Ryuichi had never claimed to be able to understand anyone, let alone his friends. They were shinobi, trained to hide what they didn't want to show, and concealing a lot of other things besides, purposefully or not. He understood that. Deception was a way to protect yourself. It made things easier if no one knew what went through your head. Stopped them from getting ideas, and getting slow.

Kotetsu was a friend, or at least Ryuichi counted him as one. Maybe it was mutual, maybe not. It didn't really matter. They watched out for each other. That was enough.

Reading the shorter ninja wasn't impossible, since Kotetsu was very expressive and loud, but sometimes it was confusing. Another defense. Ryuichi didn't push against it, or test the strength. It wasn't his nature to, but he knew how hard it was to get Kotetsu angry, and that someone had managed it.

Someone who'd turned out to be Hatake Kakashi. Sharingan no Fucking Kakashi.

You didn't fight with such people. It never ended well.

Ryuichi didn't always follow good advice, but sometimes he could give it. Today, Kotetsu hadn't wanted it. Which had led to this. Fighting. Hitting someone else, because Kotetsu couldn't damn well hit the silver-haired jounin and live to talk about it afterwards.

No, he probably could. Kotetsu was tricky in the way, but Ryuichi still thought it was a bad idea.

Dodging the wire, but not completely, Ryuichi snapped his blades up, and got a long cut across his cheek. They'd spar until one of them lost, and then do it over again. As long as it took for Kotetsu to calm down.

Normally, Kotetsu would have laughed at catching Ryuichi so early in a spar - Ryuichi was quick with his weapons, and it took at least a couple of passes to get him slow enough to draw first blood. But Kotetsu wasn't in the mood.

That was, in a way, frightening, to be so full of bloodlust.

Kotetsu growled and lunged, knees snapping straight so hard he could all but feel tendons crack like a whip, throwing out large loops of wire to the other side as he swung a small kunai up and across.

Did. Not. He did not do things for the sake of his carnal feelings. Or, rather, he knew his duty, even if Kakashi didn't. Or Makoto didn't.

Sensei had hated Kotetsu, but even he had known Kotetsu would never do anything that would compromise the vows they'd taken once they'd become full shinobi.

He'd never betrayed a teammate. Even when he was possibly, possibly, with Makoto, he had never thought of betraying anyone in the team.

How could Kakashi think that he knew how others worked?

Sharp blade slashed down to counter Kotetsu's thrust, and metal met metal with a harsh, skittering clash that hummed all the way to the bone. Kotetsu snarled.

There was something to be said for control. It kept Ryuichi from doing anything more than widening his eyes slightly, and then tensing, dancing away, when Kotetsu struck, and the wires jerked one of his swords away. A two-strike, one at the wrist, and another at his palm, and the katana went skittering away across the floor.

Face tense, Ryuichi wanted to swear, but didn’t. That could be turned into a weakness, and Hunters didn’t do that. Shinobi didn’t do that. They just kept on fighting, doing what they had to. Survival was important, and anger could get in the way. Clouded judgment made for mistakes, and such things caused teammates to die.

That just wasn’t acceptable.

Death could be avoided, and when it was possible, it was. Another rule, one of Ryuichi’s codes, though he didn’t have the exact wording down. Just something he did, something he followed, because you had to respect something to fight in the shinobi-world, had to have some sort of rule to abide by. It was close enough.

Kotetsu wasn’t acting normal, and Ryuichi recognized, in a distant sort of way as he maneuvered across the floor and held his remaining weapon ready, that someone was going to get hurt. Or it was likely, anyways. His boots didn’t make any noise when he moved, because that was a good habit, sensei had told him so, and Ryuichi only waited for Kotetsu to make the next move.

He could survive most things. Pain was just another thing to be shoved away, ignored. Ryuichi wasn’t worried, wasn’t anything at all. This was almost like a mission, calming a friend down before they did something stupid. Ryuichi got hurt all the time on missions. Not a big deal. He’d just heal as needed, bandage what was bleeding, splint the broken bones. Just a necessary thing, even if Kotetsu wouldn’t have said it like that.

Kotetsu spared half a smile for the clatter of the katana. Despite the raging maelstrom of emotions, hate, anger and confusion, it was still an accomplishment to make Ryuichi lose one weapon.

