“My friend,” Hakone said solemnly, “if you and Kakashi figure out Iebara’s jutsu and turn it into a laundry jutsu, you will assure yourselves a place in ninja history. Who needs to be the legendary Copy Ninja and the Man Who Rots Faces, when you can be the Suds Brothers of Konoha?”

Ryouma tossed Hakone a quick, flashing grin. “We make a good matched pair, don't we? Or… complementary? They'd go for you and me if they were looking for a matched set.”

“Maybe complementary, if you’re talking about coloring,” Hakone said. “Am I getting in on this jutsu invention company, too? I’m down to be president. You and Kakashi can do the actual labor, and your senpai can handle public relations.”

"Presidents are the ones who get assassinated the most, right?” Ryouma punched Hakone's shoulder lightly. “Katsuko as public relations, though. I can't tell if that's a genius idea or if I should start running now.” His gaze flicked to the clock on the wall. “I'm supposed to meet her for lunch, actually. Wanna come? You didn't really get a chance to meet, last night.”

“Genius,” Hakone assured him. He tucked his empty laundry bag into one of the many small shelves allotted for that purpose, and swung into step beside Ryouma. “We’ve got a half hour or so while the wash runs, unless you did the sanitize cycle for yours. Which you should have,” he added.

Ryouma’s lip curled down. “I've been washing blood out of uniforms for eight years. Give me some credit for competency.”

Hakone shrugged. “Wiser men have made dumber mistakes. So an hour and a half. Is Ueno going to mind if you spring a surprise lunch guest on her?” She and Ryouma were just back from what had clearly been a rough mission, after all, and Ueno might not appreciate an interloper while she was still recovering.

“Only if you eat her share. She's getting takeout.” Ryouma hesitated with his hand on the laundry room door, reconsidering. “I mean— I don't think she'd object. She seems to get along pretty well with people. But I haven't really seen her interacting much outside the team, now I think of it.”

“I could pick up a bento at the cafeteria for myself,” Hakone offered. “Since she was just planning on feeding the two of you.” He stepped aside to let a determined-looking woman carrying a basket piled high with mud-spattered uniforms past him. “You think she’ll make the bird noises for me this time?”

“She only did that the once,” Ryouma said. He headed down the corridor towards the barracks exit to the courtyard. “Guess we'll see how lucky you are. Speaking of which...” A smirk played over his lips. “Did you get lucky last night? Or get rational trend analyzed, or whatever.”

“Do you mean, ‘did Miyo-san get over her disappointment that it was me and not you who bought her a drink?’” Hakone gave Ryouma a self-satisfied grin. “I’ll let you draw your own conclusions from the fact that she and I are now on a first-name basis.”

“So she was disappointed?”

“Not for long,” Hakone said. “I’d say she was pleased with the outcome. Several times.”

Ryouma pushed the door open and held it for Hakone. “Gonna see her again?”

“Maybe.” Hakone stretched his shoulders back and tugged the hem of his t-shirt straight, squinting at the bright sunlight in the courtyard. “She didn’t mind the tattoo, so that’s a point in her favor.” She’d been a lot of fun, actually. Another hookup was almost certainly in the cards, but anything longer term was probably not. She hadn’t struck him as a particularly scintillating conversationalist.

He didn’t ask about Ryouma’s tryst with Ayane. That seemed like a fragile little connection —one both Ryouma and Ayane really needed right now — that was best nurtured by letting it stay in the dark.