[Log] Socked! (2 of 2) Who: Dean Winchester, Kamizuki Izumo When: April 15th Where: The dorms What:Izumo and Dean get to know one another a little better. Fighting is the best way to get to know one another, obviously! Part two of two. Warnings:Izumo Swearing, flirting, fighting Open or Closed: Closed Observable: Yes
Izumo snorted. “Shut up. Tiger, rat, ram...” he began, hands folding through signs. He held the final sign - rat - and felt his chakra flare. He could only jump to places he’d ever seen, only places he knew. It was riskier to jump somewhere he couldn’t immediately see, but he doubted anyone would be where he was picturing.
He wasn’t the best at jumping, either, and dragging along a chakra-less partner made it a little rough. The sudden wrench of time and space ended with the grassy ground under their feet as they stood by one of the equipment sheds by the sandy training area on the grounds. Izumo shook his head, but was pleased with the effort - that had actually gone better than most of his attempts. He looked up at Dean; jumping could be disorienting the first few times.
Dean managed to stay on his feet through sheer stubbornness. He was not going to fall or pass out or whatever in front of Izumo. No fucking way. He kept his eyes screwed shut for long enough to take in a few deep shaky breaths. He was absofuckinglutely fine. See?
Dean opened his eyes and looked at Izumo. “What’s with all the ‘tiger, rat, sheep, goldfish’ thing anyway?” He was glad as he looked around that they had actually got to where they’d been trying to go and hadn’t ended up in another dimension or something. He took a quick glance down at himself. It did look like he’d arrived exactly as he’d left; all body parts where they should be and functioning properly. Huh.
“Seals for jutsu correspond to the Zodiac animals and elements,” Izumo answered, calmly, and unlinked his arm from Dean’s. He bent and touched his toes, stretching. “You handled that pretty well. I hate it when people throw up on me.”
He stretched farther down and pressed his palms against the ground in front of his toes. He shifted his weight, pushed off with his toes, and lifted slowly into handstand. He moved in slow stages, until he had his toes pointed up in the air. Then he let his legs tip forward, came down just as slowly into a backbend, setting his heels just behind his hands. He stood up, slowly, rolling his shoulders.
He’d moved less than a foot. The entire maneuver had been performed in a slow, liquid grace that was incredibly hard to maintain and took a lot of training to produce. Fast was easy; slow was difficult. Izumo rolled his shoulders and listened to them crack and pop.
“Right.” Dean said slowly and raised both eyebrows at Izumo’s acrobatics. “How many times, dude? Stop doing freakish things. Fucking ninjas.” The last sentence trailed off to a mutter under Dean’s breath.
Dean rolled his neck round then took a few steps back from Izumo, falling into a loose fighting stance. “You ready then?”
“Ninja gotta be flexible. How else do you think we fit through the ventilation ducts?” Izumo was more flexible than most, though. He moved into a slow set of kata, a training series of attacks that were precisely timed in a certain sequence.
Izumo was actually not the best as hand-to-hand. He hadn’t done very well in taijutsu, the art of the body. He had first learned to fight on the streets, and it showed when he got stressed. He’d try hard not to kick Dean in the nuts today. Kid didn’t really deserve it.
He came to a halt, and laced his fingers together, stretching his arms over his head. “Alright, remember, minimal blood, no fatal attacks,” he warned, standing several feet away from Dean. “And I won’t use chakra to hit harder or faster. Ready?”
“Dude, I don’t do anything like that and I’ve crawled through some narrow spaces in my time. And if I can fit through, you definitely can, midget.” Dean grinned smarmily over. “And you better fucking not use your super special ninja magic powers or I’ll just freaking shoot you. M’kay?”
“With your guns that are back in the dorms. Right.” Izumo grinned, then dropped it. “Here I come.”
With that gracious warning, Izumo dropped low and kicked off hard. He closed the gap between them hard and last, and came in the a rapid low strike at Dean’s abdomen, fist closed.
Dean snorted out a laugh and knocked Izumo’s fist away with his left arm, following that up with a punch aimed at the side of Izumo’s face with his right and a sweep of his leg to the back of Izumo’s knees. Hopefully it would knock Izumo off balance a little. This was gonna be fun.
Izumo ducked the punch, then snapped himself over backward, palms hitting the earth right behind Dean’s sweeping leg, feet snapping up at Dean’s face. Izumo was faster to respond, he was sure, if only for needing reflexes that could stand up to chakra-sped attacks.
Izumo was quick, Dean would give him that. Dean managed to avoid Izumo’s feet - it helped a lot being like, three feet taller than the dude - shoving at them instead. He’d never sparred against a guy who liked to fight upside down.
Izumo completed the flip, came up in a crouch, and made the flinging hand motion he would use if he were throwing senbon. He wasn’t - it was a play to psych Dean out. Maybe make him dodge the wrong way. Izumo rushed in right on the heels of that “attack” and struck again, a knife-hand at Dean’s flank.
