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.the art of falling.

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Early winter is the rainy season. Winters in Konoha mean mud and cold and naked tree branches, sagging beneath the weight of water. On missions, it's sticky hot breath that steams between them as they huddle for warmth, that dampens the scratchy wool of their cloaks and blankets. Water shines their faces, drips from their chins and down into shirt collars. Makes their weapons slippery and their feet unsure, makes bandages bind, shirts chafe. One resists the constant urge to look up, to watch the clouds constant uneasy boil, to see the droplets hurtle down and flatten as the reach terminal velocity. Because watching won't make it stop.

"And if you keep cranking your head back like that," says Raidou. "You're liable to walk into a tree."

Deep in the grotty depths of the forest, they wade through sticky carpets of shed needles; drifts and drifts that muffle their footfalls, that cushion their steps. Half of Iwashi wants to stop and lie down in it, to flop backwards into a cushion of deepest copper and snuggle the shed about him like a blanket. The other half, or rather two quarters, wants to run and leap through the drifts, grab one great handful, and--possibly get himself reprimanded.

He's surrounded at each point: Raidou behind, Shizune to his right, and Genma to his fore, about five paces apart either way. They stick close as much for security as safety, and are never far from the other's earshot or view. Which would make things tricky, thinks Iwashi, if he even thought of doing something foolish. And it's too soon, he also tells himself, to be giving in to boredom. He's just out of practice on these long hikes. Spent too long sitting behind a desk, letting his skills go to mush; using all of his ingenuity instead, at avoiding work.

This should've been a much needed change. The village was short-handed as it was, so it wasn't as if he'd had a choice.

Raidou nods his head in Genma's direction, smirking. "Two at once," he says. "You go right, and I'll go left?"

A bit to the side of them, Shizune purses her lips and slowly shakes her head. And if Raidou's bark is fearful, Shizune's bite is even worse. "Iwashi, no."

Iwashi takes a swipe at the back of his neck. He's tired, wet, and uncomfortable. He hasn't made a single peep of complaint. Hasn't taken a single step out of turn. It's been near a day and a half, and he's been on his very best, most exemplary behavior. He wants Raidou to know this, and appreciate it. He also wants to flip him onto his back, and rub leaves in his hair; pull his shirt up over his face, and pile mulch on his stomach. "This isn't the kind of mission where we can afford to screw around."

"You're a rotten dissembler," says Raidou, leaning companionably over Iwashi's shoulder. Eighty kilos of heat and chakra, bearing right down. "I mean it. You reak."

Iwashi wants to put him on his face and sit on his back, stuff his clothes with leaves; wants to be knocked down, rolled over by him. "Go ahead, then," he says, unsure of where this is all coming from. "You do it. I dare you."

Up ahead, Genma coughs ominously into his fist. Five paces away, he hears them all right.

Raidou hangs on Iwashi's pack, uncertain, and dead-heavy. Then he lets go, with a dismissive shove. "Change of plans," he says.

Iwashi hears him stoop, and is just a fraction of a second too slow. One half-turn, an aborted scoop, and Raidou's got the drop on him; a hand over his mouth and a hot breath in his ear. He stuffs, first, two good handfuls of pine-shed down Iwashi's vest. Then up under his shirt, quick and thorough, like he's bagging groceries.

He stuffs leaves into Iwashi's pockets, under his collar, and down the back of his trousers. "Amateur," he whispers, laughing. Another light shove, and his hand slips away, the motion crisp and assassin-perfect.

Iwashi's legs are like cooked noodles. He's got pine-needles in his armpits, and berries in his underpants. He wants to be furious, and righteous; but can only register hot indignation, and a certain tightening in his balls. It's been far too long, he thinks, since there's been a hand--other than his own--down his trousers. So, it should hardly be news to him, he thinks. Self-restraint was never his friend, and it wouldn't take a genius to figure that out.

Iwashi pivots, and catches Raidou's arm, underhand, trapping it against his body. "That was ill-advised, sir. You've gone and made it angry." He follows through with another half turn and backstep, meant to tangle and trip. But Raidou gets an elbow in, jabbing down into the joint of Iwashi's shoulder. Iwashi drops a knee, tries to throw them both off-balance.

"'Tch," Raidou hisses, jerking his arm and skittering in the leaf-mulch. "Are we really gonna do this?"

Iwashi grabs the trapped wrist in an overhand lock, and pulls forward. "You...started it," he grunts, struggling.

Raidou then decides to play dirty, pokes a finger into Iwashi's armpit, jams a knee into his buttocks. Or what he hopes is a knee. Iwashi lets himself drop again, using the sudden leverage to put Raidou over his shoulder.

They end up half tangled in each other's kit, and take a brief tumble before hopping quickly, awkwardly apart. Not sure whether to give chase, or give up, Iwashi settles for an aborted tackle that sends Raidou bolting. Genma hears him trotting up; says "Calm it down, Raidou. They'll think we're a herd of cattle."

Raidou jerks to a stop, rasping "they? There's a they? Have you heard something?"

Iwashi stumbles several more yards to catch up, and has to grab Raidou's pack to keep from going down again. While there, he takes the liberty of jamming a wad of dirt and leaves up under the weather-flap, where Raidou can't reach. They're both laughing, of course, shoving each other.

Shizune throws them a look over her shoulder, and slows down a bit. She asks "would you two like your own tent, tonight?"

Iwashi breaks away, nicely assisted by a parting shove from Raidou. "What?"

"So you can get this out of your systems like civilized animals," says Shizune, plainly, and without sarcasm. "Or is that the end of it?"

Iwashi coughs and beats some of the leaves from his shirt.

Raidou tips his head diffidently and hangs his thumbs from his pack straps. "Hey, I resent being called an animal," he says. "And my manner is very civilized."

Up ahead, Genma laughs. "Sorry, sorry. Maybe I misheard..."

Raidou walks casually up to Genma's left shoulder and snakes an arm around his front. "Accept this most humble gift," he says, then suddenly topples to the ground and rolls a few feet. He doesn't seem terribly surprised, and after a moment, sits up calmly and spits the 'gift' back out into his hand. It wriggles soggily, and Raidou flicks it off with a look of small disgust.

Genma takes a brief inventory of his shirt collar, then turns and helps Raidou to his feet. "Maybe later, eh?" He says, briskly brushing the litter from Raidou's clothes. The touch is rough and familiar, and there's a brief conference of sorts while they stand there; chest to chest, and this close to spooning. "Ora,let's have that compass."

Raidou flips open a vest pouch, and quickly holds his compass out and makes gimme-gestures. "Let's see your watch."

Genma fishes out his pocket-watch, and they do a brief trade, with little nods and frowns. "Half past noon," says Genma, peeking over Raidou's arm. He shoots a compass reading and shows it to Raidou. Both nod again, then trade off.

All the while, Iwashi's been emptying out his clothes; periodically glancing at the pair, then at Shizune, and muttering to himself. "Shoved a whole fucking forest down my pants. The least he could've done was gotten me drunk first."

"If it takes that much," notes Shizune, "I'd say you've got some issues."

"If it takes that much? I said that was the _least_."

"What if he were a woman," says Shizune, "What, then?"

Iwashi fishes a green pine-sprig from his sleeve, and two more from his collar. "I'd say I've got more issues than just some. I'd say we all do."

Raidou and Genma argue for a brief moment--in whispers, noises, and gestures--then a touch here, a touch there, and they head over to regroup.

"Fifteen minutes to eat," says Raidou. Then he sticks his left arm out and waves, "The woods are about to get thinner here, so we're headed south-west for a few klicks."

With that, they drop kit and hunker down for a quick meal of tea, sardines, and onigiri with pickled plum. "Really outdone yourself this time, Raidou." says Genma, licking his fingers with careful attention.

Iwashi glugs roughly two gallons of tea to wash down the sweetness, and pretends it's the most wonderful thing he's ever eaten, ever. "I notice you've used sugar instead of salt...very interesting."

Genma eyes what's left of Iwashi's meal and jerks his head at it. "If you don't want that, I'll eat it. Here, take my sardines."

"Sir," says Raidou. "Fish is good for you."

"One meal without fish won't kill me."

"You want the protein," Raidou insists.

Genma's already made the trade-off, but as he does so, Shizune's moved half of her sardines back to his plate, and taken away two of the leftover onigiri for herself. Genma's mouth droops. "You two will be the death of me," he says.

Shizune is unmoved. "I refuse to take the blame when you go into insulin shock."

Genma looks sullen, but finishes his food without another word, only shooting the occasional beseeching eye towards Raidou, who's now having none of it. Iwashi, for his part, chokes down the greasy last of the sardines, and lets out a low gargling belch.

"Ah...excuse me," he says, and his stomach gives another ominous growl. He jumps up, and looks around for some bushes, "excuse me, excuse me," then starts to make a dash for it. Then something soft *ploffs* him between the shoulders, and he whirls about, catching the t.p. roll before it hits ground. "Excuse me!"

When he returns, some five agonizing minutes later, Genma's standing there with this look of terror in his eyes. Which could translate as either: 'oh god, I've poisoned him,' or 'oh god, that'll be me soon.'

"The fish, Raidou," he mutters. "The fish."

"It wasn't bad. Someone's just not used to greasy foods," Raidou insists. He thumps Genma's shoulder, and nods at Iwashi. "Got everything out?"

"Everything and then some, sir," Iwashi reports, still rubbing at his offended gut. He's sure it hadn't gone bad. It was just...well, not very good to begin with.

Despite all reassurances, Genma continues to look very worried as they walk. And increasingly green beneath his usual pallor. But he keeps on and says nothing, until about a kilometer later, when he summarily turns and vomits off the side of the trail. His knees are shaking by the time he's done, but he won't hear of stopping to rest.

"It's fine," he says, rinsing from his canteen and spitting. "Let's go."

They trek onward, and the forest graduates from green, to brown, to red, and all shades in between. They walk for several hours, slow and determined, before the skies turn loose again. The rain is neither sudden, nor violent; but dull and heavy, like a great ooze of heavenly sick. The droplets are fat, almost greasy, and they slide down Iwashi's neck, scraping leaf-grit as they do. They pull up their hoods, and hunch down into their cloaks as deep as possible. Covered head-to-toe like that, they lumber hump-backed and troll-like, bowing lower and lower the harder it rains.

