Tsume twitched away at the hand on her arm, whipping around snake-fast to look at whoever had snuck up. Even with chakra, the area was so crowded she might not have felt him. At least, that's what she told herself, trying not to think about the spar that had gone so poorly the day before.

She didn't know him. Except he smelled familiar. Tsume paused, a slight frown between her brows, and leaned in to get another sniff. The man--boy--in front of her flinched back but didn't otherwise move. His blood rushed under his skin though, warming his scent and making him flush. Even without that, she'd have smelled the sudden sweet reek of embarrassment. Tsume rocked back on her heels and look up at him. He wasn't much taller than she was--her eyeline was at the narrow arch of his nose--

Well. Almost. If she stared level, she was looking at the hollow under his jaw. Close enough.

She tipped her head. "You live on the bottom floor. Have we met?" She knew they hadn't, but it seemed polite to ask. If her tone was a little bit cooler than it usually was, she couldn't be blamed. All this powerlessness and knowing that another Inuzuka would push was making her twitchy.

Inuzuka, but not Touga. Obviously not Touga. Hayate blushed brightly, but held his place as the woman leaned closer to scent him. Now that he really looked, she was shorter than Touga, and she was definitely not male. Hayate had never seen her before. His gaze dropped to his boots in dismayed embarrassment for making such a mistake.

"N-no," he answered, softly. "I'm sorry, I thought...I thought you were someone else."

He bit his lip. Then her words penetrated. He glanced back up at her. Her eyes were very very pale blue--for a moment he thought they were white. "Bottom fl--you're in ANBU?"

Stupid question, he thought, and bit his lip again. Today was obviously not a good day. First mistaking this lady for someone she was not, and then asking dumb questions. If she was in ANBU, she was probably an older member, and now he looked like a stupid rookie. Hayate considered beating a hasty retreat to keep from looking more like an idiot. Except, she was Inuzuka. She might know Touga. Hayate had lost track of the man after joining ANBU.

His scent whirled through a myriad of emotions before settling on a confusing mix. She snorted through her nose to clear it, rubbing it with the back of one hand. "I'm your resident Inuzuka. Gotta have one. Keeps people worried." She gave him a half feral grin, then tipped her head toward the stand in invitation and started walking again. "My pup's likely going to tear something apart if I don't get over there with money." Kuromaru had finally been released for an afternoon off, his injuries healing well enough that even Waki had said getting out would do him more good than being cooped up. They could only keep him sedated for so long, after all.

Tsume had worried about crossing Ryouma's path, but they'd stayed outside. She smelled like Ryouma, had even shoved an old towel in his bed overnight and taken it to Kuromaru, scent-laden, in the morning. None of that had bothered her familiar. Maybe the man himself wouldn't, either, but she wasn't ready to try it.

Okonomiyaki, however, was fair game--and Kuromaru loved the stuff.

Tsume faced the crowd, trying to get through as she kept talking to the new resident. She'd been avoiding them as a whole, not wanting to meet other ninja while she was weak, but that was no longer possible. Of course, it was hard to worry about someone who smelled so unhappy. She gave him a smile, instead. "Haven't seen you around much. You avoiding the cafeteria? Can't blame you. Though if you praise him, Morimoto'll fix great food." He looked like he could use more food--he was slim and lanky, still growing and already taller than she was. They were either taking them in young these days, or he was very good.

Tsume hoped the latter.

She planted a few pointy elbows into several ribcages trying to get through. It wasn't so much that people didn't want to get out of her way--it was that they were too busy trying to escape from the bounding demon canine to notice Tsume was there. Someone hammered into her and she staggered back, cursing under her breath when her chakra didn't stick her in place. Waki-sensei was going to kill her if she or Kuromaru did themselves damage because of his exuberance.

She dropped back beside Hayate and waved a hand at the crowd. "Think you could fling some killing intent that way? Sure make my life easier." And maybe get her pup's attention. This wasn't the way to spend the first day off bedrest.

Hayate snapped a hand out to steady her when she staggered back, palm settling between her shoulderblades. She was short, but decidedly compact, a little heavier than he would have first thought. He held the contact only as long as she needed to get her feet back under her, pulling away quickly.

Keeps people worried, huh? he thought, rather amused. That was a very Inuzuka-like thing to say. He wondered, briefly, if all Inuzuka were that brash and ready for mischief. Touga and this lady certainly were.

And then she asked him to clear a path. "Eh?" he uttered, surprised. He glanced up at the jostling crowd, mostly people vacating the area very quickly. Probably because of the lady's "pup," which Hayate severely doubted was anything "pup"-sized.

"I suppose," he said, voice fraying a little at the end. He cleared his throat and eyed the crowd again with some dismay. For a twiggy teenager and a shorter-than-average woman, the crowd was quite an obstacle. Hayate, alone, could have eeled his way through without much trouble, but he doubted the Inuzuka would manage his tactics.

After a moment of consideration, he settled on her suggestion. It wasn't killing intent, just a little snap of chakra with warning in it. In a larger crowd, it wouldn't have worked. It didn't exactly clear a path, either, just made the people around them suddenly less eager to get in his way. He pressed forward, knowing the effect wouldn't last long.

Tsume blinked once at his spine, smothered her growl, resisted the urge to shove ahead of him, and let him cut a path. Kuromaru was, unsurprisingly, leaping around the okonomiyaki stand, heedless of the people around him.

"Oi!" She bellowed. "Pup!"

He wagged so hard his whole body serpentined, empty eyesocket violently red turning away until he could see her with his remaining gold eye. "You said--you said--!"

"I know, I know!" She fished out money, glancing at the terrified man behind the little counter. "Have you started fixing his order yet?"

The man just stared at her.

"Look, the faster you start working, the faster we go away, the faster you get business back."

He continued to stare at her.

Tsume padded to the counter. Leaned over. Smiled broadly enough to show off each and every too-sharp tooth. And said, "Do it."

The man lurched into motion. Kuromaru howled in his excitement and jumped up so his front paws were on the counter, and he could watch what was going on. On his hind legs, he was over six feet tall--and he had to stoop to keep his paws on the wood. Tsume reached sideways and scratched his belly. The wagging increased, but he didn't put all four feet on the ground.