Dean didn’t move to dodge the ‘throw’. He figured if Izumo was actually throwing something at him he’d hide it better, plus Dean hadn’t seen him take anything into his hand. Dean was glad when he was right though, it would have been embarrassing to be hit that early in the game.
Because he didn’t dodge he was able to defend against Izumo’s next attack. He took a slight step sideways, into the hit and grabbed for Izumo’s wrist, intending to use the hold to turn Izumo round and hold the arm against Izumo’s back.
Izumo snapped a foot up, kicking Dean’s hip hard, and at the same time driving two knuckles of his free hand into the hollow of Dean’s elbow - a nerve strike that would hurt, and maybe make his arm go numb but Izumo wasn’t very good at those and didn’t think the angle was right. Hell, it would at least hurt and hopefully make Dean let go, and the kick gave Izumo backwards propulsion to get away.
If not Izumo had other tricks.
Dean felt the pins and needles ricochet down his arm but didn’t lose his grip on Izumo’s wrist. Dad had trained him too well for something like that to make him let go. In hindsight it would have been better to let go because all that happened next was the kick to Dean’s hip pushed Izumo backward and Dean was pulled along with him. Off-balance. He tried to counter for it by grabbing Izumo’s shoulder with his other hand.
Izumo felt the shift of balance and went with it....
...by dropping to the ground, rolling onto his back, legs bunched up and a yank on his wrist ensuring Dean would come down too. Right on top of Izumo. Right on top of Izumo’s coiled legs, and he caught Dean somewhere in the diaphragm as he kicked off hard, with the momentum, rolling up on his shoulders with the leftover motion.
Dean felt Izumo go with the motion and let himself fall and knew what was going to come next. He let go of Izumo’s wrist just after Izumo pulled hard enough to make sure they both hit the ground.
The feet to his abdomen fucking hurt but at least he could use the motion to get back on his feet. Winded, definitely, but upright and ready. He waited for Izumo, expecting the ninja to perform some kind of fancy flick to his feet and was ready to put an elbow to his neck. Which Dean had discovered was a fairly awesome way to choke someone if you hit with enough force.
Izumo snapped his legs back down, hit in a low crouch, and whirled around to face Dean again, putting distance between them. A flick of his wrist and the kunai up his sleeve nipped Dean’s shoulder in passing and thudded into a training target some yards behind them.
Izumo came in right on the heels of the throw, aiming for the other shoulder.
Okay, so not exactly what Dean had been expecting but fine. He barely felt the cut from the knife, too busy watching Izumo. He moved as if he was going to dodge Izumo but at the last moment changed his weight and threw his shoulder into Izumo, knocking Izumo sideways. He used the second he gained to pull his knife out from his jeans and held it up in front of himself, grinning wickedly.
Izumo dropped and attempted to sweep Dean’s legs out from under him at the ankles.
Oh shit. Dean hadn’t thought Izumo would actually go with the knock. He’d been expecting Izumo to come flying back at his head or something. All pissed off like an angry cat. So, he didn’t manage to avoid Izumo, didn’t actually hit the floor though but did drop his knife. Idiot.
Having stumbled back a fair way in an attempt to gain his balance he had a second to pull out his second knife, fully expecting Izumo was going to pick up his first. And it was his favorite too. Fuck it all.
Izumo did scoop up the knife. Now the problem with knife-fight was somebody was going to get stabbed. That was just the reality. He bared his teeth in a tight grin and rushed, zig-zag coming in low to the left, knife held behind him...and a single large-gauge senbon in his other hand.
Oh fuck. This didn’t look like it was minimal blood loss anymore. It looked like someone was going to get shanked. Shit. Dean held his ground as Izumo rushed at him. The amount of rushing the guy was doing maybe he’d just tire himself out.
Dean stayed motionless until the last second then dove past Izumo tucking himself into a roll (See. He could do acrobatics too.) before standing and whirling round to face Izumo as quickly as he could. He threw the knife in Izumo’s direction, it should graze Izumo’s cheek if Izumo had stayed where he had been.
Izumo had not. As soon as he’d seen Dean moving, he’d whipped around to follow, using chakra to brace his own ankles, lest he twist one as he reversed direction. The knife whistled over his shoulder and Izumo threw the knife in his own hand, aimed close to Dean’s right shoulder.
Then he threw the senbon, sending it for Dean’s left shoulder.
Dean moved to dodge Izumo’s throw, out of the path of the small, needle-like thing but straight into the path of his own freaking knife which he’d somehow missed Izumo throwing. Which he must have thrown before the little needle considering it was hitting Dean now. Idiot. Dad would kill him.
He felt the blade cut into his neck, just above his collarbone. It didn’t hurt exactly, there was way too much adrenaline in his system for his brain to register pain but he could feel the blood start to trickle down, pooling slightly in the hollow at the base of his throat before carrying on its path and making his shirt begin to stick to him.
Dean sucked in a breath and fell back into stance. Waiting.
