"Sandaime-sama!" Kuromaru barked, scrambling up to his feet and scattering his little pile of cards. "You came to see my eyepatch!"

"Kuro--" Tsume made a grab for him with her good hand, dropping her own cards in the process, but missed. He leaped beyond her reach, wagging fit to fall over, and slunk around the Hokage's legs like a treasured pet.

"It has rhinestones." Kuromaru's ear flopped back, and he panted up adoringly.

"Kuromaru! I don't think he's here to see you!" Tsume glanced toward Asuma, sitting on the floor across from them, still studying his cards. She couldn't read a tick-bit thing above the smell of cigarette smoke, and he seemed more intent on putting his hand in the right order than looking at his father. He looked like hell. His cheekbone was stitched and he was covered in half-mended, yellowing bruises. The partially-healed lash marks wrapped like long fingers around the sides of his bare torso -- he seemed to delight in going shirtless, but Tsume didn't mind -- his palms and wrists were both taped with clean white bandages, and there was another neat line of stitches down his shoulder. If it were her son, Tsume wouldn't have been happy. No matter how old he was.

"--And she's going to make me a glitter one, next! It's like jewelry for canines! I was thinking maybe I could get one in puce. I'm not sure what that is, exactly, but it sounds nice, doesn't it?"

With a grimace, Tsume hauled herself to her feet and grabbed hold of Kuromaru's fur, dragging at him until he reluctantly came away from the Sandaime, allowing entrance to the rest of the room. "Excuse him," she muttered, bowing as much as she could with bandages and one arm in a sling. "He's enthusiastic this morning." Not that she could blame him -- it had been a good day. They'd finally had their pathways fully reconnected. She shot a bit of chakra toward Kuromaru and felt it sail effortlessly back. All in all, things were perfect.

Well. For her, anyway. The Sandaime had almost no scent to him, as if authority and chakra could overwhelm it, but she couldn't believe he was unaffected. She also couldn't leave to give them privacy; he was standing in the doorway.

Ten, two, and four wasn't much of a hand. Asuma gave his cards a neutral, straight-mouthed look, and reshuffled them as if that would grant him a magic victory. One thumbnail dragged absently down a soft, battered, cardboard edge, but the nurses had already ensured his hands were spotless from wrists to fingertips; there was no dirt to keep him occupied.

"Dad," he said finally, without glancing up.

"Son," said the Sandaime, in the same careful tone of voice. There was a rustle of cloth--his dad was bowing back to Tsume, Asuma guessed. "Inuzuka-san. A pleasure, as always, to see your familiar in such fine spirits. And to see you both recovering so well from your recent exploits. I trust the hospital staff are taking good care of you?"

"As they always do," Tsume said. In his periphery, Asuma caught the brief flash of white teeth, followed by the curve of a true smile. He felt her gaze rest on him, just for a second.

So he looked up.

The Sandaime was smiling--returning Tsume's courtesy, mostly--but his eyes were darker than Asuma remembered, scored underneath with deep lines that bled into crows feet. The angles of his face seemed sharper, beneath skin that looked thinner. Getting old, old man. But he always had looked his worst when his special agents got hurt.

And Tsume wasn't exactly a picture of shining health. The medics had done more for closing up her lash marks than his--girl-skin was more important, or more delicate, or something, than guy-skin--and her throat was neatly bandaged. But her face was still pale where it wasn't livid with bruises, and she moved like an old lady.

Admittedly an old lady who was kicking his ass at blackjack, but still.

Asuma leaned his bare back against the side of a hospital bed, taking a sharp-edged pleasure in the nasty rush of pain from a crushed scab, and tilted his chin up. "Just taking in the scenery, Pops, or is there somethin' specific you were after?"

A gold-edged piece of card flicked into the Sandaime's hand, then landed in Asuma's lap.

"Actually," he said, "I have a small get-together planned. Perhaps you would consider attending?"

Asuma blinked. "You're kidding."

The Sandaime smiled slightly--bloody enigmatically--and then nodded to Tsume and Kuromaru again. "As I said, Inuzuka-san, always a pleasure. Do take care of yourself."

He was gone in the space between one second and the next, without even a crack of smoke to signal his departure.

Asuma threw his cards down. "I hate when he does that," he muttered, and spun the gold-frosted invitation to Kuromaru. "Here, mutt. Have some roughage."

Tsume's grip loosened, and Kuromaru slipped away to pick up the card delicately in teeth as long as Tsume's thumbs. He handed it to her, and then looked back at Asuma, shaking his head in sad disapproval. "You don't eat things that the Hokage gives to you. He's the -- the -- the forever Pack Alpha."

