“Curry,” Genma said enthusiastically. He leaned back, angling his body to include Raidou in the conversation. “And takoyaki.”

“How about curry omurice? Or crepes?” Ginta said. “They’re great drunk foods, and you’re great drunks.” He grinned and hopped up on a railing topped with lethal spikes, padding over them like a cat. He’d retrieved his shirt and was wearing it unbuttoned; streetlights struck sparks off the glitter on his chest. You almost couldn’t tell he’d been recently burned.

Raidou had put his t-shirt back on. Ryouma was still just in his mesh tank-top; he’d shoved his overshirt into his back pocket, so that it hung like a flag. Kakashi was rumpled but presentable. Genma and Kurenai were sex on legs.

They’d probably be allowed into a restaurant.

“Izakaya,” Raidou decided. A gastropub would check most of that wishlist, and he was feeling the strong desire for another beer. “There’s a good one around the corner.”

Izakaya Mai was an older building off the main strip, preferred by shinobi and a collection of older civilians who’d probably been frequenting the place since the village had been founded. There were a half-dozen seated at the bar now, dressed in field-dusty clothes, sharing sake and edamame and occasionally cackling when a ninja edged by them to collect a drink.

The busy but cheerful host took one look at Team Six and and their companions, and led them all to a low table at the very back, surrounded by overstuffed floor cushions. Kakashi immediately settled in the corner with his back to the wall. Ryouma dropped down next to him, taking the middle seat, with Ginta on his other side. Raidou somehow ended up between Genma and Kurenai, all three of them kitty-corner to Kakashi. That left two sides of the table free, and an unobstructed view of the entire floor for everyone.

“Can I get anyone started with drinks?” the host asked.

“Hatsuhana,” Ginta said brightly, naming a sake that would blow Raidou’s grocery budget for an entire month. “For everyone. My treat.”

“And water,” Genma added. “For everyone.”

“Do you have anything that catches fire?” Kakashi asked.

The host looked thoughtful. “We do a floating lemon shell. You take a hollow lemon, add a sugar cube and something overproof — wind-country rum, I think — float it in a dish of mixed liquors and fruit juice, and add a match. If you’re lucky, the sugar caramelizes.”

“Six of those,” Kakashi said.

“After food,” Raidou said.

The host chuckled and stepped away, returning shortly with a large sake bottle and a stack of blue and white glazed sake cups. Kurenai immediately took possession of the bottle, while the rest put their food orders in. The host didn’t write anything down; he just nodded, suggested a few specials, and promised everything would be out shortly.

When he’d left again, Kurenai fanned the tiny sake cups out across the table and knelt up on her cushion to pour elegant, measured amounts like she was serving the Daimyou and his chief advisors. Every movement was perfectly coordinated and kunoichi-trained. Raidou had to make himself look away from her wrists.

Ryouma stared with open fascination. Genma was watching, too, leaning around Raidou to see. When he straightened back up with a cup in hand, he caught Raidou’s eye and smiled, careless and sweet, cheeks flushed with a sweep of red that made his eyes shine. He had the loose-shouldered unguardedness of someone who’d had just enough alcohol to take his walls down.

Raidou smiled back, waited until Genma turned to examine his cup, and let out another slow breath. And one more, for good measure.