Genma snorted. “You’re such a natural diplomat, Hatake.” He let his hand fall heavily on Ryouma’s shoulder for a moment, in what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll talk medical ethics on our own time.”

Otani, who had been remarkably patient all things considered, cleared her throat and tapped her clipboard. “Are you all in agreement that Hatake-san did manage a reasonably faithful execution of Iebara’s jutsu?”

“It wasn’t identical,” Genma said, “but it was definitely close.”

Ryouma shrugged and nodded agreement. “He's got a ways before he masters it, but yeah, that was pretty close.”

Kakashi tipped his head towards Otani. In lieu of a verbal response he cast a shimmery area effect genjutsu. A few-seconds loop of Iebara with his latticed blood blades flickered indistinctly in front of them, like a shadowy projection on a paper screen. “That was the original,” Kakashi said, letting the illusion drop. He tugged his hitai-ate down over his Sharingan.

Otani nodded and made a note on her clipboard. The studied lack of reaction on her face was almost textbook perfect. “When you and your team finish your analysis, Shiranui-fukuchou, I’d appreciate a report on your conclusions to include in my file.”

“Of course,” Genma agreed. She nodded and turned to go, flicking a bloodied strand of hair back from her face with the tip of her pen.

The chuunin pig handlers were back, waiting for Team Six to clear the field and let them get on with disposal of the carcasses.

“Gentlemen,” Genma said, turning back to his team. “Showers, then meeting? I’d rather not keep smelling pig’s blood all afternoon.”

“You're welcome to the rookie barracks with us, lieutenant, if you want better soap than HQ stocks.” Ryouma leaned over to conspicuously sniff Kakashi's hair. “Yeah, you're gonna need the lemon verbena.”