"Not yet," Natsumi admitted, sinking down into the chair he'd offered. It shouldn't feel so much like a confession, even if the new, probing note in Ibiki's voice demanded answers. She had nothing to feel guilty for. Her shoulders tightened painfully anyway, until he stopped prowling and dropped into his own chair. "I got back late this morning, submitted my report, and crashed. It's not too bad, really. I was supposed to be the back-up while Kaito-kun freed the prisoner."

And she'd done a spectacular job at that, hadn't she? Her lips tightened. She picked up the salt-shaker in the center of the table, moved it to the right side of the pepper-shaker, and clustered the bottle of hot sauce and the jar of seven-spice ramen seasoning above and below the shakers. Too untidy. She reorganized them by height. "I killed three guards and didn't realize the fourth was a ninja. He used kawarimi to get behind me. He could have broken my neck if he'd wanted." She switched the ramen seasoning and the hot sauce, ordering by spiciness this time. "I suppose I should be grateful he'd always wanted to try a 'Konoha bitch'."

Her hand was trembling. She flattened it on the table. "He made the same mistake I did. Didn't watch his back. At least I've only got bruises to pay for it. If I go to the medics it will go on my official record, won't it? My father could see that, if he asked. Takeo certainly could, if he wanted. I'd rather they didn't."

The hot water of the baths would help loosen her shoulder. And if she timed her next visit home correctly and wore long sleeves and a high collar, she wouldn't even have to make an excuse not to join her father in his archery practice.