Ryouma pushed himself off the floor. Hakone's head jerked up, eyes narrowing; Tadao took a step back, reaching for a loose weight-bar. Ryouma forced his killing intent down.

"Hatake's my teammate," he said. "I owe him my life. All I owe you is a round at the Pig, so let's drop this now." He nodded toward Tadao. "You done with that barbell?"

Tadao watched him a moment more, his own chakra held steady and carefully contained. Then he nodded, and stepped sideways. "Sure," he said. "All yours."

The uncomfortable silence held, like thin ice, for a little longer. Ryouma knew he should have stretched more, but the burn in his muscles was worth it. He'd known Tadao for nearly eight months, Takeshi for more than a year; they'd all run missions together, gone drinking, gambled for spare change in the jounin lounge. And there was already a barrier between them, Team Six's oft-cited boundaries looming up like a fence out of the fog. If he had to respect his teammates' personal limits, there was no way in hell anyone else was crossing them.

He was Team Six, now.

Hakone broke the awkwardness eventually, with a casual joke. Takeshi dropped down from his power-cage and offered to spot Ryouma on the bench press. Tadao circled back to the free weights, added another 25 kilos to his barbell, and challenged Ryouma to a competition.

They'd made it to six reps each of 275, and Ryouma's bad knee was trembling beneath him, when a genin messenger ducked through the door and announced in a clear treble voice, "Message for Tousaki Ryouma!"

"Your win," Ryouma told Tadao, and dropped the barbell heavily to the matted floor. He limped over to the door. The genin wrinkled her nose at his sweat-soaked shirt, dropped a slip of paper into his hand, and darted off again.

Ryouma sighed. "Hakone?"

Hakone reached under his arm to snag the message. "Your lieutenant wants you for a meeting at 1500."

There was a clock high on the wall over the lats machine. Ryouma shoved dripping hair off his forehead to squint at it. 1450.

"Shit," he said, and bolted for his shoes.

He risked a translocation to the base of the Hokage Monument, which left him lightheaded and breathless but only a little nauseated. Another would be pushing it, he decided, and ran instead, chakra-footed up the sheer face of the monument, long legs stretching over the training fields at the top. He made it to the rookie barracks with three minutes to go, stripped his sweaty clothes off underneath the shower spray, and sprinted to his room and into uniform.

He was still panting when he fetched up in front of Team Six's office door five minutes later, and his hair dripped lightly onto his cheekbones and down his neck. Two deep breaths to center himself, a moment to make sure his armor was buckled correctly, a dry-mouthed swallow against the pulse hammering in his throat…

He opened the door, and nearly tripped over Katsuko. "Is Taichou back?"