"Sir," says Raidou. "I think we should stop."

Genma seems to think it over for several yards, with Raidou marching resolutely beside him.

"Sir?"

"Not just yet."

"Sir..." Raidou says carefully.

"A little farther ahead."

"Exalted team-captain sir..."

Genma frowns queasily. Still pale, and still shaky, and now in no mood for back-talk. "No one likes an ass-kisser, Raidou."

Raidou pulls a sneer and fires right back. "With all due respect, that's not what you said last night, sir."

Genma slows his pace, but only ever so subtly. He's still gauging the surroundings, weighing the need, and he's in no hurry to stop. "Raidou, how desperate are you?" He flinches, minutely, as a large raindrop drills past the perimeter of his cloak and splatters his cheek.

"Sir. It's nothing. Just two minutes is all I'm asking--"

"Two minutes?" Genma turns a fork in the trail, and down a slight incline towards a cluster of giant fir trees. It's the driest spot they're likely to find. "All right, we'll stop here."

Shizune looks around, uncertain. "Captain?"

Genma just tucks his chin and shoulders Raidou towards the trunk, mutters something at him. It looks for a moment like he needs the support more than Raidou does; and it's not certain for whose benefit they've stopped, exactly.

Raidou sits heavily and lets his pack slough off. His cloak and vest are next to go, dropping heavily like they must weigh a combined ton. "It's nothing to worry about," he says. "Sir, why don't you sit down?"

"Let me see," says Genma, crouching down.

Raidou shakes his head tightly. "It's all right. Just get me a dry cloth, please."

Genma frowns, then reaches for his pack. "We might as well sit tight for a while," he says, and gestures for Raidou to lift his shirt. "Now. No arguments."

Iwashi doesn't see what Genma sees, but he's positively sure it's not good. "What's the matter?" he asks, before his brain catches up to what his mouth shouldn't mind.

"Just some chafing," Raidou says. He's going for cocky sneering bravado, but it all comes out nervy and just shy of embarrassed. "Not worried about me, are you?"

Genma hisses and gives Raidou's leg a familiar jog. "Quiet, you," he says. "See where horsing around gets you," He's got his head fair but shoved under Raidou's shirt, mouth pursed unhappily.

Raidou lets loose an irritable sigh. "This isn't the reason we've stopped."

"But it needs looking after," Genma sighs. Then nods his head to the side, beckoning. "Shizune-san."

Without a word, Shizune hunkers down next to Genma, hands him a thick wad of bandages and a jar of something. Iwashi holds a blanket over their heads, and looks steadfastly down at his feet while Shizune works.

"You can look," Raidou tells him, defeat writ in every angle of his posture. "This is courtesy of last month. Four kunai strikes. They said it'd be healed by now."

"I think the doctors just wanted to be rid of you," says Shizune. "I'm not sure I blame them."

Iwashi looks up, careful not to make this a staring contest. "I was trying not to be rude," he says. "My sister was burned in the invasion, thirteen years ago. She's still self-conscious about people staring."

Raidou's glare is so hard it's fragile. "I'm not your sister," he says, and peels the hem of his shirt up to his chin, tugging up the neck so everyone can get a good look at his scar webbed skin. The four fresh scabs stand out like tattoos, red and angry. "And manners should be the least of your worries out here."

Genma nods his head gently. "Break wind, pick your nose, scratch yourself. As long as we all make it through this in one piece, no matter no mind."

"I'd mind," Shizune says, reaching her arms around Raidou and wrapping his chest in fresh muslin. She mutters brisk instructions to him, jogging his leg when he's slow to comply. Like someone handling a large animal, one that's docile only to an extent. "Shallow breaths. Hold out your arms, I'm going to do a shoulder wrap so this won't slip around."

"Mind all you want," says Genma. "After that smell you made last night, you have no room to talk."

"Team-captain!" Shizune barks. "That's so improper, I should report my knuckles to your skull immediately!" With brisk fingers, she's finished securing the last of Raidou's bandages, and is now busy threatening Genma with a sponge.

Genma, for his part, is unimpressed. "He bled on me a lot more than that last month. In my hair and everything," he nods solemnly and fishes a plastic waste-bag from his pack. "I should be a medical nin after that experience. Eh, Raidou?"

Raidou clicks his tongue. "It looked worse than it was." He's already peeled his shirt down, fastened his vest, and shrugged into his kit without help. "I could've kept fighting if not for you."

"If not for me," Genma laughs. "You'd be dead behind the ramen-shop counter."

"I don't remember that part," says Raidou.

Genma gives Raidou a reproachful look, and stuffs the waste-bag into his pack. "Dummy."

"I'm not the dummy," Raidou mumbles. "Who threw his back out, carrying my fat ass?"

Iwashi snaps the water from his blanket, and looks up at the sky, looks anywhere other than at Raidou's decidedly non-fat ass. A raindrop hits his hitai-ate plate and splatters into needles. "It stops and it starts," he says. "Just when you think you're getting used to it."

"Hn," says Genma. "Wars and the rain. I think there's a metaphor in there someplace." He shrugs to his feet; not in a straight line, but with a lazy sway. "Let's go," he says. "I said two minutes, and it's been ten. Penalty is double-time, and no tea-break." And he turns briskly back towards the trail.

It rains steadily more as they move on, and the tree-tops grow heavier with it. Branches crack beneath the weight, and Iwashi soon learns not to jump at the sound: no explosion where there's no smoke, he keeps telling himself.

And meanwhile, there are streams forming in the leaf-litter.

Isn't long before they're all thoroughly soaked. Isn't long before their feet blister and the skin peels away, before pack-straps dig into armpits and they've all got blisters there. Not much longer before they forget about that, and have to contend with the mosquitos. It's coldest of all today, and the pests are out in force. They tighten their bandages and leggings, but they can still see and hear them, feel wings blundering at their ears and noses. Any hole they can find to get in, that's where they concentrate. Raidou has tugged his collar up to the bridge of his nose, hitai-ate down over his ears, and walks hunched in; paranoically swatting about his head.

"They'll get you the worst," Genma tells him, half teasing, half self-assured.

"Anywhere but the face," Raidou mutters, repeating several times for good measure. "Anywhere but the face--"

Iwashi gnaws his lip, and flicks a sidelong glance at Shizune. It's becoming clearer and clearer: their vice-captain's a lunatic. Surely, she must see it too. Shizune flicks a glance back, and swats something with her sleeve.

"Why are you the only one not bothered by them?" She asks.

"Who says I'm not?"

"The mosquitos," Shizune deadpans.

Iwashi tries to ignore his vice-captain's spastic twitching, and focus instead on the tree line. "I meant that," and as soon as he's said it, a big one nails him right on the earlobe.

In five minute's time it's swelled to the size of an acorn, and Raidou's giving him an arched eyebrow, saying: "should've done like I did. This is peak season, you know."

Iwashi delivers what he hopes is his most respectful withering glare, and tugs his collar up. "It's never made sense. All other insects die off or hibernate after the first frost. But not mosquitos. There's got to be something wrong with that."

"There's nothing wrong with that at all," says Genma. "Mosquitos are evil. They come directly from hell to bite you." Once again, he's got something stuck between his teeth; a sprig of leaves, possibly some herb. "Thing is, they're more attracted to people with sweet blood," he adds, clearly aiming at Raidou.

Raidou shoots back. "That's an old folk myth. It's the vitamin b in your system."

Genma is unfazed. "They seem to like you an awful lot," he points out. "He doesn't act it, but Raidou's very sweet."

Raidou makes a show of manful endurance: tugging his pack straps, raising his head, glaring resolutely off into the trees. "Captain, that's bordering on inappropriate. Should I have you written up?"

Genma shrugs it off, _yare yare_. "He's also pretty tiresome. Don't you think, Iwashi-kun?"

Iwashi turns his head and chokes. He's actually not been paying attention. "Troublesome? Who's troublesome?"

"You don't have to answer that," Shizune says.

"No, let him answer," Raidou calls back. "This oughta be good."

Iwashi grits his teeth and tries to focus again on his footing. "Is it standard procedure for them to _pick_ on me like this?"

Shizune chuckles. "Be happy, I think they've decided to take you under their wing."

Iwashi risks a leery glance at the two jounin, one completely crazy, the other a cipher, completely unreadable; and he wonders. "Is that something I want?" On that note, a mosquito flies directly into his eye.

And still they move, until the whole forest begins to angle steeply upwards. "Funny," says Genma. "It looked a lot less severe on the map." They now face a thirty degree climb through a carpet of slick tree-shed, over hidden tree-roots and small rocks that could easily turn and snap an ankle. "Ah, ah, just kidding. This part is a piece of cake."

Genma drops to threes and has them all hang back so he can feel ahead. "Don't worry," he says "just stay in my tracks."

They do, and it really is a piece of cake. Not as much sliding around as feared, and it seems to level off as they get higher.

Iwashi's got his eyes on the tree line up top, for no less than a split second, when his footing gives way. No time to react, just a lurch and a sudden drop, then he's on all fours and sliding. He thinks it may have been a gopher hole, or it may have been a leaf. Either way, he'd failed to see it, and almost whanged his chin off of the ground.

Genma's on him like a hawk. "You all right?"

Iwashi digs in his knees, more angry than anything, and wipes his scraped palms roughly on his muddied trousers. "I'm fine," he says, and stands up. "Nothing's broken," he says, feeling around to make sure. And that's when things get wobbly. He adjusts his pack with shaking hands, and it feels like trying to lift an elephant with a feather. He keeps saying he's fine, and he is, and they ought to keep going, but the trembling's overtaken his voice. He thinks it'd top things off brilliantly if he started to cry. For no reason, other than feeling completely gutted, and no idea why.

"Lean on me," says Shizune, then shoves a shoulder under Iwashi's arm, leaving him no choice but to accept. "The ground's slippery, it's no big deal."

Iwashi lets out a shaky laugh, and after a few deep breaths, he's able to re-muster. "A shinobi slipping on leaves," He snorts, still gingerly testing his weight. "I suppose even fishermen drown, sometimes."

