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[Jul. 3rd, 2008|12:42 am] |
| [ | Tags | | | aoba | ] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  frustrated | ] |
The medics said that the three shards of glass Aoba had managed to embed in his thigh, hip and left side were six-to-eight centimeters in length. They also said that he was lucky he hadn't bled all over the floor when he made Zakuro help pull out the other shards on the way back to Konoha. But whatever, he was (mostly) okay now. The way the monster crow had complained, it was like he'd been trying to kill himself. It wasn't as if he was in any real danger when he set off that ninjutsu-aided explosion. Being sliced to ribbons was all in a day's work.
What a mission. What a fucking month. Being a Hunter had it's perks, but when those went away... it was enough to make him think of shucking off his mask at the quartermaster's, telling Arakaki to sit-and-spin-motherfucker, and going the fuck back home. His mother would appreciate it, anyway, and maybe the rugrats too. It was still too damn cold to go out without a shirt on, and making him lift his arms was such a pain in the ass, that the stony-faced, pretty-boy doctor (what had he introduced himself as? Murakami-sensei? Figured a Murakami would increase his suffering!) had cut off his shirt, tended his wounds with the utmost sarcasm and sent him on his way with a jacket and a scarf. Jerk. He even made Aoba take off his glasses and squint at the bright lights of the room he was in so he could put a bandage over his eye, just in case the cut there didn't heal right.
Zakuro went out into the cold winds with him, though, and squawked as he ungracefully waddled through the snow.
"You could fly, you know," he mentioned to the bird casually. "Hell, you're like three feet tall. You could take me home," Aoba added and coughed. Zakuro's dark red eyes flashed like the fruit he was named after.
"And get blamed by the boss fer lettin' you freeze ta death? Hell no, pal," he squawked. Aoba shrugged and immediately regretted it as pain lanced from one side of his chest to the other and back again. "C'n hardly walk by yerself. Dontcha dare think I'mma let you outta mah sight, Aoba."
"Fine, okay," Aoba groaned and continued to make his slow progress to ANBU HQ. "Maybe I'll get lucky and take a nosedive into a snowbank. That'd be pretty nice. Felt hot since I left the damn hospital."
"You prob'ly have a fever, you damned fool," Zakuro replied with an irritated shake of his tail feathers. "Make sure that frienda yours, Shibata? Or was it Shiranui you're friends wit?" Zakuro struggled to keep up with his master, even as slow as Aoba was, crow feet (especially cold ones) were slower.
"I'm friends with botha--dammit, now you got me talkin' like you," Aoba's laugh sounded like a pitiable groan. Zakuro chortled, at least it sounded like a crow-chortle, Aoba wasn't sure. Crow laughter was a little bit like nails on a chalkboard and someone screaming, thoroughly unpleasant. "Anyway, I'm friends with both of 'em, just don't see 'em as much anymore, yanno?" In fact, Ren-cutie had moved outside the compound, and Genma was thoroughly engrossed in other people, Yuzuya was doing his own thing with some new girl he wouldn't tell Aoba about, the ninja was beginning to feel a little adrift.
He had to make more connections, had to see his girlfriends, his ma, the rugrats.
After, he healed.
"Left you for new digs, huh?" Zakuro chortled again. "You humans are amazing. Gettin' obsessed with one shiny new thing or another." Aoba grinned.
"Yeah, look at the pot callin' me black." The compound was coming just into view now, and Aoba's relief was palpable even to the monster crow. Except, suddenly he was falling forward, his vision was getting black, blacker, blackest, colors danced against the blackness. "Hey, Zakuro..." Aoba started. The crow screeched. |
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mischievous
chipper
pensive
confused