She smiled over at the human pup. "So. You have a name, or have you decided to change it officially to rookie?"

And that was no "pup." Hayate eyed the monster-dog with trepidation. Had he seen the dog first, there would have been no mistaken identities. After he'd gotten over the first shock of the sheer size of the black-furred beast, Hayate noticed the obvious hairless patches on the dog's skull, the lack of ear--and eye--and the healing-over wounds.

The woman's face was bandaged, too....in a disturbingly similar pattern. Hayate frowned a little, and eyed them both. Her stumble earlier, combined with the bandages, should had been a warning note to him. No ninja lost their balance so easily....unless they were still recovering from wounds.

Their attention was not on him. He could easily just slip away. He was very tempted to--he'd made such a blunder in just assuming she was Touga. But then...she was Inuzuka, and she might know Touga. And she had offered something of an invitation to eat with her: not in words, but any ninja worth their salt could read body-language. Inuzuka especially. But still, to presume a welcome where there was none...

He hesitated too long. She smiled back at him. "So. You have a name, or have you decided to change it officially to rookie?"

The unexpected humor and welcome in her voice made him smile back--not his little polite smile but something more real, crooked and with a dimple in his right cheek. That was obviously an invitation to stick around a little longer. "I thought about it," he answered, chuckling. "Gekkou Hayate."

Assured of his welcome now, he came closer, to stand at the counter on her other side, out of range of the dog's eagerly wagging tail. "May I ask your names, Inuzuka-san?" He gestured a little to the huge black dog as he spoke. His voice tried to quit halfway through. He cleared his throat roughly and waited for her answer.

Her gaze snipped to him when, for just a moment, his voice seemed to strain. She sniffed again but didn't catch any sign of illness, and relaxed. "Inuzuka Tsume," she hitched a thumb toward the canine ignoring them completely, "and Kuromaru. Say hello, pup."

He just whined and strained to see farther over the counter. One back foot lifted, pawing at the sheer side as if looking for purchase, and shoulder muscles strained as his powerful body slunk higher up on the surface.

"Oi! Stay down!" Tsume yelled, nudging his standing leg with her toe.

He whined, let it grow into a howl, and backed off. Spit dripped off his tongue as he panted heavily.

"You'll have to excuse him," she said with a wry smile at the other ANBU. "He gets a little obsessive over this."

"Okonomiyakiiiii!" Kuromaru howled. He rose higher on his back legs, rocking away from the stand, hopping twice before making a bounding spin down to all fours and leaping up against the counter again. The whole place rocked.

"Okay, enough," Tsume snapped, turning around and glaring at him. "Or I'll tell Waki-sensei you were curious about prostate exams."

Kuromaru's ear flicked back against his skull, and he dropped down to all four feet. She tried not to notice the soft whine when skin pulled where his other ear should have been, and healing scabs--uncovered because the bandages didn't stick easily on fur--almost broke. Instead, Tsume turned back to the other ANBU and gave him a tired smile. "Sorry about that. Did you want something?" She tipped her head toward the stand in invitation.

Hayate watched the dog's antics with more amusement than alarm. He was a little bemused by the fact that the dog--Kuromaru--actually talked, but he'd seen stranger things.

The little distressed whine corresponded with Tsume's sudden loss of cheer. Hayate smiled politely at her question, and glanced at the harried cook. The man gave him a pleading look, and Hayate took pity on him. "Um, not right now."

His stomach growled, belying his words. Hayate's smile took on a very sheepish shade, and he glanced back at the cooking food. "Well..." he amended, because today he really was hungry, instead of just eating something because he should.

Order placed, he fumbled through his coat pockets to find a piece of candy. It would keep his voice from catching so badly. By feel he found a broken piece, and fished the smaller piece out of the wrapper. The honey taste was sweet and welcome. He sucked on it a moment, gathering up his courage. He gave Tsume a sidelong glance before he asked his question, feeling oddly forward for asking, though his mistaking her for Touga had started all this.

"You...you wouldn't happen to know an Inuzuka named Touga, would you?"

"Touga?" she echoed, flashing a grin at the young man. "You know him? He's a pus-infected mite bite, isn't he?" But the words were spoken with fondness, and her ice-blue gaze softened. "He's one of my many cousins. You're not holding a grudge, are you?" Her eyes twinkled. "I'd hate to have to go to war right inside the ANBU HQ. I doubt Arakaki would appreciate it."

"Here you are, Inuzuka-san," the vendor said, shoving a pile of okonomiyaki over the counter.

Tsume turned and counted out money, paying for everything with the last of her cash. Okonomiyaki got expensive in the amounts Kuromaru ate, but it was worth it.

She turned and handed the pup--Hayate--his food, steering them all away from the stand and carrying Kuromaru's meals. The man behind the counter had given her a box, so at least she wasn't trying to balance everything with chakra. Which, given her current state, would have been impossible.

"Head that way," she suggested with a nod. "You can tell me how you know Touga."

Hayate blinked, took the food, and trailed obediently after Tsume. He found he had to shorten his usual long-legged stride to keep comfortable pace with her. "Grudge? Oh, no, not at all."

It would be difficult indeed for him to hold a grudge against Touga, Hayate thought, considering how the man and his team had looked after him on their missions. They had tolerated--and corrected--a very green chuunin's blunderings with considerable grace. And even if Touga himself was not fond of Hayate, his dog certainly had been. Hayate grinned a little at the memory. Lovin' given by a dog up to your waist and weighing more than you was certainly memorable.

It was a relief to know Touga was still alive. In a ninja community, losing track of someone even briefly might mean the next you heard of them you were attending their memorial service. Life was short, especially for those who dealt in death for a livelihood.

"I ran a few missions with him," Hayate explained. "And...just kinda lost track of him." Which was a shame, really, given how kind the man had been to him.

He paused and coughed twice, briefly. Kuromaru's ear pointed at him, and both dog and woman gave him a stern look. Hayate knew his cough sounded bad, but that was all...

"Well, that's good." But she'd already moved past Touga and onto the barking cough the pup was giving. He didn't smell ill; she'd have caught that right off. "You have an issue with your lungs?" she asked warily, reaching a bench and stepping on it to perch on the back, her feet on the seat.

