Rating: T
Words: Approximately 1,000
Pairing: None
Warnings: Fluff mostly, some violence because well ninja. For once, my Genma doesn't need a warning!
Author's Note: Soooo, if you didn't know, it's Genma Week right now. This was written for the first prompt which is Bodyguard. This is a short piece for me and alcohol may have had some influence in posting soon after writing rather than letting it wait. But that's perfectly acceptable, right? I mean, it's Genma, and there can never be enough Genma. Enjoy!
The coppery tang of blood hung heavy in the air, mingling with the acrid scent of smoke despite the rain that had started to fall. Crimson glistened off the trees, dyed the grass underfoot, and coated the shinobi, both living and dead. Sweat ran down Genma's cheeks, escaping from beneath his bandana as he tried to find the rest of the enemy. There had been dozens, and while most had been neutralized, he knew others were still standing.
Shifting the senbon between his lips, the young man stepped away from the enemy he'd just killed, and tried not think of the pain in his arm. These enemies weren't common shinobi; they were as deadly as any Genma had ever come up against. He held a kunai in one hand, and fanned several senbon between his fingers in the other. Quiet groans seemed louder than they should have under the rapidly dampening canopy. Genma stepped around another body, trying not to look at the gash in the man's throat that spilled red across his vest.
Genma had been born to be an assassin. All the members of his family had been as far back as he'd ever cared to look. When most boys were playing with tag, he was learning to move quietly, and kill efficiently. Kids could often get closer to targets than adults, and Genma had been exceptional. Even when he went through the Academy, he'd done assassinations on the side to continue honing his skills. Now, he was as comfortable with it as breathing.
But this wasn't assassination; this was battle. And while Genma had lived through the Third Shinobi war, his team hadn't seen as many missions as others had. Genma had lost friends though, knew some of the shinobi who had died. Most of them were teenagers like himself. Bouncing the kunai in his hand, Genma pushed that thought away. He couldn't save them, but he could do his job today. There was a clash of metal deeper in the forest, and the boy ghosted toward it.
Another scream rattled the quiet, as Genma stepped into a clearing. Konoha's Yellow Flash flickered in and out of existence faster than his bodyguard's eyes could follow. Kunai with special seals littered the area, and quicker than blinking, Minato would arrive at a new point and attack the enemy. There was something beautiful about the way the man moved. He was perfection and poetry in motion, each action calculated for maximum efficiency, without wasted effort. Somehow, the man was aware of everything happening, moving with cat-like grace around the battlefield. Genma envied him.
Minato was still in mid-turn from his final attack when blue eyes met Genma's hazel ones. The man reacted instantly, snapping his wrist and flinging a kunai. Shock froze his bodyguard's feet, and Genma barely convinced himself to move before Minato was there. An outstretched hand pushed Genma backward, and blood fountained in a trail of ruby droplets. Minato hissed between his teeth as his dagger drove home in the enemy's chest.
It was over before Genma had time to react. Sound crashed back into the world, and he remembered to draw a breath as Minato dropped to one knee, fingertips resting on the blood dampened ground to survey the area around them.
"Hokage-sama," Genma rushed forward, putting a hand on the back of Minato's flak vest.
"It's fine," the man returned, pushing himself back to his feet.
A long gash arced over Minato's right bicep, the arm that had pushed Genma out of the way. Shame surged in Genma's chest when he realized that the wound wasn't from the Hokage's carelessness, but his own. He'd gotten so caught up watching Minato fight that he hadn't checked the area for enemy. Genma looked at the man lying on the ground, and felt nauseated. It not for Minato, the man's kunai would have been in the back of Genma's neck before he realized what was happening. It didn't take an assassin to know that meant instant death.
"That's the last of them," Minato wiped his fingertips on his pants, and looked down at Genma. As a sensory type, he would have been able to tell if there were any other present. "How badly are you hurt?"
Genma glanced down at his forearm. A thin gash ran over his pale skin where a kunai had cut through his sleeve, and parted the skin beneath it. The boy shrugged and looked up at Minato. "It's nothing, Hokage-sama. You were injured because of me."
Minato laughed, a gentle rolling sound that made Genma feel both better and worse at the same time. The man had that way about him. Genma had never known his own father, but after a month in Minato's personal guard, he was starting to understand the way some of his classmates had talked about their dads. While he was easily the strongest ninja Genma had ever seen, Minato was kind as well. He had a way of making people want to follow him.
As if to prove the point of Genma's thoughts, Minato pulled the boy's arm out to examine the wound, humming softly. "It's not deep, it'll heal quickly." To Genma's mortification, the Hokage pulled out a bandage, and began to clean his wound. Minato mistook the squirming of embarrassment for pain, and chuckled again. "Hold still, this might even scar. Girls love that, you know?"
"It's not that," Genma said, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I'm your bodyguard, and I got you injured."
Minato finished tying off the bandage on Genma's arm, and shrugged. "Well then, I guess you'll have to get better, won't you?"
"I will," Genma vowed, all youthful confidence, then grinned.
"I know," Minato smiled, the type that could light up an entire room. "Come on, let's go get Raido. I bet he got in even more trouble than you did."
Laughing, Genma followed his Hokage through the carnage, trying to convince himself that he didn't have a serious case of hero worship.