I was ready to run S-ranks until I beat the odds, Kakashi had said. The Sandaime didn’t let me; he kicked me out of ANBU.

He hadn’t said, I went homicidal in the street.

Kakashi didn’t kill teammates. He’d stopped Ryouma from killing Sadao even after the bastard tried to rape him; he’d bled himself dry, run himself into the ground, bringing Ginta back. No way in hell he’d change his mind about something like that—

But he’d been out of his mind when he broke Ryouma’s knee on the hospital roof. And if you pushed a man far enough, hurt him badly enough, you’d find that everyone had a breaking point. Even Kakashi.

No wonder he hadn’t wanted to answer when Ryouma asked.

And Ryouma couldn’t think about all that meant, now, about Ginta hurt, Kakashi broken. Kakashi was sane now; Ginta had survived to tell Asuma his story. Maybe Ryouma would look him up later, too, when the tight knot of irrational anger in his belly unraveled a little. Maybe he’d ask Kakashi.

Or maybe just figure out how to keep the world from breaking more kids the way it had broken them.

“How d’you plan to get anyone to listen to you?”

Asuma’s eyebrow spiked up, but he accepted the change in topic without protest. “Well,” he hedged, and then squared his shoulders and picked up his pace. “I’m kind of the Hokage’s son, so that might help.”

Ryouma tripped, caught himself, and stared. Asuma grinned uncomfortably. “Mostly I’ve been yelling at people. Probably should put together a smarter attack plan. Stage a protest, maybe. We could make banners.”

He lit another cigarette, cupping his hands for a moment to shelter the lighter from the wind. Ryouma tried to drag his gaze away, but he couldn’t help cataloging Asuma’s half-hidden features again. Was that straight, large nose the Hokage’s? The heavy, expressive eyebrows? Surely not the height. Sandaime barely came up to Ryouma’s shoulder.

“Does your dad listen to you?” he asked at last, awkwardly. “Would he listen to the rest of us? I mean—he was good to me, when I came back. First time I’ve ever really talked to him, and he was...kind, really. Seemed like he cared.”

He’d called Ryouma boy, which no one had in years. Somehow, in the Sandaime Hokage’s mouth, the word sounded like an endearment, not a curse.