People didn't generally get into ANBU if they weren't in peak health, but maybe he wasn't the rookie she'd assumed. Besides which, focusing on his problems was a great way to distract her from her own.

The smell of the warm food was quite good. And he was very hungry. Hayate slipped a hand in the box and pinched off a piece--hothothot--and popped it quickly into his mouth. Thus, instead of nearly-burning his fingers, he nearly burnt his tongue.

...just as Tsume asked him a question.

Ah curses. Today was not the best of days--once again he looked like an idiot in front of her.

After a moment, he swallowed the very hot morsel, with a little wince for his burnt tongue. He eyed Tsume and the bench, hesitating, unsure if he should just sit down. Did his welcome run that far? Also, he hated explaining that he was allergic to trees of all things. Most people laughed at that. At least he wouldn't have to convince her he was not sick....

"...I've got allergies," he answered, aware that he'd been silent a moment too long, hanging back a little too long.

To cover the lapse in manners, he smiled politely at her, and moved to sit on the bench.

Which was really, really cold. Hayate winced and perched on the very edge of the seat. It left Tsume's head higher than his, put her almost at his back. He shrugged away the little niggling shiver of unease at that.

Her gaze sharpened. "And they make you cough? Like that? Fuzzy testes, pup, why are you a hunter? Seems Intel would be more the place for you. Unless you have some anti-cough jutsu to help. Anything to keep you from alerting whoever you're after--unless you're supposed to be the distraction..." She paused, realized that last bit probably wasn't entirely tactful, and offered a toothy grin. "In which case, good job." Still not tactful, but maybe he'd take it in the semi-friendly way it was meant.

If he didn't have a jutsu or medication, she was going from here straight to the office to request never to be sent anywhere with him. That cough was a beacon.

Beside her, Kuromaru hovered over the box of food, pursing his lips as much as canine biology would allow and blowing with careful concentration. The sides of his mouth flapped, just a little.

Hayate smiled politely through her little tirade, which might have felt a lot like an attack....but then she smiled, all sharp fangs bracketed by the crimson Inuzuka tattoos. That took a lot of the sting away...but it still stung.

It was a typical reaction to his cough, actually. Hayate got rather tired of explaining it all...at first he'd been cheerful about meeting this lady. Inuzuka. Hayate liked them as a whole, and she seemed a very likable person. But getting the same reaction from her as he got from everyone else kind of soured his mood. He looked down at the box of okonomiyaki, which was warming his lap nicely.

It wasn't that he didn't cough on mission, because he did. He coughed when he stressed his breathing, because his allergies already irritated his throat. Thus, talking--as he was doing now--or running or fighting made him cough. But he'd never given away an ambush or stalk by coughing. And he did know a jutsu to suppress his cough, but he hated using it, hated the way it felt. He rarely used it.

"I've played the distraction a few times," he offered softly. "Can't say I care for it."

He broke off another very hot piece of okonomiyaki and juggled it from hand to hand before popping it into his mouth. Very very hot still, and he burnt his tongue again. It wasn't as good when he couldn't properly taste it, but he was hungry.

Kuromaru seemed a bit more patient, puffing away. It was a very amusing sight--one didn't see many dogs who could purse their lips. Hayate's polite smile went crooked again.

That he had played the distraction wasn't a reassurance. She could smell his mood change, the crab apple scent that rolled off of him despite the lie of his smile. Tsume lifted one eyebrow sardonically at the contradiction before looking away.

She knew people weren't Inuzuka. They didn't have her sense of smell, and contradictions like these were normal for everyone else. She just wasn't very good at them--what point in learning to smile when you felt bad, if the people you were growing up with could scent the lie?

But no one else was Inuzuka, and remembering that--not getting annoyed when they tried to cover such an obvious feeling--was something she had to consciously remind herself of.

In the meantime, she still didn't know whether or not he was safe to run missions with. He had to be, to have made it into ANBU--it wasn't like they were at war any more. They didn't have to take anyone who applied.

She slanted a look at him side-long, watching him watch her familiar. "So tell me, pup. What do you do in ANBU? Most everyone has a speciality." Maybe he was a poison-guy--though he didn't smell like it. But it was possible he didn't have to worry about coughing so much for that.

Heck, maybe that was part of the reason he coughed. The very thought of poisons--inhalants or otherwise--made her nose wrinkle. She still couldn't imagine spending more time in that lab than necessary.

Hayate paused with a hot morsel balanced on his fingertips, then hastily dropped it back in the box. He blew on his fingers gently, before looking up to answer Tsume. He caught her wrinkling her nose, and wondered briefly if he had offended her somehow.

"I'm a combat specialist," he answered, softly. "I use a katana."

Which was a fairly unusual weapon for a ninja to use. Most blades used by ninja were short and designed for a quick stab-or-slice-kill. Hayate's style of fighting was distinct and uncommon in that he was far more direct in his battles, closing fast and openly, instead of playing the usual hide-and-snipe games ninja used.

In a very small and biased part of his mind, he figured it took a little more skill to remain alive fighting the way he did.

Or else I've only lived this long because my death is gonna be spectacular... he thought wryly. He knew the life expectancy of ninja, and it was not high.

He retrieved his dropped morsel and smiled at Tsume, lightly crooked. "I'm more often backup than distraction."

He ate the now-cooled piece and broke off another to eat.

Tsume's eyebrows rose. Combat specialist? Who coughed? Huh. "Back up. Right." She grinned down at him, sitting on the seat of the bench beside her feet. "You must be good, to be in ANBU. And not dead. Katana aren't exactly subtle." It was easier to kill an opponent with a weapon and fighting style that made them obvious.

She flashed another assessing glance over him. Still rangey and gangly, not too tall. He couldn't be eighteen. Maybe fifteen. Sixteen. He still had that fresh, untempered look that many young ninja had--now that they were out of the war, there weren't so many fires to harden them. He didn't have that shadow in his eyes, the chiseled look to his face. He was still cute, with the promise of someday being attractive.

How much of a katana specialist could a person be, when they were that new? "Your family into katana?" she asked, stealing a bite of one of Kuromaru's okonomiyaki. He whined and gave her a reproving look. "Or is this something you learned on your own?"

