Kamizuki Izumo (clouded_moon) wrote in strangergamesrp, @ 2012-10-11 20:06:00 |
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Entry tags: | balfour vallet, closed, kamizuki izumo, log, observable |
[Log] Crashing Down
Who: Balfour Vallet, Kamizuki Izumo
When: September 15th
Where: The Games!
What: Balfour and Izumo get stuck in a Game. Things...do not go well.
Warnings: Swearing, violence
Open or Closed: Closed
Observable: Yes
*
Lost 'till you're found
Swim 'till you drown
Know that we all fall down
Love 'till you hate
Strong 'till you break
Know that we all fall down
--"All Fall Down," by OneRebuplic
Balfour was nervous and frustrated, trapped in a huge, glorified shrubbery. Okay, so it wasn’t all shrubbery and it was a maze, which meant that there had to be a way out…somewhere. He kicked the dirt and grumbled a quiet curse, running a hand over the green foliage, the brown, rugged leather not letting his hands get poked.
“I’d say this is a dead end,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes at the fact that the statement was oh-so-obvious. But the problem was, there was no other way out, not back the way they came, at least. That meant either they had to back up all the way to the beginning of the maze, practically, or there was a secret way through—which was what he was looking for. Any give would be noticed by him.
“The good news is that I have the way back memorized?” He laughed weakly, shaking his head. It was pitiful that that was the extent of his good news.
"Well, fuck." Izumo looked around. "Okay. Time to cheat."
He and Balfour had been assigned to a team and told to get to the end of the maze as quickly as possible. There was netting over the bushes to keep people from climbing up to cheat, but Izumo had another idea.
Shrubbery was planted in the earth, and they needed water. Izumo was a water-type. He folded his hands through signs as he crouched, and pressed his hands to the earth. He couldn't get enough chakra together to translocate (he'd tried, with great frustration at the results) but this was little and minor. He closed his eyes and concentrated. There was water suffusing the earth, drawn up into the roots, and through that network...gaps. A pattern. Izumo smiled, eyes still closed. He memorized the network and then bounced to his feet.
"Come on. Follow me," Izumo instructed, turning and trotting off. "Keep up!"
Balfour fell still, his hand still resting on one of the bushes, watching Izumo as he worked, then trying to see any possible results. He didn’t say anything about the fact that he couldn’t see anything, mainly because Izumo had grinned, which meant he’d found something, at least.
His suspicion was confirmed when Izumo told him to follow and he trotted off behind him, hurrying to catch up, fingers brushing against his lower back as soon as he was even with him.
“What did you find?” he asked, keeping his own senses alert for any danger. Sure, they’d been told that they weren’t to kill each other...but he didn’t trust anyone to play by the rules. Eyes skimmed each and every hedge, the ground in front of them, the air above the hedges. If it could be seen, he should be able to spot it.
"Water." Izumo tossed a grin over his shoulder, confidently backtracking. A maze like this was too easy for a ninja used to a trackless wilderness. It was just a matter of finding the right pattern, and Izumo had found it.
He kept up a steady dogtrot, a pace he could keep up for miles.
"Stay close."
“You think I’d let you run off without me?” he said, laughing as he nudged Izumo to the left, having spotted a shifty looking patch of ground. As they passed it, he realized that he was right and it was booby-trapped. Thin wires lay there, criss-crossed and half-buried, but slightly disruptive of the flow of grass that had been there. Obvious, to him.
“You lead, I’ll keep my eyes out for traps like that one,” he said, pointing behind them at the wires. He didn’t know--nor did he want to know--what it would have done to them.
"You spotted that? Good job, hawk-eyes," Izumo chirped. Traps? Hah, he worked with a prankster who loved traps and wires. He could spot a great many traps: he'd always been good at it, too. Survival of the fittest.
"Part of why I want you close. Also so I can cover you." Izumo nodded, the knots of his bandanna swaying, his flak vest rustling with the motion. Balfour was not a better fighter than Izumo, which meant they’d run into problems if they had to fight.
“Well...that was sort of my job, back home,” he said softly, smiling proudly at Izumo. Yes, he was glad he’d seen it. He only allowed his eyes to linger on his friend for a moment, though, before looking around again, making sure that nothing was in their way.
“I was reconnaissance since I was on one of the fastest dragons, and the fact that I have pretty good eyesight helps things.”
He didn’t like the idea of Izumo protecting him, though. He stepped up his pace just a little bit, staying close to him, and nudged his side. He was walking on the left, as any good bodyguard would. He was smart enough to not say anything about it, though. No one needed to know.
"Aaah, you're a scout!" Izumo declared with sudden comprehension. "Now that's useful. Are you good at tracking on foot, or only from flying?"
He kept up his steady trot, then skidded to a halt and flung a hand out to stop Balfour. "Whoops, trap, hold up."
A frosted wire stretched across the path, almost invisible in the shadows of the grass. A very ninja-like trap, because there was a second wire not a foot behind the first, this one silver and bright. Distractions to mislead the eyes, and Izumo grinned mirthlessly. Very nice.
“I’ve only ever done it while in the air, mainly looking for magicians,” he said, hand clenching in Izumo’s vest to stop him at the same time Izumo noticed the trap. He grinned at him. “But...I’m sure I could learn to take those skills and apply them on the ground.”
With that statement, he knelt to investigate the trap, scratching the back of his neck.
“Ooh, I like this one. The trap was that half of the trap was visible. Clever.”
He passed a hand above the two wires, checking for any obstructions, and then stood, stepping over both wires, deciding that if either of them got hurt, it probably should be him. He wasn’t as useful in mazes.
Izumo used a lick of chakra to bounce over the trap. He started ahead again at a trot, taking a turning. "Very common where I'm from. Deception and lies, it's what we do best."