Izumo didn’t give him long to wait, already moving the moment his throws were completed, darting in close and fast. He feinted hard to the left, snapped up short and came in on the right, aiming for Dean’s ribs with a curled fist.
Dean let the punch connect, moving away from it slightly to lessen the impact, and used the movement to curl down slightly, grabbing his last knife from his boot. He straightened up quickly, feeling a twinge in his side as he did - damn, Izumo could hit hard - and slashed at Izumo’s side before taking another few steps back.
Izumo kept close, following the retreat, blocked the slash with his wrist against Dean’s. He hooked one foot behind Dean’s knee, and pulled.
Dean went with the pull, hoping that his larger body weight would push Izumo over. Even if Dean went with him. He put a hand on Izumo’s shoulder pushing to increase the momentum moving them both in that direction.
Izumo whipped out a smaller senbon and stabbed down. He ran the risk of catching himself but if he aimed between the bones, high up on Dean’s hand, the man would let go and Izumo could flip him down. He reached up with his free hand and grabbed Dean’s wrist.
Dean hissed out a breath as the needle thing went into his hand but instead of doing what Izumo presumably wanted and letting go he pushed harder at Izumo’s shoulder, knocking them both onto the ground with a thud. He ended up with a hand next to Izumo’s head being held there by Izumo himself and with a fucking needle embedded in it.
The other, that had the knife in it, Dean moved quickly to his side, not wanting it to end up in Izumo’s chest by accident. He dropped the knife as they landed and moved his now free hand to Izumo’s shoulder in an attempt to pin him down.
Izumo grabbed a shoulder, kicked off hard, and with only a touch of chakra to try to flip them over. The knee he put high on Dean’s thigh would probably help - not a groin shot but pretty damn close, and hard enough to bruise.
“Dude, you’ll have to try harder than that.” Dean grunted the words out. It was a move Sam used all the time when Dean pinned him down, so Dean had an almost conditioned response to the move, a slight lean one way, a push with a hand and he could stay on top. Of course he didn’t normally have a sharp, pointy thing stuck in his hand which wasn’t exactly helping matters.
Dean watched as some of his blood from the cut on his neck dripped down onto Izumo. He grabbed for Izumo’s arm, hoping to pin it back down and stop him from pushing again. The guy was a lot stronger than Sam and honestly? Probably would be able to flip Dean over on the next go. Dean was kind of suspicious that Izumo was using the chakra thing though. No way a dude this small and light could actually be this strong.
Dean was much, much bigger than Izumo and pinning him down, Izumo was trying hard to keep it together; this was just a spar but Dean was there and the next push was more forceful, Izumo’s lips peeling back from his teeth, eyes a little wider than they should have been, fighting the panic and Dean’s weight. The twist of his wrist that slipped the kunai from his sleeve was completely unconscious.
Dean saw Izumo’s expression change from something determined, the type of expression you’d have sparring, to something...scared? Dean stood instantly when Izumo pushed at him, backing away from and giving him space, watching the knife in his hand warily.
“Whoa, whoa, dude, Izumo. You’re fine. We can stop now.” Now Dean felt kind of bad. For all that Izumo talked he was a lot smaller than Dean and probably used his chakra stuff normally. Maybe that hadn’t been a fair fight, though Izumo had got some hits in. Dean reached to the cut on his neck, just beneath the collar, which was still bleeding sluggishly. Dean still felt kinda like a dick though.
“You alright?”
The first sharp bites of panic faded out the moment Dean got up and Izumo snapped chakra, skittered aside and ended up in a tight crouch, fingers of one hand braced against the ground, the other clutching a kunai. He shivered all over, shook his head, and kept his eyes on Dean, breathing harder, feeling the panic fade.
“Dammit. I’m good.”
Izumo’s voice was rough, hard. He didn’t spar all that often with anyone but his usual partner, who was the same size and weight he was, give or take a few pounds.
Dean nodded uncertainly and said nothing, instead going round to pick up the weapons from where they’d been flung. Once he’d fetched them all he came back to Izumo, edging a little closer and placing Izumo’s things just a few feet from him.
Dean moved away again and sat down, watching carefully. He belatedly realized the needle was still in the back of his hand and removed it - couldn’t believe he’d forgotten it really but Izumo had kinda freaked him out - bringing it up to his face to look at it. He stayed quiet, waiting for Izumo to speak first.
“I told you I’m - oh fuck why did you do that? Shoulda let me so I could have done it right,” Izumo scolded, moving closer to grab Dean’s wrist and pull his arm down. “Dammit, Dean, you could have nicked a nerve.” He examined the small hole. Only a few drops of blood showed. “Wiggle your damn fingers.”
Dean frowned and moved his fingers slowly, flipped his hand over and then back again. He grinned up at Izumo. “Uh, my fingers are kinda tingling. Is that bad?” At least Izumo looked better now. And he was back to telling Dean off. Yay!
“Yes, now wipe that grin off your face,” Izumo snapped, and felt along each bone before he pressed his fingers above and below the mark. “Does that change anything?”