The comment on his skill made Hayate grin just a little bit, small and pleased. He munched on his warm food--it was getting to the point where he could actually eat it without scalding mouth and fingers.

He glanced up between bites, and caught the tail end of her look. He smiled, more in reflex than anything else. The little polite smile faltered badly when she asked about his family. Hayate winced and looked down at his food.

It still hurt, even after five years. Not as bad, but it was still...tender, and he didn't want to think about it, about losing them both so fast, in such disaster. He folded the sudden ache away and put up his smile again. It felt too thin and brittle to be believable.

"My father...he was a ronin, and my mother met him on a mission. He taught me his school of fighting, the Tennen Rishin style before he...died. Which is well enough, but most samurai don't do well against ninja, so it's not really suited for fighting against shinobi."

His voice ran ragged, and he paused to clear his throat. It was only the talking, he thought resolutely, it was not because of the faded hurt and loss. He didn't often talk this much...but Tsume seemed friendly, and at least marginally interested in what he had to say. He'd grown tired of being ignored at ANBU headquarters as the "nameless rookie," and it was nice to carry on a conversation with someone again. He hadn't realized how lonely one could get being ignored.

"There's a sword style particular to Konoha that combines ninjutsu and kenjutsu, and that's what I'm sort of using now. It's not well known: the katana isn't the usual weapon of choice for ninja. I've had to puzzle it out from a set of old scrolls--there's no one who can teach it to me."

Those scrolls aren't exactly crystal clear, either, he thought with vague annoyance and some pride, munching on a bigger bite of his okonomiyaki.

She should know better than to ask about family, after so much time around Ryouma. She had a clan: there was no end to her family. Others weren't so lucky. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, and let it pass by.

"Is there a reason the style you're using now isn't taught?" She grinned. "Or are you just very determined to be unique?"

The sunshine was watery but filled with the promise of spring. Kuromaru was finally beginning to eat his okonomiyaki. He'd have to go back to the hospital in a few hours; she had every intention of keeping him out for as long as she could. Sitting on a bench and chatting with a teammate seemed as good a plan as any. And if her new teammate liked talking about swords...

She could at least relate to liking weapons--even if her weapons of choice were claws and teeth.

Hayate was a little more than half-way finished with his okonomyaki, eating between questions and answers. With a fuller stomach and an older ANBU actually paying attention to him, he was feeling rather cheery. Despite the cold weather. And the fact that the bench was still cold--his behind was pretty cold, too.


Disadvantages of being a twig, Hayate thought with resignation. No way of keeping warm. At all. Brr.

"Unique?" Hayate smiled up at her, crooked and warm. He noticed that, with her on the back of the bench and him on the seat, he was roughly eye-level with her elbows. "No. Like I said, a katana isn't really a weapon most ninja use, so the Konoha style has just fallen into disuse. Also, some of the chakra patterns are very tricky. It relies more on speed--" His voice caught and quit.

He ducked his head and coughed, maybe about three times. It wasn't bad, even though it probably sounded like it. He cleared his throat roughly and went on, voice pitched low and soft to keep the strain down.

"It relies more on speed and tight chakra control than large amounts of chakra," he finished. His voice was frayed out and softly ragged. It made him realize how much he was talking, and he realized that even if he was enthusiastic about the subject, Tsume might not be. He winced a little. She had asked, but....

"Sorry 'bout rambling on like that," he murmured. He eyed his food and took another bite, determined to finish it before it got cold.

Tsume quirked a smile at him, vaguely amused as his scent fluttered between excited and uncertain. Very young, she decided. And rather alone in the ANBU headquarters. He'd as much as said his father was dead. Nothing about his mother. She wondered if that was why he was in HQ--if he couldn't afford to live on his own.

She turned and smiled at him, shoulders relaxing under the thick cloth of her oversized hoodie. "Hey, I asked. Always good to learn about another fighting style." Her smile tipped. "I don't know much about weapons beyond him." She hooked a thumb toward Kuromaru.

He stopped pulling an okonomiyaki from the box to twist, looking at Hayate from his good eye. "I'm plenty weapon. Probably better than swords, even."

Tsume snorted and reached out with one foot, rubbing it through the thick fur on his shoulder. "You're a great weapon. Kinda hard to pick you up and twirl you around, though."

Kuromaru smiled at her, ear flopping slightly. He was already getting tired; she could see it. He turned back to his food.

She thought, trying to remember who else was in ANBU. "I think there's a weapons guy... a traps guy... no one doing swords, that I know of. Poisons, general muscle, disgusting reeking rot jutsu... the genius..." She grinned, quick and bright. "Me. Seems like we have a lot of unique people."

"Kakashi's not so unique," Kuromaru grumbled. "Everything he does is copied. Someone else did it first."

Tsume glanced toward her canine, amused. "I think that is his uniqueness, pup."

Kuromaru snorted. "I could copy things."

"Of course you could. Maybe you should copy Hayate's kenjutsu. Be interesting to see a canine with a sword."

"Very funny. Maybe you should learn. You don't have teeth."

"Maybe I should." She turned, smiling at the teenager. "What do you think, Hayate? Could you teach your kenjutsu?" If she didn't have chakra, she might as well have an oversized blade.

Hayate noted down Tsume's little rundown of the agents' abilities in ANBU with care. Though vague, it could be useful. Traps, though, that would be Kotetsu, for certain. Weapons, no doubt Ryuichi. No one else he could put names or faces to...except for Tsume and Kuromaru. Well, there was Hatake Kakashi, but only by reputation. Hayate didn't think he'd ever met the man.

And the snarky medic lurking in the basement, he added to the mental list.

"Of course you could," Tsume teased her great black dog. "Maybe you should copy Hayate's kenjutsu. Be interesting to see a canine with a sword."

Hayate tried not to smile, for Kuromaru's sake, but his grin came out anyway, crooked up to the right and wide enough to show the dimple in his right cheek. The mental image of the dog with a sword was very interesting. A little chuckle escaped before he could stop it, as he listened to woman and dog banter.

And then Tsume asked him if he could teach kenjutsu. Hayate paused, momentarily taken aback. He blinked blankly at her before he remembered to smile.

