Izumo Zaku - Uneasy Roomies Who: Abumi Zaku, Kamizuki Izumo When: June 15th Where: The Dorms What: Izumo is released from the infirmary, and finds his roomie. They chat. Also, mice! Warnings:Izumo, swearing Open or Closed: Closed Observable: No
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Izumo was finally free of the Infirmary. He swung along on his crutches with ease, pill bottle rattling in his back pocket. He was, unfortunately, wearing the ridiculous scrubs from the infirmary, but Gin Charlie had assured him his uniform and weapons had been put back in his locker in his room. Izumo idly wondered how his roomie had dealt with his sudden disappearance...hmm, had the kid managed to survive the tournament itself?
Shaking his head, Izumo kept going. His hip only hurt faintly, a soft ache with every step of his foot. He could definitely get around, though, and touch his toes to the floor, though he wouldn’t be walking without crutches for a few days yet.
He fidgeted with the door of his shared dorm room before he got it open, and edged in crabways with his crutches. He used one crutch to shut the door again.
The tournament had come. Happened.
Somehow, Zaku hadn’t died yet. A lot of other people had, like the pretty girl with the tattoos and the twins from the third floor. Not him, though. Not since he’d arrived. It wasn’t a record by any stretch, but it was something. Zaku figured it was a matter of time, though he’d put it off as long as he could.
He’d gotten his fair share of scars, though. More than a fair share of bruises too. Avoiding the medics had become something of a hobby.
Aside from the new rooms, not much had changed. Zaku had his headphones on, back to the wall and eyes fixed stubbornly on the door. He’d gotten tired of sitting in trees and he wanted to listen to music.
The compromise was increased vigilance.
Mainly, staring at the door with a knife in hand just in case.
Zaku tensed when the door opened, and held the knife ready. Just in case.
Oh, great. It was Izumo.
He glared openly.
Well, the kid was here, awake, and not immediately throwing the knife.... Izumo spared a hand to wave at him, then headed for his bed.
“Alive and well, I see. Nice to know,” he commented, cheerfully, though he doubted the kid would actually say anything, much less smile back in the return to the smile Izumo had tossed him. “Thank you for not stabbing me...these are a bit hard to dodge on.”
Alright. Bed. Now for the fun part. Izumo set his crutches aside and glanced warily at Zaku, before beginning to awkwardly lower himself to sit down, bending his hip as little as possible. It was stiff and it hurt, and he kept his teeth clenched as he went down, all the better to not make a revealing noise in front of the kid.
Zaku narrowed his eyes.
That looked painful. Probably recent, too. The medics here were good, but not that good. You’d think after raising the dead like it was nothing, they’d have come up with a way to fix people faster. Apparently not, though. Zaku didn’t think about it that hard. Wasn’t his deal. “Any reason I should stab you?”
It wasn’t off the table entirely yet.
“Not that I know of,” Izumo answered, when he could. He leaned his crutches against the bed just so. He would wait for his hip to stop throbbing before moving again. Well, stop throbbing as much, because it hurt. He wanted to just lie down for a bit. He and Zaku had managed a truce so far, but...well, lying down he was going to be terribly vulnerable.
That....
Was about the expected answer, actually. Zaku sat up a little straighter and didn’t let go of the knife. He’d have to find another place to sleep soon; he didn’t plan on letting his guard down with another ninja in the room. Ever.
He eyed Izumo and waited. For what, he wasn’t sure.
Anything at all.
Izumo eyed the kid, and snorted a little. “Right now, I’m about as dangerous as a civilian. Don’t worry about me.” He swung his good leg up on the bed, winced, and started pulling his injured leg up. He did it slowly, his hands wrapped around his thigh, and his teeth clenched. No noise, only the soft shift of fabric on fabric and the faint hiss of breath between his teeth.
Uh-huh. Like that was going to put anyone with a brain at ease. Zaku scowled openly.
This probably wasn’t going to work.
No, who was he kidding? It definitely wasn’t going to work. Even if Izumo was as hurt as he looked.
That didn’t matter at all.
“You die or something?”
What? It was a legit question.
Izumo found a pillow to edge under his hip. “My partner shot blind into a ninja fight.” He snorted, and if his voice shook a little, well. “Bullets and guns do a hell of a lot of damage.” He found another pillow, and propped his head up. With his good foot he kicked the blankets around, until he found a fuzzy one to pull up over himself. He was chilly.
That probably hurt a lot. Zaku had learned about guns since coming. He hadn’t liked the lessons much, necessary as they’d been at the time. Good shinobi adapted. Rolled with the punches. Everybody else died.
Zaku watched Izumo with narrowed eyes, wondering what he was supposed to do next. Letting his guard down wasn’t an option. Not with a Konoha shinobi in the room.
“Who was it? Your partner.”
Maybe it was worth knowing, just in case. Either way it bought more time.
Zaku didn’t know what he was supposed to do just yet. Very little of this place fit what his training had prepared him for.
Izumo considered it before answering. “Dean Winchester. Okay kid. Not used to ninja.”
Understatement of the year, but what the hell. Izumo shrugged, and rolled partway to his good side, facing Zaku a little more. He dug up a few more pillows.
Izumo’s bed has soft sheets, and a pile of colourful blankets and quite a few pillows of various colour, size, and shape. None of the colours particularly matched, and none of the styles, either, and thrown together the effect was somewhat bewildering. It was supremely comfortable, however, and Izumo liked comfortable things. He reached down and fished in the crevice of the mattresses, and withdrew a pack of sunflower seeds. He popped a few of these in his mouth, then scattered a few on the floor.
Good name to know, Zaku supposed. Another person to avoid. Like Izumo, actually. The reasons were different but the end result wasn’t. He hadn’t found any allies yet. Probably wouldn’t, by the look of things.
