(Fic) Genma Wishes he Never Woke Up
Again, Genma is a kitty, Drel is happy, Suz is ecstatic!
Today was not a day worth getting up for.
Genma sat down heavily on a chair that made his skin itch, and watched two former shinobi wail in thin high voices from behind a droopy fern.
"Sandaime, your shinobi are defective," he drawled, trying to ignore the hissing going around in the room. He hadn't thought that Suzume or Kurenai was one of ... whatever was the latest breeding attempt at making new shinobi. There was only one person in the room - beside Sandaime and the medics who were making victory gyrations at the wall - who wasn't displaying any sort of cat-like features, and Genma fixed his gaze on him instead.
His nose itched. He scratched it, made his nose sting, and winced. Fuck, claws.
"I'm going to put an eye out," he muttered. "Why do you have fluff balls here?"
No one was paying him any attention. That is, no one who knew what was going on here. Sandaime was being enigmatic and smoking his pipe, the medics - Genma was starting to think they weren't real medics, because no medic worth his white hat would turn normal human shinobi into cat things - were scribbling things down in charts, and talking to each other in jargon that his sensei used to use when he lapsed back into doctor-mode instead of shinobi.
The other people in the room, however, were very intent on him.
Genma had always known people stared at him - and which gazes were male, and which were female, even though at the moment he was more interested in his captain, it had been nice to know who was looking - and he could count three females staring at him.
"What are you staring at?" he snapped at Aoba - gods, the man had the most piercing gaze, all silvery-blue and slit-pupiled. Hayate shied away from Genma's voice, which was good, but Aoba didn't move. Girls weren't quite a threat, unless they had babies, so Genma could ignore Kurenai and Suzume for the moment. Aoba, though, was Genma's age, and while not as tall as Genma, seated meant he was just the same height, and Aoba had bulk.
"You hit them," Aoba said, and his voice had a strong undercurrent, a sort of vibration, and Genma only knew it was ANBU for I'mma gonna fuck your shit right up the creek, and Genma's neck prickled. Or hackled. Or something - he wasn't sure, but metal screeched and made everyone's ears swivel, and flatten across their skulls and silenced the medics until Genma realised his claws were etching marks into the metal armrests.
"She yelled," Genma said, pulling his hands into a tight fist, and tried to will his claws into... wherever claws went when cats didn't need them. "And I'm older and bigger so she should shut up and stay quiet."
It took even longer before he realised that one, he was hissing, two, the 'she' he was referring to was one of the calico kittens behind the palm, and three, "Kotetsu's a girl?"
One of the medics giggled weakly, "Ah, that was a mistake with the retroviral procedure to get the calico colouring..."
This was getting more and more fucked up. Genma wished he'd never woken up at all.
Today was not a day worth getting up for.
Genma sat down heavily on a chair that made his skin itch, and watched two former shinobi wail in thin high voices from behind a droopy fern.
"Sandaime, your shinobi are defective," he drawled, trying to ignore the hissing going around in the room. He hadn't thought that Suzume or Kurenai was one of ... whatever was the latest breeding attempt at making new shinobi. There was only one person in the room - beside Sandaime and the medics who were making victory gyrations at the wall - who wasn't displaying any sort of cat-like features, and Genma fixed his gaze on him instead.
His nose itched. He scratched it, made his nose sting, and winced. Fuck, claws.
"I'm going to put an eye out," he muttered. "Why do you have fluff balls here?"
No one was paying him any attention. That is, no one who knew what was going on here. Sandaime was being enigmatic and smoking his pipe, the medics - Genma was starting to think they weren't real medics, because no medic worth his white hat would turn normal human shinobi into cat things - were scribbling things down in charts, and talking to each other in jargon that his sensei used to use when he lapsed back into doctor-mode instead of shinobi.
The other people in the room, however, were very intent on him.
Genma had always known people stared at him - and which gazes were male, and which were female, even though at the moment he was more interested in his captain, it had been nice to know who was looking - and he could count three females staring at him.
"What are you staring at?" he snapped at Aoba - gods, the man had the most piercing gaze, all silvery-blue and slit-pupiled. Hayate shied away from Genma's voice, which was good, but Aoba didn't move. Girls weren't quite a threat, unless they had babies, so Genma could ignore Kurenai and Suzume for the moment. Aoba, though, was Genma's age, and while not as tall as Genma, seated meant he was just the same height, and Aoba had bulk.
"You hit them," Aoba said, and his voice had a strong undercurrent, a sort of vibration, and Genma only knew it was ANBU for I'mma gonna fuck your shit right up the creek, and Genma's neck prickled. Or hackled. Or something - he wasn't sure, but metal screeched and made everyone's ears swivel, and flatten across their skulls and silenced the medics until Genma realised his claws were etching marks into the metal armrests.
"She yelled," Genma said, pulling his hands into a tight fist, and tried to will his claws into... wherever claws went when cats didn't need them. "And I'm older and bigger so she should shut up and stay quiet."
It took even longer before he realised that one, he was hissing, two, the 'she' he was referring to was one of the calico kittens behind the palm, and three, "Kotetsu's a girl?"
One of the medics giggled weakly, "Ah, that was a mistake with the retroviral procedure to get the calico colouring..."
This was getting more and more fucked up. Genma wished he'd never woken up at all.