"No kidding," says Raidou. "Just last week, I absolutely _ate_ it walking into my apartment. Two steps up, and I had an arm-full of groceries. My seventy year old landlady had to help me up, and there were oranges everywhere. Dozens of people saw it happen, and there was no way I could play it off."

"Not that he didn't try," adds Genma.

"There's an art to falling correctly," Raidou says. "If I'd tried to prevent it, things would've ended up a lot worse."

"That's why you said 'it had to be booby trapped!', eh? And almost started a major panic?"

"'tch. Is it my fault people are so jumpy, lately?"

Iwashi tests limping a few steps on his own, and finds he's able to walk unassisted. "Falling and slipping...if I hadn't slipped, I wouldn't have fallen. If I hadn't been so top-heavy, I wouldn't have slipped."

"Were 'ifs' and 'buts' like candies and nuts," says Genma. "The point is, it happened, but you were able to get up. Fall down seven times, get up eight."

"Unless you're dead," Raidou adds. "Always a chance of that happening."

Then Shizune throws in her bit: "or if you're injured, it's advisable not to move around too much."

"Ora, ora," mutters Genma. "The level of respect you have for me is touching."

"We kid because we love," says Raidou.

Shizune flaps a perfunctory hand "Or, don't entirely dislike."

"Sir," says Iwashi. "I respect you."

"Terror and respect are two different things," says Raidou.

Genma shifts his pack, and clucks his tongue. "All right, already, it's getting close to dusk. Let's hurry and find higher ground."

By four o'clock, the rain has finally dwindled to a dreary mist, and Genma has led them to an old-growth bamboo stand, beneath some towering red-wood firs. They set up camp near the shelter of the swinging boughs, pull down leaves to cushion their tent floor, and make a fire-lean of the thinner stalks. They hack out the hearts of bamboo, and mash the pulp, while Iwashi rigs up a cooker. By the time they've got the pit dug, the tent pitched, and the mosquito netting up, he's almost forgotten about his leg. Until Genma reminds him, that is.

"It's great that you're doing all that, but you need to see to that leg." He motions Iwashi to sit, and crouches down at his knee. He's got a thin bamboo stalk between his teeth, and chews placidly on it as he removes Iwashi's shoe and unwraps his legging. "How did you twist it?"

"I don't think I did. I think I just wrenched it."

"Ah," mutters Genma. He places a cool palm on Iwashi's shin, and the other just behind his knee. "Wrenching's bad. I'd have Shizune look after this when she gets back." With that, he's relinquished Iwashi's foot, and set it gently to rest on the ground.

Iwashi prods at his bared shin, and notes a nice lump beginning to form. "I can walk on it okay," he says.

Genma screws up his lips a bit, then carefully pulls a rolled map from his kit. "You'd better be sure about that," he says. "Because we've got a long way to go." He unfurls the map with a twitch of his wrist, and lays it flat on the ground.

"Have you been this way a lot?" Iwashi looks over the map, and sees that it's been very heavily marked. Borders drawn in fresh ink where there once were none, and tiny notes scrawled in several different scripts around the edges. He counts kana, kanji, hanzi, hanja, and hangul down one end, alphanumeric and cyrillic down the other. It's a bit frightening when he stops to think that Genma can read all that, and he can't. That Raidou and Shizune can read some of that, if not all, as well.

Genma nods. "Look. Starting here, this is Konoha's administrative building, and from there all the way out to here. More often than I like to think about. It's the number one route for missing-nin and other criminals." Genma makes a triangle on the map. "Just skirt those falls and cut across this small section here, they think they're home safe."

"Legally, wouldn't they be?" Iwashi traces the line from the border, snakes through the new green of Rice Country, into Oto no sato.

"That's...where things get sticky. As long as Rice doesn't know they're criminals, they're usually granted asylum within twenty-four hours. That's a very small window of time, and afterwards...you wouldn't believe the difficulties a piece of parchment with some names on it can cause." his fingers move a scant millimeter, "Everything has to go through official channels, signed, stamped, officiated, fucked sideways and back before you can do anything. 'Course, look at who I'm talking to."

"I've had nightmares in which I do nothing but stamp documents. I think a nice dangerous back-country hump is just what I need," Iwashi snorts. His finger lands on the black rectangle at the very heel end of the territory, and he stops there. "What is this?"

Footsteps beside him, and with a great thunk, down drops a pile of firewood. "Orochimaru's hole," Raidou spits. He's got a brace of large rodents slung over his shoulder, limp as if they're nothing but fur and fat. "Genma, you should have told him that's where we're headed."

Shizune is right behind with a small crossbow still strapped to her wrist. "Oi, give me those so I can clean them already. I'm half-starved."

"He knows," says Genma.

It's true. Iwashi does know, and has known, on an intellectual level. It's loomed large in his mind for months, ever since the exam; ever since he'd left behind his cushy administrative position to start padding his resume for jounin-advancement, he's known exactly where he'd be headed. He'd put in for it when his parent's shop was destroyed. He'd trained for it when they condemned his street. He'd eaten breathed and slept on it since the stress of it caused his grandmother's stroke. He'd always known, but never imagined, for fear his resolve might break. And he's wondering right now, in the light of cold factual reality, if he can muster. Because Raidou's eyes seem to say he can't.

They sleep that night in a jumbled pile of packs and limbs and blankets; half lying, half propped against one another, while summoned birds keep silent watch overhead. Morning comes like a slap on the arse, jolting Iwashi from Raidou's shoulder; with a creeping embarrassment, Iwashi realizes he's been sleeping with his hand wedged under the other man's arm. To remove it might wake him. To leave it there--

"Your hands are soft like a woman's," Raidou half-sneers, laughter snicking from his throat.

Shizune rolls over suddenly, fwapping an arm across Raidou's hips, purposely avoiding the bandaged areas. "Soft like _what_?" She mutters, voice dangerous.

The tent flap lifts, and Genma sticks his head in. "What are you all doing? Come on, breakfast."

Over salt-fish and bitter coffee, they lay out the next leg of the journey--Genma steadfastly ignoring the moans over how little distance they've covered. "Getting there is half the battle," he says. "Make it, and you'll feel you can accomplish anything." He seems convinced, either way, that they can make up for lost distance in the next twelve hours.

Raidou nods sternly at this and says, "my plan is to accomplish a bath."

"I think that would benefit us all," Shizune grins.

"Oi, oi," says Genma, tapping the map with his twig. "This is what we need to cover today. We're all well rested and energized, so my hope is that we'll stop as little as possible. Walk quickly but alertly. Don't fool around." And with that, his eyes have come to rest squarely on Raidou and Iwashi.

"Sir," says Raidou.

"I mean it, Raidou," Genma insists, but there's an almost undetectable smirk behind his words.

So they pack up quickly, and distribute the equipment as best they can to spread the weight. They walk hard that day, and stop only briefly to eat and 'use the bushes'. There's no fooling around, but they talk as they move, to keep each other occupied alert and in reach. Iwashi finds himself keeping up with Raidou, more than anyone, and finds him to be good--if strange--company. They debate, constantly, every little thing: which is the best way to keep warm; how best to traverse a rocky cliff; the best meals to eat when bivouacking; the best way to prepare edible insects and make them palatable; the best underwear for traveling, and even if it's possible to take a piss on the move. Because if Raidou's strict about some things, Genma's even stricter, and they haven't made a rest stop for near six hours.

"You can go lying on your side, or lying up in a tree, or while you're fording a river," says Raidou.

"What about walking backwards? If I were to walk backwards," Iwashi turns and does so, making the appropriate gestures. "That'd work."

"Just try it," Raidou snickers. "You'll end up tripping over a root or something. You'll really go down in history, then."

"Sideways?" Iwashi turns and walks sideways, still making the appropriate gestures, and adding a hop about every other step.

"Back in my chuunin days," says Raidou, "we'd be out on patrol for months, sometimes. You can imagine, we're all exhausted and filthy, and there isn't a woman in sight for miles."

"Stop right there," says Iwashi, having done with the hopping, and moved on to heel-dragging.

"Prude. Anyway, that's not where I was going. Most of us would just stop wherever we were, or crawl off and go. But you can't always stop, right? In that case, they told us to just go. Keep walking, just shove a towel down there, and that's that."

"Yeah, but what'd you do with it afterwards?"

"Find the person in your squad you liked the least, and wring it over his pack. You had to be pretty down-low about it, because you didn't want a fight on your hands, but you wanted to make sure they knew it by the end of the day." A low chuckle, and "then all you'd hear is 'what's that smell? Do you smell that? Is it just me?'. Actually, we got Aoba pretty good a few times. He'll deny it if anyone asks, but they called him 'piss-pack' for three months."

"Man," says Iwashi. "That's just nasty. I assume they put a stop to it."

"Not exactly. But once you've taken a deep slash-wound and your buddy has to piss in it because you're out of antiseptic...sort of takes all the fun out of it.

A few yards ahead of them, Shizune is picking her way carefully around a grassy hummock. Without breaking stride, she calls back. "Out of antiseptic? That's the oldest story in the book. I'm honestly convinced that men just want to urinate on one another. That's all it's about. Marking territory."

"Get off it. Admit, who doesn't love a good piss?" says Raidou. "Besides, they say Tsunade-sama herself can go higher and farther than any man."

Shizune lets out, then, what can only be described as a controlled roar. "RAIDOU."

Even Genma falters in his tracks, and turns to look at them. "Did he do something?"

Iwashi isn't sure whether to laugh or duck for cover. Shizune's face has turned a magnificent shade of magenta, and it's clear Raidou's found the one single hot-button--after six hours of the most crass talk one might imagine--guaranteed to set her off.

"Yes," she snarls direly. "He's forgotten who he is, and whom he's speaking to. If he ever wishes the privilege of speaking to said person again, he'd better apologize now."

"I'm sorry," Raidou says, hastily. From rough to earnest in less than a second. "Sometimes I let my mouth get the better of me."

Shizune is adamant. "That did not sound sincere."

"Oh, come on--"

Genma cuts in with a long sigh. "Raidou, just change the subject. The two of you shouldn't be fighting like a pair of teenagers. And Shizune-san, please accept my apology on Raidou's behalf. It's over now."

