There wasn’t a lot else for them to go over, really. Genma tucked the completed reports into their folders, and stacked those neatly in the file tray on his desk before turning his full attention back to Raidou.

It felt a little like kicking a man when he was just barely back on his feet, but one last question had to be asked. “I can think of one thing we need to discuss,” he said. “Since the gag order is off, are you going to tell the team the details of your suspension? Or meet with them at all? I can be as discreet or forthcoming with them as you’re comfortable with, but maybe you’d rather they heard it from you directly?”

Raidou sucked one corner of his lip in, chewing it in an unusual show of diffidence. “I should—” he began, then pulled back. “No. For now, good news and bad should come through you. Until I know exactly when I'm coming back, I'm just going to muddy the issue. They're better off relying exclusively on you.” There was resolve in his eyes, but lurking under it, regret. It had to hurt, not knowing for sure that he would be back, no matter how much he and Genma both wanted to believe his suspension was temporary.

“It sucks being a good captain sometimes,” Genma said. “I wish—” What? He wasn’t sure he could complete the sentence. He wished it wasn’t like this. He wished it was easier. He wished Raidou didn’t look so much like he was still reeling from a body blow, and the team wasn’t in limbo. “I wish I knew something to say to make it easier.”

Sometimes honesty was all you could offer a person.

“How detailed do you want me to be with them?”

“Tell them I'm getting genjustu training," Raidou said, after a moment’s thought. “Leave out the trauma counselling. I know it's not the worst thing, but I'd rather they didn't think I had faultlines in my head.”

Genma nodded. “I expect Ueno’d be understanding, but I think that’s a good call with the other two.”

“You can tell them I'll be coming back soon, pending the Hokage's approval,” Raidou continued. He looked around the room, eyes skimming over spare equipment hanging on pegs; closed lockers; the cracked leather couch, still indented where Genma had napped briefly before starting in on his paperwork; three unoccupied desks. “And tell them,” he said, locking eyes with Genma again, “if they're a shit to the new captain, I'll know about it and make them regret it.”

“That’s good,” Genma said, chuckling. “They’ll definitely know I got it straight from you.”

“Good.” Raidou’s eyes crinkled briefly in an answering smile. He rubbed his hands over his thighs and stood, hesitating for only a fraction of a moment. “I should leave you to finish up.”

Genma glanced at the clock on the wall, as reluctant to end the contact as Raidou seemed to be. “It’s still lunchtime, and I didn’t eat yet,” he said. “You want to grab a bite before you go? Or we could go into town, if you want to avoid cafeteria gossip. And lukewarm curry.”

Raidou’s face lit right up. “I know a good okonomiyaki place,” he said. For a moment, the stress of the last mission washed away, leaving the Namiashi Raidou Genma’d met a month and change ago. The one who’d run to meet Genma the moment he found out who was going to be on Team Six, overflowing with excitement and possibilities.

“Excellent. I love okonomiyaki.” Genma grabbed all his in-progress files and locked them in his file cabinet, then grabbed his crutches and stood. “Especially if they do good squid. Or shrimp. Or chicken. Actually now I’m really hungry.”

Raidou looked amused as he held the door for Genma.

“Lead on, Taichou,” Genma said.