Kakashi leaned his shoulder against the pillar that framed the hospital's outside entrance, and watched Tsume and her family disappear around the street corner, presumably heading back to clan grounds. It was easy to lose her in the crowd without Kuromaru standing tall at her hip.

But she was with her own pack, now, which left Kakashi with only the one stray to guard.

Just not for long.

He pulled his hands out of his pockets, still getting used to the feeling of wearing half a uniform but no gloves, and scraped his chakra together. It came sluggishly when he called it, dragging through still-exhausted pathways, but there was enough to work with. He bit his thumb and twisted the right seals, wrapping them around the scroll a clone had taken the time and effort to retrieve from the Quartermaster.

The jutsu was as flashy as always, making smoke bloom and blue-tinged seals writhe down his wrists. Chakra wrenched out of him.

And Pakkun didn't appear.

Kakashi stared down at the small, white papillion standing in the pug's place, and blinked. "You're not--" He bit off the words and looked at Ryouma, too tired for a second attempt. "Meet your new best friend. I'm going home."

"My what?"

As far as Ryouma could tell, it was a small, animate ball of fluff, with ears twice as big as its head. Alert dark eyes peered up at him from a sharp-featured face, and long, silky fur fluttered and settled as the smoke of its appearance dissipated. He could probably hold it in both hands without much overflow. "That's a dog? It's more the size of a rat."

For something that small, it had a truly impressive growl. Ryouma caught himself just in time to keep from hobbling back out of range.

Kakashi rolled his eyes and bent down to scoop up the little dog; her growl cut off the moment his hand slid under her middle. "And you're roughly the size of a gorilla", he said, straightening up again. "But you don't see me making disparaging comments."

Just for a second, he held the papillion against his ribs, free hand reaching up to brush his fingers gently over her small skull. She licked his palm, feathery tail beating gently against his loose shirt. Then he held her out to Ryouma.

"This is Shiba. She's a papillion," he said, and almost enjoyed the way Ryouma's scent twisted completely into confusion. It was better than hurt. "And she's yours for the next day or two. Now take her so I can go home."

That tone of voice was hard to resist--even when it was an order, not a request. Instinctive rebellion warred with bewildered curiosity, and almost lost. One hand actually released the grip of his crutch, and reached out.

The crutch slipped out of his armpit and made a treacherous dive for the ground. Ryouma swore and caught it just in time.

He was pretty sure the dog was laughing at him.

"I don't need a dog," he said. "Unless you wanna lend me Baiji for riding back to HQ, which I wouldn't turn down. He likes my jokes." And he'd carried Ryouma halfway back to Konoha--maybe all the way, though Ryouma's memory gave out at the point where Haruichi had immolated him in green fire. He owed them. Both of them.

That mountain of debt wasn't likely to wear away. Not in this lifetime.

I need you to have a dog, Kakashi didn't quite manage to say. Shiba twisted in his hands, angling her head back to give him a slightly resentful look; she didn't want to stay with Ryouma any more than Ryouma wanted to take her. Kakashi strangled the urge to yell at them both.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to only have enough chakra for one dog--and that dog wasn't even Pakkun. It wasn't fair that he had to give her to Ryouma. It wasn't fair that he needed to give her to Ryouma. It wasn't fair that he couldn't get his head together enough to leave Ryouma alone without someone to guard his back.

It wasn't fair that Ginta had been right.

Run away, coward.

Shiba whined at him, fur-fledged ears pinned back. He snarled, exhausted, and then snapped the noise off half-way through. It wasn't her fault.

"Baiji's busy," he said shortly, and crouched to set Shiba on the ground. A softer growl had her stepping back, falling into place by Ryouma's ankle. She wasn't a fighting dog--she was far too small--but she didn't have to be. He just needed someone in place to carry a message, if something went wrong, and that was her job anyway. "And you wouldn't want a dog his size in your room."

He stayed crouched for half a second, scroll dangling from one hand and blood dripping from the other, and resigned himself to leaving--even if he had to do it in steps.

He straightened up again.

"If you have a problem, send her for me." Ryouma was staring at him. Kakashi shoved his hands into his pockets and turned away. "If you don't, just remember to feed her."

"If I have a problem, it'll be because I tripped on her." Ryouma swung one of his crutches out, wobbled severely, and planted it just before he tilted over. The tiny dog leaped sideways, looking offended, and yapped sharply at him.

"You've had four legs a lot longer than I have," Ryouma snapped back. He tried another hobbling step, with the dog dancing anxiously around his feet. It shouldn't have been nearly this bad. Other ninja managed crutches all the time. Ryouma'd seen a couple one-legged men who practically lived with them. Maybe expectations and impatience were making it worse. Certainly his utter loathing wasn't helping matters any.

It wasn't helping him catch up to Kakashi, either. He tried a longer stride, pitched forward, and nailed his foot to the ground just in time with chakra he didn't really have to spare. The world spun in interesting ways. Mostly, Ryouma realized after a dizzying moment, because he was viewing it at right angles.

Something prickled at his ankle. He righted himself, swearing, and glanced down to see a miniscule fluff-ball attached to his heel. The whatever-Kakashi-had-called-it probably didn't even have teeth big enough to break skin, but when he kicked at it, it danced nimbly out of range, puffed up with as much pride as if its insignificant weight had actually kept his foot on the ground.

"Kakashi!" Ryouma yelled at his retreating back. "I don't need a babysitter!"

Kakashi paused when chakra weaker than a breath flared behind him, but it wasn't followed by the heavy smack of a body hitting the ground. After a second Shiba barked the okay and he started walking again. See? Ryouma would be fine without him; and even better once he stopped treating his stupid crutches like the enemy and figured out how to use them.

"Yeah?" he called, without looking back. "Well you've got one. Deal with it."

Shiba yipped, high and just a little disgruntled. Then she whined, and he had to stop. His dogs didn't whine. He glanced over his shoulder.

Ryouma was leaning heavily on his crutches, pale-skinned and sheened with sweat. Shiba was by his ankles, small and white and confused--and Kakashi got it. She still didn't understand why he was leaving. He hadn't given her a message to carry, he'd just thrown her at a stranger and told her to stay.

Deliberately, he looked at Ryouma and let his shoulders relax for half a second. Let his face soften. Wiped his anger away. He's a pup, he told her, voice slipping into a low growl. Injured pup. Needs watching. I can't do it.

Her head came up, eyes sharpening. It wasn't much of an order, but the look, the forced change in his scent that went along with it, gave it added weight. He's special.

His shoulders came up again; his eye stayed fixed on Ryouma, looking at him for the first time all day. "She's called a papillion because of her ears," he said, hands clenched in his pockets. "The fur makes them look like butterfly wings. It's a western thing. Seriously, don't forget to feed her." She's special, too.

He was around the corner and gone before Ryouma could reply.

"Someday," Ryouma told the street at large, "I'll learn to communicate just by wiggling my ears. And I'll teach someone else, and we'll talk like that all the damn time, and then they'll know how it feels."

A genin passing by gave him a startled, disbelieving glance, and quickened her pace.

"That's your fault," Ryouma said to the dog. "You look like the kind of fluff-monster Ginta would carry around. I'm getting extra gay points or something just standing next to you."

The dog didn't seem to think much of that, either. Its ridiculous ears tipped backward; its tiny lip lifted, exposing minuscule teeth. Not a serious threat, but a warning all the same. Ryouma sighed and shoved himself a little more upright.

"C'mon," he said. "You need a chew-toy. I need somewhere to sit down. I bet we can do something about both of those."

He'd hunt Kakashi down later, and kick his ass.