"Fine, Captain. But I don't want to hear about how much his groin itches again," Shizune says. "I'm frankly amazed he has so many different words for what's down there, and still can't say 'testicles'."

"But that's so clinical," says Raidou. "Don't you agree that balls sounds friendlier? It's approachable. 'Testicles', that's so formal." He's gesturing as he says this, making exaggerated cupping motions with his hands. "It's like the word 'vagina'."

"I didn't think that one would be your taste, either," says Shizune, but her tone is not so mocking as it is curious. As if even she still hasn't got Raidou soused.

"Which one?" Raidou fires back, unfazed. "It depends on who the owner is. Right, Iwashi-kun?"

Iwashi coughs, and knows there's no way he's getting out of this one. "Oh, I thought that went without saying."

"That's the spirit, Iwashi," Genma calls back, and his voice is a little distant this time. Then, "you sound quieter back there, is there a reason you've fallen behind?"

"We're coming," Raidou answers, prodding Iwashi ahead of him with a firm hand, motioning to pick up the pace.

But the conversation does not end there. "Raidou-san, that can be taken so many ways," says Shizune.

Raidou screws his lips into a mocking frown. "I thought _that_ went without saying. Right, Iwashi-kun?"

Iwashi just nods a cursory nod, and watches his footing. He's been trying not to get into this the entire trip, and it's become increasingly difficult. He isn't sure he should joke. Isn't sure he should acknowledge. Isn't sure they're not all taking the piss. Isn't sure about a lot of things. But is sure of one thing, that if offered half a chance, he just might do something regrettable. Because it _has_ been an awful long time, and he's wondering what could possibly be so bad about it.

After several minutes, Raidou notices the lull, and turns to him. "You're awful quiet all the sudden. Anything the matter?" He's once again earnest, but there's an uncomfortable edge to his tone. Especially his 'anything the matter?'

"No, of course not," says Iwashi, trying to sound appropriately distracted, as if he were just lost in his thoughts. And he has been, in a way. "Just thinking."

Raidou nods, a solemn and almost defeated gesture. "Understood." Though, whether it is or not, the damper's already settled on things. Not another word between any of them for several more kilometers.

And then, it's four o'clock. They stop suddenly, just as they had the day before, and Iwashi finally gets a good look at Genma's face. He's frowning, pale and pent up, and he's quite obviously gnawed a hole in his own lip. There's a small spot of blood which he's now dabbing at with his handkerchief. He looks like he's trying not to be sick again.

"Sir," says Raidou. That's all he says, that one softly descending 'sir', and Genma's eyes flick towards the ground then back again.

"I'm sensing we could all use the rest, right?" Genma's picked his mouth up into a wan smile, and he's standing there, one tiny island in a sea of exhaustion.

Raidou turns to Iwashi and summarily barks, "go with Shizune, collect some firewood. We'll set up the tent."

"Raidou," says Genma, "there's no need."

Iwashi doesn't wait for the inevitable backlash from Raidou. "We'll go, sir."

"All right, then," says Genma, slowly shrugging out of his pack.

They don't dawdle, and they don't argue. Shizune creates a sling for the wood, and slips it over Iwashi's shoulder, then gives him a light push towards the nearest stand of trees. They walk a few yards from the campsite, and begin gathering fallen branches, moss, leaves, and anything which looks dry enough. "Be careful of centipedes," Shizune warns. "I just found a big one."

It takes them perhaps five minutes, and by the time they return to the campsite, the tent's been set up and Raidou is in the process of digging a fire pit. Genma is nowhere to be seen.

Iwashi drops his sling a bit carelessly, wood spills out of either end, and a piece rolls right into the pit. "Where is he...Genma-san."

Raidou dusts his hands, and reaches for the fallen wood. "He's in the tent, resting."

Shizune quietly turns, and ducks under the tent-flap. Iwashi hears a low murmur of voices, but it's nothing he can make out clearly.

Raidou delivers a sharp look, and snaps "well, don't just stand there gawking. How about some help, here?"

As they work, Iwashi notices the leaves overhead beginning to whip about, and the clouds seem to be thickening. "They're all turned in the same direction," he notes. "There's a storm coming."

Raidou looks up, and sure enough, a single soggy snowflake plops from the sky, soon followed by several more. "Just in time, too," he says, carefully piling more sticks over the kindling flames. "Tell those two to come out and dry off before this gets worse."

Iwashi twists around and crawls under the tent-flap. In the dull orange light, Genma's sitting cross-legged on his bed-roll while Shizune sits opposite with her med-kit open on the ground. "I've confiscated his map," she says, handing the tube over to Iwashi. "Make sure Raidou gets this and keeps it until tomorrow."

"Unfair, Shizune," is all Genma says. The wrappings are off of his legs, and he's wearing a fresh shirt. Without his vest, and half-curled as he is, he seems positively small. Human. "That map is vital. In a worst-case scenario--"

Shizune cuts him off cold. "Right now, all you need to worry about is resting." Even as she says this, it's hard to ignore the fact that she's still in her wet clothing and dirty wrappings.

Iwashi clears his throat delicately, and lifts the tent-flap. "We've got the fire going," he says. "Shizune-san, you should come out and dry off."

They sleep, that night, in a tight knot of limbs and blankets, arms around one-another, fingers clutched at sleeves. The next morning, Iwashi wakes with his face pressed to Raidou's side, and Shizune's wrist under his. Genma is already up, and moving about beyond the tarp's perimeter, poking at a small smoldering fire. Raidou ducks out and up beside him, deliberately knocking into his shoulder. There's a fine dusting of snow on the ground, and everything around them looks gray.

"Oi," Raidou whispers harshly, his breath misting. "Did you sleep at all last night?

Genma turns his head away and shows just the barest sliver of profile. "Few hours," he mutters, teeth clamped down on something. "Don't worry about that, okay?"

Raidou frowns thunderously, but not another word is said about it. They pack and march in grim silence, grouped as closely as they've been since starting out, and in four hours time, they finally break from the never-ending trees and into the scrubby edge of a nearby enclave.

The very first thing they do upon reaching the town's outskirts, before considering food or a bath, is take a room. One single room with four simple futon and a clothes drier. The place is old and frayed around the edges, like linen washed one too many times, and what people they run into aren't much different. It's a hard-scrabble existence, Genma observes, tourism doesn't exactly flock to places like these. They're immediately and graciously overcharged for their lodging, but it's still a welcome change-up from the dirt and the bugs.

"Oh, civilization," Raidou moans rapturously. He drops his muddy pack outside their room, and begins shucking out of his clothes. Half in and half out the door, he strips right down to his bandages, and begins poking about; checking himself for ticks, he says.

Genma kicks Raidou's zori outside and mutters at his naked back. "Like an animal." He slides the door partway shut, then his hitai-ate's off, followed by his vest and shirt.

Iwashi moves by instinct, then, jumping in front of Shizune to shield her delicate sensibilities. But there's a fwump behind him as he does so, and another, the sound of several layers of clothing hitting the floor at speed.

"So much better," she sighs, casual as a day at the beach. "Iwashi-kun, you should do likewise. They've got a laundry here, but I'm not sure how late it stays open."

Cowed, trying to play it off as nothing, Iwashi strips to the waist. And there, right there on his stomach, is the fattest black leech he's ever seen. His only thought is: 'now this?'. He reaches to rip it off, but Shizune stops him with a hand.

"There's a better way," she says. "Genma, do you have a cigarette?"

Genma slowly, guiltily, casts his eyes ceiling-ward. "In my vest pouch. And there's a lighter."

Raidou's already on it, tossing cigarette and lighter to Shizune. He fingers the half empty pack a while, then sits with a tight little frown. "Something's worrying you," he says. "Or you wouldn't have these."

"It's nothing," says Genma "I just like one after my morning coffee."

Raidou shakes his head, ruefully, then tucks the pack away, right where he'd found it.

There's a breath of silence, then the flick-click of a flint, and crackle of paper igniting. Shizune is crouched serenely at eye-level to Iwashi's navel, lit cigarette perched between her fingers, and smoke drifting from her mouth. "Let it be done," she says, and calmly applies the glowing cherry.

There's an audible hiss and squeal after the sizzle, and it's all Iwashi can do not to jerk away, or cringe. The leech drops off, though, and Shizune tells them they'll all need to check themselves and one another more thoroughly.

"Especially about the ankles, bottoms of your feet, and groins. We're all just bodies, so don't be shy."

Shyness is not the issue, Iwashi thinks. What if he were to get excited? What if she were to touch him, and in front of those two he got hard? He'd never live it down. He'd die. No. He'd have to _kill_ himself. Even doctors have limits to what they'll tolerate, and Shizune will be so shocked and offended--

"Iwashi! Snap to," she says tersely. "Now, now, now!"

"Oi, Iwashi-kun," says Genma. "Don't let her get you. I fell for that doctor business once. I was totally violated!"

At this, Raidou cackles loudly. "If you're worried about getting a hard-on, just think of all the ways she can poison or kill you while you sleep. Or let Genma check you."

Genma screws up his lip, and takes the back of his hand to Raidou's arm, *pap!* "What kind of crack is that?"

Iwashi can't help himself, in the midst of forgetting his own embarrassment and undressing, he laughs and says: "Like an old married couple."

"Pfft," says Raidou. "If your basis for that conclusion is the way we argue...then you and I might as well be married."

"All three of you can marry," Shizune spits. "After this mission, you can all three marry and live together, so long as I never have to deal with one of you again."

"She doesn't mean that," says Genma. "Shizune-tan loves us. She just has a hard way of showing it."

Shizune laughs sharply. "Go love yourself, I'm not speaking to you now."

But looking down, Iwashi sees her eyes lifted at the edges.

Iwashi gives his feet one more cursory poke and prod, then turns this way and that so Shizune can reach the places he can't. She stands, and he returns the favor.

Then, one after the other, they take advantage of their room's plumbing. They shower quickly and do whatever else needs to be done. The door creaks open while Iwashi is combing his beard, and Genma peeks his head in. "You going to be all night with this, or what?" He shoves a freshly starched yukata into Iwashi's arms. "Put this on so we can go eat."

