"I know the trick," Genma replied. "Just not the custom of using it on your friends." He leaned against the door, studying the pair of Inuzuka, trying to remind himself he wasn't here to pick a fight. Unless he was. But Tsume, though she looked better than the last time he'd seen her, still had an unnatural pallor throwing her tattoos and the healing scabs on her face into sharp relief. And Kuromaro... It was hard to see him in human form, looking so much like Tsume's male twin, and so desperately injured. He wore a hitai-ate over his left eye, like Kakashi did. Over a vacant socket that Genma had just caught a glimpse of before Kuromaru had tugged the bandana down. The flesh the forehead protector didn't hide was blistered, red and scabbed; as bad looking as a fresh burn. As melted-looking or more than Raidou's scars. A section of his scalp was missing, along with his right ear.

Kuromaru was smiling open-mouthed, in a way that revealed the dog within the man's form. Tsume was watching him with a more guarded expression. Wary and on edge. She knows I'm pissed, Genma thought. Raidou must have told her. And she can smell it on me. They both can.

His hands on his basket clenched, making wicker squeak. Not here to fight, he told himself again, and used every trick in his training to make himself relax, make his body language friendly, his face placid.

"I heard you were out of the hospital. Glad you're back," he told Kuromaru. "Tsume was worried about you."