"Fsglj?" rasped Asuma, surfacing abruptly from a dream that was equal parts nightmare and fencing hippos. Or maybe nightmares about fencing hippos, which was almost as bad. He shoved himself up on one elbow, almost rolled right off the mattress when he found the wall had unexpectedly moved, and caught a bleary flash of blond hair out of the corner of his eye.

As wake up calls went, that worked like a cattleprod and a red-hot boot to the backside.

"Koiji--" he started, tensing, before reality kicked in and reminded him who was walking and who was dust. One hand dragged over his face, clearing grit from eyes that did not want to be awake; the other drifted near his jacket, close to the outline of metal hidden in the lining.

Slight and short, with an angular little face that was far closer to sweet than stern--whoever this was, it sure wasn't the former second-in-command of the Twelve. And as far as he could remember, Koiji had never woken anyone up with a plate of--

"Izzat taiyaki? You're m'new favourite person ever!" He was in ANBU HQ, and an assassin was unlikely to announce himself or bring tasty treats. Besides, paranoia was for people who expected to die soon. Asuma levered himself up with a quick grin, hand falling away from his side. "I have no idea who you are, but pull up some--uh, floor. Or bed. Either's good."