He ate another prawn, and chased it with a broth-dripping bundle of noodles. "So. Threat level's back to B at the end of the week, if nobody tries to level the village in the meantime. Does that mean we'll be getting missions? My bandages should be off by then."

"If the medics sign you off, no reason we wouldn't." Raidou sliced a piece of fried tofu in half with his chopsticks and looked up with a faint smile. "Getting antsy?"

"Nossir," Ryouma said, wide-eyed. "What would make you think that, sir? I love standing on the wall for eight-hour shifts." Granted they'd only done that twice, but it had been acutely miserable both times. Especially when it rained.

"That's good to know," Raidou said calmly. "I'll make a note in your file."

"I love sailboats, too," Ryouma told him earnestly. "And Shuriken Force concert tickets, they'll be in Tanzaku no Gai next month."

"Such a shame you'll probably be standing on the wall, then." Raidou slurped his noodles.

Well, it was worth a try. Raidou still hadn't laughed, but he'd done that eye-crinkling smile more than twice, and that was—

Not something Ryouma should be angling for, from his captain.

Ryouma stirred his noodles again. "When did you say Kakashi was supposed to show up?"

The lines at the corners of Raidou's dark eyes fanned a little deeper as he squinted up at the sun. "Should be soon, unless he's run into idiocy."

Or danger. Had Intel missed something, in their exhaustive search? Kakashi could almost certainly take care of himself, but—

It was easy, suddenly, to remember the gleam of a scalpel in cold light.

The chopsticks cracked. Ryouma flinched back to himself. He exhaled slowly, deliberately relaxing muscles, and got to his feet. "Gonna grab another pair. You want anything?"

Raidou had set his own chopsticks down on the edge of his bowl; his hand was lightly curled on the table, ready for action. A faint line etched itself between his brows. "You okay?"

"Sure," Ryouma said. He drew another deep breath and looked around for someplace to drop the splinters of broken wood in his hand.

And spotted, from this new vantage-point, an untidy mop of silver hair and a jounin uniform slicing across the street. Kakashi'd identified them already; he reached the sidewalk and its shaded tables in just a moment more, and leveled an icy glare at Raidou and the book by his bowl. "Captain," he said.