A moment of silence drifted by. Ryouma rested on his hands, watching with thoughtful eyes.

“Break up?” Genma asked, gentle. “Something like that? Those are hard.”

Kakashi blinked, a target unexpectedly struck by an accurate dart. “Something like that,” he admitted. “Is it my turn to ask personal questions yet?”

“Sure,” Genma said easily. “What do you want to know?”

Kakashi sat up and studied Genma’s shadow-strewn sprawl. A half-dozen potential questions flitted by, a few immature, some just cruel. A flicker of memory stirred, recent and made hazy by a veil of drugs. They’d played games in the bunker, after Ibaragashi, two truths and a lie, and Ryouma had said something about…

“Have you ever cross-dressed?” Kakashi asked.

Genma didn’t even blink. “With or without a henge?” he asked languidly.

“Without,” Kakashi said. “Henges don’t count.”

Ryouma looked up, curious. Raidou had also turned his head to watch.

Genma’s mouth curved, framed by a silver senbon. “In kimono,” he said. “Not in street clothes, though.”

There was no stress in his scent. Truth.

“Why?” Kakashi asked, fascinated.

“For fun. For a party.” Genma’s chuckle rippled like a stream. “But I looked good. I did the hair ornaments and everything.” He twirled his senbon in a liquid silver circle, as if to underline the sentiment. “Furisode are a pain in the ass, it turns out — so many layers. And those shoes… Kunoichi who work wearing formal kimono deserve hazard pay.”

There was a distinct undercurrent of warmth curling through Raidou and Ryouma’s scents. Kakashi decided not to read into that.

“What about you, Taichou?” he asked.

Raidou came back to the conversation like a man resurfacing from a long dive. “Hm? Oh sure, but not kimono. Regular dresses are fun. Easy to move in.”

Genma’s smile was pleased, as if he found the world well-balanced. “I remember. You said in Arechi Safehouse.” To Kakashi, he asked, “What about you?”

“Apparently I’m missing out,” Kakashi said.

Ryouma glanced up, eyes glinting in the lantern light. “We could fix that.”

Kakashi considered it. He’d worn kimono, and he’d seen high-collared dresses with clever, concealing pockets. When it wasn’t for missions, he had a vague notion that the idea was to feel sexy or pretty, or maybe enjoy clothing with a dramatic sweep. He suspected he’d just feel strange.

Kurenai had looked downright dangerous in her red dress, but Kurenai could look dangerous in a sack. Kakashi looked his most dangerous in black, or shadows, or blood — when he wanted to be seen at all.

He shrugged lightly. “You already got me into Hakone’s shirt.”

Ryouma’s scent was still warm. “Is that ‘be grateful for what you got’? But you sounded interested…”

“All knowledge is useful,” Kakashi said. He stretched until a few vertebrae popped, and added, “So is sleep. And hygiene. I’m stealing the bath first.”

He pushed to his feet and padded back inside.