Taking the stitches out hurt only a little more than putting them in. Ryouma sat very still, even when Genma dropped the last bloody bit of thread and raised green-lit fingers to Ryouma's brow instead. He could feel his flesh rippling, fever-hot, furiously itchy.

Genma sat back, dropping his hands, and Ryouma released a shaky breath. Genma's breathing wasn't much steadier. His face was eerily pale in the grey genjutsu light, and he braced himself with one hand on the stone floor while he dug in his med kit with the other.

He came up with a handful of single-use ointment packets, and dropped them into Ryouma's lap. "Apply antibiotic ointment a couple of times a day for the next few days, and make sure your hands are clean. How does it feel now?"

"Better." The unbearable itchiness had faded, and his teeth were no longer buzzing. A little pain lingered as nerves fired misplaced signals to each other, but that would fade too. He resisted the urge to finger the cut, for now. "Thanks, lieutenant."

Ginta leaned in to inspect the result. "If you skip the ointment, you might still get that sexy scar Hatake wanted."

Kakashi looked blank. Genma clicked his tongue. "Sakamoto, please…"

Ginta shrugged, head cocked impishly to one side. "Or you can go with Genma's advice. I'm sure Hatake will like you without the scar just as much."

Kakashi shoved up and walked away, up the rim of the cavern to the point near the tunnel-mouth where Usagi stood watch. He spoke to her briefly. She clapped his shoulder, and jogged back for food. Kakashi stayed, staring out into the tunnel darkness.

Not quite as frantic an escape as when he'd translocated to the other side of Ryouma's apartment, but the point was equally clear.

Raidou gave Ginta a thin, edged look, and scooped Ryouma's foil pouch of curry-rice off the ground. He dropped the pouch into Ryouma's hands, pressed a steaming canteen back into Genma's, and said, "We could use more blankets, Sakamoto."

"Blankets I can do," Ginta said brightly. He pulled out another sealing scroll. Chakra snapped, smoke bloomed, and a quartermaster's half-dozen of thick cotton blankets dropped over Ryouma's head.

Ryouma clawed out from underneath, nearly spilling his curry. A snarl built at the back of his throat. The man was enjoying this. If he weren't a lieutenant—