He came to a fork and immediately took the right-hand path. "Tracking's not hard as long as it's not a ninja."
“Still clever, no matter what you want to call it,” he said, taking his place by Izumo’s left shoulder again, following his lead carefully, fingers darting out to brush the hedges every now and again. If they got stuck again, they would have to make it back, somehow. Balfour was good at memorizing the turns he made. The touching was just to confirm the distance.
“And...I suppose the people we’re following now--we are following, aren’t we?--are not ninja?”
"We're not following anyone. I'm following what the water told me." Izumo nodded as he kept going. He thought back to their debriefing. "There's only one other team, and it's a race to the end. Whoever grabs their flag from the middle and gets to the end wins. You were still a little woozy, when they explained it."
Izumo was all but immune to the drugs they used to transport the Others from the Ludus to the arenas. It made him hazily sleepy but didn't put him under....unlike most, who went down hard.
"Watch out!"
Izumo ducked and hit the grass on his knees, skidding under the wire in a split-second move.
Balfour nodded his understanding, his eyes on the ground out ahead, trying to process the rules of the game. He didn’t remember much of the rules, so he was glad that Izumo was going through them again. All he remembered was “--and this is not a death game, so no killing people!”
Caught up in his thoughts, he didn’t notice the wire until Izumo called out. He froze, mere millimeters from the wire, and stared at it for a moment.
“Why did I not see that?” he said, sounding rather annoyed as he raised a gloved hand and carefully prodded at it with the very tip of his glove. It sparked.
“Oh nice, electrified.”
He ducked under it, took a few steps, then straightened, looking at Izumo.
“We really should stop chatting.”
He wasn’t happy to have missed that electrified wire. That could have ended badly for Izumo, who had been at nose-level with it.
Izumo hissed. "Don't ever, ever touch a tripwire!" he snapped. "What if you'd triggered it? You coulda killed us both! Fuck! Keep your hands to yerself, greenie!"
That had been careless and irresponsible. Izumo was appalled at such reckless behavior and his scolding was sharp and cutting, anger clear. He scowled at Balfour. Honestly, even green Genin knew that!
Balfour looked at Izumo for a moment, face going completely blank when he was yelled at, and tucked his hands in his pockets. Best not to show the hurt right now. He could deal with that later.
"Sorry," he said softly, looking down at the ground for a moment, then ahead of them. "I've never heard a wire buzz."
No time to be hurt. They had to get to their flag, then out.
"Let's go."
"It buzzed 'cause it was fuckin' live, asshat. C'mon."
Izumo turned and lead off again, striking up his sharp trot. He had quick enough reflexes he would be able to get out of the way of most trouble. He turned a quick left and kept going. "Lucky bastard, you coulda been black and cripsy."
"Like I would have known!" he snapped, following Izumo and jerking him roughly to the side when he saw another trap. "Watch your step. Don't want you dead. I've never seen anything like that, and I'm sorry I touched it, okay?"
Izumo spooked under the touch, came up with a handful of kunai, and eyed Balfour warily. His face was blank, his eyes calculating - he was working and the anger had been brief. Missions were missions, and the kind of rough insults that went with them rolled right off his back. Trash-talk was not uncommon and Izumo could heckle with the best.
"I can stay alive better than you. Trust me to know what the hell I'm doing. Now shut the fuck up and stay close, greenie, we're getting good and close and I don't want to fuckin' broadcast to the other team that we're right here. Killing might be discouraged but disabling damn sure ain't."
This delivered in a cool calm tone, Izumo slipped his kunai away and turned back to the path. He was working and it was a different mindset altogether, one impartial and removed. This was the professional killer, not the lover Balfour knew so much better.
"Understand?"
Balfour felt sick as he looked at Izumo, saw his blank expression. His hand fell away and he nodded. It was like being back in the Airman; everyone assumed that he didn't know anything, that his particular talents were useless.
Perhaps they were. He dropped back a couple feet, following Izumo silently. If he knew what he was doing, he should be able to see the tripbar that was about to come out of the bush.
Izumo sighed. "Don't sulk, you're too old." He eyed the passage before them, caught the glint of metal, and he backed up before taking two running steps and a leap. Even without chakra he cleared the suspect space easily. Balfour should be able to make it as well.
He waited, scanning ahead, and tipped his head as he heard a muffled curse word. He quickly estimated the distance - some yards. Without thought he flicked scout-sign at Balfour: a rapid gesture of a hand, fingers dancing.
-Close, in 50 meters.
Balfour let out a quick puff of breath, but held his tongue, not seeing any reason to justify the accusation that he was sulking with a comment. He just followed him, stepping gracefully over the bar, and kept moving. He knew those bars well, designed to shoot out and break an ankle rather than simply trip you up.
And then Izumo was signalling that the flag was close. Balfour drew out his knife, solid black and about six inches long, holding it steady as he approached.
"Well..." he grumbled, flicking the tip of the knife forward. Let's get this over with.
Izumo shook his head at the knife and slipped into a low scurrying kind of gait particular to ninja - it looked pretty damn ridiculous but he was below most lines of sight and it was quick and silent. The stalk was on.
He hesitated before he rounded the corner - the large open space was just ahead but he heard....
Someone else came trotting heavily around the corner and nearly stepped in him. Izumo hamstrung them on pure instinct with a kunai.
Balfour, heedless of Izumo's warning, kept his knife. With another team so close and not knowing what they would do, it made him feel safe. He stayed close to Izumo, though, allowing his long sleeve to drop down off of his shoulder, over where the knife was currently hidden in his hand. He kept his breath nearly silent, footsteps carefully placed, not making a sound. He had absolutely know idea what was going on, but when he saw Izumo get one guy's hamstring, he knew.