"Teach it to you, Tsume-san?" he asked softly, to be perfectly clear.

Tsume's eyes twinkled. "Unless you're really set on teaching it to my familiar. Could be hard, with no opposable thumbs..."

Kuromaru's single ear flicked back. "Hate blades, anyway." His scent spiraled into oiled steel, and Tsume looked at him sharply. But then he was back to eating, ear relaxing, ignoring them.

"Maybe give us a demo. I might not like swords after all," Tsume continued to Hayate when Kuromaru had settled. "They might make my arms tired." She grinned and winked. "Of course, maybe you'd rather be the only one who can do that kenjutsu. Can't say I'd blame you. It's fun to be able to do things others can't."

"Like boar hunting," Kuromaru agreed solemnly.

Tsume blinked and turned to look at him. He was sitting, watching them with a single gold eye. "You going to finish your food?" she asked pointedly.

His ear flattened back, and with a whine he slid to his belly on the ground. "I'm not as hungry as I thought."

There hadn't been that much food in the first place. She hesitated, acutely aware of how odd any Inuzuka would find Kuromaru's statement, given his size. She offered Hayate a rueful smile and a self-conscious explanation. "His appetite's been off."

She was cheerful, chattery, until Kuromaru slunk down to lie on the ground. Hayate watched her mood change swiftly, lurch from cheer to concern, reading it in her body posture as her face was turned away. Hayate frowned a little at the dog's whine that reached his ears. Tsume tried obviously to recover, turning back to him with a smile.

Hayate smiled back, politely, but he noticed again the bandages on her face, the freshness of the healing wounds across the dog's head. He almost asked...but he knew better than that. Sometimes, the stories behind the scars were best forgotten. What was done was done, after all. No use digging up the past.

So instead he picked up the thread of conversation where it had been dropped, carefully, keeping up a little polite smile.

"I could try to teach you, I suppose. I don't know if I'd make a good teacher."

Nor if she had the precise chakra control the Konoha style required....but there was no harm in trying.

Tsume kept half an eye on her familiar, trying to follow the conversation. "Well, that's all right. I make a lousy student."

"She's not kidding," Kuromaru warned Hayate solemnly. "She really does."

Tsume reached out and poked him with her foot, only to get a doggie smile in return. "I'm not that bad."

"Yes, you are."

"Well, there you go," Tsume said, turning with a laugh to Hayate. "On the highest authority--I make an awful student. Maybe you could just show us what I'd be learning, and I can decide from there." Her smile turned a little wry. "I'm not sure my doc'd appreciate me wrenching my chakra around to learn something new, anyway." She wasn't sure she could, even if she wanted to--and swordwork generally meant some sort of energy support. At least, it did when you weighed about what the sword did.

The last of his okonomiyaki was decidedly lukewarm and unappetizing. There were only about four bites left anyway. Hayate dropped it back in the box and listened to Tsume and her dog banter. It was a friendly noise, if a bit exclusive. It didn't bother him too much...not as much as it would have earlier.

He crooked a smile at Kuromaru. "Thank you for the warning, Kuromaru-san," he offered, lightly, and felt foolishly gratified when the dog smiled back at him.

He tossed his head a little, shaking some of his hair back, as he looked up at Tsume again, listening. He was a little surprised by her request, though he didn't know why. After a moment, he decided it was because no-one had ever really asked for a casual "demonstration." He had only ever fought in battle or displayed his skills to the examiners to climb the ranks. He had trained and sparred with his genin team-mates, but that hadn't been for anything but training.

"I suppose I could," he answered, after a moment. "I...I was going to practise today. Field thirteen, 'cause it was sunny today, y'know."

Thin sunshine, barely enough to keep his cheeks from the lingering winter chill, but sunshine. He always loved the chance to get out in the sun, but it felt like an especial treat during the winter.

"Well, then." Tsume smiled, stretching. "It's a date. You done?" Kuromaru apparently was, as much as she wanted to coax him into eating more. She switched her focus with difficulty, pinning her gaze on the young man beside her and forcing herself to pay attention to him and only him.

"Field thirteen isn't far, as the ninja travel." She hesitated, and purposefully didn't look at her familiar. "But maybe we could travel as the civilians travel, if you don't mind." By street, at a slower pace.

Kuromaru was still laying on the ground, eye half-lidded.

The pup had been coughing earlier, though. Maybe he wouldn't mind the slower travel.

"Oh, I don't mind." Hayate bit his lip, and cleared his throat. "Maybe...I'd have to meet you there, though. I have to go get my katana."

He had originally been visiting his aunt this morning, and thus the only weapons he had on him were the few kunai that he never left behind. But it wouldn't take him long to get to headquarters and fetch his sword. He could warm up on the way, and Tsume and Kuromaru could take their time. Hayate was fairly fast, and he could probably make the trip without making the two wait too long.

It would make him cough if he hurried...but practising would make him cough anyway. A bit more wouldn't matter.

Honestly, he should be resting, recovering from his last mission. He'd only got back yesterday, after all.... But he wasn't tired or injured--the ugly bruise on his arm was just an annoyance--and there was sunshine.

Tsume smiled, standing. "Sounds like a plan. Field thirteen, then?" She watched Kuromaru rise slowly, licking remnants of food off his chops. "Think you can make it that far, pup?" she said, directing the words this time to her familiar.

Kuromaru glowered. "I can make it there and back. And there again. And back again."

Tsume snorted and turned to Hayate, opening her mouth to speak.

"And there again."

She closed her mouth and glanced at the canine. "Done?"

Kuromaru refused to meet her eye. "And back again," he mumbled.

"Right." She turned to Hayate. "We'll me you there. All set to be dazzled."

Hayate couldn't help the hoarse chuckle that rose at Kuromaru's antics. He glanced from the dog to Tsume and back again.

This was what he liked about Inuzuka: they always had such an air of belonging. It was nice to bask in that feeling, like it was nice to bask in the sun's rays. Tsume's smile was inclusive, and that drew a warm crooked smile out of him. He found himself oddly eager about practising with her watching, rather than nervous.

" 'Kay then." He eyed the okonomiyaki box, and looked around for a trash can. Sometimes....ah, there was one.

