Crouched on his haunches in front of his stereo, Ryouma cocked his head and listened more intently. Maybe this CD was getting old. He was pretty sure that scratching sound hadn't distorted the opening bars of "Desperate Measures" before...

And he was definitely sure Takamura Hideo of Shutdown Assassin hadn't sounded like that before. Or called his name.

Which meant that either he'd passed his psychological evaluations yesterday only to indulge in bizarre hallucinations less than eighteen hours later, or there was someone at the door. Not Kakashi. Too deep for Tsume or for Ginta, who wouldn't be coming by now anyway. And he was pretty sure neither Raidou nor Genma had ever used his name...

"Keep your shirt on!" he hollered, shoving himself to his feet. He considered that, flirted with the possibility of a lovely but inexplicably deep-voiced girl on the other side of the door, and added, "Or off!" That cool brunette from Intel, Fumiko, had a low alto, didn't she? He should check up on her one of these days. Hah, maybe she was checking up on him!

Or maybe a giant wolf-dog was sitting in front of his door, gleaming white fangs bared in a mad grin, heavy tail pounding the floor. A bedraggled stuffed animal lolled on the floor between his paws.

Ryouma managed not to shut the door. "Hey," he said, only slightly strained. "Does Tsume know you're here?"

Kuromaru scooped the puppy back up into his jaws, standing up and stepping forward.

Except--wait. He wasn't supposed to just push past his alpha unless invited--

But Ryouma had taken a step back. That was an invitation! Kuromaru slipped through the gap between Ryouma's legs and the doorframe, only bumping a little on each side as he passed. With two big leaps he was up on Ryouma's futon, tail beating the mattress, puppy lying across his front paws. "I think she heard me. But if she doesn't, that's okay. I mean, you're the alpha, and she's the alpha, but she's not my alpha, so I don't have to answer to her."

He flopped over, back legs pushing as he stretched to his full length along the mattress. "This is a nice bed!" He kicked and rolled to his back, legs splayed, then turned his head to look at Ryouma upside down. His own words tickled the back of his mind. Ryouma was an alpha, and Tsume was an alpha... "You know, if you wanted to be the Pack Alpha with her, you'd have to take over the Inuzuka first. I bet you could." He had, after all, beaten Kuromaru--and Kuromaru was the top of the top.

Not like Kanaye. They'd just given him that post.

Ryouma didn't look happy, though. Kuromaru flopped back down to his side. It was only natural, really, that Ryouma and Tsume be the Pack Alphas. If they were the strongest, and they liked each other, and they were here... somehow, that made a difference in his head. He didn't stop to examine why.

Ryouma still didn't look thrilled. Kuromaru's ear flopped. "But I guess you don't have to, if you don't want to..." He pawed at the puppy. "Though I don't see why you wouldn't want to," he mumbled disapprovingly.

"I'm a lone wolf," Ryouma suggested. "I don't do Pack."

Kuromaru stared at him suspiciously. Ryouma relented a little and shut the door. It wasn't like he could drag Kuromaru out, anyway; and the dog wasn't exactly messing with his stuff. Just...getting fur all over his bed. Given that Tsume had slept there a little over a week ago, he really didn't have much cause to protest. Maybe he should have washed the sheets.

"I haven't done Pack, much," he said, crossing the room to edge the volume down on a spine-tingling guitar solo. "Except when I was a kid. I could beat up anyone in my gang--in the Canal Street slums, really. Does that count as alpha experience? I don't think Tsume was impressed."

Kuromaru's tail picked up its off-tune beat once more, as Ryouma stopped looking quite so annoyed. He scooted along the bed as if, if he just stretched far enough, he could put his head under Ryouma's hand and get petted. He even flicked his tongue out a time or two, but Ryouma was too far away--and Kuromaru wasn't giving up his perch. He relaxed, finally.

"That's what alpha kids do," he said, looking around for his puppy. He'd rolled over it. "They beat up everyone else. Tsume's ma used to say that they beat Tsume up, but she wouldn't quit..." There was his puppy. He yanked it out and dropped it on the floor. Then he looked up at Ryouma. "Did you beat up the older kids, too? Tsume always tried... Once she got in trouble for refusing to follow her genin sensei's orders." His jaw dropped, a doggy grin. "So if you fought with your sensei, it's because you were an alpha."

His puppy was still on the floor. He pawed at it.