The other team was close enough to worry about, just on the other side of the hedges. His eyes darted ahead, noticing another tripwire in the grass, the shiny-invisible combo of before. He wondered if the others had noticed it. Hopefully not. He tapped Izumo's shoulder and pointed to it, though, careful to keep his hand down at eye-level. No need in alerting the others.
The hamstrung man dropped with a bellow. In a flurry of chakra, Izumo pounced, and cracked him upside the temple with the ring of the kunai. The man's shout turned into a moan as he slumped. Izumo sprang back, blood spattered on his hand and flak vest. He stood and eyed the body, then looked back at Balfour - he wasn't even breathing hard.
He signed a quick flick of fingers that could be interpreted several different ways depending on the situation: ’good job,’ ‘you suck,’ ‘get the hell out of here.’
The arrow hissed past his ear and Izumo swore in a long blistering lash.
Balfour looked confused at the signing, but was notably relieved when Izumo knocked the loud man upside the head. The relief didn't last long when he heard Izumo curse, then saw another arrow heading right at them. He dragged him backward slightly, the arrow missing once more, then turned to him.
"Go get the flag," he said, the order simple and clear. "You said yourself that you're good at not dying. Well go get the flag. That guy is asking for it."
He didn't wait for Izumo to say anything, to respond, to tell him that he was an idiot. He just darted out, deciding to be the distraction, and went after the man with the bow.
No one shot at his friends.
Izumo pushed as much chakra as he could get through the collar. He was still faster than your average human, on the bare strings he could get, and he very neatly tripped Balfour up with a foot to the ankle.
He threw a handful of kunai at the archer, who stumbled back out of range, then turned and bolted for the flags.
Izumo figured out why when the guy he'd hamstrung nearly took of his head with a broadsword.
Aw fuck he could heal or regenerate.
"Balfour! Flag!" Izumo snapped, ducking again.
Balfour went down to a knee when he was tripped, turning to snarl at Izumo, but that snarl became pure fear when he saw the man with the broadsword...and then Izumo told him to go after the flag.
"Shit."
Izumo or the flag? It shouldn't have been that hard a decision, especially as it was just a game, a game that they both wanted to win...but that was his best friend being attacked. He growled, took advantage of the fact that the man had his back to him, flung his knife at him, and then ran like his life depended on it. He doubted he'd hit the man, but Izumo would have at least had enough foresight to keep from getting on the knife's side. Hopefully.
But it was something he had to do. If they won the game, they would both be rewarded, and Izumo clearly was a better bet for the battle against the swordsman. Anyway, what was to say the archer couldn't regenerate as well?
The knife hissed between the combatants in the rapid-fire dance and dodge that was going on. Izumo was damn good at running away, not at fighting, but his opponent was a bulky man not fast on his feet and that gave Izumo a small chance at least.
Izumo took a glancing blow to the ribs in order to jam a handful of his most potent senbon into the guy's beefy forearm.
Then he turned tail and ran like a rabbit.
The archer was on the raised platform with both the flags, and as soon as Izumo started that way, he stopped harassing Balfour to shoot at Izumo.
Balfour hadn't been happy when he noticed the archer up on the platform, but he had been more than willing to contend with the man as long as he wasn't messing with Izumo. The ninja had enough on his plate with the swordsman. He didn't even realize why the first two arrows missed him, but when he glanced back and saw his friend, his eyes narrowed and his lips thinned. He shifted, running right at the currently distracted man, fuck the flag. He wasn't losing another friend.
An arrow clipped Izumo's shoulder, but his sudden outburst of swearing was directed at Balfour, accusing him of being an inbred cross-eyed animal abusing son of a prostitute, complete with unmentionable personal hygiene and habits.
Even the archer looked impressed.
The swordsman staggered, dropped to one knee, foaming at the mouth. Bloody froth and his arms were jerking and trembling.
The archer whirled and shot straight for Balfour.
Balfour didn't even notice the swearing, dodging the arrow that was headed at his body, picking up another as he ran past it. He had one goal in mind and he would not be swayed. It was only once he was in the archer's face, arrow going straight into his manly bits, that he turned around and snickered at Izumo.
"I'm not cross-eyed. You should know this."
His hand never left the archer's body, forcing him to his knees.
"Might want to get the flag before these gentlemen regain their bearings."
Despite the teasing air, there was a coldness about his tone, a 'proper' distance between him and Izumo now. He wasn't the lover Izumo knew, either, despite the fact that he had just thrown himself at someone who was threatening him. That lover was gone, most likely.
Izumo swore again as the archer whipped out a long knife and stabbed high at Balfour's thigh.
Balfour growled lowly, reacting in anger instead of pain, and brought his other knee up to get quite intimate with the archer's face. He had, thankfully, missed the artery in his leg if the location of the knife was anything to go by, but Balfour still wasn't happy to have metal in his leg.
"Godsdamn Balfour you're an idiot! You've gotta be demon-charmed!" Izumo scrambled up to the platform. "You were unarmed!"
Another smash of the man's face into his knee, just to confirm that he was out, and he bent to pull the knife out of his leg, quickly tying it off with something he pulled out of his pocket, then wrapping the wound rather quickly, just a patch job.
"Doesn't matter. He was in the way," he said rather blandly, expression giving away absolutely nothing. Pain management, he excused. He wasn't going to admit that he reacted in such a way because Izumo could have gotten hurt. "And wasn't the objective to get the flag and get out? Come on."
He grabbed the flag and stepped off, gritting his teeth against the pain in his leg.
“Fuck you with a rusty kunai you shit-eating sonuvabitch,” Izumo snapped, grabbing Balfour’s arm and halting him. He dug into a beltpouch and produced a roll of elastic bandage and gauze. He used a kunai to slit Balfour’s makeshift bandage. “You dying in the process does not make a successful mission in any fuckin’ way!”
