Kakashi'd spent most of the evening alternately throwing flashcards at Ryouma — they'd fallen behind — and arguing over whether an agreement to go clubbing with Ryouma and Katsuko could justifiably be stretched into going clubbing with Ryouma and half of ANBU.

"We should've gone with Katsuko," Ryouma said, stubbornly. "But we put it off too long, and lost our chance. We're not losing this one." He pulled another shirt out of Kakashi's closet, squinted at it in the lamplight, and put it back. "Don't you have anything that's not black?"

"I have jounin blues," Kakashi said.

"They probably have a dress code," Ryouma said. "No uniforms allowed." He pushed deeper into the closet and found a long-sleeved, v-neck red shirt he remembered from one of the few times he'd seen Kakashi in civvies. It was soft and comfortable, perfect for dinner and a quiet evening with a toddler. Well, maybe the doormen wouldn't look too close…

He backed out of the closet. "We could borrow something from Hakone. He's near your size."

"You want to involve more people?" Kakashi demanded.

Ryouma picked up a lightweight mesh shirt, standard issue underarmor for jounin blues, and held it out. "Or you could wear this."

Kakashi was already at the door. "Which one's Hakone's?"

Hakone lived one floor and six doors down, on the opposite side of the hall. He answered the door in slippers and a dark blue, fan-patterned yukata. One brow arched eloquently as he took them in. "I'm sure there's a good reason Hatake looks like he's going on a mission and you look like you're going on a date. I look forward to hearing it."

"I need a shirt," Kakashi said. He looked at Ryouma. "The pants are fine, right?"

"The pants aren't fine," Ryouma said, "but we can work on that."

Hakone's other brow lifted. He stepped back, holding the door open, and made an expansive gesture to welcome them into his home.

He wasn't laughing, yet. Ryouma whispered as he passed: "I'll owe you one."

"At least one," Hakone murmured, and shut the door.

His room was a mirror image of Ryouma's, but closer to Kakashi's in style: spartan furnishings, a crammed bookshelf, a single framed photograph of cherry blossoms over a stone lantern at night. There was a low table, a floor-chair with a curved wooden back and a separate armrest, a bottle of expensive small-batch beer, and a book. Hakone sank down on the chair, stretched his legs out, and looked up at Ryouma expectantly. "I'm still waiting for that explanation."