"Pretty sure I fought with my sensei 'cause she was a Hyuuga and thought rules were the best things since the invention of chakra." Ryouma shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned back against his stereo, letting the low throb of bass and drums sink through his spine. "But I did break my team captain's nose once, when I was a tokujou. Nearly got cashiered for insubordination."

He still didn't think that was what Kuromaru or any of the Inuzuka meant by this crazy alpha thing. Ryouma fought back because he had to; no one was ordering him around unless they'd earned the right to do it. From what little he understood of the way the Inuzuka lived, alphas fought because they--

Had to, too. But Inuzuka alphas were born, not made, right? Except Kuromaru was cheerfully content in the assurance that he wasn't alpha anymore, and Ryouma was. Which argued for at least some social mobility, and none of this was making any sense.

"So what's being Pack Alpha with Tsume get me? Will she listen to what I say?" He rubbed the back of his neck and grinned at Kuromaru. "Does it impress the chicks?"

Kuromaru let out a ream of human laughter. "Being Pack Alpha with Tsume just means you're equals. She doesn't listen to anybody." His jaw dropped, tongue lolling out, ear folded back with amusement. "But the other chicks--"

His jaw snapped closed, ear slicking flat against his head. "Well. I mean. It's not like you'll want all the girls... Sure, normally only the alpha breeds, but we're civilized, you know. Tsume almost never told a pair no... and maybe I did, sometimes, but that was different." He looked one way. Then he looked the other way. Then he slid down far enough to get his puppy, and squirmed backward onto the bed again. Daintily, he grabbed the plastic nose with his teeth, planted a massive foot on its belly, and tugged. The plastic didn't come off. He didn't tug very hard. He snuck an oblique look up at Ryouma.

"So... you know... just because you're alpha doesn't mean only you get the girls." His tail whumped as a thought occurred to him. "You could make sure your favorite--" He couldn't manage to refer to himself as a beta. "--other alphas all get the girls, too!"

It was a brilliant plan.

"Other top canines usually breed when the alpha's out of sight, anyway!" At least, other alphas did, and anyone else who got permission. Sometimes betas, if they were making a play for power.

"Oh hell," Ryouma said, involuntarily. He scrubbed a hand over his face and tried very hard to banish those mental images. "Um, yeah, I think I can definitely let you handle a few of the, uh, girls. I got a lot on my plate already." And Tsume didn't count, apparently. The one bright spot in all this mess dimmed as abruptly as it had lit.

But Kuromaru was in a talkative mood. Ryouma flicked the volume up a little more--just enough that anyone next door with keen ears and an over-developed sense of curiosity wouldn't hear anything more than a low murmur underpinning the music--and dropped down on the bed beside Kuromaru. "Tsume gets alpha breeding rights too, right? But she doesn't, uh, breed, does she? Not since Kiba. I mean, Yasuo acts an awful lot like a guy who's not gettin' any."

And Tsume acted a lot like a woman ready to castrate a man with her teeth if he got overly friendly. She enjoyed touching, certainly; every night for almost a week Ryouma had gone to sleep with her slight warmth pressed up against his back. But touch only went so far, and he still couldn't figure her out.

Kuromaru relaxed, safe in the knowledge that his sexual life would continue to thrive. He rolled slightly, butting up against Ryouma in the hopes that one of those empty hands would start petting. "Tsume gets breeding rights, but it's different for the humans." His ear drifted uncertainly, forward and back. "The people who suggest breedings aren't alphas, but even the alphas agree with them. Some cubs just happen, and that's okay. But Tsume says they're trying to make the clan bloodlines stronger, so usually they try to breed the right people to get better cubs."

The next part was a little bit easier, and he straightened confidently. "But Tsume doesn't want any more cubs. She didn't really want Kiba--" He hesitated, his ear pointing firmly at his plushie before tucking back. "Or Hana, either. So I don't think she wants another, even if they tell her it would be a perfect cub." He knew she didn't want one; Kiba had been difficult enough.

"And Yasuo," he said definitely, "isn't getting any from Tsume. But maybe from someone else." The fur across his shoulders rippled; it was as close as he could get to a shrug. "I don't think Tsume cares, so..." He pawed at his stuffed animal, then looked up solemnly at Ryouma. "And humans can have all the sex they want, too. You just shouldn't breed when the girls are fertile, even if they smell the best then. And maybe use some of those bad-smelling things." He gave Ryouma's crotch a doubtful look. "Or just pull out. Unless, of course, you want cubs. Alphas can decide that--even if your Inuzuka bloodlines aren't very good."

"I always use protection," Ryouma said absently. "And you have a dirty mind."