Then Ryuichi's face set - not that it was in any sort of emotion in the first place - and he lunged forward, forcing Kotetsu back.

Kotetsu wasn't quite ready for that, and hit the ground with a sharp smack, almost dazing him and definitely blanking out his vision for half a second. Despite the tatami, it was still hard.

Ryuichi hung back, just waiting, eyes narrowed and Kotetsu growled. He didn't want pity. He didn't need anyone's pity, right now.

Don't go easy on me!

He snapped his hips, slamming his feet down and springing up with a faint protest from his abdominals and back, expression feral as his hand tightened on his wires and yanked hard enough to leave grooves in his gloves. Pull Ryuichi forward before he can untangle his hand, and then get his other weapon.

After that well... Kotetsu didn't exactly have a plan, other than 'attempt to beat Ryuichi into the floor'. Or the other way round, but the first was vastly preferable.

The force yanked him forward, but Ryuichi snarled, and didn't let go of his last sword. Pain in his wrist in fingers suggested there would be bruises at the best, and a sprain at the worst. Probably both, but that wasn't here or now. Fighting was. Even in a spar, you always did your best, because it was practice for combat, and in combat, when people hit the ground, the blades sank into things, and they didn't get back up again. Just how things worked.

The force yanked him forward, but Ryuichi snarled, and didn't let go of his last sword. Pain in his wrist in fingers suggested there would be bruises at the best, and a sprain at the worst. Probably both, but that wasn't here or now. Fighting was. Even in a spar, you always did your best, because it was practice for combat, and in combat, when people hit the ground, the blades sank into things, and they didn't get back up again. Just how things worked.

He wasn't going easy on Kotetsu. Not really.

Ryuichi just wasn't making it end quickly either. Sometimes fighting could go on for a while.

This was just practice.

Twisting, Ryuichi snarled again and swung his free arm out, meaning to backhand Kotetsu and force him back, gain some distance. You did what you needed to, and pain was moot. They were ninja; it was understood.

When Ryuichi didn't want to let go, he seriously refused to - up to and including slamming himself against Kotetsu, and it was only an awkwardly placed foot that prevented him from skidding all the way backwards and onto the floor again.

Kotetsu grunted, and shoved. This close, Ryuichi couldn't use his blade - but then, Kotetsu's hand was trapped against both their bodies too, and his free wire-hand wasn't exactly the best for close combat.

They used to spar like this, actually, when Makoto was feeling generous; Makoto was a genjutsu user, and their spar-grounds sometimes took on fantastical looking landscapes and scenery, but when it got to just down to plain weapons, Makoto'd use his body to close in, jab, and get out again.

The body-memory made Kotetsu shiver, and he strained forward for a moment, before twisting away, letting Ryuichi tumble forward as he snapped out a leg to slam into his forearm.

All in all, it had taken less than two seconds, but the memories had made it seem longer.

Ryuichi was by nature a relatively calm person. So he didn't do anything but tense and roll to the side, wrist throbbing and hurting, but still gripping the sword. Damned if he would let go of his last weapon. Wouldn't happen unless Kotetsu really hit him. Probably if he broke a bone or two, but even then, Ryuichi would have tried to hold on. He always did.

If he couldn't have skill, he could have stubbornness. Sometimes it was enough.

Hitting the ground and rolling away, Ryuichi twisted to the right and snapped back up, only to catch a blow across the side of his face.

Blindside.

Kotetsu sometimes fought dirty.

While it wasn't what Kotetsu had meant to do, it didn't make sense not to carry through with the motion, spinning on his other foot to kick up again, trying to catch Ryuichi in the jaw, maybe, or the elbow.

His heel snapped against Ryuichi's shoulder, the force a sharp reverberation up his spine, and he grinned ferally.

It wasn't a trick. Just a matter of applying force in the right areas. Ryuichi's hand spasmed, and he knew Kotetsu had sprained his wrist, maybe done something to his shoulder, too, from the way his fingers went slack, and the sword clattered away. Fuck. That wasn't good.

Ryuichi didn't mind that it hurt. He was used to that.

He didn't like being unarmed, if only for the fact that he was a weapons-specialist, and wasn't the best at taijutsu. A different feeling, going at it without steel. It just was, and Kotetsu was pissed-off as hell.

