Ryouma’s foot bounced on the tile floor, jogging his good knee. He slid a sidelong look at them. “You sure you two don’t want to distract the receptionist while I ghost out the door?”

“And watch the embarrassment of your knee buckling while you run away?” Kakashi said.

A pointy elbow drove into his side, briefly making a rib flex inwards. He coughed and gave Katsuko a sour look. “What?”

She returned him a thoroughly unimpressed look. “Nothing. There was a fly on your shirt. I got it for you, though.”


“So helpful,” Ryouma told both of them. His eyes were fixed on the door.

It opened, eventually, ending the agony of waiting and removing the possibility of a last-minute escape. The nurse who’d summoned Genma away smiled kindly at them and said, “Tousaki? The doctor will see you now.”

Ryouma shoved himself upright with the air of a man facing the gallows. Katsuko followed closely on his heels, serene as a bodhisattva and clearly prepared to shiv anyone who looked at him sideways. Kakashi trailed after them both.

Niimi-sensei’s office was small, neatly appointed, and plastered with medical posters of joints and ligaments. The nurse took Ryouma’s height, weight, and blood pressure, tsking quietly at the last one, and cheerfully bullied him into a hospital gown that barely came down to his knees. (“The doctor will want to see your whole leg!”) She installed him on a padded table, offered Kakashi a stool, and whisked away to fetch the doctor. Katsuko stalked around the room, suspiciously poking small models of knee-joints and sniffing at a jar of sterile swabs. Ryouma fisted his hands in his lap. Kakashi muffled a yawn.

The door swept open. “Tousaki-san, thanks for waiting! It’s been a madhouse today.”

Kakashi looked up — and further up. Niimi-sensei was a tall, rake-thin woman with short white hair, a friendly smile, and legs even longer than Ryouma’s. She had to duck her head to make it through the door. Flowery green scrubs peeked out from beneath a white coat. A stethoscope hung haphazardly around her neck. Fine lines framed dark eyes. She could have been a worn thirty or a well-preserved sixty, it was impossible to tell.

Ryouma offered a tense attempt at a smile.

“So,” she said, flipping open a chart to show the paperwork Katsuko had filled in. “I understand you’re here about a trick knee. Let me guess — ‘please, sensei, anything but surgery!’ Am I right?”

“Can’t really afford the downtime,” Ryouma said, watching her warily. He did not seem overwhelmed with confidence by her sunny demeanor. “It’s not that bad, but my lieutenant wanted me to get it looked at.”

“Sounds like a lieutenant,” she said, and crossed the room to crouch down in front of Ryouma. It put her head about level with his sternum. “Let’s get it looked at, then.”

The following twenty minutes were about as anticlimactic as Kakashi had expected. The doctor felt up and down Ryouma’s entire leg, testing the range and flexibility of his hip, knee, and ankle. She watched him walk around the room. Examined the knee joint with delicate, careful fingers. Asked him to explain the exact sequence of events that had caused the original injury; Ryouma described a heavy kick against the side of his knee that had twisted his leg, buckled the joint, and dropped him down hard on his kneecap. He didn’t go into further details.

Lastly, Niimi-sensei settled down into a lotus seat, cupped her hands around Ryouma’s knee, and closed her eyes. There was a soft frisson of energy as her chakra expanded, soaking into the joint. Ryouma’s fingers whitened on the edge of the table. The doctor hummed softly, like a woman might soothe a spooked horse, and brushed her fingers around the back of his knee, tracing the lines of the ligaments. Her eyes moved from side to side behind closed lids. Kakashi leaned forward, interested. Katsuko had been within neck-breaking distance for the entire exam; she leaned forward too, peering over the doctor’s shoulder.

The whisper of energy faded. Niimi-sensei dropped her hands into her lap and let out a breath. She opened her eyes.

“I’ll want a Hyuuga to confirm, but I’d put money on a lateral meniscus tear.” She tapped the outside edge of Ryouma’s kneecap gently. “Right here. If that is the case, it’s good news.”