#sunscare

kakashi's closet is their current hiding place of choice. he opens the door— presumably to grab a shirt— and there they are, seated with their back to the wall and their knees drawn to their chest. yasu looks up at him, blinking twice before wiggling their fingers in a little wave. "hello."

Kakashi's hair is damp from the shower. He peers down at Yasu with a wrinkle of sleepy confusion in his brows, because when he'd gotten into the shower a little bit ago, there hadn't been anyone else in his apartment. When he'd gotten out, he'd felt the soft, familiar breeze of Yasu's chakra, smelled the bite of disinfectant and refrigerated decay, but... well, he kind of thought they might be lingering in his kitchen, or on his couch.

He's glad he'd kept his towel around his waist, even if they're getting up close and personal with his abs.

"Uh," he says, instead of asking aloud when the hell his apartment became a halfway house for rebellious little shinobi, brainwashed or otherwise. "Hey, Yasu."

Reaching over their head, he decides to forgo the uniform. He is not leaving the fucking apartment today, he can wear a sweatshirt and sweatpants and sleep all day if he wants to. Yasu is even welcome to join him, if he can coax them out of the closet.

He debates closing the door in their face to dress himself, but figures it's his goddamn apartment, and he isn't exactly body shy. Yasu can look or look away, he hasn't been awake for more than an hour and therefore can't be burdened to care. Once he has a pair of pants on, though, he sits on the bed and fusses with his sweatshirt for a moment, squinting blearily at Yasu with one eye.

"Hey," Kakashi calls for their attention once more. "Do you want breakfast?"

they've been staring at the ceiling fan for fifteen minutes now. "tenzo," they say, but it sounds like they're underwater, and they blink heavily against the... heaviness in their face. "tenzo, i think i'm starting to feel it. should i be concerned?"

Above them, the ceiling fan turns, turns, turns, and turns. Tenzo has watched the ceiling fan make forty seven lazy, useless loops in the last seven minutes. The motor is going out, but his landlord won't fix it until it goes out for real. That just means it's hotter than a furnace in his apartment, but Yasu doesn't seem to mind, curled up against his side with their leg thrown over his thighs and their limp, loose limbs otherwise arranged akimbo. Tenzo doesn't really mind, either. The heat makes his muscles feel loose, like he can grow from it, and the edible they'd split an hour ago makes him feel a little bit like he's been put through a taffy stretcher.

Yasu's slack expression, when he turns his face to look at them, makes him snicker. "Concerned? Nah," he replies, clumsily reaching over to arrange their hair away from the nape of their neck, sticky with humidity-sweat. Privately, he thinks it's likely that Yasu has been feeling it for a while, and has only just now started to realize it. "I would never let it hurt you, and if you start feeling too weird we can just go to sleep, huh? You wanna watch 'how it's made'?"

"i saved you the last stick of dango," yasu says, and they're extremely proud of themself, if the teensy smile playing at the corners if their lips is anything to go by. "hayate tried to take a bite, but i wouldn't let him, because this one is your favorite." (for yugao 🥰)

"You're too sweet," she's careful to make sure her fingers brush their own as they hand off the skewer of rice balls, coated in sticky strawberry syrup. Her occupied hand lifts the dessert to her lips, and she takes a delicate bite, teeth cracking easily through the sugar-shell. The syrup stains her mouth a vibrant red.

Her free hand tangles their sticky fingers with her own, and she keeps walking.

The festival night is bright and vibrant and alive around them, the crowds moving like a river, and they weave easily between strangers like a pair of acquainted trout swimming upriver. Yugao takes another thoughtful bite of the dango. Hayate was probably going to tell her he'd eaten her favorite flavor and try to get her to kiss the flavor out of him. She'll have to steal that one, make him try to lick the strawberry syrup from her lips like a puppy once he drags her back to his place, after the fireworks.

"Are you going to light a lantern tonight, Yasu?" She asks, glancing at them over her shoulder. "You know, this festival is supposed to represent some kind of goddess of love, and if you think really hard about someone when you release a lantern in her name, then your love is bound to be fruitful and last a lifetime."

"genma, i think i need your help." considering their arm is hanging limp at their side and their tongue is going numb, they're fairly calm about the fact that they not only knicked themself with one of her poisons, but also instinctually put their mouth to it. to stop the bleeding, of course. "i'm very close to the antidote, but it'll be hard to make with only one hand." okay, their tongue is officially numb. hopefully she understands what they said.

"Hmm?" She still has her nose mostly-buried in the oleander extract she's been fussing with, trying to introduce a necrotizing agent that made the effects on the heart more pronounced without it necessarily showing up on a tox screen. "Oh, hey Yasu, I didn't hear you come in, did y--"

Genma turns, and drops the test tube when she catches sight of the interesting shade of splotchy purple-grey spreading up their arm and neck from the little cut on their hand. The tube shatters on the tile at her feet, but she darts right over the broken glass and grabs them by the wrist, peering at the rash as it spreads rapidly, and then reaching over to slip on a different pair of nitrile gloves before sticking her fingers right in their mouth to check out the swelling in their tongue.

"Oh, uhm... hm.... Well, this wasn't really the intended effect of this mix," she glances at the table where her freshly poison senbon are laid, one not laid out in a perfect line with the rest any longer. They had probably accidentally set their hand on it when they'd walked in. Damn. "Don't worry, Yasu. This probably won't kill you, but you might... turn an interesting color or two. Nothing permanent." She shoves a bottle of water into their hands, and unscrews the cap. "Drink the whole thing, I'll make up something to ease the severity of the symptoms. Here, stop standing, sit in this rolling chair while I work--"