Dean struggled to stop grinning and blank his expression. Not easy to do. And not really worth the effort at this point, the adrenaline from the fighting was still rushing around his system and he felt pretty fucking awesome. Dad didn’t normally have them spar with knives, not that often anyway and it was a fucking awesome buzz.
He watched as Izumo poked at his hand, feeling the tingles run across his hand up to his fingers and back again. Then he realized Izumo was looking at him and had probably asked a question. “What? Oh, uh, I guess it makes it tingle more. Maybe.”
Dean let the grin slide full force back onto his face. “That was fun, we should do that more often. Unless it’s gonna make you freak again. Are you alright now? Really? I didn’t mean to trap you or anything. Well, I kinda did but not if it was gonna make you have a panic attack. Or whatever.”
“No shooting pains? No numbness in your fingertips?” Izumo looked up at Dean, and scowled. “This is serious, you bat-brained twit. If you’ve given yourself nerve-damage...dammit. We should take you to the infirmary, just so they can check. If they’ve got X-rays and brain-scanners, they can check for nerve damage.”
He scooped up the senbon from Dean’s hands and whirled to fetch the rest of his weapons. “Come on. Let’s get you seen.”
A ninja’s hands were their most important tools. A damaged hand could ruin a career. It was why torturers always went for the hands first on any captive. Izumo glanced at his own slightly-crooked pinky as he hid his weaponry away again.
Okay, so Dean kinda maybe couldn’t feel the tips of his fingers. But it was fine. Izumo was totally overreacting. “Dude, I’m fine. So they feel a bit weird, it’ll wear off. I don’t need to be checked out in the infirmary.”
Dean glared down at Izumo, trying to convince him. “Also, it’s your fucking fault. I thought we weren’t trying to cause lasting damage?” At least it was Dean’s left hand, not his right. That would have been annoying in many, many ways.
“Don’t you play the blame game with me, you twat, you’re the one who pulled it out crooked. Even damn Genin know to pull it out straight, they’re made for nerve-strikes. Now let’s get your ass to the infirmary.”
Izumo finished putting away his weaponry and returned to grab Dean around the wrist. “Also, watch that last stance. You left a big hole on your right and let me get in to your ribs. If I’d been holding a kunai I’d’ve collapsed your lung.”
“But you weren’t and I knew you weren’t. Gave me a chance to grab my knife; most people relax a little when they’ve hit you, think they’ve got the upper hand. So if I let them hit me, I gain a split second.” Dean stopped and considered for a second. “Well, it works for sparring anyway. In real life people don’t stop because they actually are trying to kill you.”
Dean glared across at Izumo. “Also screw you I didn’t pull anything out crooked. And I don’t need to go to the infirmary. I. Am. Fine. You’re crooked.” The last muttered under Dean’s breath.
Izumo scowled, then used chakra to move fast, blurring in Dean’s sight. He linked their arms together and whipped his hands through signs, yanking them both along in an abrupt twist of time and space.
The landing was rough, this time, and Izumo staggered, arm slipping from Dean’s. Several medics popped out from various doorways with startled cries. Izumo steadied himself. “He’s hurt. Possible nerve damage, left hand, sparring accident,” he reported, voice brisk and calmly professional, as if he hadn’t nearly gone to his knees.
Dean staggered forwards, nearly falling flat on his face but catching himself on the wall just in time. He scowled at Izumo, “What the fuck, man?” He moved his glare round the room, trying to make sure he caught every medic - no fucking way were they touching him.
Dean addressed his next words to the whole room. “I am fine. He,” Dean motioned to Izumo, “is overreacting. So, I’m just going to be going now.” He turned to find the elevator and get to the sanctuary of his room.
A medic blocked the door even as Izumo grabbed after Dean’s sleeve.
“Let us run a quick scan to check it,” the medic said, calmly. “It’ll only take a moment.”
Izumo nodded vigorously.
Dean came to a forced halt when he felt Izumo grab his sleeve and watched one of the medics block the door. “It really doesn’t need checking. It’s fine. I’m fine.” The words were grumbled out even as he let himself be guided towards a medic. Stupid hospitals. Stupid Izumo.
The medic stepped forward, producing one of their odd tablets from a pocket. He tapped at its flat surface, then held it over Dean’s arm. He hummed, and frowned a little, and tapped at it again. “Hmm. We’ll give you some pills, and bandage that.”
Izumo nodded. It would all be taken care of. He rubbed absently at a bruise forming on the inside of his wrist.
Dean grumbled but held out his hand obediently. Maybe if he just complied they’d realize he was fine and he could go. “Why are you so bothered anyway?” He turned to look at Izumo, who had been doing a lot of nodding and forcing Dean to go along to medics. And who was being quiet.
Another medic brought gauze and a syringe, and within a few moments the small wound was flushed and bandaged, and the pills handed to Dean. Izumo watched the cleaning process closely before he answered. “Nerve damage doesn’t always grow back, stupid.” A fighter needed the full use of his hands.
