He shook his head. "What do you do? When you get back, when the fallout hits? How d'you deal with it then?"

Katsuko set her mug down and met his eyes, steady and straight. "I find a place where I can be alone. Sometimes I cry. More often I train until I'm too tired for nightmares." She paused, and then forged on with that same brutal, unflinching honesty. "It doesn't always work. And when solitude starts to grate, I go find someone who can help me feel like a person again."

"I never ran into you at the bar," Ryouma said. "You must go to classier places than me."

She gave him a wan smile, probably better than his feeble attempt at a joke deserved, but it didn't last long before the lines drew down between her brows again. "I'm sorry I can't give you any better answer to all this. I wish I could."

Ryouma lifted one shoulder. "Didn't really expect one. Taichou didn't have one either."

He'd given Ryouma at least one of the answers he needed, though—No, I'm not going to kick you off the team. And maybe Katsuko had, too. I never got better at dealing with it. I just learned how to delay.

Maybe some ANBU could hit the off-switch, but that didn't mean they didn't still wrestle with guilt and regret. They did what their village ordered them to, and afterwards...

Afterwards.

"Hey," he said, and leaned sideways just enough that his shoulder bumped hers. "We should go out, when we get back. Your favorite bar, or mine. You promised me I could be your wingman after I killed that demon, and we never went."

She looked up at him, sideways. Her face was still tired and too pale, but a smile grew slowly at the corners of her mouth. "You remembered? I'm touched." She patted his knee. "Let's do it. You can dress up sexy, and I can dress up sexier, and you can buy me food while you help me pick up hot people."

"We have to bring Kakashi," he said, remembering. "I owe him dinner anyway. I can clear my debts with both of you. An' then we can abandon him mercilessly—or more likely he'll abandon us before we even get to the dance floor—and next morning we'll high five at team training and everyone else can be jealous."

"That is an amazing plan," Katsuko said, with the same deadly earnestness she might have used in reviewing mission strategy. "We can corral him into a bar and watch the twitching. Then we can go pick up hot people. You're a genius." She paused. "When we high five, you have to remember to bend down so I can actually reach your hand."

"I've seen you jump," Ryouma scoffed.

"Friends don't make friends jump for high fives, Ryouma," Katsuko said, sounding deeply hurt.

"Score somebody hotter than I do, and I'll high five you." Ryouma tossed back the rest of his tea and pushed himself to his feet. Sore muscles protested all over again. He reached a hand down for Katsuko.

She took it and let him pull her to her feet, not without a wince at her own aches. Standing, she swayed, as if the arm bound against her side had impaired her balance. He caught her just before she faceplanted into his chest. She must have been more tired than he'd thought; she didn't pull away, just sagged against him. She was feverishly warm, and after a moment he dropped her hand and put his arm around her to hold her up.

"You shouldn't've made it a contest," she said, slightly muffled against his shoulder. She tilted her head back, sharp chin braced on his collarbones, and grinned up at him like a gremlin. "Now I'm in it to win it."

She was irresistible. He couldn't help it; he smiled down at her. "You'd better be. I want to see you dazzle 'em."

"They won't know what hit 'em," Katsuko promised. She yawned, tongue curling like a cat's, and then tucked her face down against his collarbones. Her good hand snaked around behind his waist, and for a brief, fierce handful of heartbeats she hugged him tight.

It wasn't exactly the spare shoulder Raidou'd told him to offer. But for the moment, for both of them, it felt like it might be enough.