She choked out a laugh that turned into a sob halfway through, burying her face in his shirt to muffle the undignified noise. Her chakra reached out, seeking, and stirred a little at the disorganized mess she found in his coils. Wherever he’d been, it’d chewed him up and spat him out good.

“Shut up and let me hug you,” she muttered, grip tightening. “You’re alive. Do you have any idea--whatever, it doesn’t matter now. You’re back.”

If this went on any longer she’d be bursting into tears like the soft-skinned princesses in the novels Makoto refused to admit he read. Katsuko let out one last cough-sniffle and looked up at Ryouma, giving him a watery grin. “You jackass, you had me worried.”