Relief made Raidou smile back.

“Likewise, if you have a general concern, raise it,” he said. “If you can’t talk to Shiranui or me, then your next highest authority is the vice-commander, Kuroda Ushio.” And good luck catching his attention. “If you’re injured, no matter how minor, we need to know. I won’t have martyrs on this team.”

“Especially head or neck injuries,” Genma said. “If you get your bell rung even a little in a combat or a spar, tell someone.”

“If you have concerns about a teammate’s fitness for duty, we need to know that, too,” Raidou went on. “You are responsible for your mental and physical fitness, but Shiranui and I are responsible for you. If you’re having problems eating or sleeping, if you’re sick, if you’re getting nightmares that won’t go away—come to us. We’ve seen most of it before, and we will do our best to help. Nothing is an automatic strike. You won’t get kicked out of ANBU for having a bad week.”

“Understood,” Katsuko said quietly.

If he’d been sitting next to her, that would have been the moment to toss an arm around her shoulders.

Ryouma’s cheek dented; he was chewing his mouth on the inside. After a moment’s thought, he shook his head and looked up, smiling. “Team Dad and Mom. Got it. Which one of you do we report to when Kakashi wets the bed?”

“I’m not into watersports,” Kakashi said calmly.

Katsuko choked. Ryouma’s smile broke into a full grin. Genma let out a crack of startled laughter, then sobered up immediately, leaning against the desk like nothing had happened when Raidou turned to stare at him.

“Moving on,” Raidou said, after a beat.

A faint gleam of amusement lingered in Genma’s eyes. “Paperwork?” he said.

Katsuko made a throttled-cat sound of distress.

“Paperwork is to be done on time,” Raidou said ruthlessly. “And legibly. You do not want to test what kinds of creative punishments I will come up with for tardiness.”

Katsuko muttered something that sounded a lot like “—hair on fire—” before subsiding back into a glower.

Ryouma’s grin had faded while Raidou spoke, replaced by the slow creep of returning worry, though it twitched back for a moment at Katsuko’s antics. “Does paperwork have to be done by me?” he asked. “Or can I dictate and get someone else to write it out?”

“I’ve arranged for an Intel debriefer to take dictated reports from you at the end of every mission,” Raidou said, thankful he’d done his homework on that particular issue. “You don’t have to write anything.”

Ryouma let out a long, slow breath and leaned back against the couch. “You're making this no-fraternization thing really hard,” he complained. “If I can't pledge you my undying love, can I bring you coffee in the morning?”

Well, that solved the question of whether he was going to be awkward about things.

“Perhaps bring the whole team some,” Raidou said, amused. “Everyone needs a little extra love at 5am.”

“You can’t write?” Kakashi asked, from behind Raidou’s shoulder. He sounded more puzzled than accusatory.

Ryouma found a middle-point of nothing to look at, meeting no one’s eyes. “My name. Simple sentences in kana. Couple handfuls of kanji, maybe, though I usually miss some of the strokes.”

Kakashi stepped away from the wall, engaging for the first time. “But you can read,” he said. It was almost, but not quite, a question.

Dark eyes flicked to Kakashi, then to Raidou. “I couldn’t read the mission scroll in the second trial,” Ryouma admitted.

“Then how—” Kakashi began, then realized: “You got someone to read it for you.”

Ryouma shrugged one shoulder. “Lost a few hours and nearly got my head taken off, too. Turns out even hardened killers'll pause for breakfast, though.” To the rest of the team, he said: “I'm really good at roast rabbit.”

Katsuko’s hazel gaze flicked over to Ryouma, weighing him. “Smart,” she judged with a grin, sounding genuinely impressed.

Ryouma hesitated, searching her face for a darker motive, and smiled when he didn’t find it.