Tsume hadn't wanted her kids? But they were family. He'd seen the way they interacted--the way Tsume's face softened when she ruffled Kiba's hair, the way her glare sharpened when she heard of the teasing Hana endured. She'd said she didn't want Hana's father in their lives, but she didn't mind Yasuo hanging around...

"They're good kids." He dropped onto his back, hands laced under his head, and stared up at the ceiling. "She should be proud of 'em." She was, wasn't she? They were smart and tough and high-spirited, even if Hana wilted far too readily at the slightest hint of her mother's disapproval. Good kids, and they'd make good ninja. But Kiba was pure-bred Inuzuka, and Hana wasn't, and Tsume hadn't wanted either of them.

He wondered if Hana, at least, guessed it.

Kuromaru, distracted from deciding the best angle to lay on Ryouma, pushed up into a sitting position. "Of course she's proud of them!" he said hotly, incensed at the possible censure. "They're the best cubs in the Inuzuka! Hana's smart, smarter than Tsume was at that age--even Tsume agrees--an' she's good in school an' doesn't cause problems an' Tsume says someday she'll probably be good for a council representative, though I don't know why she'd want to..." He shook his head, sidetracked by the strangeness of people.

"And Kiba," he continued after a moment, "well, he's--" Words failed him. Kuromaru's ears flopped sheepishly, and he slowly laid back down, head and paws resting on Ryouma's stomach. "He's very young, still. But I think he'll be really good at the Inuzuka jutsu, like his mom." Slowly, his tail wagged over the rumpled covers. "That's important. But we know he'll do well. He has good breeding. Hana is very human." He muttered the words unhappily, then perked up a little. "But Tsume says that's good, that we need more sensible people in the Pack, so I guess it's one of her strengths."

Now he couldn't remember how they'd gotten here. He licked his paw absently. Tsume, and not wanting cubs. He picked his head up again. "Just because she didn't want them at first doesn't mean she doesn't love them." He sniffed disdainfully, and eyed Ryouma. "Are you sure you don't want cubs? The Inuzuka are awfully short... They probably wouldn't mind some of your height, even if you're not purebred."

Ryouma snorted. "So most of the time they'll just kick the mutt down the street, but when he's got something they want, they'll take it?" It sure sounded like the clans. Build up a couple of generations of knowing who your father is, and suddenly you've got a seat on the village council and an estate outside the village walls, and you get to run the world...

Maybe he'd make a bid for this Pack Alpha thing after all. It could be fun. At the very least, it'd be fun to shake things up.

More importantly, Kuromaru needed to stop getting ideas. "No, I don't want kids. Not now. I got more of other peoples' than I can take care of anyway." He tipped his head to eye the long, blunt muzzle pillowed on his stomach. "Aren't you pretty much repopulating the canine world on your own? You should branch out. See how long that human form'll last." He grinned wickedly. "I bet you'd find at least one girl in this village willing to try."

Kuromaru picked his head up and gave Ryouma a horrified look. "Human females smell funny. Besides, those rumors you hear about Inuzuka aren't true, you know." His ear flattened. "I mean, except for occasionally, and that's pretty frowned upon. The things adolescents will do..." He twitched.

Then his eye unfocused, gaze catching somewhere in the middle distance. "Of course, it would give me a bigger pack..." Blinking, he turned to regard Ryouma with some suspicion. "Are you just saying that so you can have the Inuzuka bitches? I'm not really sure I want to trade, in that case. Human women seem a lot more fickle about what they'll do. I mean, I wouldn't want to have to deal with one like Tsume." He'd seen her refuse sex, or get all panicked and stiff. That wouldn't do at all.

"Hey, I can get girls on my own. Ones who aren't crazy, even." It was just the crazy ones he had trouble with. And, of course, it was the crazy ones he wanted, girl and guy.

Maybe those celibate monks had something going for them. They probably had fewer headaches, at any rate.

He took advantage of Kuromaru's distraction to shove off the bed and pad over to his little refrigerator. Coffee didn't exactly fit the mood, but two glass bottles of caffeinated soda did. Ryouma popped the lid off one, took a long drink, and waggled the other at Kuromaru. "Do you get yelled at for drinking soldier pills in sugar water? Can you drink from a bottle?"

If so, that was something he really wanted to see.

Kuromaru shoved up to his feet as quickly as he could, leaping across the room in one big bound. "I can drink out of bottles! You pour and I'll drink! I'm really good!" Besides which, for soda he'd do all sorts of things. Tsume never gave him soda. It wasn't fair.