"Not quite forever," Tsume corrected absently, turning over the gold-leaf card in her hand and opening it curiously. "Just for a really long..." She trailed off, reading the invitation. Her brows drew down. Then she looked at Asuma sharply from beneath them. "I don't think you can dodge this one, pup. Well," she paused, considering Asuma as she tipped her head to let limp, shaggy hair fall out of her eyes. "Maybe you could." She moved stiffly back over to her seat and lowered herself carefully to the floor. "But I'm not sure that'd be the greatest idea." She stretched her hand out, invitation dangling between index and middle finger.

"I bet he'll come back if I get a puce eyepatch," Kuromaru sighed, flopping down. His own hand of cards and Tsume's were irrevocably mixed together. She could suggest they re-deal. Which would be a great thing: Kuro'd had that tail-twitch that meant his hand was good. Wolf-bite probably had twenty-one.

Asuma raised an eyebrow at the familiar, throttled down a comment about fabulous summer wear fashions for crazy canines, darling, and twitched a look back to the card Tsume was holding out for him. Just from the outside you could tell it was fancy-but-almost-tasteful, cut from thick, cream-coloured card with the nibbled gold edges that were always a sign of too wealthy to know better. As if very expensive mice had been employed to add that extra something.

Not his father's usual. But typical for a 'get together' involving anyone from Konoha's upper echelons.

Asuma sighed, took it, flipped it open, scanned three lines, and dropped it as if it had bitten him. "Oh, goddamn."

Kuromaru's single ear twitched in disapproval--you probably didn't swear at things the Hokage gave you, either. Tsume just looked amused behind the fall of ragged brown hair spilling into her pale blue eyes. She raked at her bangs with one clawless hand, and began to pick her cards back up, gaze still tilted curiously towards him.

Asuma was a little too busy losing his composure to indulge in the scrutiny. "He can't expect--I'm not going to-- Goddamn."

Face-up on the floor, flowing lines of kanji eyeballed him accusingly. The Lord Hokage is pleased to welcome his only son home from his recent and extensive travels, and requests your presence at the Palace on the 12th to facilitate this happy event. In addition, the Council will also be in residence to induct Sarutobi Asuma-san into his new duties, as befitting a Hokage's male progeny who has, as we know, come into his majority--

If he hadn't been a masculine chunk of raw testosterone, Asuma might have made a small whimpery noise. Dragging a hand over his mouth, he gave Tsume a look that wasn't at all wide-eyed or pleading. "Help."

The look, coming from that face, was too much. Tsume laughed. "It won't be that bad," she said, nudging the card with her toe to read it again. "No, look, you go, you hang out, eat some fugu, and leave early. Just think: it'll give you a chance to either chat up or horrify all the eligible young women." She gave him a feral grin, cocking one eyebrow. "Maybe you can even offend some poor old daimyo. Like old Itsuki-san."

"Oh, he's such a stuffed hen," Kuromaru muttered, flopping his head over onto his paws. "He keeps wanting to cut the salary for genin. Says they don't pull their own weight, and doesn't even think about the fact that the majority of them are training to--"

Tsume put a hand over his scarred muzzle, scratching him fondly before letting go. She turned back to Asuma. "See, there you go. Talk politics and tell them what your friend the canine thinks. It could be fun."

Briefly, Asuma indulged himself in the wildly ironic idea of flinging himself from the Hokage's monument.

"You," he said to both of them, "have a seriously screwed up idea of fun. Fun is..." He gestured with both hands, winning a protest from his flogged shoulders. "Drinking. And dancing. Actual, proper dancing, mind you, not parading around in gender-segregated circles." Tsume's eyebrows arched. "And drugs. And friends. And sex."

Kuromaru made a low-throated, laughing sort of sound that might have been agreement.

"And if politics are involved," Asuma went on, in wild-but-doomed tones, "it'll be death on toast. Prolonged death, that'll require me to wear a kimono. I do not suit a kimono. And there'll be women with mothers. Mothers who'll want me to marry their daughters. Honorably!"

From the look on Tsume's face, she did not appreciate the depths of his suffering. It was a look remarkably similar to the one she'd worn during their stay at the Salted Goose Hotel, when he'd complained about everything available, including the quality of the air, for the sake of conversation. And also because his head had hurt, what with the fractured skull and all.

Asuma's ears caught up with his brain.

"How the hell do you know Itsuki-san? In fact, never mind -- if you know one then you know all of them." He grinned, sharp and sudden. The grin of a man with an angle. "You can go with me."

Tsume laughed harder, rocking back on one hand. "Oh no, pup. You're not throwing me to the wolves. Actually... you can throw me to the wolves. Them I could handle."

