Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Smut, pining, angst, guilt, past canon character death, lots of headcanon, etc.

Word Count: ~5600

Pairings: Kakashi/Genma

Summary: Legacies, Genma thinks wryly, must be the heaviest thing in the known universe. Especially the failed ones.

Disclaimer: Hah. I want some of whatever Kishimoto was smoking, but Naruto's not mine.

Notes: This was inspired by KAKASHI'S FACE, and also my desire to explore Genma learning the Hiraishin in a way I wasn't able to in There's beauty in the breakdown. Mostly because that's family fluff without many redeeming features, and I kind of wanted to write a slightly darker version of Konoha and its characters, especially Minato. Loud and fluffy shinobi are nice, but deadly assassins with no remorse to speak of are interesting too.

(The title comes from Spark by Fitz and the Tantrums. If you want this fic's soundtrack, it's pretty much their More Than Just a Dream album.)

Our Hearts Are Dynamite

Chapter 1

Genma wakes when the bed shifts, ears instantly catching the faint whisper of cloth against skin and bare feet just touching the floor. He muffles a snort in the pillow under his head and rolls over, hearing the other man freeze.

"Sneaking out the window? That's classy."

Kakashi eyes him like he's a particularly poisonous species of snake that may or may not try to bite, caught in the act of pulling on his pants. "…I was assuming you wouldn't want me to stay."

Settling onto his back, Genma brushes his hair out of his eyes and raises a brow. "Why?"

Kakashi's face—bare, and goddamn but Genma now understands why he keep it covered, because otherwise he'd cause accidents just walking down the street—doesn't move, but his brows furrow slightly. It's a look Genma's seen before; he calls it the 'why must you have emotions and therefore be confusing' expression. "Genma, we're…friends."

"True." Vaguely. Mostly because of Gai, and their time in ANBU. Kakashi may have left the organization, but he was still there more than long enough for it to leave a mark.

"I was drunk last night," Kakashi says very plainly, when he seems to realize Genma isn't following his train of thought. "We both were. I'm…sorry."

Those two little words feel like stone condensing in Genma's stomach, souring even the early morning sunlight falling through the window. Not unexpected, he tells himself firmly, and long practice keeps his expression from showing anything. Not even Copy-Nin Kakashi can see through his mask—he's had more than enough experience hiding things from this man in particular to know that.

"So that's a no to morning sex, then?" he asks, and gives a dramatically wistful sigh. "Damn, and I had such high hopes, too."

Kakashi still looks faintly wary, but the line of his shoulders isn't ruler-straight anymore, and his expression is shading back into the lazily amused lines Genma is familiar with. "Even though we're not drunk anymore?"

Genma favors him with his most inviting smile, stretching his arms over his head and arching his spine in a long, slow stretch that he knows shows off his muscles to their best advantage. "More fun this way, isn't it? Now I can be sure you'll remember it, een if last night is fuzzy."

A grey eye slides down his torso, to the very edge of the clinging sheet wrapped around his hips. Kakashi hesitates, wavers, and then lets his pants drop back to the floor as he turns and slides back onto the bed. "You're going to make me late," he lies shamelessly, as though he wouldn't spend hours loitering near the Memorial anyway. "I'm supposed to meet my new team in a few hours."

Those poor genin, Genma almost says, but he wasn't that drunk last night. It doesn't take a shinobi to figure out just why Kakashi was drinking himself under the table with a vengeance. Genma understands trying to drown out the bad memories, and he can't imagine how Kakashi must feel, ending up on a team with Minato's son and Itachi's little brother.

"A few hours is plenty of time," he says instead as Kakashi lowers himself on top of him. He slides his hands up Kakashi's leanly muscled sides, too firm to be a tickle, and tilts his head back as Kakashi leans in for a kiss. It's light but intent, a tease as much as the fingers tracing over his hips, and Genma hums in appreciation. He loves kissing, would be more than happy to spend hours doing just that, and Kakashi is particularly good at it.

The Copy-Nin chuckles quietly, catching Genma's lower lip between his sharp teeth. Genma hums, and when Kakashi lets go he slides his tongue over the indents of the other man's teeth, watching Kakashi's eyes follow the motion. That mismatched gaze flickers up to meet Genma's and Kakashi smiles impishly. "Plenty of time? That's not very ambitious of you, Genma."