His tail wagged so hard it nearly pulled him off balance, back feet staggering first one way and then the other. "I don't drip or anything." He hopped, rising up to stand as tall as Ryouma before tipping to one side and dancing back down to all fours. He raced behind denim-clad legs, then slid into the small space between man and counter, front feet lifting high with each step. He could almost reach the bottles just by picking his head up--if only Ryouma were Tsume's height, he could have just grabbed one by now!

"Which kind is it? Which kind? The dark kind or the light kind? I really like the dark kind best...!" He scooted backward, ducked around Ryouma's other side, and danced all the way to the futon.

Okay, that was worth the price of admission all by itself. How often did you get to see a two-hundred pound killer dog wriggling with hyperactive glee? He was practically bouncing, like Ginta on chocolate cake.

Ryouma couldn't have stopped now at knife-point. He considered the state of his carpet, decided not to risk it, and backed up onto the linoleum of the kitchen nook. Panting in delight, Kuromaru followed. The open bottle went on the counter; Ryouma popped the cap off the other and eyed Kuromaru. Those jaws didn't look terribly well-adapted for drinking a stream poured from midair, but they weren't exactly meant for talking, either. Nin-dogs did all sorts of things they weren't really built for.

And this one had just lost half his vision and most of his depth perception.

Ryouma faltered. Kuromaru lunged.

He jumped a second time when Ryouma stepped away, free hand lifting. Kuromaru's nails skittered on the floor as he dashed forward to grab the bottle now within reach. It was right there!

His front teeth closed on the mouth, and cool, sweet liquid splashed over his tongue--then over his lower jaw and into his fur, dripping to the floor.

Faintly, he became aware that something was very wrong. Ryouma was still holding onto the bottle, but he was tense and he wasn't pouring it right.

Kuromaru's ear flicked back and he sat down, teeth still clamped around the mouth of the bottle, head angling until he could look up. Ryouma didn't look happy. He looked like he was waiting for Kuromaru to snap at him, his free hand up as if to ward off teeth.

Achingly slowly, Kuromaru let go of the bottle (grabbing it quick again, because it was so good, but then carefully, carefully, releasing it once more) and looked up at Ryouma. There was a puddle of soda on the floor. He licked his chops, washing most of the syrupy sweetness off his jaw. Then he leaned forward and, hoping to restore some goodwill, licked at the bottle, Ryouma's hand, fingers, wrist--the bottle again, because it tasted best--and sat back hopefully.

"Okay," he suggested, tail wagging across the floor. "This time I promise to have better manners." Tsume was always telling him his were atrocious. Maybe that's what was wrong with Ryouma. He focused on the bottle and whined softly, then focused on Ryouma and whined again. There was soda. But--Ryouma didn't look happy. It was really hard to focus on his alpha when there was soda right there. He ducked to lick the puddle off the floor, then straightened to see if he was allowed yet, whining again. His whole spine moved as he wagged.

Relaxing the steel-stiff muscles that had brought an automatic hand up to guard his throat felt a little like dropping the bar on the bench-press and hoping someone would show up out of nowhere to spot him. Kuromaru was trying, though. It was damn near impossible to feel threatened when the killer wolf-dog was wiggling like a fish on a line, tongue lolling hopefully, golden eye begging. "Nobody's ever gonna take you seriously after they've seen you like this, y'know," Ryouma muttered. His fingers slipped a little on sticky-wet glass; he readjusted his grip, held the bottle up again.

"Okay, let's give this another try. I just pour, right?" He tipped the open mouth and spilled a dark dribble of cola into the air.

This time, braced against the counter, he was ready when Kuromaru leaped.

It was soda! Kuromaru stretched up, tipping his head back and opening his jaws so the cola poured across his air-lapping tongue and down into his mouth. His ear flicked back when some of it dribbled down into his fur, and still more dripped onto the floor. He couldn't seem to find the right angle...

"Sorry," he said, stepping away, disgruntled. "I don't usually spill." He ducked his head, swiping his tongue over his chest, but the soda had soaked into his fur too high to reach. He tried a few more times, then lapped up the splashed drips on the linoleum. "I used to be real good at it. Shikaku poured and I drank and Tsume never knew, if she'd gotten up for something..." That was where he'd first learned, sneaking beer from Shikaku. He swiped his tongue over the floor again, and then Ryouma's toes, then sat back with his ear tucked. "We could try again...?" Somehow, he just couldn't quite tell where the soda was falling to. It seemed... off.