Ryuichi felt his face tighten. He could survive a beating, if it came to that. If it would make things better.

Kotetsu had spun into a crouch, and the clattering of metal just off the side only spurred him on again, going from crouch to spring for Ryuichi's throat. Wires in his hand tightened as he pulled them, tight and then slack as he closed with Ryuichi, and he abandoned them to free his hand - if he hadn't it'd be a death just asking to happen and Kotetsu might be far gone in bloodthirst but he wasn't that lost in it - and body-slammed Ryuichi to the floor against his bad shoulder.

Kotetsu's own previously injured shoulder twinged in sympathetic body memory, but that was easily forgotten with the fact that now he had Ryuichi, disarmed and almost defenseless.

My win, Kotetsu didn't say, and instead pinned Ryuichi down with a choke hold, heart still beating a staccato beat of adrenaline fuelled with anger and victory.

Ryuichi swore, trying to twist out of the fall, and ended up hitting his shoulder. 'Hurting' didn't really describe it as much as feeling a sudden and burning desire to beat someone's face in. Ow. Why was he doing this again? To make Kotetsu calm down. It didn't seem to be working, fucking hell. Sometimes his ideas sucked worse than his luck. This seemed to be one of those.

It would be counter-productive to strangle him, or beat his skull into the tatami mat, though it was damn tempting.

Another blow and Kotetsu had him in a chokehold.

Hell no.

This wasn't going to end well. It never did.

Ryuichi snarled, and snapped his head back, trying to give Kotetsu a nasty headache. Fucking hell, he hated being pinned.

His prey jerked under him, and Kotetsu moved with him, panting and grinning, avoiding the inevitable attempt to brain him. He tightened his hold, shifting to stabilize himself, spreading his knees and immobilizing Ryuichi's pelvis.

Time to tap out, his gaze said, but it was a struggle to keep the dark urge to keep the pin and choke till Ryuichi went limp. It wasn't that he was seeing silvery hair, or smirking eyes, but just...

Sometimes you wanted to kill. Wanted visceral, physical proof that you had destroyed something.

It was an urge that probably has lived in him ever since he'd realized that his sister wasn't coming back, and he'd just wanted to hurt things. He took a breath, and battled down the urge, keeping his pin just enough not to kill, but to choke and discomfit.

Air was necessary for fighting. In theory, someone could last three minutes without any at all. Less than that during a fight, because adrenaline sped up the heart-rate, which sped up the breathing. There wasn’t anything to it; you just needed more air when you were fighting. Kotetsu was cutting off most of his, and kicking wasn’t doing very much. Not that it stopped Ryuichi from trying, but stubbornness was no substitute for skill, and didn’t change the fact that he was pinned. Wouldn’t be getting up unless Kotetsu changed his mind, either.

It was, Ryuichi decided as he choked, safe to say that his plan to calm Kotetsu down had failed rather epically.

There was a knife under his wrist-guard, and Ryuichi almost went for it, eyes narrowed because sometimes that helped him to concentrate on some things, and block out others, but didn’t. No. It wouldn’t do anything. If Kotetsu had been an enemy, then it would have slammed into his stomach, rip down and twist, that was just what happened.

Not here. Not the point.

Shuddering once without noticing, Ryuichi thrashed, bruising his throat more and ignoring it. He didn’t want to be pinned. Hated being helpless. Bad things happened on missions, people died, when you were stupid enough to get caught, too hurt to make it stop before bodies hit the ground. Friends got hurt, and some didn’t recover, and some just died. More names on the Stone, too many kanji to bother counting.

Laughed.

Not the point here. No knives, leave it, idiot. Not the point.

Ryuichi coughed, and rammed an elbow back. It connected, but didn’t do much else.

Shitshishit.

“Get,” Ryuichi snarled, jerking against Kotetsu’s arm, “—off me!”

He didn’t. Of course not.

This just got better and better every fucking minute.

Ryuichi wasn't tapping out - but then Ryuichi never did. Kotetsu kept his hold, bloodlust slowly ebbing; he'd beaten Ryuichi, after all, and now the question was whether he could hold on long enough for Ryuichi to give up, or would Ryuichi break his arm.


Ryuichi seemed to be all but clawing at his arm.

