naruto: "rescue" (1/1)
Title: Rescue
Genre: Action/Adventure, Introspective
Characters/Pairings: Genma, Yuugao (also includes appearances from Aoba and Iwashi)
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: [ Bitter Cup] The mission went to hell, but at least someone was there to catch Genma when he fell.
Notes: Written back in April 07, and is the start of the "Bitter Cup" continuity. Set preseries, presumably around the time that Genma is 25 and Yuugao is 17.
ff.net x aff.net
Genma remembers the first time he saw her.
The mission had gone bad. That happens a lot, he reflects, and he wonders idly about his luck. The mission had gone bad and he'd been team leader and Aoba and Iwashi had been in more danger than he ever wanted to be able to say he'd put his comrades in. He remembers going down fighting, tooth and nail, trying to tear at the enemy as much as they'd been tearing at him. He remembers Aoba getting away through some sheer stroke of luck, the puff of white smoke with that distinct but faint smell of a chakra biproduct as Aoba left them. And he remembers feeling raw, angry in that moment, heat surging hotly in his veins as the enemy ripped them open, the injustice of it - Aoba, you bastard, you just left us here -
And then the backup arrived.
Genma was only barely holding onto consciousness then, but he remembers. He remembers the cool rush of air against his exposed flesh as something - someone flitted across the battlefield, too fast for him to see, and suddenly the man who'd been just about tearing Genma apart was on the ground, clawing at his own throat now. Blood spurted thickly from his mouth and the fresh gash across his Adam's apple, and Genma can only remember seeing, in that moment, a flash of violet and black and silver before his body gave way beneath him entirely. He could hear Aoba's hoarse shouts as he went down, his body beaten and worn from battle, but he never hit the ground. He can remember the feeling of the lithe arms supporting him, pressing coolly into his bloodied, bare skin, and as he looked up with unfocused eyes, he saw the painted white mask, the dark, empty eyes staring hollowly back at him, and the violet hair framing it, sticky with blood and dirt and sweat. Genma doesn't remember any more after that.
He can, at least, make educated guesses about what happened after that. He's pretty sure he's right, but guesses are all he really can make; he's been in the hospital since he woke not long ago, and no one's come to see him or tell him what happened. He's only heard that Iwashi's just as bad off as him - broken and bruised ribs, abrasions, a fuckload of flesh wounds - but he's pretty sure that Aoba's not in the hospital. Genma thinks the least that lucky bastard could do is come see him, so Genma can properly punch him - because really, who knew the kid was that good, running off to get backup? And ANBU backup, no less. Genma wonders if Aoba managed to talk them into it somehow, or if their situation was really that bad.
He doesn't think on it too long, though, because then the sound of the door opening interrupts his thoughts. He glances over, turning his head slowly, but his eyes don't really see - not until the soft clacking of heels on the floor ends with the scraping of the chair beside his bed, and then he sees.
If it weren't for the hair, he thinks, he wouldn't recognize her at all - not with those dark, heavy-lashed eyes, pale face painted like a china doll. If it weren't for the hair he could faintly remember from his last few moments of consciousness in that fight, he wouldn't have pegged her as his savior.
She smiles at him then, a subtle, quiet curve of rouged lips, and were Genma a more poetic man he might think that there is a decidedly a solemn air about her, even when she smiles. And yet somehow, it is still soft. She speaks then, a full voice hushed by the quiet of the room.
"How are you feeling?"
The question almost makes Genma want to laugh, and he almost does, but it only comes out as a huffed out, wheezy breath. But the girl - she's only a girl, he'd swear it - the girl looks serious, and he figures the least he can do in return is to humor her.
"I'm all right." His voice is hoarser than he'd imagined. He clears his throat a little. "Well, I've been worse. But I'm alive. Thanks to you." He offers a crooked half-grin, and she smiles again, but this time it doesn't quite reach her lips.
"You're resilient, to have taken a beating like that in one piece. I'm sure you'll be fine in no time, Genma-san."
His name? Well, of course she knows his name; she's ANBU - and more than that, it's written clear as day on the file outside his door. "Yeah, no worries. I'm sure I'll be right back on the field, just in time to get my ass handed to me on a silver platter again." He watches the silent smile pass over her face again before he decides that subtlety can go fuck itself and drown in a well. He's too tired for that game.
"So do I get to know your name, or is that top secret like everything else in ANBU?"
He's sure he sees the quirk of her lips - those painted lips - before she answers. "Seeing my face is well enough, isn't it?" She inclines her head slightly, briefly. "Uzuki Yuugao."
Her name has a nice ring to it, Genma thinks, and he nods his head in response. "Shiranui Genma. But you already knew that." He reaches up to scratch gingerly at his head, looking Yuugao over with hazel eyes that are surprisingly sharp, considering his condition. "So why'd you come here, anyway?" Surely an ANBU had better things to do, right?
"To see how you were doing, of course," Yuugao says, rather blandly. It seems clear to Genma that she has no intention of giving him any sort of real answer, but he raises an eyebrow at her anyway.
"Do you do this for every sorry prick you rescue, or am I just something special, huh?"
Yuugao only laughs, a real laugh this time, however quiet. She gets to her feet without answering, looking down on Genma.
"You should get some rest," she tells him, as if it's something he doesn't already know. "So you can heal up and get back on the field." Where you're needed.
"So I can get my ass kicked again, right?" Genma jokes with a touch of self-deprecation. She just smiles again and leaves the room, leaves him there on the cold hospital bed, and he wonders if she'll be there to catch him the next time he falls.