"I'll have to mop my floor. And my toes." Ryouma gave himself major points for managing to keep his voice fairly level and his hand steady. He set the bottle down on the counter and shifted sideways to fish a cereal bowl out of the sink and rinse it off. Kuromaru didn't even seem to realize what was wrong; he was still eying the bottle as if somehow it had tricked him. "We'll save the practicing for another time, when I got a hose for clean-up. I'll get snacks, too."

He shook excess water off, gave the bowl a cursory wipe with the hem of his shirt, and reached for the soda bottle again. "Maybe Tsume'd join us. She probably goes for beer over soda, though, right?" His mouth tightened briefly. He filled the bowl, set it down on the linoleum, and retrieved his own bottle. "What's she think about this whole alpha thing?"

Marginally better than asking what's she think about you with one eye and no depth perception and something seriously screwed in your head, but only by a little.

Kuromaru deflated a little. He wasn't going to get to drink it out of the air after all. Still, any soda was better than none. He stood, wagging again, and lapped it out of the bowl. "Definitely beer. Beer's good." He looked up, burped loudly, and went back to drinking. The bowl was really low. He sank slowly to the floor, never stopping his lapping, and lay with it cradled between his front legs.

"She doesn't care about the alpha stuff, though. She's still the alpha too, so..." A philosophical shrug rippled up his back. "The Pack shifts pretty regularly. This is just another shift." He eyed the linoleum, inspecting it to make sure he hadn't dripped too much. Cola was slopped all over. He began to lick the floor. Liquid had soaked into the fur on his forelegs. He licked at those, too. "Long as everyone's happy and no one's challenging her--" he angled a suspicious look up at Ryouma. "You're not gonna challenge her, right? 'Cause there's usually a male and female alpha, anyway..."

Ryouma choked on his soda. "Oh hell no," he sputtered, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. "She'd murder me. Seriously. She doesn't need any more reasons for homicide."

And besides, he was pretty sure she wouldn't be as terrifyingly happy to be challenged and beaten as Kuromaru had been. That horrific accident had screwed up Kuromaru's perspective on the world, Tsume said; he'd needed the challenge to put it right again. And maybe he was playing the role of beta dog now, while he was hurt and healing, but he wouldn't be content with this game for long. Once he'd regained his confidence he'd challenge again, and Ryouma could tap out, and the world would be right.

Tsume was different. Too human to see the world as simply as Kuromaru did, too canine (or female, maybe) for Ryouma to understand. Too strong to accept defeat.

"So she's good with the alpha thing. How about the--" He flapped a hand wordlessly at his face. Couldn't quite say it. "She's healing up, right?"

Kuromaru watched Ryouma's antics with amusement. "Of course. Slow, 'cause the chakra's not moving right, but Waki says that's normal. And I'm healing up, too!" He stood, felt soda still dripping under his fur, and ducked swiftly to lick it off. Tsume was never going to let him on the bed like this. "I think I need to be cleaned off, Ryouma," he intoned sadly. "And we should change my bandages!" His tail wagged. "'Cause Tsume doesn't like to, even though she will anyway. But I'd let you do it, 'cause you're the alpha!"

He could afford to let Ryouma see his weakness. Ryouma's job was to protect him, anyway. He could do that better if he knew where Kuromaru was hurting the most.

He hopped, excited. "And then you could brush me! And maybe," he continued slyly, "we could have more soda."

The half-empty bottle clicked down, very gently, on the countertop. Ryouma stared at the bandage-swathed head, the ruffled black fur, the single golden eye narrowed in anticipation. At his own hands, long fingers hardened with calluses and sticky with soda (not blood, not rotting flesh). The gentle warmth of chakra hummed against his bones.

And Kuromaru's tail was still wagging.

"Okay." His throat ached, but his voice was clear. "Lemme grab my kit. You wanna go hang out by the bed?"

Kuromaru darted a final lick at the floor, wheeled, and bounded toward the bed. Halfway across the room he checked, glancing back; then he leapt squarely into the center of the mattress. He wriggled among the rumpled sheets, shedding a fine flurry of dark fur, and then stretched out to pant cheerfully.

Well, he wouldn't have suggested it if he'd been scared, right? Ryouma had heard that a dog always remembered a man who kicked it, but Tsume claimed that Kuromaru could recognize an accident. That it wasn't flashbacks that had tormented him in the hospital, but simply the uncertainty of a half-met challenge. Ryouma still couldn't see how just knowing your place in the world could help anything, but...

