“It’s not fashion, it’s a mask you can sleep in,” Kakashi said, and pulled it back up to the bridge of Ryouma’s nose.

“I can’t breathe,” Ryouma said, muffled—but there was an edge in his voice, real panic welling up. Katsuko stiffened.

Ryouma had punched through a demon yesterday, and nearly drowned on the inside. He’d also just had his face smashed down between his arm and a sheep hide, but recall wasn’t logical, and now wasn’t the time to deal with it. Kakashi tugged the mask back down just under Ryouma’s mouth.

“Keep your head down,” he said. “You can pull it up when you’re actually awake.”

Ryouma’s ragged breathing smoothed and settled. He curled his fingers around the edge of the mask, exactly the same way he’d curled his fingers in Kakashi’s hair, and closed his eyes. After a second, he opened them again. “Thanks. I’ll do a henge myself tomorrow.”

With what chakra?

Katsuko tossed her legs over Ryouma’s, settling her back against the bulwark. “Sleep now,” she advised. “Plan later. Or never.”

Kakashi tipped his head back and pushed his ANBU mask aside, closing his eye against the wash of warm April sun. “That’s actually good advice.”

“Sleepin’s alway good advice,” Ryouma mumbled, settling down again. He turned his head so that his cheek pillowed against the fleece, and threw an arm over his face again. The dappled grey cat resting between his knees yawned and stretched, arching its back against Katsuko’s shin. Katsuko’s orange tom was still buried beneath the sheepskins, unbothered by the movement around him. Katsuko reached over to scritch it behind one flicking ear.

After a moment, drowsily teasing, Ryouma said, “Bedtime story?”

“There was once a ninja who bothered his teammates,” Kakashi said, watching a solitary white cloud track across the blue sky. “So they killed him and buried him at sea and lived happily ever after.”

“And then the dead ninja’s teammates got his stuff,” Katsuko said.

“Good problem solving,” Ryouma said, with the slur of impending sleep blurring his words. “Just gotta lie on t’mission reports…”

“There’s no paperwork in fairy tales,” Kakashi said. “That’s why they’re happy.”

“I like your stories,” Ryouma said, and passed out.

Katsuko patted him fondly on the hip, which was the closest part of him she could reach, and looked up at Kakashi. She waggled her eyebrows. “Join us in the cuddle pile.”

“The way you say that makes it sound like a gateway drug,” Kakashi said.

“Who needs drugs when you have friendship?” she asked, deadpan.

“People who want to get out of friendships?” Kakashi suggested, over his initial response of you sound like a TV special, because that was a line of thought he didn’t want to dwell on. At this point, he probably owed Naruto about a six weeks backlog of Captain Seaweed episodes. Maybe Minato had been able to spare a minute. Or this month’s housekeeper, if she wasn’t vehemently anti-TV. The last two had been.

And maybe he should just focus on the present.

Three days from here to Konoha, with nothing but conversation and sleep to keep them busy.

He scraped a line of red out from underneath one thumbnail, and looked at Katsuko. “Know any card games?”