"Hey, I'll take what I can get," Genma protests, and it sounds joking, but the truth of the words hits him low in the gut like a knife. To distract himself, he drapes an arm over Kakashi's shoulders, pulling him in again. There's a kiss, too brief for Genma's taste, and then Kakashi is sliding down, nipping along the line of Genma's throat. Genma's breath stutters, each scrape of teeth and press of lips making heat curl through his blood, and he tips his head back to give Kakashi more room to work.

"Like that?" Kakashi murmurs teasingly against his skin, and then sucks hard enough that it will definitely leave a mark.

It's maybe possible that Genma whimpers.

"Fuck yes," he manages when he can gather up enough brain cells to speak. "I fucking love your mouth."

Again, too close to truth for comfort, but Kakashi doesn't notice, too busy leaving a trail of marks across Genma's collarbone and down his chest. He pauses at a nipple, humming thoughtfully, and then drags the flat of his tongue over it. Genma groans, twisting his fingers into flyaway silver hair made even messier by their tumble last night, and then gets a leg over Kakashi's and tries to tug him closer.

"You're a tease, Hatake," he accuses, laughing a little. "And if you keep that up, I'm going to be more hickey than skin."

A grey eye slits open, eyeing him speculatively. "Are you complaining?" Kakashi asks, and his hands slide up the insides of Genma's thighs, caressing gently. Genma's nerves are already strung too tight, though, and it makes him gasp, head falling back and eyes closing as he tries not to jerk under the touch. With a huff of amusement, Kakashi turns his ghosting fingers into a tight grip, urging Genma's legs apart so he can settle between them. "I'll take that as a no."

This time Genma really does laugh, even though it's breathless. He shifts, spreading his legs to give Kakashi more room, and groans at the feeling of the other man slowly rocking against him. He's hard, they both are, and part of him is surprised after everything they managed last night. The rest just wants more. "'Course not," he says, and breaks off into a grunt as Kakashi gives his erection a teasing brush of fingers. "Mark me up all you want. Not like I want to hide that I landed a sexy bastard like you."

Kakashi smiles, and he's so goddamn pretty it fucking hurts. Speculation about what's underneath his mask is one thing that's pretty much always circulating through the village grapevine, but Genma has never really cared to chip in beyond a few attempts to lead newly promoted chuunin astray with wild stories of secret bloodlines or hideous scars. Now, though, he knows no one would believe him even if he did want to go spreading tales. Kakashi's just too handsome.

"I'll take you up on that, Genma," he says, and sharp teeth—like an Inuzuka, Genma thinks dazedly, with the part of his brain that hasn't turned to mush—bite down on the curve where neck meets shoulder. The bright bold spark of pain is so close to pleasure that Genma can't bite back a loud cry. He arches up, grabbing for Kakashi on instinct, and the world blurs out in brilliant white for a moment. At the same time, callused fingers slide over his cock, down his perineum, and brush lightly across his hole.

Genma groans, breathless and too caught up to hold himself back, and pushes down to get those fingers inside of him again. They'd both taken turns topping last night, but this is just about Genma's favorite position, and he's more than happy to try for another round, no matter how sore it will leave him.

"Like that?" Kakashi asks, somewhere between amused and breathless.

"Uh-huh," Genma manages, and gives his shoulders an impatient tug. "We gonna get around to the main event before I'm old and grey?"

Kakashi slides two fingers into him without warning, and says mildly, "Hey."

Genma can't be bothered to think of a comeback, too busy pressing back into the stretch and twist with a throaty groan. There's another nip at his throat, then one on the underside of his jaw, and Kakashi drags his lips over both before leaning up to catch his mouth again. It's a lot more heated than the last, messy and deep, and Genma doesn't even have time to think before those clever fingers are sliding out again. He whines, wanting them back, and Kakashi makes a quiet, breathless sound, hands sweeping almost urgently over the mattress.

It takes a second to realize what he's looking for, but as soon as he does, Genma reaches out, too, grabbing up the bottle of lube from where they'd discarded it last night. He dumps some out on his fingers, then reaches down to get a handful of Kakashi's hard cock. The man jolts forward with a stuttering gasp, thrusting into his touch, and Genma strokes him hard, covering his cock in as much slick as he can before flopping back again. He hooks a leg around the backs of Kakashi's thighs, urging him forward, and Kakashi gets a hand on himself and sinks forward with a groan.

