Asuma laughed, then winced when his side flared. He pressed his hand over bandaged ribs, trying to crush out some of the hurt. "Think I might have used up all my good luck, darlin', but I'll give it a shot."

After leaping off a cliff, racing whitewater rapids, tumbling over a waterfall, nearly drowning, not dying, facing down the redhead... a bit of luxury was probably the karmic equivalent of a sneeze.

Somehow, though, he didn't think their chances were good.

Still, luck was what you made of it. He let go of his side to tug his pants from Natsumi's arm, eyeing the stretchy black fabric thoughtfully. Then he put down Sachiko's head--it made an ugly muted thump on the forest floor--and pulled one of his sticky trench-knives from his back pocket. A slender thread of chakra was enough to make the blade spark; he sliced his pants up through the crotch, turning one garment into two separate legs, and then sliced each of those open at the side seam.

Natsumi gave the two roughly rectangular lengths of fabric a quizzical look. Asuma cut a grin at her, returning his knife to his pocket and his hand to his side, and held them out.

"Not exactly sandals, but they might stop your feet from bleeding raw. If you give me a day and a carpentry team, I'll get to work on that palanquin. Or we can carry on hunting for that canteen--" or any of his things; there were some scrolls he didn't particularly want to lose, "--and then think about setting up a new base somewhere not here. You look about ready to fall over." He dragged a hand through blood-splattered hair, casting a mist of red sweat into the night air. "And I mean that in a very sexy way, obviously."

Natsumi's mouth crooked, fighting a smile. "I'm beginning to believe you'd hit on anything that moves." She set her armload carefully down, leaning the sword against a tree, and stretched the abused length of military-grade fabric between her hands. "Maybe it's a good thing I'm still moving."

She didn't dare look up. The fabric was long enough to wrap twice around her scratched and dirty feet and bind at the shins; it was a moment's complicated puzzle, and then she had to carefully restack sword and vest and armguard in the cradle of her right arm. Enough time for her blush to fade, surely, but her cheeks still felt hot.

She was a fool. Just because he was--him (and laughing quietly at her now, breaking off in a hiss as his side caught)--didn't mean she could lose her head, not even with their hunter's own head oozing into a bundle at his feet. Nothing would ever come of it, anyway. It was only the adrenaline seeping out, and the shock seeping back in, that made her wish he'd give up on the palanquin and just hold her again.

"Canteen," she said firmly. "And shelter. If you've got any chakra to waste, you might try a water-summoning jutsu; there should be enough left in the canteen to let us know where it is. And there's got to be a stream somewhere, running to the river, where we can refill it. You know this country; is there anything like a village nearby?"

For that matter, which side of the river were they even on?

It took Asuma a second to lash his thoughts back into order, and a second longer to wipe the smile (leer) from his face. But when he did, the world swung back into place--every cold, dark, blood-drenched, miserable inch of it. Crucial facts clamored for his scattered attention: no food, no scrolls, no med-kit, no map...

He canted his weight onto one bruised hip, and breathed out slow. Natsumi's dark eyes watched him, almost black against her pale skin--well, most of her pale skin. A grin twitched at his lips as he regarded the fading blush still stroking down her cheeks, almost monochrome in the moonlight.

Then he dragged a hand over his face and focused.

"There're villages up over the falls," he said slowly, piecing old memories back together. "But that's a long walk, and it's all uphill. We'd be better off heading South--that'll take us towards home, and I'm pretty sure there's an old monastery somewhere in the foothills. If it's still there, they'd be obliged to offer help to whoever asks."

He looked up at the sky, picking out familiar constellations, then bent down to grab the bundled head and toss it back over his shoulder. His head spun when he straightened up; he grimaced.

"That water summoning jutsu's starting to sound like a really good idea. I might be able to get a chakra echo off my scrolls, too." He tipped a wry glance at the belt clipped firmly around Natsumi's hips; her ANBU mask was still hanging from the tough canvas. "Next time, remind me to get properly dressed before I start blowing up bits of forest. It'd save all this hunting."

Still balancing the bundled head, he set his hands together and called on his remaining chakra. Gathering cold and fading adrenaline made his fingers (shake) clumsy, but there were some things any decent ninja could do in his sleep. The jutsu released with a dull crackle, yanking energy out of his pathways.

Barely ten feet away, water rose in a thin cloud and sparkled like starlight. Asuma grinned, white teeth flashing through blood-clotted dirt and sweat, and tipped his head to feel for any nearby pulse of chakra. His eyes slid closed.

"Two--three--no, five scrolls. And I think that's my map. Damn I'm good."

Halfway through turning her laugh into a cough, Natsumi gave up on pretenses. Her bruised ribs hurt, and she was fairly sure there was at least a slight hysterical edge to her laughter, but it felt good to let go. Much better than crying. And it made Asuma's smug smile widen even further, which was icing on the cake, or something. Even inside her own head, she didn't make sense.

"I'll be sure to tell everyone at home just how good you are,"' she murmured, padding gingerly towards the rediscovered canteen. Her makeshift shoes slipped a bit, but they were far better than nothing at all. "They'll throw a parade. Fireworks and dancing girls. They might even nominate you for the next Hokage..."

Asuma snorted. Natsumi flashed a smile over her shoulder at him and bent to pick up the dented canteen. The sodden tea-bag still sloshed in the bottom; without a spare hand to pick it out, she left it there. They'd run across a stream soon enough, and she could rinse and refill.

Gods, what a thing to worry about. Half an hour ago it had been their lives on the line. Now they were hunting for scrolls and streams and looking forward to a monastery's hospitality. Natsumi's throat tickled with another laugh. "You sure know how to show a girl a good time."

They were making it back.