“Aww, were you worried about me?” Dean placed his uninjured hand over his heart. “That’s so sweet.” He resisted the urge to pick at the bandage, at least in front of the medics, and instead held up the pills. “What exactly are these?”
“Antibiotics.” The medic nodded, and they all scattered.
Izumo used chakra to speed his motions and bopped Dean on the back of the head - which meant he had to stand tiptoe to do it. Dammit. “Moron. We said no permanent damage.” He scowled furiously at Dean and headed for the door. “Hope you don’t jerk off left-handed. You’ll be lonely for a few nights if you do.”
Annoy the kid out of the dramatics. Yup.
Dean rubbed the back of his head and glared at Izumo - not that it actually hurt but it was the principle of the thing. “Thank fuck that I’m right-handed or I might have ended up bugging you for that blowjob.” Dean held up a hand before Izumo could respond. “Yeah, yeah. I’m too young. Whatever.”
Izumo tossed a smirk over his shoulder at Dean. "Shoulda been at the Domus in the break room last night if you wanted some." He'd been fairly tipsy, but he'd gotten a lot of information, some really good sex, and a contact for some further information on the “Freemen” organization that he’d heard about..
He held the door open for Dean at the elevator. "Wonder if you're a screamer?" he mused, playfully, with a smirk.
Dean gaped at Izumo for half a second then followed him to the elevator. “M’not a chick. There is no screaming. Not from me anyway.” Dean dragged his gaze up and down Izumo’s body. “You on the other hand. You are chick-sized.”
"I'm a ninja, I'm not noisy," Izumo retorted, smugly. Though that wasn't wholly true: he was as noisy as his partner wanted or needed him to be, even if it was a pain to keep his brain around that much. "I can make anyone scream. I am that good."
His grin was not faked in the least: it was genuine pride and enjoyment. Sex was good and fun and Izumo enjoyed it. With two steady-ish partners already and half a dozen one-night stands, Izumo was enjoying the party-lovers at the Domus as much as they were enjoying him. He'd had an amicable break-up with the double-breasted Trixie and with no hard feelings had moved on to the next lover flavor of the week.
"Screaming isn't just a chick thing. It's an enjoyment thing. Also personal. But I can get anyone to be pretty damn loud." His grin widened.
“Whatever you say, dude.” Dean grinned. He could understand Izumo’s pride in that; Dean himself enjoyed making girls loud. There wasn’t anything that boosted his ego in quite the same way. The problem with this place was the lack of ‘normal’ looking women. Dean had managed a couple of hook-ups but he couldn’t make himself go for the more alien looking females. Not yet. Maybe when he’d been here for a while.
And way too many people here seemed bothered by his age. It wasn’t just Izumo, it seemed like ninety percent of the potential hook-ups thought he was too young. Like he hadn’t been getting laid since he was fourteen.
“We should go out and pick up chicks together.” The words came out of Dean’s mouth without his consent. Oh well, it would probably be fun.
Izumo raised an eyebrow at Dean as the elevator doors opened. “I suppose I could hook you up. Not having any luck on your own, I’d guess,” he teased, and headed out of the elevator. “There’s a closed night just for the Others coming up fairly soon. We can go then if you’d like.”
He already had a list of potentials pulled up and rummaged through - Dean would probably favor the girls who enjoyed being girls... Not Cleo, maybe Milly. Rah-Nef-Ankh, maybe, if she was there. She often wasn’t - a classy girl with beautiful dark eyes like obsidian stone. Clubbing was not her thing. Janet was too slutty, most likely had the clap, and Galaliras was definitely not human. Hmm, hmm, Magonna, Jagluiperd, Ieticia, Gnrack...except she wasn’t human either. Izumo wasn’t entirely certain Jagluiperd was fully human, but she was beautiful, exotic, with dark skin like coffee without creme, and shocking golden eyes.
Izumo was getting to know people, oh yes.
Dean glared. “I’m doing fine. Have you been telling them I’m all too young though? Seriously. I’ve never met that many people who care.” Not back in reality; the places Dean went to barely even bothered to check IDs.
“You that scared of the competition? I am better looking than you. And taller. And bigger. And being younger means I can go for longer.”
“Most of the people here have morals, you know. It’s nice change of pace.” Izumo glanced sidelong at Dean as they walked down the hall. “Being younger does not mean you can go longer, that’s nonsense and totally related to how much you’re used to getting. Taller doesn’t mean shit either...or bigger.” Izumo gave a pointed glance at Dean’s crotch to emphasize that. It wasn’t what you had, it was how you did it...or what toys you used, in some cases.
“Oh, damn, we were down at the infirmary and didn’t get your blood checked. We should do that before we go clubbing,” Izumo mused. It was good to know and he wanted to promise the people he knew a good clean hookup. Friends didn’t let other friends catch venereal diseases, after all, and he needed a reputation as someone to be trusted.
