Raidou drummed his fingers on the wall.

Nine and a half minutes arrived at the pace of cold syrup, infinitely more frustrating then the hours that had preceded them, and with every passing second he expected a chunk of wall to explode. In his year as Team Eighteen’s lieutenant, he’d seen Katsuko go critical three times—but each incident had been predictable. Once when Isamu had gone down with a blade in his back. Once when an enemy Iwa-nin had cornered her in a shelter of rocks and torn her armor open—that one had ended in a red mist. The last time had been the thing with the children’s hospital, and Katsuko hadn’t been the only one driven to slaughter.

People had died each time, but they’d been the right people.

He’d never seen her misstep on home ground.

He hadn’t seen her misstep now, in fairness, but he was ninja enough to recognize the breath between a lit fuse and the inevitable crater.

At ten and a half minutes, he pulled a pebble loose from the wall and tossed it over the edge, listening for the faint clink as it hit the path sixty feet down.

Eleven minutes. He unbuckled and re-buckled his armguards more tightly.

Twelve minutes. Back to drumming.

At thirteen minutes, he was ready to abandon his post and go looking for them.

Thirteen and a half—

Screw it. He turned away from the wall and almost walked straight into Genma, who’d managed to wraith right up to his back without Raidou noticing, because distraction killed.

It almost killed Genna, actually. Raidou arrested the automatic punch before it was more than a twitch, and regained his composure.

“Tea?” Genma offered, holding up a cup.

At his back, Katsuko was a casual S-curve in her ANBU armor, radiating only the barest hint of tension. “Everything okay, taichou?” she asked.

“Fine,” said Raidou, before remembering he had a general no coddling on duty policy. “No, scratch that, you’re late.”

Behind the tanuki-face, Genma didn’t even blink. “Won’t happen again,” he said steadily.

Katsuko straightened and bowed an apology, iced-over calm. “Sorry, captain.”

Yeah, Raidou thought. Blew that.

He sighed and raked a gloved hand through his hair, then rolled his shoulders back and took the tea from Genma. It smelled like something green, slightly over-stewed. “Thank you,” he said.

Genma’s mask tipped an expressionless acknowledgement. “Anything happen while we were gone?”

My blood pressure rose twelve points, Raidou didn’t say. “Whole lot of nothing,” he said. “I’m starting to think there was either a change of plans, or Hatake got it wrong.”

“He was shocky and poisoned. I’m willing to believe he was a little wrong,” Genma said.

Katsuko piped up helpfully. “Maybe they’re off on holiday.”

Well, she seemed recovered.

Raidou gave her an assessing look that, hopefully, suggested brain filter, and twitched a simple genjutsu around himself. He drained the lukewarm tea in three long swallows; it went a long way towards clearing his head. “Or the armed battlements drove them off.”

“Maybe,” Genma allowed, with cool skepticism.

Maybe Orochimaru was smart enough to let them wear themselves out with a week of high-tension guarding, and he’d mount an attack when they started to wind down.

Or maybe it was all just rumors on the wind, and they were getting sunburned for nothing.

Raidou dropped his genjutsu and centered his attention back on his most pressing concern, which was Katsuko. When she walked past him to the wall, he brushed his fingertips against her arm-guard, tapping a quick four-beat ANBU code: Okay?

The response was instant, almost a perfect mirror against his arm. Okay. She took her place at the wall again, still unusually quiet, but focused this time.

He had no idea what was going on with her.

Well, if she told him, he’d help her beat it bloody. If she didn’t tell him, he’d make sure she stayed on the rails until she’d figured out a way to solve it for herself.

He took up his place at her side and propped his elbows on the wall, staring out at an unchanging sea of wind-blown trees.