Forgiving himself, Ryouma thought bleakly, would be a lot harder.

But Kakashi's arm around his shoulders and Tsume's hand pressed against his ribs, just under his heart, might make it possible. Their bodies echoed their words, reaching out, opening up. Pulling him back.

Rescuing him, like they'd done before.

"Thought I was the one supposed to be making the rookie mistakes," he murmured. His right hand was tangled with Kakashi's; his left still lay flat, chased with tremors. He closed his fingers and slowly opened them again. His skin was clean, reddened with scrubbing. The nails were short, neatly trimmed, gleaming pink. The nurses must have taken extra care with his hands, when they'd washed him.

He'd always taken care. He could probably take a little more.

"I'm a quick learner, though," he said. Barely breathing, barely thinking, he brushed his palm over Tsume's short, coarse hair, grazing the bandage with his thumb. One stroke. Two. She'd petted him as if it would soothe him. He could do the same for her.

"Never make the same mistake twice."

The tremors were beginning to fade.