Well that was a mood-swing. Asuma eyed the slender ninja in front of him, flicked a glance at the rapidly emptying plate, and wondered whether the taiyaki had somehow managed to cause offense.

Probably not.

He tugged absently on sleep-mussed hair. "Y'know, I don't think I ever paid you back for that bald spot. My sister laughed for a week." Katon-jutsu were damn dangerous in eight-year-old hands, as the entire staff of the Hokage's palace (and one or two respected foreign ministers) had learned. "Remind me I owe you a thank-you punch."

It was a little weird to think back that far. And even weirder to remember the laughing little boy Ginta had been, compared to the sleek-looking assassin he was now. Though it was nice to see he still had a killer sweet-tooth.

Asuma stole another cake.

"And what's with the sad face?" Watching that bright smile fade to a shadowed frown had been a little like watching the sun darken. He leaned over and messed up Ginta's hair before the man could dodge. "I thought you were pleased to see me, asshole."