"Oh wow," Iwashi holds the cloth up to his nose. "Clean laundry. You have no idea...this smells incredible. You don't think they'll notice if we keep these, do you?"

Genma shrugs. He's already dressed, and somehow manages to look both incredibly formal and incredibly relaxed. "Doubt it. Just make sure you don't overload your pack." He shifts his eyes discretely to the side while Iwashi slips his robe on, then says, "come."

Raidou and Shizune are waiting just outside the sliding doors, well pressed and solemn, like they're all headed to a dinner party. Iwashi is suddenly reminded of holidays he'd spent as a genin, back when his family still did that sort of thing. He remembers how he'd look forward to it, and how bitterly he'd complain at the amount of walking they had to do. Which was nothing compared to the walking he'll do as an adult. But to a child, even a shinobi, anything farther than the corner store is a vast and unchartable journey.

They find a dining hall across the damp dirt road, and eat bowl after bowl of spicy soup. Raidou heaps extra kimchee on Genma's plate when he's not looking, and offers him sweets when he is. Their noses run from the heat, and their eyes tear, and they sit knotted very closely together on the damp wooden bench, everyone touching without quite meaning to. In public, every small insecurity seems large. They're anonymous here, gone gray; suddenly vulnerable because they're away from home, away from anyone who might identify their bodies, should they die. So they drink, and there's a strange air of ceremony about it.

"I'm not pleased," says Genma, tipping back his cup, not even blinking at the burn. "Four days, and this is the farthest we've gotten."

"Once again, you let your optimism get ahead of you," Raidou mutters at him. "You've been through this valley dozens of times. When has it ever taken less than four days?"

"You have a mighty selective memory," Genma sighs. "Two days. That's our best ever time." He shifts his toothpick to the corner of his mouth and drinks again. At this point, he's not so much waiting for his cup to be filled, as he is demanding it.

Raidou tips the flask far too eagerly, and launches back in, leaning towards Genma's shoulder. "You dreamed that while you were delirious. It's never taken less than four days, three and a half at best."

Iwashi ducks down and slides his cup towards Shizune, whispering as he does. "Hey, are they going to be all right?"

Shizune pours, but she's only paying half attention at that; the other half is on Raidou and Genma.

"We're fine," says Raidou. "Genma's just not willing to admit he can be wrong sometimes."

"I should have you brought up for insubordination," Genma slurs.

"Well, it's your word against this." Raidou holds up the sake flask, now a great deal emptier. "Three and a half days, in good weather. I remember it."

"Two days," Genma insists, and his voice has gone curiously quiet. "You really don't remember. This was the route we took six years ago. The weather was exceptional, and we weren't carrying a lot. It was our best time ever."

Raidou says nothing now. Not for a while. Then a server comes and sets down a plate of bright orange pumpkin squares. Raidou spears a piece and hands it to Genma. "I'm sorry, if I'd stopped to think..."

Genma looks up at him, smiling, but it's a bemused incredulous sort of smile. There's something broken about it. He takes the offered morsel, but doesn't eat it; he just holds on to it, twirling the skewer between his fingers. "You can't let the memory of a place rule you," he says, then raises his cup and tosses it back. "If I don't sleep at night, it's not because I'm thinking of the past. It's because I'm worried about the future. About now."

"Why?" asks Shizune. "Why worry so much?"

"Why not worry?" is Genma's answer. "Why try? I don't even know anymore. It always feels like I'm headed towards something. I don't know what it is, but I know there's nothing I can do to stop it." And now, he eats the melon, chewing contemplatively a while before he continues. "Don't sound too zen of me, does it? But I'm terrified. I could relax and accept whatever fate has in store for me. But I won't do that. The will to fight is that strong."

Raidou refills Genma's cup, and slides it towards him again. "I think you're overdue for a vacation this year. Let's put in for one as soon as we return."

"Can't. Saving up for the house, remember?" Genma frowns deeply, and runs a fingertip round the edge of his sake cup. "Haven't even started looking yet, not with things the way they are. But we could always--" he cuts himself off. But that little 'we' carries a curious echo, and it shows in his face. Something small, but very momentous has just occurred.

Shizune straightens suddenly, almost violently, in her seat. "Leave?" She cries. "You're not thinking about leaving again!"

"No," says Raidou. "No, no. He doesn't mean that!" He's laughing, but now looking a bit worried.

"Not leave," says Genma. "It's only half a day by boat. Couldn't hurt to just consider it."

Raidou's turn to push his cup forward, and everyone dives to fill it at once. "Maybe not," he says, and sucks it quickly down. "Maybe not."

Iwashi is still nursing his own drink in tiny sips, hoping nobody's noticed yet. "You're leaving," he asks? "Leaving where?"

"I'm not leaving," Genma reiterates, carefully this time. "My parents are back in Wave country. They want me to look at their house." He pauses, and even more carefully, says, "I haven't told them I'm not marrying yet."

"Uh? Why not? I mean, not to pry." Iwashi forgets caution, and drains his cup. It's full again before he can say otherwise. "Ah! Sneaky!"

Shizune grins and giggles.

Genma sticks the end of a skewer in his mouth, and nicks thoughtfully at it for a second. "Why not tell them? Or why not marry? Same reason for both, I guess."

"My offer is still on the table," says Shizune. "You know it always is."

Genma shakes his head. "I'm sorry, that wouldn't be fair to anybody. Much as I appreciate it."

Outside the great room, rain pounds the eaves like a hundred marching feet, and the four of them proceed to empty their flasks. Afterwards, they totter from the hall, leaning on one another like just another set of drunken tourists. Then, like fools, they stand out on the freezing stone bridge and look up at the trees. When the lanterns come out, they find a hot-spring and soak until their skin reddens, until fingertips prune and peel. The night is like a dash of ice-water, and afterwards they hurry back to the safety of indoors. By then, the worry's been forgotten, or packed away for later.

"I'm surprised I can still move after that," Raidou says. "How would you rate that bath?"

Genma pauses his methodical hair combing, and stretches out a leg. "Scalding," he says, nodding a slow nod. "I think nine out of ten...almost unbearable."

Raidou yawns and rolls about on the floor, stretches in a way that makes his toes curl. His robe gapes as he moves, and the scars twist across his left shoulder like a wave in a wood-block print.

Iwashi's curious to know, just once, how it might feel. If the skin is soft, or particularly tight. He tells himself it's not right, nor his business, and that he shouldn't go there. As much for his own sake as Raidou's. But they're all half-drunk and half-stewed anyway. Could it hurt?

He brushes past Shizune, and falls down by her knee, stretches himself out at Raidou's side and turns slightly, just asking with his eyes.

"Isn't that cute," says Raidou. "Chuunin's curious." He takes hold of Iwashi's hand, and brings it to his left shoulder, shoves it into his robe and presses it there.

Too personal, too soon. Iwashi hadn't counted on the fingers over top his own, or the suddenly gentleness. He gapes for a moment, and tries to collect himself. He shouldn't have. This is not for him. As freely as it's been given, he knows it can't be right. Then Shizune's laid her head on his thigh, and Genma's thrown a leg across Raidou's legs and over Iwashi's. Which makes it a little more all right.

Iwashi turns his head in, and inches closer. Under his hand, the skin is curiously smooth, but warm and human all the same. "Did it hurt?" He asks.

"Only while it was healing," says Raidou. And there's a soft catch to his breath. It's not a pained catch, exactly. "And that was a long time ago."

Iwashi's eyes drift closed, and he thinks he could very easily fall asleep like this, warmly sandwiched and half-undressed. It doesn't matter that he's half-hard, or that Shizune's mouth is on his shoulder. He could drift off with one hand on Raidou's chest, and the other palm up, under Genma's fingers, with a palm flat on his belly, and another slicking down his thigh.

He could let go, he thinks, right up until he feels a breath on his lips. Then his eyes flick open, and everyone stops where they are. Genma's leaning over him on stilted arms, leaning across Raidou, across both of them. He blinks and tilts his head, and pulls back a bit; but Raidou's hand comes up, coaxes him forward again.

Just go with it, Iwashi tells himself. This is his half a chance, his offer. He lifts his chin, and Genma's mouth closes over his own, calm and sure and not at all that frightening. Shizune kisses his neck and his cheeks, and steals one or two from Genma, then leans all the way over for Raidou. There's nothing token about it. It's all just new and interesting, and available. Nothing is not allowed.

Iwashi pulls away from Genma, sucks at his lower lip, then turns to Raidou and kisses him as hard as he's ever wanted to kiss anybody. Just for the hell of it. And doesn't jump when a hand tugs his yukata open, undoes the knot, and splays down towards the base of his cock. It's hard and somebody's touching it, that's all his brain needs to register, and he mumbles appreciatively, pushing his hips forward. Reaches back to find the person behind him, to find a guiding hand and more heat.

And it ceases to matter which part belongs to whom, or who's kissing what, because there isn't time for it. No time to try and make sense. Then he's up on his knees, and Raidou's curled up beneath him, his lips on Iwashi's cock, tongue teasing and circling. Iwashi mewls and he shakes. But he doesn't come until he's on his side with Shizune's legs round his waist, and Genma's hand stroking him. It's the rubbing at his arse that really does it, and it's not really under his control when he groans and pushes back. It feels good. Just the four of them, with no-one to judge, or say what's proper. And he's happy enough to lie and neck with Shizune, while Raidou and Genma tangle on the floor at his back. Happy enough to turn and take Raidou in his hand, after a while, rub against his cock and belly while Genma carefully rolls on a condom and pushes in. Raidou whines and looks back at him, tries to turn and negotiate a kiss, but the angle's too difficult. Genma presses one to his cheek, anyway, half-climbing and thrusting with his entire body.

Iwashi is soon hard again, for the delicate line between Genma's brows, for Raidou's bared teeth and the tensed chords of his elbow as he reaches back, touches the hard ridge of Genma's flexing hip. Iwashi twists and presses his arse back against Raidou, and Shizune rolls something down on his cock. Doesn't ask. Doesn't need to.

Isn't gentle at all, either. And Iwashi comes again, with an almost animal bark, same time as he feels something warm speck his thighs, and two pairs of rough hands on his hips. He could die now, he thinks, from sheer overload; but settles instead for a sudden bomb-out drop off to sleep.

