Recuperating

[Kakashi Hatake]

Kakashi’s introspection was cut short by an unfamiliar voice calling from across the cramped infirmary. Though the source sat a mere few meters from the shinobi on a cot much like his own, the dusty-haired ninja failed to grasp the inquiry. Turning his head toward the source of the noise, Hatake’s sharp eyes caught sight of the inquisitor.

“Ya’ just gonna stare at me?” the man inquired, a wide grin plastered across his face. With a small chuckle he pulled away the sheet draped over him, squirming against the nurses’ handiwork. In a moment he was free from the cottony confines, eyes back on Kakashi. “No shame in it, bruddah. I’m here to, ya’?”

The masked shinobi’s mind finally caught the meaning of the man’s words as he strode across the room toward the bedridden ANBU. He stood perhaps just a shade taller than Kakashi, bronzed skin over a muscled physique. He was adorn in an odd ensemble: saffron overalls buckled at the shoulder, his otherwise bare arms obscured by a few odd pieces of armor. A blue swath was tied around his forehead, a stark contrast to the bright orange coif it kept in check. “Uh...yeah, sorry. I lost my second bout in the tournament. You?”

The islander nodded knowingly. “They’re tough here, ya’? But at least we’re not dead,” he replied, his grin widening. “I’m Wakka,” he stated, crossing his arms over his muscled chest.

“Kakashi,” the scarecrow responded, giving an awkward seated bow as he struggled to pull himself free of the bedding. The medical staff evidently took their job quite seriously, ensnaring their patients in linens in an attempt to keep them from over-exerting themselves.

Wakka gave a hearty laugh at Kakashi’s struggle, lending a hand to help free the shinobi. “Well Kakashi, what brought ya’ to Camelot?”

The ANBU captain paused for a moment as he got to his feet. “Advertising, I guess,” he replied, grabbing his gear from a side table. The staff had kindly laid them out neatly for just this sort of occurrence. “A friend of mine runs a village and I was supposed to represent their mercenary corps to help drum up some business.”

The blitzballer cocked his head, his impressive coif bobbing as he did so. “Strange place you must be from, bruddah. Usually friends try not to get each other killed.”

Kakashi chuckled at the athlete’s assumption. “Good point,” he agreed. The shinobi had been immersed in war since his very birth. He had forgotten that most people had the luxury of being reared in peace. “Well, what about you? What’s your story?”