Katsuko gave Ryouma’s face a slightly harder pat than necessary. “Hangovers don’t excuse horrible jokes.”

“You didn’t let me drink enough for a hangover,” he reminded her. “I didn’t even get a beer with dinner. And Vice-Commander Kuroda’s in our office with our lieutenant and I’m late with his coffee.”

If she kept patting Ryouma’s face, he would definitely get over the hangover he was lying about not having and admit that this was an elaborate plot to fool her. “Stop saying that. Comparing our real interim captain to the Vice-Commander isn’t nice. What if they overheard you? It would hurt their feelings.”

"My feelings are gonna be hurt when he eviscerates me for showing up with cold coffee." Ryouma backed up, out of range. "He already hates me. Come on and open the door for me. If I'm lying, you can have the other cup."

Shinobi adapted quickly, but were more graceful about it in some circumstances than others. Katsuko closed her eyes and accepted that her reality now had Kuroda Ushio on her team roster. Then she opened them again.

“Fuck,” she said.

She’d even brushed her hair. Twenty minutes of tearing pain and leave-in conditioner all gone to waste, now. Trying to make a good impression on Kuroda was like trying to make an impression of your face on a rock. It wouldn’t happen.

Ryouma was glancing meaningfully between her and the office door. She let out an explosive breath, lifted her chin, and smoothed the horrified angles of her face into something resembling a professional expression.

“I’ve got you,” she said. The words put steel into her spine and buried the last of her shock underneath an ocean of calm resolve. Ryouma was one of hers, and not even the Vice-Commander could stop her from looking after her own. “Just follow my lead.”

The look Ryouma gave her was not particularly reassured, but he fell into step beside her.

The door handle didn’t creak ominously when Katsuko turned it. But it would have been appropriate, because the glare Kuroda leveled at her when she stepped into the office nearly burned her eyebrows off.

"Ueno, at last you've managed to grace us with your presence. In the future, I expect better time-keeping from the daughter of a diplomat," he said. His glare swung over to Ryouma. "Did you get lost, Tousaki?”

“I waylaid him, sir,” Katsuko said, moving aside to let Ryouma pass before saluting with her good hand. Ryouma handed the coffee over in silence, first to Kuroda and then to Genma — with a crumpled fistful of creamer and sugar packets from his pocket for the lieutenant — before taking up a post at the wall. His posture was textbook-perfect, but the glances he kept sneaking at Katsuko out of the corner of his eye, like he was trying to figure something out, told her that Kuroda’s ‘daughter of a diplomat’ comment hadn’t gone unnoticed. Dread trailed spidery fingers down her spine.

Kuroda gave her a cold look. "I did not ask your opinion." His attention cut over to Ryouma like a knife. "Your failure to respond promptly to a direct order is your senpai's fault, is that correct?"

Behind Kuroda, Genma stood ramrod straight. There was an expression on his face like he was attempting to project caution and calm into her and Ryouma’s brains through willpower alone.

"Not Ueno-senpai's fault, sir,” Ryouma said, with the proper amount of respect. “I met her on my way back from the breakroom and paused to, uh, update her on the situation. Sharing necessary intelligence, sir."

"Warn her, you mean," Kuroda said. "Now you've both lied to me. Perhaps silence will be a wiser choice in the future."

I am a lake, Katsuko thought. A still lake. Lakes do not stab a man twenty-five times in the chest.

When she didn’t speak, Kuroda smiled without any humor and turned to Genma. “Now, where is—”