It hits him like a stone wall at eighty kilometers per hour. Hits him so hard, he doesn't have time to dream; just has time for vague impressions of warmth, of his feet running through the forest; picking him up and carrying him over mountaintops, up into the clouds then back down over the treetops. He trips over a snow-capped peak, once, and almost goes down, but just as quick, he's streaking over the plains, green as anything he's ever imagined. It's all at once exhilarating, and the loneliest he's ever felt. He's almost surprised, waking at one point, to find himself tucked neatly into a futon with the covers pulled up. There are bodies all about him, soft snoring, and someone's got restless legs. It's pitch black, but Iwashi is reassured, and drops back off in no time.

The next morning, Raidou is the first to wake, gently disentangling himself, and creeping about in the heavy pre-dawn gray. Little by little, the rest of them follow: silently moving into routine. Their weapons have been cleaned and separated, their clothes freshly laundered and folded, and everything left in four evenly arranged piles. They dress, strap on their kit, and leave the room without words. Sleepy and quiet, they pad down unfamiliar hallways, and into the common room. The chef is yawning behind his counter, and two heavily tattooed waiters play cards at the bar. Somewhere in the highest recess of the wooden roof-beams, there's a bird flapping about, Iwashi wonders if it knows it's trapped.

"Four coffees, please," says Raidou. No-one knows why he's whispering.

They hear plates and pots banging in the kitchen, and the chef asks if they want something to eat.

"Nothing too heavy," says Genma, looking around. "We need to move quickly."

They sit by one of the windows, where clean crisp light is just beginning to filter through the mesh; and all at once, they notice that it's stopped raining.

"That's auspicious, don't you think," says Raidou, and he lets out the breath that they've all been holding.

They eat and drink in hurried silence, pay their tab, and troop out into the cold misty dawn. It's only when they've reached the bottom stone step, and the inn is out of view, that Iwashi turns to Genma and says: "I'm not gay, you know."

He's dismissed with a wave, and "no one ever is. I understand."

Iwashi would argue 'I don't think you do understand,' but in retrospect he realizes he shouldn't have started. Pitfalls everywhere he looks, and he keeps right on walking into them, a rabbit eager for the dinner plate.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

They travel for two more days, down into the valley where it's warmer, and the weather's turned more towards early spring. They camp beside colorful shrines and in red-clothed deciduous forests, then reach their target point and go in. Down into the damp stony dark, with no more maps to guide their way, just Genma's sharp ears and chakra detection skills. Nothing there, exactly as Raidou had said, and few clues if any as to where the 'snake bastard's gotten to, or what he's planning.

"He must have a second lair someplace," says Raidou, grimly pulling his kunai from where it'd lodged in a pillar. "We've been over every inch of this stinking toilet. It's utterly deserted."

Iwashi doesn't like it down here. It's bone-snapping cold, and smells of rot. The sooner they get out, he thinks, he'll gladly walk forever and never make a word of complaint. "What about a paper trail. He must have documents buried around here, or--"

"Orochimaru's too smart for that," says Genma, the first to actually speak the name. "Anything he hasn't burned, he's taken with him."

"He's been here, though," says Shizune. "You can feel it too, can't you? Whether it's deserted or not, there's still a bad energy about this place."

"An unhealthy atmosphere," Raidou concurs.

"Agreed," says Genma. "Let's regroup outside and get some sunlight. We'll eat, if we still have our appetites, and discuss where to go next."

"Straight back home, is where I think we should go," Raidou grumbles as they leave. "This whole thing has been a 'cluster-fuck' from the very beginning. You know it has."

It's not until they've reached the surface, until they all process what Raidou had just said, that first Iwashi and then Shizune begins to laugh uncomfortably.

Genma just gives Raidou a peculiar look full of raised eyebrows. "Cluster--"

"All right," says Raidou with a grudging smirk, "I know what I said. Can we please move on?"

"'Cluster-fuck'," Iwashi says appreciatively. "Raidou-san, you speak English?"

Genma laughs, and it's his first real laugh since the hostel. The sound is surprisingly light, almost carefree. "Only the dirty words. He knows 'fuck' in about twelve different languages."

At this, Raidou blushes and mutters some more to himself.

They bivvie up behind some trees, and sit in a semi-circle around their fire, all facing the same wary direction. Having been inside, the feeling of not wanting that place at their backs is mutual. Over fresh picked berries--strange to have something so bright and commonplace growing on the side of this valley--they seriously discuss the merit of Raidou's suggestion.

"I think we're all feeling the same frustration," says Genma. "But we can't be too hasty, in case there's the smallest thing we've overlooked. Let's lay out what we've learned, and what we know at this point." He pauses to finish chewing, then takes a breath. "We know that he's been here recently, perhaps as recently as one week ago, and that he's not alone. We have some names, but mostly all we've got to go on are descriptions. Raidou?"

Raidou nods a brisk affirmative. "Rudimentary research has also revealed some of their habits and abilities. We know that Kabuto has advanced medical training, based on Shizune's report, and based on my observation, the other four are able to create shields."

"What we don't know," says Shizune. "Is how they plan to move, or when. If they've moved on, there's little we can do. If they plan to hit Konoha again--"

"There's little we can do," Iwashi finishes, then his eyes fix on the fire, and his insides turn cold. He's on his feet before he quite knows what he's going to do, but it has the desired effect on everyone else. "We can't jumpt to any conclusions," he gasps. "But I have a very bad feeling all the sudden."

They grab their packs and put out the fire, quickly covering all evidence they'd ever been there, and step back into their own tracks. They're a good distance into the woods when they come upon the shrine they'd camped by that night. "It could take us another week to make it back," says Raidou. "We need to send an advanced warning."

Genma whips a scroll from his vest, and traces a seal, mid-air and mid step. He turns and whips out his arm, "Ninpou summon, one thousand wings!"

Iwashi has two distinct impressions, then: of dozens of something chirping and flapping wildly; and a sudden rippling dappling dance of light and shadows. Birds. More than he can count. A flock of them, so thick they blot out the sun. And as soon as he's seen it, they've darted off into the sky, chittering and chattering like grim death is after them.

Iwashi has to resist the urge to look up again, and keep his eyes ahead for any obstacles as they move. But he has to ask. "What will the birds do?"

"They'll return straight home," says Genma. "They'll make it much faster than we can."

Iwashi feels as if he's flying, himself. His feet barely touching ground before he's airborne again. "That's all?"

Genma nods sharply. "That's enough. It has to be."

When they stop, that night, it's with reluctance. And Genma lies awake in the tent, fretfully staring up at the roof until Iwashi rolls over and looks at him.

"Senpai," he whispers.

"You don't need to tell me," murmurs Genma. "My worrying's starting to get to you too." He's chewing on a skewer, probably the same from that pumpkin several days back. It's been blackened, though, tempered over the fire, perhaps.

"It's not that--"

"It's all right," he mumbles around the stick. "I'd prefer if you be frank with me. We shouldn't have any reason not to trust each other." He blinks slowly, but his eyes flick open again.

Iwashi turns so that he's not talking to Genma's feet, and leans up on his elbow. "Do you ever sleep?"

"Only when I'm exhausted," says Genma. "Yare yare, you know how it is. Your body wants to, but your brain just won't slow down," he sighs, then turns onto his side. "I get most of my best thinking done at night. Some day, I think, I might try and write that novel."

"What, like the Tale of Genji?"

Genma gives a soft grunt of laughter. "Maybe not as popular. I was thinking I'd start small, anyway. Something young people might enjoy reading."

"Oh," says Iwashi. "So, no pornography, then?"

"Maybe pornography when I'm older and have a few more foursomes under my belt."

Iwashi's turn to laugh, and blush hotly when he remembers that night and what they'd done. How out of control he'd felt, and still he'd done it, had wanted to do it. How easily sleep had come, afterwards.

"We could do it again," he says, before he's had time to weigh consequences. "If we're quiet--"

"Would that be fair to them, now?" Genma nods at Raidou and Shizune, huddled shoulder to shoulder and snoring in key. "Besides, you said you weren't gay."

Iwashi settles back down. "Doesn't matter. Forget it." But he can't forget. The idea's in his head, full force, and he knows he won't sleep until he does something about it.

"It's okay," says Genma, lifting the edge of his blanket, and moving to make room. "

They're as quiet as they can be, lying chest to chest with clothing pushed aside just enough, Iwashi with his mouth on Genma's shoulder, legs scissored, hands quick and facile. It doesn't take long, quick rough thrusts, bodies close so they won't disturb too much. Iwashi's surprised they get away with it, actually, his muffled 'mmph' shockingly loud to his own ears. And Genma's whimpering as Iwashi finishes him off, arms twined around his shoulders, nose buried in his hair.

They're as quiet as they can be when they separate, and clean themselves as best they can; and the other two are still mercifully asleep when Iwashi tumbles back onto his own bedroll. He drifts off with Genma's head turned in to rest on him, and there's no word of thanks, or apology. It's matter of fact and matter of convenience, and Iwashi isn't surprised to wake up and find him already gone.

It's early, before sunrise. Not even Raidou is up, and Shizune seems just as inclined to keep on sleeping. But her eyes are open as soon as Iwashi turns out of his bag, and she's looking right at Genma's deserted bedroll. But before she has time to say anything, the tent flap lifts, and there's Genma's face, looking as bored and put-upon as ever.

"What are you all doing?" he asks. "Let's get up and move quickly. Raidou, come on."

Raidou's up before his eyes have even opened, and he's groping groggily for his pack and zori. "I'm coming, I'm coming," he mumbles. "God. If you hadn't kept me up half the night..."

Iwashi's arms go numb, and his insides go cold. He turns in super slow motion, and there's Raidou, giving him a puzzled look. This is it, he thinks. He's going to die. Raidou's going to kill him, and he's going to get away with it, too. It'd be justified. "I--" Iwashi starts, and it comes out a strangled shriek.

"Dear god, chuunin," Raidou sighs. Perfectly exasperated, and not the least bit murderous. "If I were going to kill you, don't you think you'd be dead already?"

