Ginta's hair stood on end, his heart raced, as if enemy attack were imminent.
"Kakashi? Grandma?" His voice came out stronger. Shriller. Full of alarm. He grabbed for the bedside table to pull himself up, and managed to tip it over on its side with a mighty crash.
The door burst open, and there was Kakashi, shaking on his feet, and Chihiro glowering like a sharp-toothed fox. Looking like she'd taken a bite of something disgusting.
It was a look Ginta had seen once or twice before, and he was fairly sure he knew the cause. He drew himself up in the bed, pale and imperious. Feeling half sick. "What did she say to you?" he directed at Kakashi, trying to catch that singe fierce eye with his own gaze.
"Ginta!" Chihiro cut in sharply.
"Shut up," Ginta told her. Sick. He felt terribly sick. "Let me talk to Kakashi." |
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