“Just because I’m not my fucking brother does not mean I can’t dodge things,” Balfour growled, pulling away from the knife at his leg. “I’m fine. Fine.”
But there was something raw and vulnerable behind the anger. He sighed, then continued with a slightly apologetic tone.
“I’m not...completely inept. I might be a shit fighter but I’m good at dodging things.”
“No, it means you’re a fucking idiot to try that without a weapon, what if you’d missed or the arrow had broken?” Izumo snapped, dropping to his knees to glare at the wound before slapping the gauze over the fresh flow of blood. He started with the elastic bandage - they made fantastic pressure dressings. “Never throw your last weapon unless you have a sure shot,” he half-chanted, from sheer rote memory from his Academy days.
He pulled the bandage tight. “Shit that could have gotten your femoral vein, and then you’d be deader than dead.”
Balfour stood very still and allowed Izumo to wrap his wound, wincing a little at the slap of the gauze. He would have to rewrap it later, once he got out of his clothing, but for now, this would work.
“I threw it because you made me choose...and I wasn’t... I didn’t...”
He sighed, shaking his head, and reached to tip Izumo’s face up, froze, rerouted to push his fingers through the dark strands.
“Don’t...make me choose. Please. I know you could have handled him, but...”
But he didn’t like the choice, nor the fact that if he had stayed, Izumo would have yelled at him for losing the game for them.
“We should go before they wake up again, not that the archer is going to wake up happy either way.”
The soft tone died once more, becoming harsh, cold, distant, his hand coming out of Izumo’s hair to tug at the flag in his other hand. He had said too much, and even though his feelings were mostly on the friendly level, on the fact that he didn’t want to lose yet another friend, it could be easily misconstrued as more.
“If you want to win, that is.”
“The hell? I did not make you choose I gave you a godsdamn order!” Izumo gave Balfour a look of complete bafflement. “There was no choice, there was doing as told, for fuck’s sake!” He got to his feet and touched his shoulder - his sleeve was torn and there was blood down his arm. It was a scratch, and he hoped the arrow hadn’t been poisoned.
“I might not be Jounin, but I do know where to put a teammate for best advantage. Now come on, I don’t think that’s going to stop them for long. Fuck I hate healers.” Izumo turned and bounced off the platform. “I’ll only say it one more time: trust me to know what the hell I’m doing. I’ve been doing it since I was all of fuckin’ eight and after seventeen godsdamn years I think I know a little bit.”
Balfour frowned, wanting to explain his position to Izumo, but said nothing. He wouldn’t listen, and he knew that.
“Well...at least I didn’t stay,” he said softly, following behind Izumo, face completely blank, voice toneless. He didn’t like choosing between his mission and his friends and that was exactly what he’d had to do. He also knew better than to say anything, now.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you.” Why couldn’t he stop talking, though? He wanted to stop, wanted to just...ignore Izumo. “It was him I didn’t trust. He pulled that sword out of nowhere.”
Izumo gave Balfour a startled glance. “Of course. He’s the enemy. That’s what they do. That poison can stop a giant tiger in its tracks but I’m not convinced it’ll keep him down. Can you jog?” Better safe than sorry - ninja lived on the fine edge of paranoia and Izumo was no exception.
Orders were orders and you carried them out: Izumo’d had that ground into his head. A failed mission as a waste of time, effort, and bodies, and Konoha couldn’t afford more than she could help. Izumo had worked in teams and with his partner and the value of trusting his partner could handle himself was indispensable. Sure you watched out for your buddy but they were here because they were competent. Izumo had the feeling Balfour was not and that Balfour was most definitely not cut out to be a soldier. Hearts had no say when the fighting was on - the brain had to rule. That was just how it was.
“Sure. Let’s go,” Balfour said rather than biting out a smart-assed comment about how he didn’t know if he could, about whether or not he could might not be up to Izumo’s standards. He was being treated like a total moron and it pissed him off. Instead of rising to the bait, though, he just bit his tongue, kept his eyes in front of him, and kept his answers short and quiet.
So he just ran, staying behind Izumo, letting him lead since he knew what he was doing. He knew that he was foolish and a shitty soldier, knew that he wasn’t cut out for fighting, but he didn’t need it thrown in his face when he made just one mistake. It wasn’t like he had actually stayed behind. He’d gone after the flag as he’d been told; he just also threw a knife and was hoping to hit broad back.
Pity he was shit at knife-throwing too.
He knew he shouldn’t be so bitter, though, so he just let the angry thoughts go and resolved to keep his distance from Izumo. No need in angering him further.
Izumo trotted along, ducking under wires and following the path he’d memorized.
Until he skidded to a half again, head up, shoulders tense. There was something...he shook his head. Something not right. He looked around warily.
Balfour just followed, keeping quiet until suddenly, Izumo stopped. He stopped as well, stepping up mostly beside him and skimming the area. He didn’t see any traps, but...
“What’s wrong?”
“I...don’t know.” Izumo shook his head and grimaced. “I don’t...this is the way but....”
He backed a step.
“But what?” he asked, a hand coming out, barely brushing Izumo’s shirt before he remembered himself and tucked that hand behind his back. No touching. “I don’t see any traps or anything that would be wrong...”
He wasn’t sure, either. Something did feel off.
“Something’s not right. Kai!” Izumo clapped his hands together, and pulsed his chakra. The collar heated and he winced, twisting sideways from under the pain. There was no answering shift of chakra, no rippling imagery. Nothing. Izumo rubbed at the back of his neck. “Something’s not right.”
His hands went out when Izumo twisted a little, one hand landing on his shoulder, then darting back just as quickly.
No touching.