He hopped to his feet--ack, his toes had gone all cold!--and dumped the food container in the trash. He turned, waggled his fingers at Tsume and Kuromaru, and twisted chakra 'round his hands. It was a quick translocation to the nearest roof-top, and he was off towards headquarters, making his way along the ninja-highway of Konoha.

Tsume watched the slender teenager vanish, then took a deep breath and glanced down at Kuromaru, trying to gauge how much energy he really had left. It was hard to tell, with their chakra points cut.

His eyes were dull but not glassy, his tongue lolling out still pink rather than white. "All right, Kuro," she said at last, tipping her head. "Shall we walk?"

He fell into step beside her, moving with a loose limbed grace that spoke of strong muscles and satiation.

Field thirteen wasn't too far; it took about fifteen minutes to get there. Tsume hoped Hayate hadn't been waiting long, but she wasn't about to push her familiar.

It took Hayate just a bit over fifteen minutes. Mostly because he stopped out of hearing-range to get a very bad coughing fit out of the way. He hadn't rushed much but he'd taxed his breathing. So he got the fit over with, and strolled up to the training ground at his ease, carrying his katana and a bottle of water.

He smiled a crooked smile at Tsume and Kuromaru, the latter sprawled out full-length in the sunshine.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting," he offered, raspily, as he walked up beside them.

He shrugged off his heavy coat and dropped it on the ground, the water bottle beside it. The chill in the air instantly bit at him--but he'd be moving soon, and warm enough. He tucked the sheathed katana under and arm and pulled out his gloves. They were fingerless, less protection at the cold than a grip-precaution. He wasn't aware that he looked rather ragged--his sweatshirt's sleeves were just a tad too short, and between the hem and the cuff of his gloves about an inch of bony wrist showed. His jeans were better--the left knee did not quite have a hole in it yet. It was just threadbare.

He snugged his gloves on, and brought the sheathed sword from beneath his arm. Left hand on the hilt, right on the sheath, and he drew the blade almost reverently. The steel flashed impossibly bright in the sunshine, and Hayate felt his heart swell.

The weight of honest steel in his hands, the feel of the sunshine, the anticipation of doing what he loved.... Hayate's smile was completely unconscious, bright enough to match the day's sunshine.

Tsume doubted he realized what a teenager he seemed, all joints and wiry muscle, a concave chest under a too-small sweater. The hem of his jeans was starting to fray, turning white as denim would before it gave completely.

She smiled, settling down beside her canine on a dry bit of dirt, protected by the roots of a tree.

Then Hayate drew his sword, and his smiled bloomed through the watery winter sky, arcing with his scent--mint and spring grass, hard work and sweat. Oiled steel, coming straight from the cared-for weapon.

He began to move, and for a moment her gaze sharpened, marking strengths and weaknesses, charting his shifting weight--

And then she stopped. With a shake of her head, she relaxed against the tree and just watched him. He was like liquid silver, the katana an extension of every fluid gesture, a blaze of light that sparkled in her eyes and did its best to blind.

He moved with graceful confidence, each step placed just so, each motion filled with the instinctive knowledge of his own body. It was clean and deadly, just like the blade he wielded.

Hayate was aware of Tsume's regard, but only faintly. Neither she not Kuromaru were threats, and therefore not important.

The first set of moves were grounded, slow, graceful. These were the training moves, for teaching balance. Centering one's self. Hayate knew them by heart but did not let the familiarity guide his steps. He knew better than that. He fell into the rhythm, breathing and heartbeat and flex of muscle under the sunshine.

From the simple training moves to the more complex attack routines he went, with hardly a pause. These were the steady moves of his father's Tennen Rishin style. It was the first style he had learned, and the one he would always fall back on. The patterns were considerably fast, for it was a style for close-combat and combat with more than one opponent. It still was not suited for any combat against ninja.

He didn't mind the cold air anymore, and the strict rhythm of his breathing kept the faster pace from making him cough. The second he stopped, of course.... But that was later. Now was the step and shift of weight, the fine edge of balance to hold, the internal pressure for perfection. Now was the weight of steel and the shrill of the air parting around that razor edge.

He stepped into a more advanced routine. Sometimes, at this point, he'd pull out a clone. Not today, though, the first time in a long while that he'd practised outside under the sunshine. He still gathered chakra, and at the end of the pattern pushed himself straight into the Konoha's style.

The rush of chakra and wind and the demanding control was exhilarating. There was nothing better than the challenge of pushing himself to reach the exacting steps of the style, at a speed where a stumble or misstep was precursor to injury. He didn't smile on the outside, but oh how he grinned inside. This was what he lived for. This...there was nothing better.

He moved too fast, too gracefully, for any but another ninja to keep track. It was like watching one of their canines go from a lazy romp to a hunting-fast run, streaking across the ground with deadly intensity.

Blades whirled and flashed in the sunlight, little blinks of light that blinded and alerted at once. But he moved so swiftly that should anyone follow the glitter of steel, they'd be too late.

And he, she realized as she watched the dance, would have already gutted them.

Step, slide, leap, twist--he used the ground, the trees, his chakra coiled so tightly it was almost impossible to see, highly focused and burning hot. She could smell him, but all his scent told her was that he was there; he moved too fast to track. Tsume whistled low, her eyebrows rising. He twisted, and for an instant she lost track of him. She found him, and he twisted again, melting into shadows and light, vanishing.

She found him again, caught the whirl of a blade, and knew he was at speeds that taijutsu masters worked at. Her eyebrows rose.

She lost him again.

One routine beneath his feet. A second begun. Moves memorized and carefully kept played out in his head as his feet and body kept the tempo. It was a challenge to think ahead of his moves, at this speed, to react and remain in control. He loved it. The pace of breathing, the strict control, the pressure for perfection...never anything less. Never inferiority.

Less than perfect was a gap in defense, an opening for attack or injury or death.

There was no such thing as absolute perfection, and he did know that. He wasn't going to force himself to a standard no-one could reach. He would burn out and lose the love and passion for his sword-work if he ever tried.

But to make few mistakes as possible: that he could do. Would do. Delighted in doing.