The stretch is hard and fast and almost painful, everything Genma wants, and his breath stutters to a halt in his lungs as he closes his eyes, unable to make so much as a sound. Kakashi bottoms out, hips smacking against his ass, and freezes over him, breathing hard. He's trembling, a fine tremor shaking his body, and when Genma manages to open his eyes again his gaze is fixed on Genma's face. Both eyes, and maybe someone else would find the lazily spinning Sharingan creepy, or a turn-off, but Genma knows what it means. Kakashi is going to remember this, wants to remember this, and that's more than enough for him.

"'M good," he gets out, and the words are thick and clumsy in his mouth.

"You are," Kakashi agrees, smiling again. His eyes crinkle, grey and black-red both warm, and Genma wants to kiss the beauty mark beneath his lip. So he does, because he's not going to get another chance, hooks an arm around Kakashi's neck and buries the other in his hair. He leans up as much as he can with Kakashi's weight on him, kissing across Kakashi's jaw, kissing the mole, laying soft, careful kisses all the way up to the scar that cost him his original eye. Kakashi makes a quiet sound that's definitely not a laugh, but isn't a protest either, and braces himself with his elbows on either side of Genma's head. He kisses him again, slow and thorough, and shifts his hips in a careful, rolling thrust.

The cry that leaves Genma's throat is too loud for the thin walls of his apartment. His asshole neighbor will probably complain, but it's worth it for the slick slide, the press of Kakashi inside him. Each push and retreat sparks across his nerves, adds heat to the fire that's curling up his spine, and Genma can't stop the sounds that spill out into the air. He gets a hand on the headboard to stop himself from sliding and pushes back into each hard thrust. The tension in him winds higher and tighter, arcs through him like lightning, and when Kakashi drops his head onto Genma's shoulder the heat of his breath alone nearly makes him come undone. He gets his legs up around Kakashi's sides, his free hand in the sheet, and rides each hitch of Kakashi's body. It's smooth and heavy and so unbearably hot, whiting out his thoughts and turning his muscles to water, and even though Kakashi's thrusts are hard they're steady, drawing it out until Genma is almost mindless with the desire to come.

Teeth brush his skin, then lips, then teeth again. Kakashi nips hard, almost drawing blood, and Genma's rhythm stutters. He loses his breath on a fractured cry, and the next thrust sends pleasure splintering behind his eyelids. There's a fumbled touch, a brush, and then Kakashi has a hand around him, jerking almost roughly. It's too much, and Genma feels his muscles lock, a moan of Kakashi's name caught in his mouth as the coil snaps. He comes, hard and sudden enough to leave him gasping, and Kakashi fucks him through it, thrusts desperate. The aftershocks leave Genma almost too sensitive, put the sensation on the very edge of too much, and he loves it. Liquid muscles don't want to work, but he tightens his legs around Kakashi anyway, urges him on, and finds enough words to breathe, "Come on, come on, fuck me. Gods, feels so good. Come on."

Kakashi makes a low, almost wounded noise and shoves forward, bottoming out. Genma gasps at the forces of it, a whine breaking free, and Kakashi shudders, almost collapsing on top of him. His hips hitch once, twice, three times more before he stills, breathing hard and shaking a little. Genma tips his head back on the pillow, letting his eyes flutter shut, and curls a hand around the back of Kakashi's head, threading his fingers through soft silver hair. There's no use in pretending, no way to fool himself, but this is…nice. Kakashi is a solid, undeniable weight on top of him, is still softening inside of him, and Genma breathes out, feeling it tremble.

After a long moment, Kakashi finally lifts his head, running a thumb over the bite on Genma's collarbone. He presses his forehead to Genma's sternum for a moment, clearly getting his breathing back under control, and then slides back, pulling out. Genma bites back a soft cry, trapping it behind his teeth, and takes a moment to adjust to the empty feeling before he pushes himself up on one elbow. Kakashi is watching him, and the wary look is creeping back into his eyes as he kneels in the middle of the bed.

"Shower's one door down on your left," Genma offers, just before his muscles decide they've had enough for the moment and he falls back onto the mattress, just letting himself bask.

The bed shifts, cloth rustling, and Kakashi steps away. He picks up his pants, then his mask and shirt, and heads for the door. "Thanks," he says offhandedly, with a vague wave, and it could be for letting him use the bathroom or for the fuck, Genma's not quite sure.

Honestly, he would really rather not know.

"Sure," he answers, even though Kakashi is already gone, and then sighs, tossing an arm over his eyes and indulging in a few seconds of moroseness.

One night. Gods, what the fuck was he thinking?