Whatever. He’d adapt.
Zaku tightened his jaw and flicked a knife into the wall.
Izumo jumped at the noise, head swinging around, eyes narrowed. He watched Zaku a wary moment, then forcibly relaxed his shoulders. As long as kunai weren’t being thrown at him he’d let it be.
Izumo went back to watching the seeds on the floor. He whistled a low series of trilling chirps, soft and akin to birdsong, but not quite the same. He waited. The mice might not come, and certainly normal mice would never think of venturing out after such noise, but...these were not exactly normal mice. They vaguely resembled deermice in size and shape, plump little creatures with round button eyes and velvet-furred tails, but these mice were...blue.
It was a greyish blue, sure, but their fur honestly looked blue. Their tails were purple-ish and their bellies cream, with little pink feet and long trailing whiskers. They were tamer than most mice Izumo had ever met, and he could convince them to sit in his hand to eat. He’d been leaving them seeds and crumbs, but now that he’d been gone so long, he didn’t know if they’d still be around.
Zaku narrowed his eyes but didn’t say a word. The Konoha-nin reacted like expected. Like a shinobi. Zaku didn’t know what he would have done if it had been like something else. He didn’t like this at all. The proximity.
Or the quiet. Things had a tendency of building up in it.
Zaku put his headphones away roughly, then went to jerk the knife out of the wall. He’d go train, or something.
“Shh, be still,” Izumo hissed, and pointed. Two of the mice had just emerged from a corner. They crossed the floor in bouncing hops, and eagerly started in on the seeds. A third came from under the bed. Izumo watched them crack the seeds with an indulgent smile, and reached down a slow and careful hand, more seeds held in the palm of his hand.
One of the mice shied, but the first one reached up and propped its feet on his fingers, peering in curiously. Izumo grinned happily.
….the hell?
Zaku went still, though not because Izumo had asked him to. That would have implied that they had an understanding when all they’d agreed was not to kill each other on sight. Nobody had said a damn thing about the mice.
Still, Zaku waited. He wasn’t sure what was going on, exactly, but he watched.
Izumo’s grin broadened when the mouse actually climbed into his hand. It sat there fearlessly, and nibbled at the seeds, teeth cracking the shells easily. A fourth mouse, smaller than the others, joined the crew. It crawled right into Izumo’s hand, and grabbed a few seeds as well.
When Izumo reached down with the other hand, it was the smallest who sat perfectly still in his hand and let him gently stroke between its ears with a fingertip. The other mouse shied away, but none of them ran. Izumo chirped softly to them, and one sat up and peeped back. Within minutes, however, the seeds were gone, and the mice left, one by one. The smallest stayed the longest, and ate from Izumo’s hand the entire time. At last, it hopped away, little tail held straight up behind it as it went.
Izumo watched them go, and began gathering up the empty shells of the seeds. “They’re so tame,” he remarked to Zaku, idly. “I’ve never met wild mice like that before. Most of them bite like demons...but these haven’t bitten me yet.”
Mice. Zaku stared. Couldn’t help it. Why mice, of all things? Sure, shinobi animals came in all shapes and sizes, and they definitely had their uses, but mice? Mice were...small, and shy, and way too small to be any use at all. Except maybe for stealing food and biting people.
Or spying.
Zaku narrowed his eyes. “Why do you care?”
Izumo considered this a moment, then laid back on the bed. He winced, and breathed. Why did he care? Well, mice were easy to tame. The best pets for a lonely kid in the slums. They were little and no-one cared, called them pests and hunted them. Izumo shrugged a little, staring up at the ceiling.
“Even the littlest deserve some kindness,” he said, at last, softly. Then he snorted. “The gods only know they won’t get it elsewhere. But I bet you know that.”
That was probably supposed to mean something. Zaku decided not to think about the implications. He wouldn’t like where they took him. Kindness was for people who could afford it. Who were strong enough that they didn’t need to think about surviving all the time. Or for those who were too weak or stupid to know better. Not shinobi. Never shinobi.
Maybe Izumo was stupid. Or strong.
Maybe both.
Zaku bared his teeth. “Fuck you.”
What did he know about Zaku’s life anyway?
“You’re too young,” was the automatic response. It fell a little flat: Izumo was tired. Zaku’s aggression was even more tiring, at this point. Izumo didn’t have the strength to verbally spar right now. Maybe later. His hip was aching. “I am going to take a nap. I’m going to put up a sound barrier, so you can be as loud as you damn want.”
He didn’t mention not stabbing anyone in their sleep, because so far they’d been agreeable on that score. Not that they slept in the room much together, but it was the thought that counted. They also had stayed out of eachother’s stuff, mainly because it was all trapped seven ways ‘till Sunday. It was unprecedented, really, to sleep in front of a shinobi who was still pretty much an enemy, but the kid hadn’t killed him yet.
He waited for an answer from the kid, to see if there was one.
Hah. That wasn’t even worth a response. Zaku just sneered and turned away. Like he’d stay in here with Izumo, sound barrier or not. Noise wasn’t the point, never had been. It was about trust - or more pointedly the lack thereof - and all the ways that they knew how to kill. Shinobi from enemy villages didn’t make good roommates.
Zaku jerked the knife out of the wall. Briefly he considered throwing it at Izumo’s head, or something, but thought better of it.
Izumo wasn’t worth the effort just yet.
In the end, he stalked away. He’d find a safer place to sit for a while.
Izumo had seen the look, the knife, and thought it progress the kid still hadn’t stabbed him. Maybe Zaku wouldn’t think of it that way, but.... Like the oddly tame mice, he hadn’t bitten Izumo yet. Now, to keep it that way. Izumo yawned, and drifted off to sleep.