"I don't know! Maybe you're the type that likes to wait...bide your time!" Iwashi squawks, scrambling backwards into his zori, and crouching behind the protective bulk of his pack. "I swear, there was no--no--this," he gestures, pinky finger through the ring of his thumb and forefinger. "None of this going on."

Raidou shoves him over with another exasperated sigh, and pats his cheek. "After what went on at the hostel," he says, drolly, "d'you really think I'm the jealous type?" He pats Iwashi's other cheek, then kisses him over closed lips, tugging his beard for good measure. "What happens out here, stays out here, though. Got it?"

Iwashi nods feverishly. He has no time to cry, either from terror or relief.

They've got exactly ten minutes to pack up, and another ten to eat and take care of nature's call. "If you can do both at the same time," says Genma. "Better."

"Don't know why you can't just wake us earlier," Raidou grumbles, choking down his ration cake and bitter coffee.

"You can't afford to skimp on rest," says Genma. He's already eaten and taken care of his own necessities, and is now poring over his map again. "I've decided we're going to take another route back. It's quicker, but there won't be any amenities. We'll also have to ford a few streams, so all of this stuff," he waves at the tent and their packs. "Needs to go away. Make up smaller packs of the barest essentials, and anything else we'll bring out again when we camp."

With that, Genma reaches down the front of his vest and pulls out a fan of thin scrolls, five in all. "Iwashi," he says, in his brusquely calm way. "Come here, I'm going to show you something useful."

One after the other, in quick precise succession, Genma unfurls the scrolls, and lets them fall so the ends meet in a sort of pentagon. "A reverse summon," he says. "To be used only on inanimate objects, and things no longer living." and as he explains all of this, Raidou and Shizune place the folded tents and packs, everything they won't need immediately, right in the center.

"Things no longer living," says Iwashi. "Explain why that is."

"Because space is a vacuum," says Shizune. Then she pantomimes choking. "No air."

Raidou smirks at this, but quickly straightens his demeanor. "It's a slightly different principal than Kuchiyose. Summoned beasts are always rooted to a physical location, like a tree, or a burrow, or a kennel. They just need the proper link to come out."

Genma performs the seals again, too quick to follow this time, and quickly places his hands at the apex of the scroll formation.

The bang is considerably louder than with the birds, an implosion rather than an explosion. It's so forceful, the scrolls furl instantly back in on themselves, and knock into where the center had been. Genma gathers them quickly, like it's a game of pick-up sticks, ties them off, and shoves them back into his vest. "There we are," he says. "I've just opened up a pocket in the universe."

Iwashi blinks and counts back the seals in his head.

"Come on," Raidou says, grabbing at his vest. "Time to practice later."

They march off into unfamiliar parts of the forest, and sooner than expected, out onto a wide pebble strewn stream bank. "It gets deeper towards the middle, so everyone grab the person in front of you. Raidou, wait, you're heaviest. Take the fore, with Shizune behind you, then Iwashi. I'll bring up the rear."

"Got it," says Raidou. "All of you, laugh at what the captain's said _after_ we've crossed."

"Got it!" They all echo, untying their hitai-ate to use as hand-holds, then wading in.

The water is shocking cold, and Iwashi must bite his lip to keep from yelping, because it does indeed get deep towards the middle. Hip deep, to be precise. "Remember what I said, earlier?" Raidou says, voice up an octave, chattering. "Now would be the perfect time to go. Warm us right up."

"I couldn't if I wanted to," says Iwashi, and it's true.

Once on the other bank, laughter is the very last thing on his mind; which is probably just as well. They don't stop long to dry off, either, but keep moving with only the sun at their backs to stave off the cold.

This smoothly integrated machine they've become runs until about noon, before Iwashi senses the mechanism breaking down. They're deep in another part of the forest by then, and according to the map, at least a day or more away from home.

"Three days if we decide to skirt this," says Genma, pointing to what looks like a bridge with its center part missing.

"Let's just cross it, then," says Iwashi.

Raidou coughs into his lunchtime tea, a bemused little choke of laughter. "I take it you've never been this way, then."

"Of course I have. Every summer, a group of us goes swimming near the foot of the falls. They say once you do that, hair'll grown on your chest for sure."

"Yeah, after you're dead," Raidou barks. "It's winter-time. Do you have any idea how bad those rip-currents are?"

"I wasn't suggesting we swim!" Iwashi barks back. "Jesus-christ! We can traverse these rocks, easy. Look--"

"Still too dangerous," says Genma. "They're so slippery right now, you could break your neck or fall in. And we can't rely on our chakra reserves at this point."

"Our best bet would be this crevasse back here," Raidou jabs at the map with a twig, tracing a small green vein running just perpendicular to the falls themselves. "But it's a steep descent. We're already in a hell of a shape."

"It won't be much easier, that's true," says Genma. "But it could mean gaining a day."

"It could also mean breaking an ankle," says Shizune. "That could cost us more time in the end. Whatever happens, we're already as good as too late. The least we can do is arrive with strength to fight."

Raidou frowns at the map, then turns to Genma. "What now, oh fearless? Will it be the path of least resistance, or the path of last resort?"

"The path of least resistance is not always the easiest," Genma says. "We'll descend. I have faith we can make it."

They pick up again, once more a smooth running machine, and near dusk they begin to hear running water again. "Once more with vigor," says Genma. "We have an hour of sun left. Let's do this."

They descend to the stream-bank, hands to trouser loops, and whimper obscenities to one another as they cross. They're soaked to the waists this time, and shivering as Genma summons their equipment. They build and light a fire the fastest they've ever done, so far, and have the tent up in two minutes. When they strip down and roll naked, together beneath their blankets, they do it for warmth. It's far from exciting, and the rubbing stings, but the chill fades quickly. They're all too eager, anyway, to get back into dry clothes; pulling the spare uniforms from their packs, and double wrapping their legs for the extra insulation.

They catch a couple of fish for dinner, and roast them on stakes. Iwashi eats ravenously, then sleeps hard, and does not dream about fighting or flying. He wakes up the next morning, and finds himself sandwiched once again, between Raidou and Shizune. Once more Genma lifts the tent flap and asks them what the hell they're doing. Old as routine, only this time, Iwashi knows the honey-moon's over.

They'll descend the crevasse before mid-day, and reach the bottom in an hour's time. Exhausted and bruised, they will limp across the unmarked border of Konoha and not realize it until they've stopped to eat. No-one will say 'we're home', at that time, even though Iwashi can feel it. And it hurts his heart to be so close, yet still have a ways to go. He wants to walk into the homely administrative building and peek through the many doorways, disrupt his friend's work just long enough to say he's back. He wants to sit down in the lounge for a cup of horrible coffee, even if it means enduring Asuma's second-hand smoke; because that's home to him.

But he knows that might not happen. He might walk into the administrative building, but it'll be straight to Hokage-sama's office. And he may be peaking into doorways, but it'll be to muster fresh troops. He might as well forget about the coffee and the lounge, too, because he may have to help usher the women and children underground again.

"I can't believe it's taken this long," Raidou says, and they all agree in so many words. As stupid as it sounds, and as trite as it sounds. It's as if it needs to be said, regardless.

And Iwashi can't help but feel the sudden lurch and pull, the sense that they're approaching terminal velocity again. The sense that, at the same time they're being pulled, there's something pushing back. It's not his imagination. He opens his mouth to say something, and Genma snaps tense, hushing them.

It's not so long after, that they hear a whisper in the woods, and things are taken out of Iwashi's control. Out of his knowing. While they stand and wait, and say nothing, ten grinding minutes pass. The push is near sickening. It's the same dread Genma had described, that certain feeling that something was about to happen, something he was powerless to avoid.

It's the same horrible crack of dread, with which Genma must have taken matters of fate into his own hands. Taken Raidou with him to meet it head on.

They lie as they must've fallen. Mid-fight. The picture comes together, bit by bit, as they lie them out straight, as they feel for broken vertebrae, feel for life.

There are deep furrows in the ground, scorch marks, and here the white of a tooth lying specked with black dirt. No telling whose it may have been; but there's a clear circular bite-mark on Genma's wrist, and defensive bruises on his palms. Everything is telling. Red creases at the tops of his toes, from where he'd pivoted hard. The cuts on his hands and fingers, mostly from his own weapons, and soot on his cheeks from flame jutsu.

None of these injuries seem severe enough to've left him blue-lipped, and without an ounce of strength, though. It won't be until later, that Iwashi learns his heart is bruised. That a hand had happened to strike his scroll-pouch at just such an angle. And Raidou has blood coming from his ears. His back stiffens ominously as he's rolled over, and his wrists lock. He's vomited at some point, and it's in his nose. Shizune sucks it out, and pinches herself to keep from gagging.

"This is bad," she says. Two or three times, she says this is bad; and she goes from one to the other, working quickly, furiously

She pours chakra into their beaten bodies, and keeps them just one more step away from dying. But it's Iwashi who kisses the life back into Genma when he's stopped breathing a second time. He's forgotten about the building and the woods and about going after the ones who'd done it, because Raidou is now conscious, and crying behind him. It's a damaged sound: gasping, panicked, hysterical. For as long as he lives, Iwashi will hope never to have to hear that sort of cry again.

Shizune stays with Raidou, holds his head immobile, tells him to remain still.

"Genma-san--" From Raidou's perspective, he's just woken up in a furrow of bloody dirt, with Shizune's hand on his forehead. No transition between the time they'd first stopped to rest, and now. No flight, no enemy, no battle. It's all been pummeled out of him, beaten out. "Geh--" It hadn't been a clean fight. There was no art or grace here. No honor. No dignity.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Shizune's asking him, pen-light in her free hand. "Raidou, focus on me. Can you tell me what happened?"

"Something happened," he pants, dazed.

"There was a battle," Shizune tells him, commanding, and near frantic. "You're badly injured. Can you tell me where you are?"

Iwashi hears Raidou whimper, once more incoherent, and there's nothing much else he can do. He's cradling Genma's chin in his hand, ready to breathe for him, again and again, as much as it might take. It's automatic that he might care. He tells himself this, and not just because they'd shared a bedroll. It's automatic, once you've watched someone's eyes roll back like that.