"Wolves are easy," Kuromaru agreed. "And besides, Tsume gave her formal kimono away." Tsume snapped her leg out, kicking him. Kuromaru gave her an utterly injured look. "What? We agreed. We hate shopping!"

"Wear a suit," she told Asuma brightly. "You'll look all daring and modern. Then the mothers will want to avoid you, and the daughters will fling themselves in your direction."

"Of course, they're mostly the wrong age and ugly," Kuromaru muttered, then hopped out of the way before he could get kicked again. He perched behind Asuma's shoulder, lowering his muzzle to whisper loudly. "Maybe if you got her some steak. She might go with you for steak."

"I am not--" Tsume froze. She knew that scent. Swinging to her feet, she pivoted around as footsteps rattled down the corridor. A small, dark-haired shape full of limbs bellowed, "Ma!" and launched itself through the air, plowing into her stomach. Balance shot, chakra low, she didn't quite manage to catch herself before she toppled, crashing down onto Asuma with her arms full of clinging child. Words were smothered in her chest. "You're back!"

Considered from a universal perspective, Tsume being flying-tackled by her--presumably--youngest cubling was a sight to touch the coldest of hearts. Considered from Asuma's perspective, which was much lower to the floor and crushed between a hundred pounds of falling women, fifty pounds of ballistic child, and an unyielding metal bedframe, it was mostly painful.

With something like resignation, he felt the now-familiar rip of scabs tearing open like unzipped purses. The crushed-meat slam of solidly muscled weight hitting bruised flesh. And the bright new sensation of painted steel digging sharply into his backbone.

He would have yelped, but the combined buck-fifty weight of two squirming Inuzuka planted neatly on his ribcage made breathing a fond and fading memory. He wrapped his arms around both bodies--one slim and sharp, the other small and solid--and heaved them off, shoving them towards Kuromaru, who was a weaving, dancing black blur of noise.

There were more people by the door--a pregnant woman, a smaller girl, a slender man--and a rising babble of voices. Coughing and wincing, Asuma grabbed the edge of the bed and hauled himself roughly vertical.

"This," he announced (croaked) to the world in general, "is not my favourite day."

Kuromaru showed two long rows of very white teeth in a wolfy grin. "Tsume has a date," he told the woman at the door.

"I do not," Tsume tried to bark, but found Kiba had stolen her breath in the flail of limbs and fur as she tried to untangle from Kuromaru. He'd also stolen her ability to have children, she was relatively certain, as Kuromaru shrugged them off and Kiba's knee landed hard in her abdomen.

"With Asuma," Kuromaru continued proudly. "He looks virile, don't you think?"

Tsume was saved a squawk when Hana cut across the babble. "He's not Ryouma!"

"No," Kuromaru replied. "He's Asuma."

Tsume wheezed.

"Kiba, get off your mother." As Tori hauled Kiba away, Yasuo gave her a hand up. Kuromaru squirmed between them all, happy as a lark. Tsume gaped for a moment, trying to get her breath back so she could tell them she did not have a date with Asuma.

"What's 'virile'?" Kiba stage whispered.

Yasuo gave Tsume a death glare before he let her go and turned a bright smile on his son. "I'll tell you later," he whispered back.

"Asuma," Tsume wheezed, "this is Kiba, Hana, Tori, and Yasuo. Everyone, Asuma."

"Are you part of a gang? If you're gonna date my ma and all, you've gotta be really awesome." Kiba grinned broadly.

"We're not--" Tsume began, only to have Tori smile and cut across her words.

"Good to meet you, Asuma-san," she said, giving a truncated bow. "So sorry about the introduction. Someone should find a nurse, make sure you haven't torn something -- Yasuo?"

He nodded once and stepped out of the room.

"They're going to dinner at the Hokage's palace," Kuromaru called out. "Look! There's the invitation!"

Kiba picked it up off the floor, loudly working out each word. Tori took it from him, scanning the contents quickly and then giving Tsume and Asuma each a sharp glance. Her smile was even sharper. "I think it's a great idea. Tsume, it's been forever since you've been out."

"It has not--!"

Tori eyed Asuma again, critically. "I'm her older sister. Just ignore her, it has been forever since she's been out. You're going to RSVP, right? They'll want to know you're bringing a guest."

"But I'm not--"

Tori turned on her. "For goodness' sake, Tsume. It's just a political function. It'll be fun. Get you out of the house. And Asuma doesn't mind if you go, do you, Asuma?" She turned and smiled at him.