A third routine. He was pushing it. His breathing burned in his throat. He could keep going: he wasn't tired. But to keep going, he would have to pull up the jutsu to suppress his cough. He hated that, and he hadn't planned on a hard workout today. Just practise, luxuriating in the sunshine.

A final sweeping stroke and he skidded to a standstill. The switch from motion to motionless was a little dizzying, and he crouched a moment, sword outheld and gleaming.

The sudden change in his breathing pattern hit moments after he stopped, breath rasping raw over strained tissue. The coughing fit doubled him over and forced him to drop a knee to the ground to stay upright. The coughs were harsh, dry, and centered deep in his chest. Despite the paroxysms of coughing, he minded his sword, careful not to let the blade touch the earth. It was almost a minute before he he could breathe again, carefully. His throat felt raw and there was a beginning ache in his chest, right beneath his breastbone.

But neither cough nor ache could take the smile off his face, bright and satisfied. He'd made minor mistakes--three of footing and a slip with chakra--but they had been just that. Minor. Perfectly correctable within seconds. Delight thrilled under his skin and lifted his heart.

He got to his feet, to walk and cool down, and retrieve his bottle of water to soothe his throat. Tsume was still beside his coat and the sleeping Kuromaru, despite his coughing fit. He beamed at her, eyes bright.

She smiled back, lifting her chin to scent the sunbright pleasure coming off him, and applauded. "If that's the way it always looks, I can understand why you'd want to learn the Konoha style," she said, eyes twinkling.

His coughing was marginally disturbing, though it didn't sound wet and there was no scent of blood or phlegm. He hadn't started during the dance, so...

So, she was no medic and as long as he didn't endanger her, it didn't matter. It wasn't like they didn't know about his coughing. In the meantime, she grinned at his infectious happiness and waited for his hacking die down. "How long have you been studying?" she asked, remembering the glittering arcs of steel and whip fast footwork.

The applause was utterly unexpected, and made his cheeks heat: not that the blush was noticeable with his face already reddened with wind and excercise. His grin took on a slightly sheepish shade, but stayed in place.

He didn't answer her query at first. He knew he'd start coughing again if he tried. Instead he knelt beside his coat and retrieved the scabbard, sheathing the sword respectfully. He laid the katana down across his coat, so it wouldn't touch the ground, and grabbed the bottle of water. After a few sips, he answered Tsume, voice ragged but pleased. "Nnn, if you mean kenjutsu..." He paused and cleared his throat. "I don't remember ever not learning it." That sounded better, not quite so raw and mangled.

"The Konoha style, though....my jounin-sensei found the scrolls for me right after I graduated the Academy. So...four years now." He paused to cough again. The ache under his breastbone grew, and he absently lifted a hand to rub at his chest. His breathing was too fast: he really should walk and cool down a bit.

"I don't know what it looks like. No-one but me does it," he rasped, as he got to his feet. The heel of his right hand pressed against his breastbone, at the ache behind it. He didn't notice--he was still buoyant and cheerful, and he'd lived so long with his cough he never thought about it anymore.

He started walking, in a little circular path to stay near Tsume. He stayed where she could see him, out of courtesy.

"We oughta get one of those cameras one time and film it, so you can see," Tsume said, tracking his movements as he padded and rubbed. It was obvious enough his cough was bothering him, but he seemed to be dealing with it.

She had more important things to worry about, anyway; Kuromaru had drifted off into sleep in the sunshine, which wouldn't have been bad at all if his chakra didn't feel so low. She settled a hand on his thick fur, reaching out through battered pathways to try and trace his energy.

It hummed deep in his bones, steady but quiet. Very quiet. She shook him a little and got no response.

Blackflies in June.

"You got any chakra left after that kenjutsu?" She looked up at the still-pacing ANBU. The hospital wasn't far. If she'd had the ability, she could have pumped chakra into her muscles and carted Kuromaru home... but she couldn't run it, since they amputated her links and butchered her pathways.

"I do," was Hayate's curious answer. He could read the sudden tension in her face, the tightening of her body, and focused on her dog companion as the source. Kuromaru looked like he was sleeping. Then Hayate narrowed in on the unusual stillness, and got uneasy himself, the warm glow of his practise washing away.

"Is he okay?" he asked anxiously, coming to crouch beside her. His voice rasped and cracked.

He wondered if she meant for him to go get help. He wouldn't be much use for anything else. He doubted he could lift Kuromaru, even with the help of chakra. He would bet his sword the dog outweighed him by at least twenty pounds, if not more. And even if he hadn't, Hayate was still built all wrong to carry burdens. He wasn't compact with a low center of balance, like Tsume herself was.

He cleared his throat, roughly. "Do I need to go get anyone...?"

She blinked and took another look at his uncertain expression, then his rangey teenage body. Obviously they needed a bit of sideways thinking. "How are you at shadow clones? Seems to me a couple could be useful, here." He wasn't hurt, exactly. Just... sleeping. Moving him wasn't really an issue. Lifting him was.

Nearly two hundred pounds of dead weight and hanging limbs. Lifting could definitely be a problem.

"I think he just needs to get some more rest, is all," she said, laying a hand over his heavily furred shoulder and petting. "We probably pushed it, today."

Clones. An obvious answer. Hayate felt like an idiot, but smiled a little for her instead of wincing. "Allright. If you're sure he's okay."

Tsume didn't look overly upset, not like she might have if something were really wrong. She glanced up at him as he stood back and folded his hands through signs well-memorized. He hardly had to think about forming his chakra the right way anymore: he used clones so often in battle.

A pair of clones ruffled into appearance, mirror images of himself. He glanced down at Tsume and Kuromaru, and bit his lip in thought, sorting out the logistics. Then he nodded. "Right. Tsume-san, will you be able to help a little?"

She might, but then, she might be as tired as Kuromaru and hiding it well. She was obviously older and more experienced that Hayate himself, and capable of such deception. Well, if she couldn't help, maybe she wouldn't mind carting his katana along with them, so he wouldn't have to leave it unwatched.

Help. Her spar with Raidou had highlighted exactly how much slower and weaker she was without chakra. She'd taken to carrying a kunai at all times.

Help. Kuromaru weighed near two hundred pounds. She was closer to one. With chakra... but that wasn't an option.