"Hey, you're not gonna die on us," Iwashi murmurs. His chin buckles, but he pays it no mind. The tears run into his mouth and out his nose, and make his fingers slippery. He uses that to wipe the rest of the blood away. "You're strong. You said you were gonna help me study. Remember? Be my sponsor when we get back? You said you were gonna do that."

It seems like forever, but far too soon, the medical team arrives with litters, and someone has to pry Iwashi back.

"It's all right, son," they say. "We can take it from here."

Iwashi picks himself up, because he has to, and makes himself move. He doesn't lose it, entirely, until they're back home, and he's in triage with a blanket round his shoulders. He's just relieved, at that point. Mentally exhausted, is what the iryo-nin says, after briefly checking him over. "You should lie down and rest here. We'll take care of everything."

He's too keyed up, though, for his eyes to stay shut. He sits bunched up on the small visitor's couch, and jumps every time somebody walks past, anxiously belting out: "Can you tell me what's happening, yet? If they're okay?" Four times he does this, before the last party gets fed up and shoves him down. Sets him back like an unruly child.

Then somebody comes and thrusts a hot cup of tea into his hands, and hunkers down beside him. All bushy white hair and avuncular concern, Jiraiya. "Hey there, kiddo. Why so glum?"

"Jiraiya-sensei," he mutters, collecting himself with a force he hadn't thought he'd possessed. "The mission was a shambles. I failed to--"

"Everyone came back alive. That's all that matters." He never explains how he'd happened to be there, nor why. It's only clear he doesn't plan to stay and sit. Pressing matters on his mind, he says, and Iwashi would do best to drink that tea. "Good for you. It'll put hair on your chest for sure!"

Iwashi never finishes his tea. He gets half of it down, curiously sweet, then falls asleep right where he's sitting. He wakes hours later, well after dark. It doesn't take a second before he's lurched to his feet, and careened off in search of Shizune. He practically barrels into Tsunade-sama as they each turn a corner, and though he would've come out the worst for it, Iwashi scrapes and apologizes profusely.

"It's all right," says Tsunade-sama, taking him by the shoulders. "They should be waking up about now. Come with me."

True to her word, Raidou and Genma have both come groggily to, and there's a sudden rush to keep them from bolting up in bed to see one another.

"Ora, ora," Tsunade exclaims, gently pressing Genma back into his pillows. "All of that careful work I've just done, you're so eager to undo it?"

"Raidou," Genma demands.

Iwashi is a little less successful on his end. Even at half-strength, Raidou will have his way. He sits up, and all Iwashi can do is lend his support.

Raidou smiles wanly. "Right here...boss..."

"Tsunade-sama," Genma whimpers. "Help me."

"Still don't know the word 'please'," she comments wryly, but helps him up all the same.

Genma lets out an inarticulate choke, and tries damn hard to maintain his dignity; which only makes things worse. Tears squeeze from the corners of his eyes, and slip into his mouth. He sputters them out and moans "Raidou."

"I thought it would be unduly cruel to separate you two," Tsunade says. "It seems you have quite a history together."

It's at this point that Genma dissolves. Goes right to pieces.

Raidou is happy as a peach, and grinning his slightly embarrassed grin, while Genma sobs across from him. "Would you look at this guy," Raidou says with gentle amazement. "Beat the hell out of him, he doesn't bat an eye. Do something nice for him, he loses it."

"It's you," Genma slurs. "You almost died for me, and now you're here." He's laughing and crying at the same time, now, shaking over his knees. "It's all my fault."

"We did what we had to do," says Raidou. "I won't hear of you blaming yourself. You got that?"

Genma nods, shamed, and sniffs that he'd like a tissue now, thank you.

Tsunade-sama hands him the whole box, and he comes close to dissolving again. Iwashi doesn't say anything, and he doesn't look away, because he's been here. He'd had much less reason. His attachment is nothing, now. He's been but a puppy nipping at Genma's heels, lapping away at his face while much-bigger-dog-Raidou has sat by and tolerated it. And that's life, he supposes. The practical reality has always been to seek comfort when it's there, but not to expect it as given, ever. He's had his moment, and he's done crying.

As for Shizune, she's still waiting for her moment when they bring in the four genin; and then she'll barely have time to lean back and wipe away her own sweat. Her moment may never come, after that, and she'll explain it all away. "Because I'm a kunoichi," she says. "I can't afford to cry. I have to be twice as strong, and twice as hard as a man to prove myself. That's the reality."

"Then I'll cry extra for you, tonight," Iwashi says, and leaves her to her work.

It's started to rain again, sudden and soaking, when Iwashi returns to Raidou and Genma's room. The sky outside their window is black, and the damp is trying to come in. Iwashi pulls a chair up to Genma's bedside, where Raidou has already pulled up a wheel-chair; they stare at the empty bed-tray, and make brief overtures about playing Mah Jong.

Iwashi frowns at the edge of the empty table. "Tsunade-sama says gambling is strictly off-limits here."

Genma folds his arms, then unfolds them with a wince. Despite Shizune's, and Tsunade-sama's treatment, it may be weeks, months even, before he's fully recovered. "It's not gambling if we only have three," he says.

Raidou laughs a ragged laugh, "No, it's a sure-thing."

Genma ticks and screws up his lip. "It's not even a game. I've told you, you need no less than four. North, East, South, West. Four walls to make a fortress."

"And only one to make a racket," Shizune snorts from the doorway. "If you're well enough to cause a disturbance, Genma, why am I even here?"

"To bring me food," says Genma, the answer perfectly obvious, as far as he's concerned.

Shizune smiles wearily and walks right up to the window, where they all get a good look at how pale she is. How drawn. "No more, tonight," she says, leaning out to tug it closed. "We can't have you turning orange, now, can we?"

"I'd look better than you do, in any case," says Genma. "What's happening out there?"

"You don't need to concern yourself. They're all back, and they'll all live."

Iwashi shifts in his chair, and more and more he's starting to feel it. The tiredness, the heaviness. "The enemy, too?"

Shizune stops and stands where she is, tottering a bit before she regains her balance. "They were just children," she says.

"In this world," Genma reminds her, "that don't amount to a whole lot."

Shizune hisses, and frowns hard at the rain outside. "I just had my hand inside a girl's chest. I held her heart in my palm, and felt it stop beating. After today, you tell me how much it amounts. Tell me you still have the nerve to stand inside a ring and watch children stab each-other, Genma. Tell me you can send little boys off to die before their bones have finished growing, and still live with yourself. Call them enemies, call them genin, they're still just babies. Too young."

"Oi, you want to know why I don't sleep at night," Genma's raised his voice, now. He's shouting. First time he's done so, in earnest, in all this time. "You want to know why I worry so much. Fucking children, that's why. This whole village is relying on children to fight, because our adults are dying faster than we can keep up. If they're not dying, they're leaving. It makes me sick. But what can you expect _me_ to do?"

"Even you talk of leaving," Shizune replies, bitterly.

"But unlike you," Genma snarls. "I'm not abandoning anything."

Shizune flinches.

"Genma," says Raidou. "That's enough. Please."

Genma sinks back, now a good deal paler, and frowning.

"I'm sorry," Shizune says. "That wasn't fair of me. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Genma answers weakly, but the sting hasn't left his voice. "Damn. This is why I never yell. 'S exhausting."

"That's why you've got me to yell for you," says Raidou. "Admit I'm the best, go on."

Genma hems and pouts, then grudgingly admits "you're the best."

Shizune sighs, and smiles wanly at Genma's blanket covered hip. "You know, we're all getting disability pay for this. Perhaps we should pool it together, and buy ourselves a home away from here."

"After all that...you don't mean it," says Iwashi.

"No," she says. "I love Konoha, and I love Tsunade-sama. That's why it hurts so much."

It rains for five days straight.

Rains steadily, drearily, and heavily; slack, pouring streams of vomit from the heavens. It's Saturday night, lights out over most of the village, and lights out in their hospital room, when the rain finally stops. Iwashi is back again, as he has been every night, and he's the first to notice the hush. He's sitting on the warm radiator, with the cold window at his back, when he sees the room's taken on a curious mauve tinge.

The sky outside is mauve, a deep bruised mauve. It could be, he thinks, that the world's about to end. There are snowflakes falling, and not the disappointing wet plops he's always seen, but crisp buoyant flakes that drift gently in the crook of the sill outside, and make whisking noises against the pane.

Iwashi puts his fingertips on the glass and says: "do you hear that?"

Genma turns his head towards the window, "It'd better be fucking snowing, Iwashi," he says. "I don't need another heart attack."

Raidou snorts in his sleep, then rolls over.

"It is," Iwashi whispers, wiping the glass where his breath has fogged it. "It's really snowing." He slips from his perch and turns for a better vantage, and hears familiar footsteps out in the hall.

Shizune, again. "It's eight o'clock," she says, voice hushed. "Iwashi-kun, I've bent the rules for you a considerable amount--"

"Oi, come look," Genma interrupts. He's gotten creakily out of bed, and grabbed onto Iwashi's shoulder for support. "It's snowing."

Shizune rubs her eyes with chapped hands, and stifles a yawn. "You're not screwing with me, are you?"

Raidou rolls over again; but this time, he's awake. "Again, this is happening?" He mumbles, just shy of coherence.

"It's just snow," says Genma. "Go back to sleep, dummy."

The next morning, they will wake up to find great blankets of white outside their window. A vast expanse of snow, so painfully crisp, but so perfectly soft looking as not to be believed. Iwashi will crawl out of bed with bleary eyes, and dress in his warmest uniform; stockings instead of wrappings, and boots instead of zori. He will eat a hot breakfast, then take his steaming coffee mug out onto the front walk, dusted and drifted white over gray. The heat and cold will nip at his fingertips, but he'll stay out as long as he can. He will look out where the snow is thickest, out over the hills, and imagine himself flopping backwards to lie down in it. He will pull the woolen white around him like a comforter, and the silence will be a pillow for his head. He will not sleep, but lie awake forever and watch the winds drift by.

Just before turning to go back inside, he'll stoop down and gather a sharp, wet handful. Not quite the right consistency, yet, but it's something real. He holds on to it until it melts away and leaves his fingertips white, and tries not to think about what the day might bring.

~*owari ka?*~