But no. No, it was a good night, and a better morning, and Genma feels amazing as long as he can forget the sensation like rocks in his stomach. He can, because this was good, and he's actually kind of happy.

With that thought firmly in mind, he drags himself out of bed, wincing a little when he straightens too fast, then wipes himself down with a corner of the stained sheet and digs a pair of loose lounge pants out of the dresser. It's his day off from regular duties, his ANBU squad is off rotation at the moment, and he just had some of the best sex of his life. He's earned a lazy morning that he intends to take full advantage of.

Coffee is the first order of the day. Genma isn't sure if Kakashi is a breakfast person, but if he is, he's out of luck. Genma's fridge contains one box of moldy take-out, a withered orange, and a bunch of suspiciously un-wilted spinach Aoba gave him, probably just to fuck with him since he knows it's the one vegetable Genma can't stand. Genma closes the door before he can let out all the cold air, reluctantly concluding that he maybe has spent slightly too much time on missions and in the ANBU barracks recently, and instead pulls two mugs off the shelf. They're dusty, but it's nothing a quick rinse can't fix, and by the time he has them dry the coffee is done and Kakashi is just stepping into the kitchen, fully dressed but with his mask down.

"I hope you don't want cream or anything," Genma says with amusement, offering him one of the mugs. "I think I need to go shopping."

But Kakashi's uncovered eye isn't on him; it's fixed on the kitchen table, where Genma discarded his gear when he staggered back into his apartment yesterday morning. Genma blinks, glancing back as well, and—

Oh.

There are four Hiraishin kunai neatly laid out on the tablecloth, lined up and waiting for Genma's attention. They're not Minato's—the ones he gave Genma back when he first taught Iwashi, Raidou, and Genma his famous jutsu are in Genma's bedroom, tucked away in a safe place. But he's gotten good at recreating them through trial and error, and he carries those just because.

Kakashi takes a step past him, oblivious to his presence, and touches the seal on the handle. "That's not Minato-sensei's handwriting," he says quietly.

"Nope, mine," Genma confirms, leaning back against the counter and cradling his coffee between his hands. He doesn't raise his head, but lets his eyes linger on Kakashi anyway, watching him trace the smaller prongs of the kunai almost absently. Genma would be fooled, but he knows all too well how much of an impact Namikaze Minato had on those around him, and on Kakashi in particular. When he died, Kakashi might as well have lost a second father. And after the way Sakumo died—

Genma remembers the weeks and months after the White Fang's suicide. He remembers Kakashi, a kid with a heart too big for him and more sass than should fit into a kid that small, turning into an automaton focused on nothing but rules and orders. It was just…really, really sad.

He'll never be grateful for Obito's death, because Obito was at least an acquaintance, if not a friend. But whatever Obito did, whatever he said that managed to break through Kakashi's shell—for that Genma is grateful. Even if Kakashi broke afterwards, it let him rebuild himself. It wasn't the end of him.

(Rin almost was, but Genma tries not to think too much about Rin.)

"You can use the Hiraishin?" Kakashi asks, an edge of something Genma can't place in his tone, and it makes him blink.

"You can't?" he asks with some surprise. "But Minato taught you the Rasengan, didn't he?" Kakashi doesn't answer, but Genma takes that as confirmation regardless. "Yeah, he taught me, Raidou, and Iwashi, though we have to work together to use it. Wanted us to be able to keep up with him if he had to."

"I'd forgotten you were on his guard," Kakashi says, and that's absent, too. It hurts, though Genma is able to hide it. Too long spent watching Kakashi's every move, looking for any sort of attention or tell, and that makes it easy to forget that Genma is the only one watching.

He pushes the thought—and the spike of pain—down as much as he can, focuses instead on the words, and shrugs a little. For all the good it did, he wants to say, but keeps the words trapped behind his teeth. Shiranui Genma is an easygoing joker, levelheaded and loyal to Konoha above all else; no one else needs to see the bitterness and the helpless anger he keeps locked away inside. It's better for everyone that way.

"I was," is all he says.

Kakashi hums. "Twelve years is a long time to carry these around," he offers. "Especially if you can't use the technique alone."

That stings just as much as being forgotten, and the worst part is Genma can't tell if Kakashi is doing it on purpose. He wouldn't think so, but Minato is a touchy subject with Kakashi, and given who's on the genin team he has to meet in a few hours, those wounds are probably closer to the surface than normal right now.