“Okay, well, we have two options. We can either go around it, or we can see what’s going on.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to see what was going on, but he knelt, picking up a rock. “We can at least see if it will explode.”
“Can’t go around. This is the only clear path.” Izumo shook his head. “But I don’t...” He backed up again, two steps and bumped into Balfour. “Hell I don’t like it.”
“Remind me, will we lose if we don’t both go forward?” he asked, waiting a moment or two before backing up and touching Izumo’s shoulder, turning him for a moment. His eyes remained on the path in front of him.
“Do you think it’s an illusion? I don’t see any traps, but they could be hidden.”
“If it is, it’s stronger than I can break. And yeah, team members both gotta win.” Izumo laid his fingers lightly on the back of Balfour’s glove. “I wouldn’t go there.”
“If there’s no way around it, we’re going to have to go through it,” he said, frowning deeply at the touch to his hand. Why was he suddenly being friendly again? “And if it’s too dangerous to go through, we’ll have to find another way.”
He nudged him back a little bit, tossing the rock into the path that they were debating.
The rock thumped, wires sang high and shrill and Izumo swore as he tackled Balfour to the ground. Something caught his cheek, glanced heavily off his flak vest, and there was the bone-deep concussion of an explosion.
Balfour’s arms curled tight around him, hands coming up to cover Izumo’s head, protecting him as best as possible. Once the explosion was over, he chuckled deep in his chest.
“Well, now we know what was wrong.” Perhaps it would be safe to go through? He didn’t know. “You okay?”
Izumo sat up and shook his head violently, rubbing at his ringing ears. Dammit. He shot Balfour a grumpy look and staunched the bloodflow from his cheek. Annoyed, he flicked a single sign at Balfour.
-Deaf now.
Well, not completely, but making out individual words wasn’t happening yet. In a few minutes, sure. Not right this minute, which was the critical one. Izumo mouthed a few foul words.
Balfour looked at him, tilting his head at the sign, then pressed a kiss to his Izumo’s forehead, then pressed his shoulders gently as he threw another rock toward the path. He couldn’t exactly hear, either, but he wanted to make absolutely sure that the path was clear now.
They had set off the trap, after all. One of them, anyway.
Izumo flinched away with a startled frown, and signed a phrase that was quite rude, then ended it with a more universal sign of disapproval. There were no further explosions, but the rock clattered into a small crater of scorched earth. Izumo got to his feet, wobbled, then held steady. Okay. Fuck.
He pulled out a kunai and sent the small knife whistling down the leafy corridor. It triggered nothing else, thrown about chest-height.
Balfour smirked some. Sometimes the best way around a trap was to trigger it prematurely. Sure, he probably should have thrown the rock from a greater distance, but he knew that was the best way to do things.
He nodded his head toward the path, a sign that they should go. Probably should also test the path periodically.
Something smacked into Izumo’s back. He staggered under the impact, reached back and felt the shaft of an arrow.
Gods damn it.
He whirled and ducked, the next arrow sailing over his head. The archer, limping and with a bloody nose, sneered at them both, another arrow on the string already.
“Not you again,” Balfour grumbled when he saw the man, glancing over to see the arrow in Izumo’s back. Aw, hell no. He gritted his teeth, his hand going to Izumo’s arm, holding gently, much more gently than he wanted to. He looked at him for orders.
“You going to be okay?”
If so, they had to run. If not...
Izumo shoved Balfour down and darted forward. The archer shot wide in his haste. Izumo hit him hard and them went down in a tangled tumble. Izumo’s tanto was a silver gleam in his hand, hidden only by the sudden burst of arterial spray. Izumo rolled off the kicking corpse, and calmly wiped his dagger clean on the grass. He sheathed it and headed back to Balfour, reaching behind himself to yank the arrow free of the thick padding of his flak vest.
“Damn fuck fuckity damn dammit shit damn....”
Balfour got down when Izumo shoved him, watching his friend take the man out, and didn’t get up until he was headed back to him. He frowned when he pulled the arrow from his vest.
“Did it get you?” he asked again, speaking slowly and clearly, but not loudly. He wasn’t happy with what had just happened. He’d attracted the archer--and the swordsman, who probably wasn’t far behind--by triggering the explosion.
Izumo gestured with the clean arrow. “Metal plating and a helluva lot of padding,” he answered, and started down the path again. He walked around the crater.
“Good,” Balfour said, touching the vest gently as he scooted along behind him. “I’m sorry. I should have warned you that I was going to throw that rock...” And he should have known that the explosion would draw people. “We need to hurry, though. The swordsman won’t be far behind.”
“We’re close enough it doesn’t matter.”
Izumo turned the final corner, eyed the smooth lawn, then walked across it. He stepped up onto the platform, and glanced back at Balfour.
Balfour followed closely and stepped up on the platform with Izumo, his hands twisting in front of him, eyes on the ground. He never wanted to play this game, anyway, and it was really Izumo who won.
“What was it that we get again?” he asked softly, lips barely moving.
“Money and infamy,” Izumo answered, dryly, and watched as the Scientists beckoned them from the exit of the arena. “Screw that, huh?” He snorted, and stepped off the platform so violently gained. In the end what did they win? Not a hell of a lot.
But wasn’t that always the case?
“Heh...yeah...”
A lot of nothing gained for having to beat the shit out of two people, possibly killing them--not that it would last considering they both healed--and whatever else happened in there.
Balfour followed him. It was the only thing he could do, was follow Izumo. Izumo knew what he was doing, had been there before, would probably be in the arena again. It was best just to follow him for now...and maybe disappear later.
“You weren’t supposed to kill them,” one of the Scientists commented.
“Yeah, just lie down and die quietly,” Izumo answered back, with an acid smile. “And lose your little rigged game.”