"Who, me?" coughed Asuma, catching his breath and meeting a look like a diamond-blue laser. Older sister, her mouth said. I'll wear your testicles like a hair-clip if you cross me, her eyes said. "Nope, not me. I'm too busy being virile to mind things. In fact, some days I'm even prolific."

Tsume made a noise that he would have called 'strangled', if he'd been feeling charitable.

Putting names to faces was a bit of a challenge when they all had the same identifying marks--red dagger tattoos, brown hair, ice-blue eyes; except for the girl, who had dark brown eyes--but he'd always been good at thinking on his feet. Besides, a name like fang tended to stand out when you stuck it on a kid who wouldn't have reached halfway up his thigh.

Kiba tugged at the pregnant sister's hand. "What's 'prolific' mean?"

"Ask your father," said the woman, still smiling.

Tsume bit her wrist; Asuma couldn't decide if she was smothering the impulse to laugh or scream. He touched a hand to his lower back, felt his fingers smear in something warm and liquid-thick, and decided if he was going to be freshly injured then he was definitely getting his money's worth.

He crouched down and gave the boy a friendly smile. "Hey, Kiba, give me your opinion. If I want to impress your mom, should I bring her flowers or just cut to the chase and find some steak-flavoured condoms?"

Tsume's stomach lurched. She resisted the urge to rip his face off, but her hands snapped down into claws at her sides, anyway, and she bared her teeth in what couldn't be called anything short of a snarl. Tori put a restraining hand on Tsume's arm and pasted a smile on for Asuma. "I think the candy, right, Kiba? Maybe your mom can show him how she rips things open with her fangs."

Kiba brightened instantly. "Oh, yeah! Like this--" He gnashed his teeth and swung his head back and forth in a perfect dog imitation, making growling noises.

"Condoms aren't candy," Hana said doubtfully, still hanging in the doorway. "In school they said condoms--"

"Talk to your mom about it later, all right, sweetheart?" Tori smiled. Hana glowered at Asuma.

"Oh! Oh!" Kiba grabbed hold of Asuma, filled with excitement. "You could get steak-flavored mochi! Ma likes mochi, an' she likes steak!"

"Your mom is not going on a date," Tsume snapped, and glared at Asuma. Tori's hand was still on her arm, a warm brand settling her nerves.

"Let's not be hasty," Tori said quickly, then in a mutter added, "Some candy might do you some good."

Tsume whirled to glare at her, too.

"Ma!" Kiba cried in horror. "What happened to your claws?"

Tsume straightened up from the half-crouch she'd taken, tucking her hands into the waistband of her hospital pajamas, at the small of her back. A quick sidestepping pivot, and she was just behind and to one side of Asuma, the bed at her spine, where children and sisters couldn't get around to look. "They're fine. They'll grow back." She couldn't keep up with the conversation. This was getting ridiculous. Nit-bit, she was not going on a date.

"All right, all right," a new voice cried, a nurse shoved his way through the pack, smelling of antiseptic and annoyance. "Everyone clear through. This is a hospital, not a dog park."

Silence fell. He turned bright red.

"Metaphorically speaking. Right then, Asuma-san, let me see your back..."

"I would," said Asuma slowly, craning his neck around to look at Tsume, "but I think it's being used for a shield right now."

She gave him an outraged glare.

"Or not," he said. "Definitely not. It's a wind-breaker, obviously."

Still clinging to his arm, Kiba peered up with wide, puzzled eyes. "You're weird," he confided, in the mock-whisper of a young boy with grave concerns.

"It's been said," Asuma agreed. He dragged his free hand through wild, bed-mussed hair, trying to ease a gathering headache and re-order his thoughts all at once. At least his family only came with one especially troublesome relative.

Okay, two, if you counted his sister.

The nurse tried to take control. "Asuma-san, if you've re-injured yourself than I really need to look at your back. Now, for preference."

Asuma jabbed his thumb at Tsume. "Technically, she re-injured me."

"Be that as it may--"

"Really weird," said Kiba, determined to make his point.

"Kiba-kun--" began Tori.

"It is not a date," muttered Tsume, somewhere in the region of Asuma's elbow. "I'm not going on a date..."

"And why is he any better than Ryouma?" demanded the brown-eyed girl to Kuromaru, who was industriously scratching at his shiny eyepatch.

"Maybe I should get an actual medic--?" suggested the slim Inuzuka male from the door.

Feeling strangely ignored and slightly deaf, stuck in the unquiet centre of a familial hurricane, Asuma took matters into his own hands. Or, rather, one hand, which snapped fingers and thumb together and produced a bright lick of flame.

"What're you--" began the medic, but fell silent when Asuma flicked his hand and the flame leapt off, dancing upwards. It rippled like a flag in the non-existent breeze, almost invisible, and reached the ceiling. Where the smoke alarm lived.

