"Worse than what?" Ryouma demanded. "Than I already did? I dunno how descriptive your nightmares get, Inuzuka, but mine don't get much worse than that. And she came back to me anyway."

Broad shoulders flinched; thin lips peeled back again with a rumbling growl. Slit pupils narrowed into a glare that did its best to rip Ryouma's throat out all by itself. He grinned back, reckless, taunting, burning with a sudden wild hope that Yasuo would attack. Because Kuromaru was hiding under the bed, and Tsume was on her knees begging for her dog to come back to himself, and Kakashi had cried on his shoulder and Ginta hadn't taken no for an answer and the world was wrong and spinning out of control.

Blood would make it right again, even if it was his. Especially if it was his.