“Shit!” Ryouma startled all the way upright, and Kakashi’s hand fell away. “It wasn’t still standing, was it? We had Kumo-nin on our tails, we trapped the hell out of it for them--”

Kakashi’s fingertips went to the side of his head, where the scar from the falling, exploding masonry was hidden in his hairline. “I know,” he said dryly. “Nice message you left.”

Dear Kumo-nin,

Thanks for all the fun. Hope you die slow.

Love, Team Badass.

Ryouma looked more alarmed, and slightly guilty. “Message was Arata. The jutsu was mostly mine.”

“It felt like your chakra,” Kakashi agreed. “So we got trapped,” because they’d been idiots, “and the hunters the Hokage sent after us had to dig us out. Which is my personal worst, as far as rescue attempts go.” He snorted in self-contempt. “And that was it; we got dragged home, Ginta wound up on medical leave because of his leg, which was worse, and he smashed his face up badly. And I...”

His smile was wan. “I don’t actually remember if they put something on my record. I didn’t care. You were gone, probably dead, and they hadn’t even told me. I was in hospital for a couple days, then I started taking missions again, and nothing really mattered all that much.”

Ryouma looked white and stricken, cheek hollowed in a way that said he was biting it on the inside. They were both naked and sleep-rumpled and sitting on the floor, and Kakashi felt faintly sick at everything spilling out of his mouth. But Ryouma had told the truth, had always told the truth, and Kakashi owed him at least that much.

“And then I got kicked out,” he finished, voice rasping a little; too many words, too early. “Which you already knew, but the point is...” He steeled himself, meeting Ryouma’s eyes. “I really don’t care about Katsuko, and somehow we’re both still alive, so if it won’t send you running, I think I’d like to try something with strings.”