Neither Scientist said anything more. Izumo had some grim satisfaction at having the last word, but he knew it wasn’t likely to last for long. He moved down the sloping hall and into the holding room. No medics, no nothing, just a bunch of empty chairs. Izumo chose one at random and sank into it, patting at his blood-crusted cheek.
“Ow.”
Balfour sank into a chair as well, stretching his wounded leg out in front of him, frowning as Izumo rubbed his cheek. That was his fault. He didn't warn him, didn't protect him.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, staring at the bandage on his leg, refusing to look up at Izumo.
"Sorry for what?" Izumo wanted to know, poking at his ribs. "Ow ow ow bruised."
"All of it," he said softly, shaking his head as he gestured vaguely behind him. He felt like there might be a right and wrong answer, so he chose his words carefully while still being honest.
"I'm sorry for not listening, for not warning you that I was going to throw that rock, for drawing that guy in..." For not being a good soldier. He left that part unspoken. "We should have been further away from the trap, too." But he wasn't apologizing for triggering that explosion. It had to be done.
"That, Balfour, is what we call a clusterfuck. Life sucks. Get over it." Izumo groaned and slouched in the chair. "I...want a drink. Or a cigarette. You got a smoke on you?" he asked, out of habit, though he knew Balfour wouldn't have any.
"Still, there's a lot of stuff I should be apologizing for," he said matter-of-factly, turning his head a little bit to look toward the door. His hands, where they sat twisted in his lap, shook. He only managed a soft, forced chuckle when asked if he had a cigarette.
"Sorry, no. I don't smoke. Probably should." He'd heard it was some sort of nerve tonic. And he was nervous. He was sure they'd be punished for killing those men, sure he would catch hell for doing so poorly.
Well, Izumo wasn't dead, at least.
"Shit. There is not. Don't say you're sorry again or I'll kick your ass." Izumo wriggled in his chair, and grimaced. "And no, you shouldn't start smoking. It's bad for you."
A slender Scientist woman entered. "They're ready for you in the loading bay."
Izumo rolled a shrug and got to his feet, wincing as his his ribs twinged. Well, it didn't matter. He was alright, and he'd mend. Now what prices they were going to take out of his prize for killing those bastards...who the hell knew? It didn't matter. He had his own methods of income.
Balfour just sighed and let his eyes flutter closed until the scientist entered. He stood carefully, his face still blank, hiding the pain, the fear, the regret that he felt. He knew he should have done better, should have paid more attention, should have should have should have.
At least he knew he screwed up, which was a plus.
"At least we can sleep now. Huh. Didn't know you could get pulled into a game even though you never signed up for one."
Useless prattling to keep the pain in his leg at bay. He didn't want to think too much.
"Yeah, sucks that way. Need help?" Izumo moved without trouble. Pains and aches were things that could be ignored. Izumo could brace against the pain, hold himself straight, and keep right on going. He wasn't injured anywhere bad enough to warrant that yet, but even all the small pains added up could tear you down. He shook his head, looked back at Balfour.
"I'm fine," he lied, not even bothering with one of his no-I'm-not-really-fine smiles. He knew that even if Izumo didn't see through it, it would shatter in his next step. It was better to just not smile at all. "Just trying to analyze what happened, learn from my mistakes, you know? Don't want to take a chance on actually getting someone killed because I screwed up and tried to protect them instead of following orders, right?"
He let out a laugh, forced and bitter, but somewhat true. He was laughing at himself, at his mistake, silently making fun of himself in his thoughts. He was a fool and he knew it.
"You sound a bit less stressed."
A lot like the old Izumo again. He wondered what was up with that.
Izumo gave Balfour a withering look. “You’re not half as funny as you think you are. Now stop that shit. It’s not good for you. Too bad they can’t fix up your poor head when they fix up your leg, but I haven’t found any medic yet to fix that.”
Nope, maybe he wasn't back to himself. Balfour shot him a grin, large, empty, and somewhat disturbing. It faded quickly.
"Better to laugh at myself than feel sorry for myself, right?" he asked, ignoring the statement about fixing his head. No, there was nothing to be done about the way he'd been raised and trained to deal with the world. He felt like if he made his problems--whatever they may be--noticeable, well then he was just a bad friend.
"Are you okay, though? You didn't get hurt, did you?" Not a smooth change in subject, but he really didn't want to be talking about his leg. It was hard enough to walk with some semblance of normality as it was.
"Only if you're not blaming yourself. You know I'd love to give whoever damaged your self esteem a solid kick in the nuts."
Izumo stopped, turned, and reached out to touch Balfour's shoulder, with a quiet expression. "Sorry. There's a reason they avoid assigning new graduates to me. I'm no teacher and I've got no patience. So...I'm sorry. I'm too harsh."
He had reduced at least two greenies to absolute tears and then he'd only been assigned more senior partners. Konoha believed in assigning the right teams to the right jobs.
"It's fine," he said when Izumo apologized, fingers reaching to brush his jaw. "I've had worse." Not from a friend, but he had dealt with much worse. "So don't apologize. You were right, anyway. I'm no soldier."
He wasn't shocked anymore that Izumo had acted like that. He leaned forward, ghosting a kiss across his forehead.
"Stop apologizing."
Izumo made a slight face, but leaned his head into the touch before he turned. "Let's go get you patched up," he said, but gently.
"Yeah, good idea," he said with a slight frown. He was really starting to hurt, after all. When he stepped off, his movements were slower, stiff as if he'd locked his knee, and he seemed somewhat frustrated. Yes, the sooner they got his leg taken care of, the better.
And maybe, by then, Izumo would have made up his mind on whatever he was strung between.
*******
Izumo liked to get underfoot in the infirmary. He learned lots of things about people. He didn't like being a patient, but he let the little quivering student patch him up under the stern glare of her instructor, and then he started looking.
