Asuma rubbed the mouth of the bottle against his lower lip. “I hadn’t thought about ANBU,” he admitted. Truthfully a lot of what he was doing was purely by rote, because he had to—or rather, because he didn’t know what else to do. He only knew that staying with his sister without even some sort of job to get him out of the house wasn’t an option. “Jounin, I guess. I mean, I technically didn’t get through my rookie ANBU year. I’d probably have to go through the full application process again, yeah?”

Genma’s expression turned thoughtful. “I don’t actually know. You didn’t resign your commission, you took a leave from ANBU to serve the Daimyo, right? And you were ten months into your rookie year.” He tapped his chopsticks against the ramen bowl. “I kind of expect they’d count the year in Hikouto as equivalent time served, and reinstate you as a non-officer.”

“Maybe.” It was certainly possible, but he couldn’t help but have his doubts. “Either way the paperwork still has to finish going through. And I have to go through the annual skill check. Maybe after all that’s done…” He shrugged.

That careful, evaluating look got turned on him again. “Do you want back in?” Genma asked.

“It’s a fair sight better than desk work,” he replied. “I just don’t know if they would want me back.” He paused, and added, “I’m stuck with psych check-ins right now.” And why would ANBU want to bring in someone who already had potential psych issues?

Genma’s eyes narrowed slightly, connecting the dots. Asuma watched him warily, squashing the anxiety that surfaced anytime a topic so much as brushed sideways against Hikouto. Not that he couldn’t trust Genma, just… he was so done thinking about it all.

“They have you on a watch?” Genma asked. Clearly whatever painkillers they had him on weren’t enough to blunt his faculties. He sighed. “I guess that stands to reason, given what I know about what happened.” He shifted where he sat, throwing one arm across the back of the couch, transparent in his offer of comfort. “You’re not. Right? Or if you are, if you’re making exit plans you’ll tell me first before you do anything?”

Asuma scowled at him. And, like he’d repeated at least a dozen times to his psych handlers in the last week, said firmly, “I’m not suicidal.”

And he wasn’t. Still sorting through the mess but… not suicidal.