Hitting him didn't work. By extension, repeating the action wouldn't accomplish anything, but Ryuichi did it anyways. Both of them were Hunters, conditioned be strong, trained to be ruthless, but there were times when blood-lust came, and it didn't hold shit against survival-instincts.

This wasn't one of them. Not really. Ryuichi wasn't the one who wanted to kill, and maybe Kotetsu didn't either, but that was just how it was.


It would have been really smart to give up.

Ryuichi only removed on hand from Kotetsu's arm, coughing at the added pressure, and snapped it back, aiming at the area where he thought the shorter-ninja's nose was.

Kotetsu jerked back and then shoved down. "You know how this goes!"

One got pinned, the other kept a proper hold till the pinned opponent gave up, or broke free. That did not include broken noses! He tightened his hold. Well, if Ryuichi passed out that counted as 'giving up'.

"Fuck you!" he snarled, though it came out horsely, and the attempt hurt. Not enough air.

Don't give up. Ever. He could break it. Ryuichi knew that. Anything could be broken, any shinobi could be killed. There was just a certain way to do it.

Repeatedly lashing out and missing wasn't really effective. Ryuichi did it anyways. It made him feel marginally better, and allowed him to ignore how he was shaking. Adrenalin was good in that way. It let you shove things away, concentrate on fighting and surviving.

It never lasted, though.

For half a moment Kotetsu thought Ryuichi was actually fighting back, but then he started to realise that Ryuichi was getting increasingly disorientated. The amount of air Kotetsu was cutting off was getting wasn't enough to knock him out, but certainly good enough to show business. Ryuichi would have either broken Kotetsu's pin - and arm - and gotten free, or tapped out if he couldn't think of a way free.


But this?

Kotetsu could feel Ryuichi's heartbeat hammering beneath his hands, and beneath the snarl on Ryuichi's face Kotetsu could see something like a hint of panic.


Panic.


Kotetsu wrenched free, euphoria of having bested Ryuichi so quickly fading into ashy tasting guilt. "Ryuichi?"

The moment the pressure around his throat let up, Ryuichi jerked free, snapping out a blow at Kotetsu's face, not noticing or caring if it landed. Get free. He'd done that. Get distance. That was next. A quick roll, more of a controlled fall than anything, made it done. It banged his shoulder and wrist against the tatami mat, the one that Kotetsu had sprained, but Ryuichi ignored it.

Snapping a blade out of his wrist-guard, Ryuichi wondered if he could blame his shaking on adrenalin and lack of air for an extended period of time.

One look at Kotetsu's face told him otherwise. Fuck.

"What?" he snapped, covering his slip-up in anger. It wouldn't work, but sometimes you just didn't give a damn.

"Ryuichi, I..." What, I'm sorry? I didn't mean it? But he had. For several moments Kotetsu'd actually thought of death, blood and killing, and it had nearly happened.


The brief flash of panic he'd seen was not his imagination. Kotetsu swallowed, and didn't reach up to the shoulder Ryuichi's blow had slammed into. Guilt curled like a heavy lead lump in his stomach, and he wondered what he could do to make it up to him.


"That ... are you alright?" What can I do to make it up to you?


His shoulder throbbed in counterpoint to the dull thud of his heart, and Kotetsu thought that if Ryuichi slit his throat, maybe he wouldn't be mad enough to make it hurt too long.

It was a common thing, mostly among soldiers, and more in shinobi, though they weren't the only ones. Anyone could take a bad turn. Anyone could get killed. It wasn't just the people who spent their lives fighting. There was always the other side and sometimes, you were the one staring at the blade, and then it cut down, it was your blood splattering on the ground. Just how things worked. The assassin never lived forever. There was always someone better, a time when you slipped up, made a mistake and paid for it.


Ryuichi knew that. It was his job to kill people, and usually, he was good at it. Then there were the times when shit like this happened, and it didn't matter what he'd done before, the things he'd survived, because shit refused to die even when it should have, when it was over, long over.


It didn't change his anger. Didn't make it go away. He wasn't supposed to be weak. This wasn't supposed to frighten him, because goddamnit, he was ANBU, and weren't they supposed to be the best?


Things were supposed to die, and Ryuichi was left with only anger when it didn't. It was better than the alternative, but not by much.