Ah, here was Balfour, all stitched up and neatly bandaged. Izumo pattered in and smiled at him.
Balfour remained silent as the wound was stitched, watching attentively. When it was done, he just lowered his head and closed his eyes, drowsy and wishing he hadn't accepted the pain medication. But he figured it was worth it when he looked back up and saw Izumo smile.
"Hey, you look better."
"So do you. All drugged up?" Izumo asked, cheerfully, as we wandered over. He sat on the edge of the bed, opposite side of Balfour's injured leg. "At least here you don't have to worry about infection."
"Yeah, feeling no pain," he said with a quiet chuckle, then shook his head. "I don't know. I don't think I like what they gave me. I'm not as alert as I like to be."
His head remained somewhat tilted down, hands in his lap. He seemed to shrink into himself at the moment, but he was doing so before Izumo came in. He felt sort of like a kicked puppy.
"Well, you're right about that. I have some ointment that kills bacteria, though, and speeds healing, so I'll likely be using that." It wouldn't help the pain, but he didn't care much about that. He had ointments for that, too.
"Well, you don't have to be alert in here," Izumo pointed out, laying a friendly hand on Balfour's good thigh. "I meant the healing stuff they do in here, but if you've got your own stuff..." He shrugged. "I'm bad for getting infections, but so far, nothing."
He looked at Balfour's thigh. "My scar is bigger," he teased, cheerfully, and tapped his own left thigh. The scar there stretched from high on the inside og his thigh and wrapped around the front of his leg to end behind his knee, a thick pinkish band that was an inch and a half wide at its biggest point.
"Mm, I've heard a saying that large scars have large stories," he said softly, teasing Izumo with a little smirk. "You wanna tell me your story, since you already know mine?" What he left out was the fact that the one on his back was bigger--and by far uglier than the one on Izumo's leg. He knew that Izumo knew it was there, but he never talked about it.
"I don't remember it well. Massive blood-loss, trauma, all that. It was a trap, actually, one I didn't see, and if my partner hadn't been right with me and if she hadn't been a medic, I'd have bled out." Izumo shrugged. "Broke the bone, damn near tore my leg off, yeah, I don't remember it. I remember the hall, I remember her shouting, and the next best thing I remember I was waking up in Konoha again with a hell of a lot of time on my hands."
He chuckled a little. "Lucky you, no broken bones." He rubbed a thumb over Balfour's leg, an automatic petting.
Izumo was very lucky, then, that his wound hadn't killed him. He put his hand over Izumo's, stopping him for a moment before letting his hand slide away, not encouraging or discouraging the contact. After a moment, he slumped down against Izumo, resting their shoulders together as he gazed blankly off into the middle distance, not sure what to think or what to do.
"Yeah, I suppose I am lucky," he said softly. "But you're even more lucky to get out of that alive."
"I've always been lucky," Izumo replied, with a grin. He shifted a little, the better to support Balfour. "You'll heal up just fine."
"Yep, considering it just hit the muscle. If it had hit the bone or nicked the artery, then I would have been in trouble." But he had known when the knife had lodged itself in his leg that it had just hit the muscle, just by the place it was. "If he was trying to kill me, he was two inches off."
With that, he chuckled, carefully winding his arm around Izumo's waist.
"You're not angry with me anymore? I was foolish, and I admit it. I just... We're still friends, right?"
Izumo blinked. "Huh?"
Where had that come from?
"Yeees, of course we're still friends..." he assured Balfour, slowly, puzzled.
"Good," he said with a smile, pressing a gentle kiss to Izumo's cheek. He hadn't wanted to lose him as a friend, so it made him happy that Izumo still considered him a friend even though he was a terrible soldier.
"So how long do I have to stay here or can I go back to my room now?" He had rice balls in his room and they were screaming his name. Or brownies. Or ice cream.
"Better yet, the cafeteria would be the wiser choice." Because he was hungry.
"That, I don't know," Izumo replied, promptly. "They might want to keep you overnight. But I can bring you food if you want."
He puzzled for a moment, then asked. "Why would I not be your friend anymore?"
Balfour shrugged a bit, internally kicking himself for asking if they were still friends. If they weren't, then why would Izumo be there at all? He didn't answer.
"Food sounds absoultely amazing, but if you bring me some promise you will bring something sweet, chocolatey, or overall unhealthy?"
"Balfour." Izumo poked at him, but not to hurt. "Answer me. Or I'm bringing you lemons."
"Ooh, lemons. Yes, do bring me a slice or two of those, too," he said, licking his lip and totally--possibly purposely--missing the point. Well, clearly threatening him with lemons wouldn't do.
"I'll bring you green ones, bastard, now answer me." Izumo poked Balfour again in the ribs, spidery fingers folding against bone.
"Ack!" He cringed away from the fingers, hurrying to cover his ticklish side from the threat, shaking his head.
"Look, I don't know why, alright? I just...thought maybe we weren't?" He couldn't explain it better than that. "Now no tickling."
"Is it because I cussed you out?" Izumo pressed, though he didn't tickle Balfour again...yet.
He huffed and shook his head. "No, not really. I just got the distinct impression that...that you...didntreallywannaknowme," he muttered, trailing off in a self-conscious whisper before grinning, wide and somewhat goofy. "Doesn't really matter! We're friends!"
"Balfour, if I didn't want to know you, I wouldn't." Izumo snorted. "I told you, I'm hell on partners, especially greenies. There's a reason I work solo, mostly because it's not a great idea to make your partner burst into tears. That poor girl could never look me in the face again."
"Yeah, I understand," he said softly. "I've had worse, so don't worry. You didn't really upset me. You were just acting so strange..."
