“This is why you’re not allowed to be arbitrator of the points system,” Kakashi said, cheerfully not moving. “Running an elite ANBU to ground is worth at least two.”

Or twelve, but who was counting?

Ryouma was a soaked, furious live-wire between Kakashi’s knees, arms hiked up, hips locked down, an arch of tight muscle, humming chakra, and victory. Kakashi would let him up — in a minute.

Ryouma’s wrist flexed in Kakashi’s grip. “You had help.”

Kin’s tail wagged. Her teeth gleamed against Ryouma’s skin, holding him with utmost delicacy. Kakashi grinned at her.

“I did,” he said, and looked back at Ryouma. “You should join us.”

Ryouma snarled, hips bridging violently. “Let me up.”

Kakashi locked his heels under Ryouma’s thighs, thwarting any leverage Ryouma could gain. The kunai was still whisper-close to Ryouma’s skin. Since Ryouma seemed more inclined to slit his throat on it than actually notice the threat, Kakashi flipped the blade back into his thigh-holster and replaced it with his hand. Ryouma’s pulse hammered against his fingers.

“Last chance,” Kakashi said. “Admit defeat and go sulk under a tree. Or come over to my side and help me hunt down the captain and the lieutenant. Which would be a lot more fun.”

Ryouma relaxed his hips. Then, after a scowling moment, turned his head aside to glare at Kin. “Tell it to let go of me, if we’re on the same side.”

“Her,” Kakashi said. But he was amused, despite himself, that Ryouma would try bargaining flat on his back, weaponless, as if he occupied a position of strength.

Kin glanced between them, ears pricked attentively. Kakashi made a wordless noise in the back of his throat. She opened her jaws, licked the soft inside of Ryouma’s wrist, and sat back on her haunches, tail sweeping the ground behind her.

Ryouma’s glare cracked on bewilderment, staring at the golden shepherd, before he pulled the armored shards of his anger back together, and pried at Kakashi’s hand on his throat. “Now you.”

“You first,” Kakashi said.

If Ryouma didn’t defect, Kakashi would have to tie him to that tree anyway, to keep him from bolting off to warn their commanding officers — or hitting Kakashi in the back.

A muscle rippled at the hinge of Ryouma’s jaw. For a moment, his nails pressed against the back of Kakashi’s hand, tiny little sparks of pain. Ryouma made a deep, aggravated sound and dropped his hand, turned his head, and let his gaze slide away. The tension didn’t ease out of his body, but he stopped fighting. “All right, I’ll back you.”

Something about the line of Ryouma’s throat, where the tendon sliced under skin, made Kakashi want to set his teeth there. Or maybe it was the scent coiling off Ryouma’s skin, anger paramount, adrenaline underneath. Fear, too, fading now that the hounds weren’t snapping at his heels. And one more thing, scorched and faint, half-familiar…

To the west, a howl went up.

Some day, Kakashi wanted to fight Ryouma without limits. Lightning and Sharingan against necrotic death, just to see who would win. Today, though, he’d settle for Ryouma on his side.