He glared at Kotetsu, and there was hatred in the expression. At the world, at himself, and a little at Kotetsu, because Ryuichi hated that part of himself, and Kotetsu had made him remember.


"I'm," he said tightly, "fine."


The knife wasn't steady, not quite, and his hand wouldn't stop shaking, but Ryuichi had a weapon, and knew it could kill. It was something to hold onto, and this time, it would be enough. He wouldn't accept otherwise.

He wasn't. Kotetsu could see that. Guilt curled like grey smoke in his stomach, twisting his gut into uncomfortable shapes. Because if Ryuichi was fine, wasn't... wasn't hurt, he would have closed in and attempted to stab that into Kotetsu's bodyparts.


Plus he was shaking, and Kotetsu hadn't hurt him enough to have him trembling like that.


No, just in the ways that damaged.


Triggers and breaking points were normal in shinobi life. it wasn't that Kotetsu didn't recognise the signs. He just didn't know what to do.

"I'm sorry," Kotetsu said again, looking at Ryuichi and dropped his gaze. "I didn't mean to."


What was he supposed to do?

Ryuichi ducked his head, and lowed his arm, not losing any of the tension. It made his eyes tight, the left more than the right, but that was just how it was. Old injuries did that, acted funny, but it was better than the alternative. Better than being dead, or too hurt that you couldn't keep fighting when your skills were needed. Ryuichi wasn't the best--far from it--but he was good enough. Good enough. Had to be. Otherwise, he would be in ANBU.

Shove it away.

Emotions weren't important. They were a weakness now.

Shove it away, stupid ninja.

Wasn't working. Kotetsu was still looking at him, and with that expression. Ryuichi's eyes narrowed even further. He was still shaking. That wasn't acceptable.

Reversing his grip on the knife, he slashed it across his free hand, cutting through the canvas and leather of his gloves, skin, and the little bit of muscle that protected the bones underneath. Pain was good. Pain made him concentrate.

Blood hit the floor in quick drops, deep crimson.

Ryuichi scowled, and dug the blade in deeper, until he stopped shaking. Pain made things simpler.

"Don't appologize," he said, in a weird little tone that bordered somewhere between adrenaline-high and about-to-commit-murder, only lower and quieter than both. He was still bleeding. Maybe too much, but that didn't matter.

Kotetsu flinched, when Ryuichi made that sharp incision; fortunately he was good enough a ninja not to make a sound when the blood started dripping.


"What was that for?" he asked, straightening and swallowing hard. Any earlier guilt had fled in the sight of red slowly turning maroon on the tatami, fled in the face of blanket shock.


Or maybe it wasn't quite shock - it made a sort of twisted sense, if you knew Ryuichi. Knew how his mind worked, in straight forward lines of bloody black and white, and Kotetsu took another deep breath and stepped forward. "You're gonna need that stitched, I think."

The cut stung. That was okay. It was supposed to. Ryuichi looked at it for a long minute, and decided it was enough. He wasn't shaking anymore. It was okay now. No need to make it worse. It'd be alright, because nothing was wrong, nobody was hurt, nobody was dying, and it had been stupid to get to that point in the first place.

"Something you wouldn't get," Ryuichi said shortly, and sheathed the blade. There was a roll of bandages in his belt-pouch, standard gear. He got them, pulled the ruined, bloody glove off, and then started wrapping the cut in the way he'd been taught; tight, but not too tight that it cut off the circulation. That was counter-productive. Not something you did.

It was easier to think of it all in simple terms. It justified the means, so long as the end was worth it.

This time, it had been.

"I'll deal with it," he said finally, looking back up at Kotetsu, and knotting the bandages. I always do.

"If you'd tell me, I might get it," Kotetsu said, looking at him steadily. Whatever anger and tension he'd had earlier had long since bled away, leaving him feeling hollow and somewhat helpless.

Was it his fault? Yes and no and everything in between. He hadn't hurt Ryuichi, but he'd triggered him, and it felt awful, like a solid lead weight wedged into his chest, and it took effort to maintain the steady eye contact with Ryuichi.

The bandage on Ryuichi's hand was stark white, thick enough that it'd take time for blood to soak through. Kotetsu's gaze flickered down for a moment, then back to Ryuichi's dark eyes. Let me help?