"Strange?" Izumo prompted, though he thought he knew what Balfour was talking about. Of course - a mission was a mission and you acted appropriately. It was a common way of ninja life, the easiest way to cope - you had your mission-face and your home-face and never may the two meet.
"Yeah, just strange. I guess I've never actually seen you serious for more than a few minutes," he murmured softly, his arm dragging Izumo closer, fingers curling against his waist. "It was strange. You were acting like a different person completely."
"Well, missions are missions," Izumo pointed out, obligingly leaning closer. "You do things right on a mission or you're dead - you get the job done." He shrugged a little.
"But that's the thing about missions: something always screws up. You can't do things right." It was his experience alone that told him that--not to mention Adamo bellowing it down the pens. You didn't worry about doing things right in the Airman. You worried about getting them done, no matter what. "You just get things done, that's what my commander used to tell us. There's no such thing as "doing it right."
"Shit happens. When it does, if you do the right thing, you can salvage the mission." Izumo shrugged.
"But it's still not done right, exactly," he said softly, leaning heavily against Izumo for a moment, arm tight around his waist as he nuzzled his face into his hair. "I used to laugh. He used to say that the only thing that can ever be 'done right' from the start was taking a shit." It had usually made the Airmen smirk if not chuckle a little.
Izumo snorted. “A clever man, your Adamo.” He pronounced the name carefully, imitating the certain quick flick of syllables together that Balfour used, instead of the easy measured cadence he was used to.
“Yes, he was.” He squirmed a bit, blushing slightly. He didn’t say anything more on the subject, though, just curled his fingers against Izumo’s ribs again for the contact.
“What was your commander like?”
“We weren’t organized like that, really. So I didn’t have a really...direct commander like that.” Izumo rolled a shrug and sighed, settled against Balfour comfortably.
"Didn't you have some sort of commanding officer, someone who gave the orders and you answered to?" he asked, his heart warming to have Izumo curling closer. He lowered his head slightly, his nose going into soft hair, and smiled.
“Well, the head of my department was Ibiki, but I didn’t speak with him much. He’s...well, yeah. Now Ibiki reported to the Hokage, leader of the village. I guess you could say I worked more directly under Nami, who did debriefing, or maybe under Jun, who’s senior at the mission desks.” Izumo shrugged. “We’re more of a bureaucratic organization than military, really. The village’s lifeblood is her ninja and their paperwork.”
Which Izumo had a part of, in his job as a desk Chuunin, but that was neither here nor there.
“Ew, paperwork,” was Balfour’s response, his face scrunching up as it buried into the dark hair that he had been loving on a few moments ago. “I really do hate paperwork.”
Not that he couldn’t write neatly, nor was it because he couldn’t do paperwork. It was just too bureaucratic for his liking and it tended to be, in his experience, that there was only one right answer and fifteen different options to choose.
“I hate it when other people hate paperwork, because then they do a damn shoddy job and I get blamed.” Izumo snorted, and wondered how he’d gotten into the position of being treated like a large stuffed animal. The painkillers Balfour was on probably had something to do with it.
“Ah, I can understand that,” he said softly. “I don’t like leaving it to other people to fix my mistakes.” He wanted to apologize for hating paperwork, but that was the drugs talking and he knew it. Instead, he settled for continuing to treat Izumo like a large teddy bear, smiling against his scalp as he gave him a little squeeze.
“I’m glad you came to check on me,” he said softly.
“Well, of course,” Izumo answered, grimacing as Balfour’s squeeze caught over his bruised ribs. He sighed and settled, waiting for Balfour to fall asleep. He could escape then and bring Balfour some of those ridiculous brownies to wake up to later. Izumo himself wanted a nap but he sure as hell wasn’t doing it in the infirmary.
Balfour smiled softly and shifted, slowly untangling himself from Izumo. He was starting to get tired and he wanted to eat, so they really needed to get out of there.
“Shall we go to the cafeteria?” he asked with a yawn, rubbing at an eye in a childish manner.
“Nope, stay. I’ll bring you something.” Izumo patted Balfour on the head, like a kid.
“You sure?” he asked, eyes fluttering closed at the pat, quite happy with the affection. His eyes opened after a second and he leaned forward, brushing a careful kiss along Izumo’s jaw again. He wouldn’t go after the cheek, even though he wanted to kiss the scrape there.
“I’m sure. Rest.” Izumo patted Balfour again, amused by the reaction.
“If you insist,” he said, sounding a little bit defeated even as he leaned into the hand, his whole body relaxing as he sat there. “Don’t forget the lemons you promised...”
Izumo smirked. “Alright. I won’t.” He lightly scritched Balfour’s scalp, wondering if it’d put him to sleep twice as easy now that he was drugged.
Balfour offered a dopey smile and shifted to lay down in bed. Yes, the scritching was really helping his whole body relax.
“And brownies. And vegetables. I can’t live on chocolate alone.”
Did that just come out of his mouth? He looked shocked at himself.
Izumo chuckled. “But you’d try at least a little,” he answered, and kept his hand moving.
“Mm, I wouldn’t mind. I do quite like my peas, though. And broccoli. Corn just...isn’t worth it.” He squirmed a little, fingers reaching to stroke along Izumo’s thigh.
“Haven’t had much corn.” It was new to Izumo. Rice, certainly. Corn? Not so much. He rolled a shrug and smoothed his fingers through Balfour’s hair. “Shh. Rest and I’ll go.”
“Mm...keep doing that and I’ll fall right to sleep. And corn comes out in your poop. No nutrients. Doesn’t even...even digest...” He yawned, eyes closing, his fingers still moving against Izumo’s thigh.
“Keep doing that...”
Izumo only chuckled and obeyed.
He had a feeling it wouldn’t be long before Balfour was asleep.
He was right.