Dean snorted, “Whatever you need to tell yourself, old man. I am clearly better than you. Which chick fed you the line that size doesn’t matter?” Dean lengthened his stride ever so slightly, just so it would be annoying for Izumo to try and keep up. Heh, being tall rocked. “I am careful.” Dean looked across at Izumo. “If it bothers you that much I’ll get tests done but I’m definitely clean.”
Izumo shrugged. "Clean, sure, but you could be a carrier too."
Ah, teenage idiocy. Dean was eager and invincible and bold and stupid, like all teenagers were. Izumo only vaguely recalled the feeling - it had been a long time and too-cocky ninja didn't live long. He did not, in fact, try to keep up with Dean, just kept sauntering along calmly and quietly. He had a list of names to sit on, a plan for later, and while he was vaguely smudgy from sparring he hadn't worked up a sweat.
"You've got catkins in your hair," he called after Dean.
Dean turned and walked backwards, so he was facing Izumo, and flipped him off, grinning all the while. He left his hair, deciding to sort it out later when he had use of a mirror. “You know I totally won that fight, right?”
“It was a draw,” Izumo retorted, though in a way he supposed Dean was right. It was supposed to have been a friendly spar, but in another five seconds Dean would have most likely been sporting a kunai in his liver. Not exactly within the ideals of a friendly spar, the stabbing of major organs. Well. They’d survived.
“If I catch you selling those pills, flushing them down the toilet, or feeding them to the chickens, I’ll skin your ass and make me a rug,” he told Dean. He rather expected the kid would take them but a little persuasion never hurt.
“You freaked out like a chick, I totally won.” Dean smirked. “I told you, I’m like Batman. Don’t need super powers, I’m freaking awesome on my own.” He looked down at the pills in his hand. He had been vaguely contemplating doing something with them - it wasn’t like he was going to take them, he had no idea what they were - and wondered how Izumo had known.
Though he’d only banned selling, flushing and feeding to chickens, so other than those, the possibilities were an unending list really. There had to be a prank opportunity in there somewhere. Actually, he hadn’t messed with Izumo’s stuff yet, that was an oversight that needed fixing at some point. Just move all his stuff a couple of inches to the left or something.
“Just my ass? Not my back or legs or anything.” Dean fluttered his eyelashes. “Izumo, have you been looking? I feel so objectified.”
“A fighting lifestyle gives anyone a fine ass,” Izumo retorted, with a sly smirk. “And yes, you will take those pills. Puncture wounds are a bitch to heal without infection. He said those were antibiotics. So you’ll take them.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” Dean waved a hand dismissively. “And you have been looking. My face is up here you know.”
“If you want to flatter yourself that badly, I only look when it’s worth looking at. Careful, your ego is showing, and badly,” Izumo retorted, with a smug grin. “And don’t whatever me. Unless you’d like to have your hand get infected and rot off, then I guess you can.”
Which, he reflected, was indeed Dean’s choice but he’d feel a little responsible so he’d rather that didn’t happen.
“I can’t help it if I’m so awesome.” Dean winked and grinned obnoxiously, “And hot.” He glanced at the pills in his hand again. “But how do I know they’re not something... I don’t know, like mind-controlling or poison or just something bad.”
Dean considered for a moment. “They might not even be for humans. What if they’re for tentacled orange blob things with too many eyes that stare at you all creepy?” He shuddered and looked over at Izumo. “I think taking them might be a bad idea.”
“They’re healers, medics. Civilian ones at that. I think all of them take an oath of no harm.” Not all combat medics did - sometimes your medic was also your torturer and sometimes the best fighter. They knew exactly how you went together: that made it easier for them to take you apart. Izumo shook his head. They’d given him the right medication for his own issues, so he was trusting they’d do the same for Dean.
Sometimes you had to gamble.
“They cleaned your hand and bandaged it without doing anything strange to you. The pills are fine.” Izumo shook his head, and kept walking. Their door was just up the hall.
Gods, sometimes Dean sounded and looked so young. This was why Izumo couldn’t count Dean as a shinobi soldier - by eighteen there was no more innocence or childishness. Combat had burned everything away but grit, determination, and eyes that saw reality and every threat promised or revealed. Dean acted tough but there was something still very young and gentle about him, and while it wasn’t exactly weakness it was the rookie kind of mentality that could get him killed on anything Izumo knew as a mission.
It was why Izumo saw Itachi and Shisui, sixteen and fourteen, as steadier and more experienced than Dean. They were shinobi, born in the years of war and raised to the same kill-or-be-killed standards. They, like Izumo, knew the balance of threat and intention and the reality of death. Dean...was not yet that way, hardened and tempered into nothing but a weapon in the hands of whoever paid the most. Izumo wondered if he might yet come to that.
“Still.” Dean bit his cheek to keep from grinning. “Maybe I should test some on a bird or something first.” He could shoot some out of his gun maybe. That would be something to do.
“Are you being patronising again?” Dean started walking again from where he’d stopped to look at the drugs, catching up with Izumo in a few strides. “Just because I don’t want to take something that might kill me, doesn’t make me an idiot,” Dean narrowed his eyes. “Or whatever you’re thinking now.”
