A muscle twitched near the corner of Ryouma’s jaw. He dragged his attention back long enough for a distracted glance at Kakashi. “People who steal from the hospital end up with scalpels in their spines.”

“Good thing I’m just stealing from you, then,” Kakashi said comfortably.

That got a better reaction. Ryouma’s head turned. “I could put a dead mouse in your locker.”

“Good luck getting past my seals,” Kakashi said, vanishing the contents of a glass. The water was cold and crisp after their run, drawn from one of Konoha’s good wells. He sighed contentedly and stretched out his legs, slouching against the chair’s padded back. “The chairs are comfy. You could try sitting in one.”

“I’m standing while I can,” Ryouma muttered. Despite that, he drifted a casual step closer, and then another, clearly not angling for the second glass, nope.

Kakashi smiled behind his mask and turned his attention to the window, watching clouds and the baffled little man across the room while Ryouma allowed himself to be baited into an obvious trap. The grab, when it came, was slickly done. Kakashi grabbed back, securing Ryouma’s wrist, and hauled him down into the neighboring chair. It cost him the glass, but Ryouma looked at least partly distracted from his impending doom, so Kakashi counted that as a win.

And a second win when Ryouma stayed sitting and drank his water.

A nurse stuck her head into the room, which made Ryouma stiffen all over again, but she only called the old man in. He shuffled gratefully away.

“Probably a few more minutes,” the receptionist said helpfully.

Ryouma hunched and began drumming his fingers on his good knee. After a moment, he asked, “Got a kunai?”

Kakashi recalled the Five-Finger Fillet game Ryouma had played with the other ANBU hopefuls, what felt like half a lifetime ago. “It concerns me that your go-to solution for boredom is to risk cutting your fingers off,” he said, but he flipped Ryouma a kunai.

“Your concern is noted and duly ignored,” Ryouma said, pitching his voice to a near perfect mimicry of Genma’s unruffled calm. But he didn’t begin his finger stab game; instead he set his glass aside and flicked the kunai around and through his hands, making a tight pattern of flashing steel. It was like watching nerves in motion, turned into skill.

"I remember being scared," Kakashi said, without quite meaning to. He rubbed the back of his head and kept talking. "I was eight, and I got sick on a mission. We were out past the trenches, clearing traps; they had to send me back with a messenger team. I threw up most of the way, which I don't recommend with a mask, by the way."

The spin of steel hadn't slowed, but Ryouma was listening. "Poison?" he asked.

"Appendicitis," Kakashi said. "They got me back to Konoha in time. I had surgery, recovered fine. Wasn't a big deal, objectively. But I was more scared before that surgery than—" His mouth quirked. "A lot of things. It's worse when you have time to think."