"Then we have a problem," Ryuichi said shortly, and stalked over to pick up the sword closest to him, from where it had landed. He jammed it into the sheath, ignoring the sting of the cut when he gripped the blade. It didn't hurt at all. Another insignificant thing. "It's over. Drop it."

There were things no one needed to know. It wasn't important. Ryuichi dealt with it, made sure it didn't happen on missions, where someone could get hurt, get killed. That wasn't on his conscience, and never would be. He'd done stupid things, and sometimes it had gotten teammates hurt, and once, killed, but that was over. He'd done what he could. Paid for what he hadn't.

The second blade was stuck into the floor. Ryuichi brushed by Kotetsu, not looking at him, and picked it up. Stared at it for a moment, and then sheathed it.

A slight hesitation, and Kotetsu touched Ryuichi's shoulder. "Hey. I mean it you know..." But Ryuichi said to drop it, and that was about all there was to it.

He was so tired now. His mind had gone mostly blank - which dubiously welcome compared to the simple red rage - and his body just didn't want to move anymore. Tired and suddenly heavy, everything seemed just so grey and he probably should just grab a shower, and leave Ryuichi to do whatever he did.

"Thanks," he said softly. "For the spar, I mean."

The least a friend could do.

It would have been easy to explain it. Words were words, nothing more, though people often claimed they were. There was power in them, but not enough to change things. Actions did that. Ryuichi knew it. Just a fact, and he didn't want to explain, though it wouldn't have taken much.

There wasn't even a good story to go along with it. Just a mission gone wrong, and a teammate's name on the Hero's Stone. That was just common. Nothing more to it. Ryuichi had heard horror-stories. Seen the scars others had gained from bad turns. In comparison to many, his eye and throat were just scratches. Trivial things. They weren't important anymore. Scars didn't matter unless they inhibited movement, and he'd gotten over the handicap years ago.

Ryuichi only shrugged the hand off and avoided Kotetsu's eyes.

Nothing to say. It'd end just find if he worked with that assumption.

It was probably true, anyways. This was just a slip-up. It wouldn't happen again.

"Not much of one," he muttered in response to Kotetsu.

The point had been to calm the other ninja down.

Ryuichi glanced at Kotetsu's feet.

Maybe it had worked.

Not the way he'd intended.

Not much of one? "It still worked, didn't it? I mean..." Kotetsu spread his hands, smiling. If it was a little weak, it could be forgiven since Ryuichi wasn't looking up at him at all. "I don't feel like killing people now."

Just... tired and sad and cold sick guilt curling in the bottom of his ribcage, but that'd go away eventually, because he knew now, and he wouldn't do it again. Wouldn't pin Ryuichi that way again if he could help it.

Time to change the subject. "Let's go get something to eat," he suggested. "My treat?" Not that Ryuichi needed it, in all honesty, but maybe it'd reset everything to the way it was before.

Since when had Kotetsu offered to buy him food? Ryuichi almost smiled. Gods, the world was a fucked up place. He could cook just fine. Kotetsu couldn't, not even close, and always whined and pleaded, and Ryuichi gave in every time and kept him fed. Now Kotetsu offered to buy food, for him. That was funny.

Or maybe not, because no one ever claimed he was funny at all, and Ryuichi didn't have cause to believe otherwise. It wasn't needed.

"Well, that's good," Ryuichi said after a moment, in response to the 'no longer feel like killing shit' thing.

Just another day in the life, it seemed. On and on until they forgot everything because they were dead. The way of shinobi.

Ryuichi thought about it for a moment, and then decided he didn't care all that much. It was just how things were.

"Yeah. Fine. That's fine."

There, that was a smile! Well, sort of one - if it was anyone but Ryuichi, one would call it the beginning of one, but this was Ryuichi. Kotetsu smiled back at him, cheered at the thought that Ryuichi was accepting it and didn't hold anything against him.


"Cool, I'll just grab my things, and we can go... after a shower, 'kay?"


He didn't even need to see Ryuichi's nod - when Ryuichi said 'yes' in the first, it was consent all the way until he said otherwise.


Getting their weaponry was easy and quick, and soon enough they were out of the sparring room.


"Meet you back in front of your room in ten," Kotetsu said as he opened his door, "Think of somewhere you wanna go." Then he shut the door, and it was like it was everyday again.