The team were watching them, but dammit, they’d both had near misses today. He wrapped a quick, careful arm around her thin shoulders, and lowered his head. “Gave me a heart attack when you fell, you know,” he murmured, just for her ears.

“Are you going to start talking about feelings?” she said.

Raidou snorted laughter, and let her go. “Not yet,” he said. “But I’ll owe you the raincheck.”

She straightened her shoulders, slipping back into the skin of a professional shinobi. “You’ll have to bribe me first. I accept alcohol and free ramen coupons.”

“Or we could not,” Raidou said.

She snickered, but her good elbow brushed against him as she went to wrangle her clones. It took a concerted effort by six of them to get Ryouma and Genma lifted into the second stretcher and semi-comfortably arranged so that no one’s pointy joints were grievously injuring anybody else. Raidou draped another cloak over them, and checked both foreheads—one too warm, the other too cold. Ryouma blinked hard, obviously clinging to consciousness by his fingernails.

“It’s three hours back to Hayama,” Raidou told them. “We’ll make the best time we can and get you both to a doctor. I’ll be keeping an eye, but watch each other, okay? If something goes wrong, or feels wrong, sing out.”

“Got any song in mind?” Ryouma said, with a drug-blurred grin. “Not sure my throat's up to anything really melodic, but I could maybe manage 'Bury Me Under The Sycamore Tree'…”

Genma gave a cracking, hoarse-voiced laugh and sang half a line, voice slipping and wavering. Raidou’s heart sank. That was why medics didn’t treat themselves, because they made themselves delirious.

He flipped the cloak back on Genma’s side, letting wind and the increasing rain do the work of an ice-pack, and crouched. Steady-voiced, he said, “You’re too hot, Tanuki. Bring it down.”

Genma’s eyelashes flicked raindrops as he blinked rapidly, then seemed to re-focus. “Yeah,” he rasped. “Not working great, anyway.”

But he hadn’t stuttered that time, so something was making a difference.

“You’re doing fine,” Raidou told him, squeezing one of the few uninjured spots on his right shoulder. He reached across, almost doing the same for Ryouma, then ruffled the filthy black hair instead. “You, too.”

Ryouma’s smile lifted, crooked. “I’ll watch him,” he promised.

In the distance, thunder rolled—and kept rolling as Kakashi’s tunnel collapsed in with a dull roar. Katsuko twitched as, presumably, clone memories dropped back into her head. She looked back at the mountain. Tiny figures scurried over the demon-queen’s corpse, drawn blades flashing in the fading evening light.

“There’s a few small demons in the tunnels,” Katsuko reported quietly. “Or there were. Couple of clones are going deeper to check the rest.”

Raidou nodded and straightened. “Take the left flank,” he said. “Hound, I want you on the right. Keep your senses open, in case there’s anything else in the woods. Clones, stretchers and one on-point.”

Despite injuries and weariness, the reaction was still seamless. Eight clones hefted the stretchers, moving with the synchronized pace that came naturally. The one remaining clone ran up ahead, taking point. Kakashi and Katsuko fell into their positions, chakra tightly coiled; Kakashi masked and light-footed, Katsuko watchful and fierce.

Raidou fell back to take the rear. He whistled softly, and the entire party ran.