Kuromaru looked happy.

Ryouma pushed himself away from the counter, and went to the armor-stand to fetch his med kit.

Kuromaru squirmed cheerfully. Ryouma wasn't even making him get his sopping wet fur off the bed. He was the best alpha ever! Kuromaru waggled furiously, whole spine moving under the impetus of his swinging tail. "Do you have that stuff that makes it numb? That stuff is funny. I don't want it, okay? But no iodine, either. How about--how about--how about gel? Tsume says it makes my fur greasy, but I'll be really careful not to get it on the bed!" He flopped to his side and rolled onto his back, rubbing gleefully in Ryouma's scent.

"An' Genma says I should have a bandage on, but they don't stick to my fur real well, so you have to pet the tape for a while." His ear, mooshed against the blankets, did its best to flop sideways. "I mean, if you wanted to pet me for a while... Otherwise I don't need a bandage."

He lifted one paw, rubbing it up against his face. Medical tape tugged gently at his fur, and he kept on rubbing, claws warily curled so they didn't scratch, leg moving with ponderous slowness. Eventually, the bandaging would come off.

"Hey," Ryouma said, knocking the paw away. "Don't mess with that. You could tear something."

Kuromaru dropped his paw and flopped piteously to the side. When Ryouma sat cautiously next to him, though, he immediately wriggled up to shove his heavy head into Ryouma's lap. One of the strips of white medical tape securing a thick pad of gauze to matted fur had already begun to loosen. Ryouma gently eased it free and folded the edge of the pad back.

The nightmare wasn't real.

Granulating pink flesh had begun to creep through the scabs at the edges of the empty socket. The serum that seeped out from loosening scabs was the clear fluid of a healing wound, not yellow pus or black putrescence. A few stubby hairs poked through the new, wrinkled pink flesh where fur had been seared away. Ryouma let his breath out slowly between his teeth, and teased the rest of the medical tape loose.

"You got bragging rights till the end of time, y'know," he said, wadding the stained gauze up and tossing it towards the kitchen garbage. "Nobody--and I mean nobody--ever got touched with that jutsu and lived. Let alone kept all their good looks. I think you're gonna rock that rakish charm thing. I won't have a chance at the ladies after all."

Kuromaru twisted his head to look adoringly at Ryouma out of his single eye. "Well, I'm pretty strong, you know. Lots stronger than normal ninja. An' drugs are funny with us Inuzuka, sometimes, so maybe your jutsu is, too!" He picked his head up, holding very still while his alpha cleaned his wound. The whole time, his tail thumped happily. When Ryouma took his hand away Kuromaru wiggled farther up, placing his forelegs across Ryouma's lap.

"Asuma--have you met him? He's allergic to steak and chicken--says I should have an eyepatch, an' I think Haruichi's mate is gonna make me one, and then I'll be really handsome and it will have rhinestones!" He scooted farther forward, back legs pushing at the blankets. "And maybe if you really need to impress the ladies sometime, you can wear it." He looked up at Ryouma with a giant doggie grin, jaw dropped, tongue lolling out. "But not anybody else."

"I'll get a cocked hat," Ryouma said. "Like a pirate. We can trade." He sorted through the disorganized mess of his med kit, found tape and a roll of gauze, and set about trying to fold a pad. The empty eye-socket, now swabbed clean and smeared with antibiotic ointment, was fairly easy to cover; he just had to leave the bandaging loose enough to let the wound breathe. The long, curving slash of scar where the lost ear had rooted was harder to deal with. Ryouma tried wrapping gauze around the base of Kuromaru's skull, but it slipped loose the first time Kuromaru ducked his head to nibble at an itchy spot on his foreleg. In the end they went back to tape, lapped liberally over the edges of the folded gauze and anchored in clumped fur. Kuromaru shook his head vigorously, stretched, yawned, and shoved his head under Ryouma's hand again.

His fur was coarser than it looked, harsh and heavy against Ryouma's calluses. Beneath the long guard hairs, the undercoat was impossibly soft. Ryouma's fingers flexed, sinking in, and Kuromaru sighed and snuggled closer.

No fear at all; no flinching at remembered pain. Ryouma spread his hand and closed it again, feeling the chakra hum warm and safe beneath his skin. "Okay," he said softly. "Guess I can't let a dog beat me, can I?"

Kuromaru muttered an incomprehensible protest. Ryouma ruffled a hand through thick, dark fur, and smiled.