| [Feb. 21st, 2010|04:54 am] |
Kakashi went utterly still.
Ninja lied. Ninja lied for a living. Out of habit. Because they wanted to. For a mission. To stop their comrades from taking yet another soul-blow in the crux of a hellish situation that might still see both of them in the ground...
But no ninja would pervert the memory of his dead comrades, or his reason for withstanding torture twice-over, not if he had any claim left to loyalty. Not even for fear, or guilt, or bone-shaking shame.
And scent didn't lie.
Genma was right there, pressed so close Kakashi could feel his heartbeat -- there was no way not to smell him. And this time Kakashi wanted to. Wanted to so much that he wrapped his arms tight around Genma's shaking shoulders, yanked him even closer, shoved his own unmasked face into the crook of Genma's neck, where scent and pulse twined around each other, and inhaled deep and desperate. Acid-sweat, body-oil, unwashed skin, vomit and blood -- surface things -- beneath them ran Genma's own scent, soured by sickness but still recognizable: ginseng, sweet spices, and the entrenched echoes of old poisons. Kakashi drew another breath, trying to read everything all at once. Exhaustion ground in so deep it went beyond the physical, anxiety like a heart-shock, adrenaline-soaked fear...
But nothing else.
Truth.
It was a little like having his bones melted. He felt himself go limp, drenched with relief, almost unstrung. Without his support, both of them nearly sprawled over -- a delicate counter-balance of weight was the only thing that kept them upright. Genma's free arm lifted instantly, without hesitation, and wrapped around Kakashi's back like a vice, forcing Kakashi's right arm higher until it was almost entirely around Genma's neck. A bastardized, muscle-bruising, entirely unsteady hug that Kakashi wouldn't have permitted or participated in for all the jutsu in the world two days ago.
But a lot had changed in two days. Genma's other hand gripped Kakashi's tattooed arm harder, Genma's breath shuddered against Kakashi's shoulder, and Kakashi wasn't the only one who'd been dragged to the breaking edge and back. Wasn't the only one scarred-bloody from a reeling circle of loss-turned-salvation.
Suguru was dead, Baiji wasn't. Genma wasn't. Konoha was coming.
Iwa was still watching.
Kakashi almost didn't care. He drew a deep, unsteady breath (truth, truth, truth), and let his aching head rest against Genma's collarbone. There was nothing they could break him with now. |
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