There was no place to sit on the lift, but the wooden platform was girded with a waist-high railing. Ryouma leaned gratefully against it. Kakashi flipped an iron handle; machinery creaked overhead. The platform jolted and slowly began to rise.

"Must've put this in a couple decades before they built the hospital," Ryouma observed, wiping his forehead. "Or maybe you can't get modern elevator technology in a secret cliff-tunnel."

"Mm," Kakashi agreed. His eye narrowed. "Are you going to throw up?"

"I only throw up from space-time jutsu," Ryouma said with dignity. "And small boats on rough seas." He looked up, following the path of the elevator chains until they vanished into dimness overhead. There were light bulbs set into the sides of the shaft, but they cast only shallow pools, with long stretches of darkness in between. "At least we're not stuck in a little box. We'll know if the chain snaps."

Kakashi's nose crinkled under the mask: Really? He stepped lightly up onto the railing, balancing as easily as a bird, and reached up to tap his fingers against the wrist-thick chains. "I think we're safe."

"That's the sort of thing people say in movies right before they get beheaded by a monster," Ryouma informed him. He had to tilt his head back to see Kakashi's face — what little there was of it — and he wasn't sure he liked the feeling. From this angle, Kakashi's hair looked less ridiculous, his jaw more defined. The shadows swallowed up his eye and left only the mask.

He looked more like Sharingan no Kakashi than teammate and friend. And with their team already splintered…

Ryouma reached out. His fingertips found the top of Kakashi's foot, the laces of his boot. "You'll unbalance us up there."

Kakashi looked down. He said nothing, but after a moment he dropped from the railing. He fiddled with the lift handle, testing speeds, until they jolted to a halt at the top of the shaft.