Genre: Action/Adventure, Introspective
Characters/Pairings: Genma, Yuugao (also includes appearances from Aoba and Iwashi)
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: [ Bitter Cup] The mission went to hell, but at least someone was there to catch Genma when he fell.
Notes: Written back in April 07, and is the start of the "Bitter Cup" continuity. Set preseries, presumably around the time that Genma is 25 and Yuugao is 17.
ff.net x aff.net
Genma remembers the first time he saw her.
The mission had gone bad. That happens a lot, he reflects, and he wonders idly about his luck. The mission had gone bad and he'd been team leader and Aoba and Iwashi had been in more danger than he ever wanted to be able to say he'd put his comrades in. He remembers going down fighting, tooth and nail, trying to tear at the enemy as much as they'd been tearing at him. He remembers Aoba getting away through some sheer stroke of luck, the puff of white smoke with that distinct but faint smell of a chakra biproduct as Aoba left them. And he remembers feeling raw, angry in that moment, heat surging hotly in his veins as the enemy ripped them open, the injustice of it - Aoba, you bastard, you just left us here -
And then the backup arrived.
Genma was only barely holding onto consciousness then, but he remembers. He remembers the cool rush of air against his exposed flesh as something - someone flitted across the battlefield, too fast for him to see, and suddenly the man who'd been just about tearing Genma apart was on the ground, clawing at his own throat now. Blood spurted thickly from his mouth and the fresh gash across his Adam's apple, and Genma can only remember seeing, in that moment, a flash of violet and black and silver before his body gave way beneath him entirely. He could hear Aoba's hoarse shouts as he went down, his body beaten and worn from battle, but he never hit the ground. He can remember the feeling of the lithe arms supporting him, pressing coolly into his bloodied, bare skin, and as he looked up with unfocused eyes, he saw the painted white mask, the dark, empty eyes staring hollowly back at him, and the violet hair framing it, sticky with blood and dirt and sweat. Genma doesn't remember any more after that.
He can, at least, make educated guesses about what happened after that. He's pretty sure he's right, but guesses are all he really can make; he's been in the hospital since he woke not long ago, and no one's come to see him or tell him what happened. He's only heard that Iwashi's just as bad off as him - broken and bruised ribs, abrasions, a fuckload of flesh wounds - but he's pretty sure that Aoba's not in the hospital. Genma thinks the least that lucky bastard could do is come see him, so Genma can properly punch him - because really, who knew the kid was that good, running off to get backup? And ANBU backup, no less. Genma wonders if Aoba managed to talk them into it somehow, or if their situation was really that bad.
He doesn't think on it too long, though, because then the sound of the door opening interrupts his thoughts. He glances over, turning his head slowly, but his eyes don't really see - not until the soft clacking of heels on the floor ends with the scraping of the chair beside his bed, and then he sees.
If it weren't for the hair, he thinks, he wouldn't recognize her at all - not with those dark, heavy-lashed eyes, pale face painted like a china doll. If it weren't for the hair he could faintly remember from his last few moments of consciousness in that fight, he wouldn't have pegged her as his savior.
She smiles at him then, a subtle, quiet curve of rouged lips, and were Genma a more poetic man he might think that there is a decidedly a solemn air about her, even when she smiles. And yet somehow, it is still soft. She speaks then, a full voice hushed by the quiet of the room.
"How are you feeling?"
The question almost makes Genma want to laugh, and he almost does, but it only comes out as a huffed out, wheezy breath. But the girl - she's only a girl, he'd swear it - the girl looks serious, and he figures the least he can do in return is to humor her.
"I'm all right." His voice is hoarser than he'd imagined. He clears his throat a little. "Well, I've been worse. But I'm alive. Thanks to you." He offers a crooked half-grin, and she smiles again, but this time it doesn't quite reach her lips.
"You're resilient, to have taken a beating like that in one piece. I'm sure you'll be fine in no time, Genma-san."
His name? Well, of course she knows his name; she's ANBU - and more than that, it's written clear as day on the file outside his door. "Yeah, no worries. I'm sure I'll be right back on the field, just in time to get my ass handed to me on a silver platter again." He watches the silent smile pass over her face again before he decides that subtlety can go fuck itself and drown in a well. He's too tired for that game.
"So do I get to know your name, or is that top secret like everything else in ANBU?"
He's sure he sees the quirk of her lips - those painted lips - before she answers. "Seeing my face is well enough, isn't it?" She inclines her head slightly, briefly. "Uzuki Yuugao."
Her name has a nice ring to it, Genma thinks, and he nods his head in response. "Shiranui Genma. But you already knew that." He reaches up to scratch gingerly at his head, looking Yuugao over with hazel eyes that are surprisingly sharp, considering his condition. "So why'd you come here, anyway?" Surely an ANBU had better things to do, right?
"To see how you were doing, of course," Yuugao says, rather blandly. It seems clear to Genma that she has no intention of giving him any sort of real answer, but he raises an eyebrow at her anyway.
"Do you do this for every sorry prick you rescue, or am I just something special, huh?"
Yuugao only laughs, a real laugh this time, however quiet. She gets to her feet without answering, looking down on Genma.
"You should get some rest," she tells him, as if it's something he doesn't already know. "So you can heal up and get back on the field." Where you're needed.
"So I can get my ass kicked again, right?" Genma jokes with a touch of self-deprecation. She just smiles again and leaves the room, leaves him there on the cold hospital bed, and he wonders if she'll be there to catch him the next time he falls.