Rating: T, only for implications. Nothing rated T happens in this ficlet.

Words: 1,581

Iku felt a rush of exhilaration as she sent her tenth opponent that day tumbling to the practice mat. She straightened back up from her judo throw, surreptitiously checking that her victim was okay from the fall. She couldn't hold back her grin of triumph as she turned to the waiting men along the side of the dojo, barking out a sharp "NEXT!" Since Team Dojo was placed in charge of martial arts practice with a group of defense force trainees that day, Iku had no choice but to face off with the men. Dojo didn't look very happy about it, but knew it would have been old-fashioned and inappropriate (and somewhat possessive) to argue against Genda's order merely at the idea of her being in close contact with other men. The men themselves might not have been taking her seriously to begin with, but by fifteen minutes into practice and with Iku claiming her tenth victory in a row, nobody was grinning and elbowing their neighbor anymore.

Dojo, Komaki and Tezuka didn't appear to be breaking a sweat yet, from their places around the room, but the consistent strain of tossing around people much heavier than her was wearing on Iku's stamina. She was beginning to put on a front, subtly trying to mask her labored breathing and tired muscles. The problem with men was they had their pride, and with each loss of one of their comrades, every one of them only became more determined to prove himself better by being the first to win against her. Men and their stupid masculine pride! Another opponent stepped forward, and Iku exhaled gruffly, trying to disguise her fatigue and slight irritation as normal deep breaths. The two squared off, and Iku's eleventh match in a row began.

The man she was against this time was rather lean, and in her tired state Iku misjudged his weight. She was thrown off balance as she tried to grapple him for another throw, realising he was heavier than he looked and breaking away from the contact before he could counter. They stood across from each other for a tense moment, coiled for action and sizing each other up before simultaneously attacking again. The match went on in a similar fashion for longer than her previous matches, with both opponents breaking away and attacking in spurts. Partly due to low stamina, Iku had some difficulty keeping up with his quick movements, but adrenaline kept her moving. She could feel the blood rushing in her veins, her heart pounding in a struggle to match pace with the amount of energy she was expending. There wasn't much room for thought, but Iku knew that she wasn't going to throw this fight out of fatigue. I have my pride too, dammit!

Eventually, she got a leg solidly behind his knees and sent him to the ground, throwing herself after him to put him in an armlock and end the match. He didn't give up without plenty of spitting and cursing, reminding Iku a lot of herself during her training period. She smiled dryly to herself at the memory as she released his arm and got up. She propped her hands on her hips, knowing she couldn't cover her heavy breathing anymore, and turned to face the group of waiting men.

"Let me…" she wiped her forehead with her sleeve, stalling for air. "Let me rest for a second, huh?" A bead of sweat trickled down her neck towards her neckline, and she instinctively wiped it with the back of her hand. "I need to-" she cut off with a gasp, eyes widening in mortification as she saw the back of her hand and realized belatedly what she'd done. She slapped her hand over the place on her neck she'd just rubbed at. The defense force men she was addressing looked confused, waiting for her to finish her sentence. Iku froze, rooted in place, feeling her face go red with embarrassment- luckily, her face was already red with effort, so it wasn't apparent. Finally, she found her voice again. "I need some fresh air! Keep practicing!"

Iku escaped, picking her way quickly over to where Dojo was throwing another trainee to the ground. She got his attention with one hand, the other still covering part of her neck. He walked over to her, leaving his opponent on the mat, a question in his eyes.

"Can I have a word?" she asked, rushing the sentence out in one breath before he could say anything. She gave him a meaningful glance, trying her best to convey her desperation without being too overt about it. Dojo wiped his face with his gi, looking skeptical.

"We just got started. Can it wait?" Iku glared at him.

"No, not really," she insisted, voice dropping to a cutting whisper. He cast a glance behind him at the scene in the dojo, then turned back, looking reluctant.

"Okay. What is it?" Iku resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Her ears burned with humiliation.

"I meant outside," she hissed, turning towards the large doors behind her. Dojo's expression shifted to annoyance, but after a beat of hesitation, he followed her out.

With the doors safely closed behind them and the noise inside the dojo successfully drowning out their conversation, Iku lifted her hand from her neck and revealed the large bruise just above her collarbone.

"What should I dooo?" she wailed in misery.

"What should you do about what-" Dojo stopped suddenly, irritation switching abruptly to bewilderment as he recognized what he was looking at.

"I got Shibasaki to help me cover it up this morning, but I've been sweating the concealer off!" She indicated the streak of concealer she'd rubbed off with the back of her hand moments ago and buried her face in her hands, wishing she could sink into the ground. "I already made a big deal out of it! They'll notice right away if I go back in there…!"

Dojo faced her awkwardly, suspended between his duty to send her back to work and the guilt that came with knowing her situation was his fault. He was silent for a deeply conflicted moment, weighing his options while Iku wallowed in humiliation. Given his nature, taking responsibility for the problem won out in the end. It was one thing when Iku embarrassed herself with her own recklessness or lack of forethought, but this time it was Dojo who had gotten carried away the day before, and that now was Iku's cross to bear. It would be wrong to order her to just deal with the mortification- especially since it was affecting her so deeply. He came up with a quick plan, and rested a comforting hand on her shoulder, prompting her to look back up at him.

"Listen, I'll…" he stopped to second-guess his plan, then forged onward anyway. "I'll go in and get the first-aid kit, and we can put a bandage over it." He himself had done something similar not too long ago to cover up a bite mark on his shoulder from the first time they spent the night together. Iku looked dubious. "I'll tell everyone you fell wrong at some point and were too embarrassed to admit that it's bruising."

"...Do you think they'll believe that?" Iku asked doubtfully.

"Who? Because Komaki won't." She cringed, lowering her forehead to the palm of her hand. "But all those trainees in there are too keyed up about fighting to worry about your…" he trailed off. The word "hickey" felt too crude. Iku nodded in understanding, assenting to his plan. Dojo was an experienced veteran with unnecessary excuses-and besides that, she trusted his word. He briefly took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly before going back into the dojo for the first-aid kit.

He found the kit and doled out his excuses to anybody who was concerned (predictably, not many, as most of the trainees were busy pairing off and practicing on their own). As he got back to Iku and applied the bandage, he took a careful look at her skin, searching for any other bruises that might still be covered by concealer. Iku watched his wandering eyes for a moment in confusion, then realized his intent and colored out to hear ears.

"...there are no others…." she muttered, sliding her eyes awkwardly to the side. Dojo nodded.

"Good. Then that should do it. Let's get back to work," he replied brusquely, packing up the kit and turning to head back into the dojo. Shame heated the back of his neck as he recognized that he hadn't had the self-control the day before to not leave any marks. The fact that he'd checked to make sure there were no more bruises probably looked like he was belatedly trying to fix his mistake, after it had already caused problems.

"Thank you." Iku breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "I don't know what I would've done if you weren't there." Dojo considered the collateral damage he would've sustained, being the person who made the mark in the first place, if everybody had seen it and caught on. News travels shockingly fast in the Musashino First. It felt a little selfish to think that he had been saving himself the same embarrassment as Iku, but he took consolation in having eased her mind and gotten them both back to work in decent time. He pushed open the doors, and they both re-entered the dojo.