“You’ve never needed caffeine,” Raidou said.

“I’d like caffeine,” Ryouma said. “Or just soldier pills. Can you get those in flavors other than gross?”

Genma looked sharply at Ryouma. “Soldier pills are controlled access for a reason. If you just need a buzz to stay awake, caffeine tabs are available from the QM. Or you can do what I do and chow down on a couple of coffee beans if you’re in a bind.” He glanced at Raidou, eyebrows lifted—asking permission? Raidou shrugged one shoulder, and Genma kept going. “I know you got a safety lecture on them already, but soldier pills are dangerous. Too many will damage your blood’s ability to clot, and if you can’t clot, no medical jutsu in the world will stop you bleeding to death from one well-placed kunai strike.”

Well, now was as good a time as any to re-visit that little safety talk. Soldier pills were relatively new technology, only recently developed from the few recipes the Akimichi clan had been willing to hand over from their family’s personal archives. They weren’t fine-tuned, and they were definitely dangerous. Most jounin didn’t use them, except for rare cases—clearly Ryouma had. ANBU did use them, but ANBU had a habit of diving headlong into risky-but-useful and reevaluating later.

The set of Ryouma’s broad shoulders shifted very slightly, from relaxed to bulldog. “My best combat jutsu is pretty chakra intensive. I can only do it three times before I wipe myself out, if I'm not using soldier pills.”

“Then you know to be careful,” Raidou said.

Ryouma looked at him, dark eyes narrowing. He nodded once.

“You’ll get an allotted dose from the in-house medic,” Genma said. “If you need more—”

“We’ll discuss it,” said Raidou.

Ryouma’s jaw worked stubbornly sideways, but he nodded again, and settled back against the couch. “I can work with that. I don’t always need ‘em, anyway.”

For obvious reason, Katsuko never needed them, and her expression of patient suffering said she was only putting up with this conversation because she was a good person, and also too lazy to get up. Raidou glanced at Kakashi, who just shrugged noncommittally. No surprises there.

“Back to ground rules,” Raidou said. “Practice is every morning at five a.m., except for Sunday, which you get free. Don’t be late. Acceptable excuses for missing practice are a) you’re dead, or b) you’re actively on fire. Nothing else counts.”

“Except if we’re on mission,” Katsuko said.

“Or that.”

“Or in a mission-briefing.”

“Katsuko.”

“Or in hospital.”

“Stop helping,” Raidou said.

She waved encouraging keep going hands at him. Raidou flattened the urge to roll his eyes. “In theory, you covered ANBU’s general rules when you signed your initiation paperwork, but we’ll hit the important points again. Ueno, what am I about to say?”

“Respect your teammates’ boundaries,” Katsuko recited, in a voice like withered leaves.

“Gold star,” Raidou said. “ANBU is not like the standard rank and file. We’re an insular group and it’s easy to cross a line here, whether you mean to or not. No ANBU agent is permitted to fraternize with a senior officer. Same-rank liaisons are allowed but not encouraged, particularly within your own team. Harassment is not tolerated. We’re home to morally grey whackjobs, but whatever we’re asked to do in the field, consent is required here. If I hear of any one of you flouting that, I will personally drop you off the wall myself.” He looked at each one of them in turn, landing on Ryouma at the end. “That said, if any one of you ever has an issue, come to me, or to Shiranui. We will take it seriously.”

“Agreed,” said Genma.

Katsuko nodded, all traces of impish delight buried for a moment of actual respect. He’d have to mark that on his calendar. Kakashi dipped his chin in masked acknowledgement.

Ryouma’s mouth curved in a faint, crooked smile. He met Raidou’s eyes and nodded, too. “Understood.”