Not that Dean genuinely thought they would hurt him, he mostly just didn’t want to take them. Pills were for wusses. And they made him feel all fuzzy a lot of the time, or maybe that was painkillers? Morphine was pretty evil for that. He needed to be able to think properly, protect Sammy. He couldn’t do it if he was all blissed out on drugs.
“No, I’m wondering if I’m gonna haveta sit on you and poke the pill down your throat, like they do to the Inuzuka dogs.” Izumo grinned wickedly. Granted, when a 300 lb dog decided he wasn’t taking a pill, there was really not a lot you could do. Most of them had enough intelligence to talk and therefore be reasoned into taking a pill, even if their logic tended to be a bit skewed and on the simplistic side.
Izumo opened the door to their dorms. “Also wondering how in the hell you survived this long if you don’t trust the medics.”
“Totally being patronising.” Dean mumbled. “You’re not my Dad, you can’t make me take them if I don’t want too.” Although Dad wouldn’t insist, he’d want Dean sharp too. Can’t do his job with a head full of fuzz. At least with pain his head was clear and the hole in his hand was really not near the top of his list of painful experiences. It wasn’t even really on the list considering it was mainly just numb.
“It’ll heal. It always does.” Dean stopped in the doorway of their shared room. “The life I have? Going to the hospital is not a great idea, so I make do.” That was a point actually; he should probably go down to the medical area some time and steal some supplies. He’d need some bandages definitely. Suture kit? Nope, he could probably just get some needles and thread from GinMan. A bottle of alcohol from the cafeteria would be good too.
Dean motioned down at himself. “And, hey, I’m here now aren’t I? And looking pretty fucking fine. Which you have obviously noticed, if I was just a few years older you’d be hitting on me constantly, right?”
“No, I’d do you and move on to the next willing partner.” Izumo gave Dean a shove into their room and shut the door tightly behind them. He kicked off his sandals from sheer habit. “Cut the shit, asshat, it’s your hand. Now tell me you’ll take them, swear to - oh hell, I don’t know, whatever it is that’ll keep you fuckin’ true.” Ancestors, gods, graves, promises, the village one served. There were many places that allegiance and loyalty could lie.
“You think I’m that easy? I’m not that kind of girl, mister. I expect to be wined and dined at least before I even think about putting out.” Dean headed over to his bed and slumped back on it, dumping the pills beside himself. Distraction, avoidance. Maybe Izumo would just forget about the drugs. Not likely.
"Dean."
Izumo's voice was low, serious, and he crossed the room to stand beside Dean's bed, face perfectly blank. He said nothing more, waiting for Dean to man up.
“I’m not going to trust the people who stole me from my world and put a collar ‘round my neck.” Dean shook his head unconsciously. “I can count the people I trust on one hand. These people,” He motioned around the room as if that was an example of the whole planet. “Aren’t anywhere near being on it.”
Izumo blinked, then burst out laughing. Full and deep and he doubled over with it, arms crossed over his stomach. It was a moment before he could collect himself. Rather than even try to stand up straight, he flopped across the end of Dean’s bed and collapsed into breathless chuckles. He looked up at Dean, bangs askew, eyes a matching brown as he grinned.
“You don’t trust them, but you’re going to eat their food, wear their clothes, and work in their club without question, but you don’t trust them godsdamn you’re a hell of a kid, Dean!”
Any good humour and lightness dropped from Dean’s face; he was sick of this. His voice cold and a few tones deeper than normal he spoke, “No. I don’t trust them but if I don’t eat their food I die anyway. A lot of this none of us have any choice about but I can choose not to take some random drugs they give me.”
Dean stood, back straight and body tensed, towering over where Izumo was slumped on the bed. “I know you think I’m an idiot. Not as good as a ninja.” He shrugged then. “And maybe I’m not. But I am damn good at my job. I wouldn’t still be alive if I wasn’t. So, yeah, maybe I don’t have special powers and maybe I can’t walk up walls but I am a soldier, I do have training and I have fought. I fight monsters, things from your worst nightmares.”
He stepped even closer to Izumo. “And I’ve killed things with powers like you before. You think the demons and monsters just stand there and let me win? If we really fought, maybe I’d win, maybe I’d lose but it sure as hell wouldn’t be an easy fight. So stop treating me like an idiot who has no brain.”
Speech finished Dean turned his back on Izumo and walked over to the window, trying to calm down.
Izumo sagged into the bed with a few more chuckles during the tirade, then pushed himself to sit up. “Gods, kid, you’re worse than a woman with the moodswings. C’mere, honey, lemme make up.” He was still smiling, voice warm and amused, speech patterns slipping into something less formal. “Unless I’m back to being a thing. Daaaamn, and we were makin’ such progress.”
He paddled his bare feet in the air, and thought about getting up. Nah. He’d stay here on the kid’s bed. “Deeeeeean. Deeeeeean. Oi, Deeeeeean....”
