There was too much to deal with. He couldn't focus on Ryouma's agony and Tsume's high and Yasuo's nearness all at once--especially not with the rising growl and frustrated voices echoing down the hall.

Kakashi let go of Tsume for one heartbeat, holding her close with chakra as he scrabbled for his belt. Gloved fingers managed to dig out a solider pill; he didn't look away from Yasuo as he slipped his hand beneath his mask and swallowed it. Bright new chakra burned into his coils, lighting him up from the inside. His head cleared a little.

Yasuo was talking, quick and firm and just a little frantic. About Kuromaru and his surgery; Tsume draining herself into panic about her familiar; the guards who would likely be showing up any moment--

Kakashi listened for handful of seconds, nodded once, then glared. "Get out."

The Inuzuka startled and gave him a disbelieving look. Then he kept talking, louder and faster as he stood up to pace, like a caged wolf. Tsume had to be kept here and awake, to stop her from panicking again if she fell asleep and woke up without Kuromaru nearby. Waki-sensei needed to be summoned as soon as Kakashi could. Kuromaru needed to be brought to them, or them to the familiar--

Kakashi listened, half his attention on the growing noise down the hallway, and the remainder on Ryouma and Tsume while information wrote itself down on the inside of his skull. When Yasuo began to repeat himself, apparently nearing the end of his tether and still determined to make Kakashi listen, the copy-nin reached a limit. Self-delusion washed away in the tidal wave of exhaustion he'd forced down and hammered into focus. Ryouma and Tsume were his. His pack. His to protect. And they were down and injured and this man, this not-his man, had to go away.

But Kakashi couldn't move with Ryouma against his side and Tsume cradled in his lap.

He clenched his jaw, grabbed at his chakra, and ripped it through the sharingan. Black spun into red, bleeding fresh tears down his face as he caught Yasuo's gaze and held it. One split second was enough to trap the Inuzuka in genjutsu and hold him.

Inuzuka were always vulnerable to genjutsu.

Yasuo froze, face slackening. Kakashi turned away and forgot him completely.

Tsume smelled like sedated bliss, wrapped up in a fuzzy cocoon of drugs. She was a lax weight against his chest, warm and contented, eyes half-lidded and sleepy. The rot was gone--his clone had brought that news hours ago. The rot was gone, and she was going to be fine. There was nothing he could do for her but hold her steady and keep her safe.

Ryouma was another matter entirely.

Kakashi changed his grip, wrapping his arm around broad shoulders. The peace of earlier, bought with a lie, was long gone. Ryouma smelled burned; charred on the inside by the guilt he was letting eat him alive. His head was ducked low, black eyes focused on the floor; every muscle braced, as if he expected someone to beat him down.

Kakashi moved Tsume, lifting her very carefully, until her shoulder was braced against Ryouma's side, her hand draped over his leg. They were both dressed in thin hospital clothes; Tsume in a a ridiculous cross-hatched smock, Ryouma in nothing but pyjama pants. It made them look impossibly fragile.

Or maybe that was the injuries.

"You didn't touch her," he said, low but firm, over the sound of Tsume's delighted murmur. "She's bonded to Kuromaru through chakra. It's an Inuzuka thing. The jutsu--" he hesitated, feeling Ryouma tense under his hand. "Bled through. But the medics took it out. From both of them. Look at her. She's flying, but she's fine." He tightened his hold on both of them, feeling weary muscles and worn out strength beneath his hands. "She'll recover, just like you will."

This time, he almost believed it wasn't a lie.