Yondaime was sitting back in his chair, elbow on the armrest, curled hand braced under his chin. He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

He'd complimented Ryouma on the jutsu, once, before he was Hokage, back when he was only a legend. Konoha's Yellow Flash pausing with a shoulder-pat for a fifteen-year-old chuunin on a shattered battlefield under a sodden sky—did he still remember it?

Probably not the way Ryouma did. The warmth of that brief clasp had lingered for weeks, until they pushed far north enough that the rain turned to snow and frostbite, and shivering ninja swore they'd never be warm again.

Ryouma said carefully, "I've already described the basics of the techniques and their effects for the Records Department, as the law requires. If Yondaime-sama requested it, I'd willingly teach him. I don't see why he'd want to, though. He said it reeked."

The Hokage smiled slightly. "It did," he said.

"It's certainly a useful jutsu," Shibata pressed. "Suppose your captain ordered you to teach your teammates?"

Well, Ryouma thought, there were worse hills to die on.

He said, "I'd refuse. My captain directs me in combat. That doesn't give him a right to my jutsu, any more than it gives him a right to my body. I'd hope ANBU doesn't overlook theft or rape from its officers. Sir."

Silence. It stretched out far longer than any ordinary pause should have, while three men and two masks stared at him without a flicker of expression between them. His palms were beginning to sweat. He curled his left hand around the bandaged right, and lifted his chin.

Shibata said at last, very softly, "I keep our rapists out of the general flock."

Ryouma swallowed.

"Identify your three worst flaws," Oita said, "and your methods of rectifying them."

That wasn't, actually, much of a save.

"I can't read well," he said, reluctantly. "I nearly got myself killed in the second trial because I couldn't read the mission scroll." He fixed his gaze on the red and white hat hanging off the high back of Yondaime's chair. "Usually I get my teammates, or someone at the mission desk, to read the briefing. And write the report. It's worked so far but not always. And sometimes I act without thinking things through enough—or at all. Moving on impulse's saved my life, more'n a few times, but it got me and Kakashi hurt this time. I did think, but I should've thought more."

Third thing. They wouldn't care that sometimes he hooked up with the wrong people, or that he always messed things up afterwards. They were probably looking for him to admit he was too stubborn, but he still didn't see how that was a flaw. His grandfather'd called him a stupid bastard, and Hitomi-sensei'd called him an idiot brat, but he'd created a brand new class of jutsu without help from anyone; wasn't that enough to prove them wrong?

"I've been told I have an underdeveloped sense of preservation," he said at last. "So I'm joining ANBU."