Genma drank his sake in a long swallow, clearly more interested in getting alcohol into his bloodstream than savoring the taste. It was a lower priced brand, with an earthy dryness and clean aftertaste. Raidou downed his own cup and tossed Genma an onigiri. “Have you eaten today?”

He was pretty certain of the answer even before Genma gave the onigiri — reflexively caught — a blank look, and said slowly, “I had some senbei with the tea, but nothing else solid since 0500.” He held out his cup for a refill. “Don’t tell the rookies.”

“And give them an excuse to skip meals? Hatake would vanish in a week.” Raidou refilled their cups and ate a second onigiri as a good example. Ume had filled them with tuna; good bland food for unhappy stomachs. Raidou had given up years ago explaining that ninja could survive on skunk if they had to.

Between them, they put away the entire plate and half the bottle. Genma’s cheekbones picked up the faintest pink tinge, but he remained otherwise unaffected. Raidou — who’d actually eaten lunch before the funeral, and would need a lot more alcohol to dent his system anyway — had some pleasant warmth to set against the ice in his stomach.

Replete, Genma stretched out comfortably on his side, propped on one elbow. The tomcat curled up against his stomach, ears flicking with cat dreams, and Suki took the opportunity to gleefully scramble up on Genma’s neck and bite at his hair, which he tolerated with calm grace.

“When I told you about Ueno, you tried a kai,” he said. Raidou wondered how long he’d been chewing on that. “You thought I might be part of your special training?”

Raidou flopped down on his back, digging his shoulderblades into the grass. The sky was broad and blue, shadowed by spreading plum tree branches. It was almost possible to imagine the world was peaceful, at least this little corner of it.

“Thinking Katsuko had died was one of the things that set me off in Tsurugahama, among others,” he said. “Benihime-sama is knocking the triggers out of me, which is working, pretty much. Ninety percent of it is her throwing something nasty at me, while I stay thinking long enough to make a reality check.” He folded his arms underneath his head and propped one knee up, frowning. “Which would make today a success, I guess.”

Genma winced. “Harsh. Sounds a little like an interrogation resistance course I took. I’m glad you’re getting what you need out of it, Taichou. Although I hope no enemy ever uses me or the rest of the team against you like that.” He paused for a second, and added, “Again.”

Raidou tilted half a smile at him. “Me too. But either way, you need a captain, not a landmine, so I’m working on it.”

Genma pushed himself up, catching Suki as she tumbled off, and gave Raidou long, steady look that brooked no backtalk. “You’re not a landmine. You have some triggers and you took out some collateral, but it could have been any of us with the right cues.”

Raidou opened his mouth, determined — stupidly — to argue against his own defense, but Genma didn’t pause to let him.

“For you it was Ueno and genjutsu. For Hatake, I’d guess either his father or the Hokage’s family, and stamina. Ueno is a walking catalog of triggers and leverage points. Tousaki’s got a chip on his shoulder about respect, which Kuroda has been hammering since he took over, by the way.” A bitter edge laced Genma’s voice there. “And for me it’s team or friends or family. And I’m pretty sure you’re the one who said my taijutsu sucked donkey balls.”

“That… is not untrue,” Raidou said, after he got his feet back under himself. He debated adding something like ‘thanks’ or ‘do you want to think about extra lessons when I get back?’ but what actually came out was, “Tell me what else Kuroda’s been doing.”