Still, it's been years since Genma last lost his temper, and he's not about to let Kakashi break his cool. "Maybe," he allows, watching the reflection of the overhead light in his coffee cup. "But Minato was the best of the best. Feels sacrilegious to just hang 'em on the wall as ornaments."

Minato was a wise, kind, benevolent Hokage. He was also one of the deadliest shinobi Konoha ever produced. Genma might have still been a chuunin during the war, but he remembers the aftermath of those battles. A thousand Iwa shinobi dead in a single afternoon, and Minato had still smiled at the messenger that came to deliver his next set of orders. That was the moment Genma knew he wanted to be close to the man, either as a student, a teammate, or a guard. He'd caught Minato changing, leaving his blood-soaked uniform behind to be burned, but his smile had still been so bright and welcoming.

Genma likes puzzles, likes people who are puzzles even more. Minato was one, more than most people. Take a remorseless assassin capable of devastating the enemy in a single battle, flip a switch, and suddenly he's the older brother you never had, the happy, slightly ditzy friend you've always wanted. Genma always found it fascinating.

He comes from a family infamous for its assassins. His sister, his mother, his aunts, his grandmother—all of them wore their hitai-ate just as he does, tied backwards and inside-out to hide the plate. To hide their allegiance, because the Shiranui Clan has always had a reputation for taking any job as long as the price is right. The Shodaime welcoming them into Konoha didn't change that; it just gave them a reason besides the money, a place to devote themselves to. And Genma always knew, growing up, just what his mother and sister did, what they were. They were kind, happy, cheerful people, and as soon as a mission came in they were cold, calculating killers. Genma finds the dichotomy amusing, though that's likely his strain of black humor showing through.

He's always gotten a huge kick out of seeing the new ANBU recruits when they tag along on an assassination. Afterwards they look at him like he's the most dangerous monster they've ever see, grinning and joking even as he wipes the blood off his hands, and it takes everything in Genma not to laugh in their faces.

It's a job, it's his duty, it's a way of life. Anyone outside of the village isn't one of them, and that means they're fair game. Those who betray the village, those who seek to harm it, those who overlook what's best for it—Genma doesn't care about them, and they might as well be dirt beneath his feet. Minato didn't care, either, and it was the first time Genma had met someone outside of his family who could flip that switch and jump between friend and killer so easily.

Maybe that was one of the reasons Genma loved him so much.

When he lifts his gaze again, Kakashi is watching him, careful and a little assessing. Then that look is buried, covered up by lazy amusement. "Doesn't suit your interior decorating scheme?" he asks lightly, and steps away from the table.

Genma's more than happy to change the subject. He chuckles, flicking a glance around his sparse, open apartment and plain beige walls, and offers Kakashi a crooked grin. "Well, yeah. Already crowded enough in here, right? Clutter drives me nuts."

Kakashi hums in mock-serious agreement, pulling open Genma's fridge to check the interior. He pauses, assessing, and then offers, "Spinach salad with orange?"

Genma makes a face. "Help yourself. I'll stick with coffee."

"Ah, but breakfast is the most important meal of the day," Kakashi informs him gravely. "You should eat what's available, Genma. I think I felt ribs earlier."

With a snort, Genma lifts his cup, then takes a pointed sip. "Coffee improves brain function," he retorts, because he's had this argument with Raidō more times than he can count. "Makes you smarter."

"Smart enough to know that you shouldn't skip breakfast?" Kakashi asks mildly, but his gaze is amused. Genma rolls his eyes, though he can't fight a smile.

"Don't you have a genin team to torture, if you're done picking on my eating habits?" he asks.

Kakashi glances at the clock. "Oops," he says without a hint of shame. "It looks like I'm an hour late for our meeting. You distracted me, Genma."

Genma laughs at that boldfaced lie, because if they hadn't entertained themselves in bed, Kakashi would have just spent the time standing in front of the memorial, talking to ghosts. As it is, he'll probably make his team wait another hour at least while he does just that. "I don't recall tying you to the bed, Kakashi, fun as it would have been."

"Vile tempter," Kakashi tells him solemnly, though his eye is crinkling as he pulls up his mask.

"Yeah," Genma says dryly. "I'm a terrible influence. Look at that, I broke your running streak of perfect punctuality. For shame."

Kakashi beams at him, touches two fingers to his brow in lazy salute, and then heads for the window. Genma watches him go, and doesn't bother telling him that the door is unlocked. He already knows Kakashi won't use it anyway.