"Sure," she said warily, eyeing her canine. "I can... do that." Maybe she could hold his tail. Or a paw. She could manage a paw. "You know," she said hopefully, "if each clone takes an end, there probably won't be room for a third person. Just an idea." Maybe an idea he'd take to. That would be nice. She flashed the tall youth a bright smile for encouragement.

Oh, there'll be room, Hayate thought. He was pretty sure it was going to take all three of him, as it were, to lift the dog. He and the clones all exchanged a brief look, wry and resigned. Hayate was fast and flexible. Strong, not so much.

He nodded to the clones, and turned away to get his coat. He shrugged on the worn, faded garment, doing a delicate juggling of his katana, to keep it from being on the ground. He gathered up sword and water-bottle, and turned to Tsume again.

"Um, would you mind keeping up with these, Tsume-san?" he asked, with a little smile. He ducked his head a fraction and kept the tone unpressing. He didn't think she'd say no, but it was better to be polite and ask.

She smiled back, slightly rougher than his. "Sure, pup," she answered, and took weapon and water.

He caught a glimpse of something her her eerie-pale eyes, and thought it might be amusement. But he didn't look long enough to tell. Instead he turned obediently to his set job. The clones were ready, and had been waiting. The one at Kuromaru's hip let him know it by sticking out its tongue. Hayate glared furiously at it until it smiled politely.

He remembered, again, why he didn't like using clones outside of battle. They got awful cheeky with him.

Shoulder, hip, and him in the middle, opposite both his dopplegangers. With three of them, the task wasn't quite so bad. Hayate really hoped Kuromaru did not suddenly wake up, however. Things would get decidedly interesting if he did. And he'd probably get dropped, which would not be good, all things considered.

He nodded to Tsume, and she led off into the streets of Konoha.

At least he hadn't said anything at all about her not having the strength to help. She leaned the katana awkwardly against one shoulder--it was nearly as long as she was!--and glowered people out of their path. Behind her, she could hear Kuromaru mumble something ("fleabit tusks 'r always a problem," she thought) but he didn't come any further awake than that.

Not being able to carry her own familiar was more than annoying, it was slightly embarrassing. Of course, watching Hayate and his clones nearly weave down the street was almost worth it, and she figured he'd be embarrassed about that, so all was fair again.

It didn't take long for the hospital to come into view, and she turned with relief--the katana was starting to feel heavy, though she'd be pus-infected before she said so--and grinned at the young men. "Almost there. I owe you food or something now. Thanks."

In a slightly unnerving display, all three simultaneously smiled the same polite smile. Hayate cleared his throat roughly. "No problem," he answered, and if it was a bit short, well, the giant black dog was heavy.

The little plaza right in front of the hospital's doors was about as far he he could manage. He and his clones very carefully set Kuromaru down on the chill cement. A flick of his hand sent one clone jogging off into the hospital before Tsume could start that way herself. She looked a little pale, under the thin winter sunshine.

Hayate crouched beside Kuromaru, and took the grand liberty of threading his fingers into the thick black coat, stroking from the coarse hair on the dog's back to the finer stuff along his flank.

"Just glad to help, Tsume-san," he told her, and smiled, though he certainly wouldn't mind food. ANBU's salary was generous, but a lot of what he was paid went back to his aunt, and their little house. Some of the long-needed repairs were being fixed, now. They'd never been poor, but they'd never been rich, either. He didn't exactly lack for food, but he wouldn't turn it down if she pressed the issue.

The clone, back to Tsume, mouthed his words back at him, with a roll of its eyes. Hayate's smile tightened a fraction, and he stopped petting Kuromaru to dismiss the mocking doppleganger.

A brief chakra-touch told him the second clone was coming back, medical personnel in tow. Hayate stood, and took his katana and water-bottle back from Tsume. "You'll be allright now?" he asked, tilting his head to indicate both her and the still-sleeping Kuromaru. He angled the katana to rest against his collarbone, a familiar weight.

"Just Tsume," she said, watching closely as slim fingers petted her familiar. But Kuromaru only sighed in his not-sleep, seeming to melt father into the pavement.

Her eyes flicked up to the nurse as he came through the doors, took one look at Kuromaru, looked at the pair of ANBU, apparently decided them unfit and went back inside mumbling about 'getting help.'

Tsume snorted, handing back the sword and bottle with a barely disguised wince. Maybe it was a little more than heavy. And maybe Kuromaru wasn't the only one who was tired. "Once this lot gets their act together, we'll be just fine." After Kuromaru was settled it wouldn't take her long to get back to headquarters. Maybe she could convince Ryouma they should go to bed early. Or at least she should nap, and he could do whatever he felt like. She saw the nurse coming back with a helper and a gurney, and, certain they hadn't been forgotten about, turned back to Hayate.

Nice kid. Skinny, with pale skin and dark eyes and hair that only made his skin seem paler. Just a few inches taller than her--probably still growing, but taking it nice and slow, so his hips had time to keep up--and still fairly gawky.

Definitely needed food. Tsume nodded once, decisively, and stepped aside as the nurses shifted the gurney around to try and load Kuromaru up. "Next time you see me, flag me down. I'll buy you dinner." She grinned, but made a mental note to flag him down, instead. Somehow, she doubted he'd impose. Too polite. Maybe if she harassed him enough he'd break that shell...

If there was a gleam in her eyes, it was entirely wicked.

Hayate smiled at her, lightly crooked and real. "Of course, Tsume-san," he replied, softly. The offer made him feel warm and wanted. He might not be so bold as to actually remind her of the invitation for dinner....but the next time he saw her or Kuromaru, he would definitely take time to talk to them.

As he dismissed his last clone, the nurses managed to lever the very limp Kuromaru onto the gurney at last. Hayate felt a little sympathy for them; the giant dog was a difficult burden. He glanced back at Tsume.

Her smile was mischievous and sharp, all razor fangs bracketed by the crimson clan tattoos. It was almost alarming, especially with those pale ice-blue eyes, but Hayate wasn't worried in the least. He snugged his katana against his chest and dipped her a little bow before he took his leave.

He glanced back, just once, and caught sight of her and the nurses vanishing into the hospital.

With a light heart and easy step, he headed back to headquarters, smiling in the sunshine.