Dean snorted out a humorless laugh. “Dude, I am really not in the mood for more of your shit. I get that I’m not a super special ninja or what-the-fuck-ever. You know what nevermind. You’re still gonna treat me like a moron anyway. I guess I really should be used to it by now anyway.”
Dean still refused to turn and look at Izumo. So what if he was overreacting? Izumo had spent most of the month - or however long they’d been here - being a dickhead.
“No, if I were treating you like a moron, I wouldn’t be trying to make you understand, asshat.” Izumo snorted. “I’d be keepin’ you in the fuckin’ dark. I’m trying to be real with you, honestly man,” No, he was being fake-real, a front just for Dean, “But I’m out of practise. That, and I get the feeling there’s some culture-shock going on. Aside from the ninja-thing.”
He wriggled his toes. “I mean, I’m starting to think you don’t have social castes. Like, peasants and farmers and samurai and ninja and the feudal lords.”
Dean rolled his eyes at that one. “You’re trying to ‘be real with me’? I’ll believe that when it’s actually true and not just more of your bullshit.” He fingered the edge of the taped-down salt line on the sill absently and sighed. “No, we don’t have social whatevers. Not like peasants and stuff anyway. There’s richer people and poorer people and the right or wrong side of the tracks to be from but no lords exactly.”
Dean turned and sat on the sill, watching Izumo. “Y’know how you don’t like nicknames? I guess this is the same for me. And you’ve never seen me on a hunt so... Just gimme a little credit, okay? I’m here, I’m alive and that’s the best judge of anything for a hunter. Idiots get killed pretty damn quick.”
Izumo nodded. “Yeah. And? I still got seniority.” He grinned. “At least I’m not hazing you. It could be worse. I got hazed by the war-vets, and they will do ugly things to ya. Had a friend who almost died.”
He flopped on the bed and stretched. “So you’re a hefty hitter. Good for you, you’ve got the weight, might as well use it. You need to work on your guard, though. I’m not a good teacher or sparring partner. If they get close enough to hit me I’m in fuckin’ deep shit.”
He lay spread-eagled on his back, feet dangling off the edge of the bed, and tapped his tongue-piercing against the roof of his mouth. “Damn, I’d like to see you go a match against Kotetsu. That would be some damn good fighting.”
Dean narrowed his eyes and studied Izumo. “Yeah, okay, you got seniority....sir.” He left enough of a pause that the title was no longer particularly respectful but there wasn’t anything rude about it either. Nothing he could get called out on really.
“And maybe you’re right about the guard. Haven’t sparred with anyone but Sam recently and I leave myself a bit more open for him. Then Dad doesn’t yell as much and Sammy doesn’t get as moody. Win for everyone.” Except when Dad yelled at Dean instead, for getting sloppy and letting his little brother get him. But that wasn’t really a big deal.
“Kotetsu?” The word came clumsily from Dean’s mouth. “He a friend of yours?”
“Yeah. Mission partner, brother in arms, partner in crime.” Izumo grinned. “Damn near attached at the hip.” Or so they had been. Izumo missed him, but conversely, he was also accustomed to running solo missions. This? Was just another long mission. Besides, if you held on too tightly, it broke you when you were forced to let go.
“He fights like a demon - loves his weapons. He’d give you one hell of a run for your money.” Izumo paddled his bare feet in the air, fidgeting. “We should find you a partner to shape you up.”
“Huh. Cool, I guess.” Dean poked at the bandage on his hand. It was already annoying him and he wished he could take it off. Yeah, okay, so he wasn’t that great and dealing with being injured but he mostly figured as long as he could still stand up then he was fine.
“So, who exactly do you want me to fight then, O Great Ninja Dude?” He paused for a moment. “And what the fuck are you doing with your feet? Can you not sit like a normal human being for five minutes?”
"No."
Well, he could sit still, but not for too long. The drugs he was on did that, kept him fidgety. Izumo shrugged at Dean, and curled his toes. "I dunno who we could get. I'll ask around. And stop messing with your hand. Are you done sulking, brat?"
He grinned teasingly at Dean.
Dean pulled at the edge of the bandage one more time just because. “Oh, fuck you, dude. I wasn’t sulking. I don’t do sulking. I was pissed at you. And I was totally allowed to be, you’re a total dickhead most of the time.”
Dean ran his hand through his hair and grimaced as bits of the great outdoors stuck to his hand. He stood and wandered into the bathroom, leaving the door wide open, and set about fixing his hair in the mirror.
Izumo chuckled. "Yeah, wouldn't you enjoy fucking me," he replied with amusement. "And yeah, you sulk." He stretched. "I got shift in a few hours. Think you can not be trouble for a a little while?"
A nap was lost, probably, but curling up somewhere quiet and working on his info files or dicing...he could do that.
“This is exactly what I mean. Dick. Head.” Dean turned his head one way, then the other and decided he’d got all the plant matter out of his hair. He turned and came out of the bathroom. “And I have no idea what you are talking about. I’m not trouble.”
“You’re trouble all over,” Izumo answered, cheerfully. “And that is that.”