With his departure, the silence settles in. Genma studies his mug for a moment, then sighs and sets it down. He picks up Kakashi's untouched cup and pours it back into the carafe, figuring he may as well not let it go to waste. Standing in the kitchen feels strangely lonely, so he collects the pot and his mug and heads for the table, sinking into his favorite chair and wincing a little at the ache that slides up his spine.

I'm…sorry.

Not something you ever want to hear from the man you're in love with, Genma thinks a little wryly, brushing his fringe out of his eyes. It's getting long, but since his hitai-ate holds it back, it's nothing urgent.

Still. It's not as though he expected anything different. He was more than a little tipsy last night, and Kakashi was definitely well on his way to plastered. Accepting the Copy-Nin's pass at him seemed like a good idea at the time, and Raidō hadn't been there to stop him the way he usually was. What few bits of sense he had been able to cobble together had informed him very clearly that this was not a good way to go about things, but…

He'd had a hope, maybe. Just a thought that he could get Kakashi to see him as something other than Gai's genin teammate, an acquaintance from ANBU, Minato's old bodyguard. Not that he had to worry about that last one, apparently. Not that he had to worry about any of it, because Kakashi traded all of those labels for "one-night stand", and that's arguably even worse.

Nothing was ever going to come of it, and Genma's known that right from the beginning. Kakashi doesn't form romantic attachments. In fact, Genma's never seen him keep a partner for more than a night. It was hardly a slight against Genma as a person, just…Kakashi being Kakashi.

That doesn't mean it hurts any less, though.

Almost despite himself, Genma picks up one of the Hiraishin kunai by the blade, flipping it over with a twist of his wrist and catching the marked hilt as it drops. It's perfectly clean, polished to a bright shine, with an edge Genma hones almost compulsively every time he checks his weapons.

Twelve years is a long time to carry these around. Especially if you can't use the technique alone.

Genma's done it maybe three times, all together. By the time he was Minato's bodyguard, the war was over. There honestly wasn't that much guarding to do, and for the most part Minato was more than able to defend himself against anything less than a bijuu. The Guard Platoon was there because it was expected, because someone had to watch for the assassination attempts from the shadows, and who better to do that than the village's best assassins? And even then, there weren't a lot. Minato was a dangerous man, with a lot of power behind him both political and personal, and not many people were stupid enough to challenge him. He was more likely to use his Flying Thunder God jutsu to jump to wherever Kushina was than to escape mortal danger.

He taught his three main guards, and made sure they understood the mechanics and the execution, but…Genma has never really used the technique. Raidō and Iwashi are both relative powerhouses, after all, with large chakra reserves and lots of practice, and they both attempted it on their own and failed miserably. Genma simply didn't bother; the Hiraishin is a memory from Minato, a way to protect the Hokage if he ever ends up back on the Platoon, but it's not his technique.

Twelve years is a long time to carry these around. Especially if you can't use the technique alone.

It really is, isn't it? Twelve years clinging to a ghost, with nothing but a few metric tonnes of regret to show for it.

Genma flips the kunai again, watching it spin three times in the air before it drops into his hand. Another toss, another three spins, a catch. It's heavy, and he's always surprised by the weight of it. Maybe he shouldn't be.

This is stupid. He's being morose because he's pining, and if Anko notices she'll never let him live it down.

Still. Still. Kakashi's words are like a needle trapped beneath his skin, sharp and painful and impossible to forget. He probably didn't mean anything by them, the same way he meant absolutely nothing when he winked at Genma and invited him to sit in his lap last night. The same way he meant nothing when he apologized for last night, for them both being varying levels of drunk, or when he left so casually.

Damn it. Damn it.

A hard flip of his wrist, and the Hiraishin kunai slams down, embedding itself in the table in front of Genma. He stares at the quivering blade for a long moment, evening out his breath on instinct, controlling his response, shutting away the tells. Only a handful of times in his life has he actually lost his composure, and this isn't going to be one of them. Not over something that should be a good memory, a proud legacy left to him by a man who was the first father figure he ever had.

Listen, Gen. Breathe in, breathe out. Focus, and let everything but the rhythm slide away. Don't push the emotion down, let it go. Banish it, set it aside, because it's not important. Look at the directions you can move.

Decide.

Funny, how his mother's mantra for dealing with an assassination mission works so well for other things, too.

Absolutely hilarious, Genma thinks, and picks up his gear.