Compared to the babble of voices, the sudden wail of klaxons was almost peaceful. Especially when it was followed by an immediate downpour of chakra-laced ice-water, so heavy it almost drowned the noise.

Asuma exhaled, rolling his shoulders in the one-room waterfall, and felt the blood slick away from his spine. Watched the blurry, running shadows that signalled a stampede of people from the room, most of them yelling. By his bare feet, caught in a thin tide, the invitation coasted by on a small wave and vanished under the bed.

Asuma turned and split a grin at Tsume, who was mostly staring. "Y'know, I was almost starting to miss the ocean. 'mazing how it comes right back to you."

"You're insane," she told him, catching up Kiba as her son went racing by, waving his arms and screaming. She shoved Kiba, squirming and screeching in delight, at Asuma and dove for the door.

The hall was full of Inuzuka -- and thankfully dry familiars -- all trying to shake the water out of their hair.

"Well, that was bracing," Tori muttered. Her pale-furred familiar whined piteously. "I think we'll take the hint and be heading off now." She gave the doorway, where Asuma hadn't appeared, a pale-eyed glare, but spoke to Tsume. "No wonder you don't want to back him at the political get-together. No partner is worth that."

"I never said that," Tsume snapped, wringing out her hospital shirt.

"No, I get it. I wouldn't want to go with him, either; partners who pull stunts like that can watch after themselves."

Tsume growled softly until Tori looked elsewhere. "I don't turn belly-up just because of a little water. Partners back each other."

Tori grinned, a flash of teeth with smaller fangs, and still didn't look over. "So you're going?"

Tsume opened her mouth, closed it, and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Yes. I'm going." In the room behind her, she could hear Kiba still laughing, Asuma's bass rumble, and Kuromaru yipping with glee. She didn't really want to know what they were doing.

"All right, everyone, pack up your things," Tori called, looking specifically at Hana and the three puppies who'd escaped from their rucksack. "Kiba! Come out here!"

The nurse looked relieved, huddled in a corner explaining what had happened to security.

Kiba flew out of the room, tucked under one of Asuma's arms, making hawk noises.

"Settle down and say goodbye to your mother. She'll be home later."

Tsume knelt, prepared this time for when Kiba slammed into her, planting a wet kiss on one tattoo. "Good huntin', Ma!"

She ruffled his hair. "Good huntin', cub." He waved at Asuma, then bounced toward his father, squelching with water. "Hana?" Tsume called cautiously, still kneeling.

Hana half tucked herself behind Tori, clutching her bag of puppies. Carefully, she looked up. Her eyes were slightly narrowed, and Tsume could feel the hesitant brush of newly trained chakra over hers.

Then Hana lit up. Setting the puppies on the tile, she hopped over the bag and lunged for Tsume. Tsume wrapped her up, light headed with relief.

"You feel normal again," Hana whispered.

She rubbed the slim back, tightening her grip. "Told you it wouldn't last forever."

With a final hug, Hana turned and sprinted back to her bag, hoisting it up and over her shoulders. "You coming home, soon?"

Tsume nodded. "Soon as they release me."

With a final grin from Hana, and wrangling to get everyone moving, the crowd of wet Inuzuka headed back down the corridor.

Tsume leaned against the wall, listening to water shower down in the room behind her, watching Kuromaru slink out of it, bedraggled and soaked. "Well. That was exciting." Kuromaru wagged once, flinging water everywhere.

"Asuma-san, if you'd let us look at your back now...? And then we'll find you both another room."

Asuma rolled his eyes towards the damp-looking medic. "Seriously, dude? I'm trying to appreciate the scenery here." One hand waved at the disappearing pack, where Hana trailed in the rear, casting quick, smiling glances back at her mother. Kiba was still making hawk noises. Asuma grinned. "Just makes you want to have kids, doesn't it?"

The medic shivered. "Gods, no."

Asuma quirked an eyebrow at him, glancing over the man's shoulder at Tsume. She bared her teeth in a curving grin. The medic reddened again. "Tact just ain't your strong point, is it?" Asuma told him.

"It's been a very long day. Can I please look at your back?"

Asuma twitched one stiffening shoulder. "If you must. I think I just popped some scabs, though. Maybe a few stitches."

Behind his sunburn-flush, the medic whitened. Asuma decided he was new. "Why didn't you say so?"

Asuma scratched one eyebrow with his thumbnail, and turned obligingly when the medic gestured. "You didn't ask?"

There was a deeply exasperated snort from behind his shoulderblade. Then a quick shower of cold water and a yelp -- Kuromaru had just shaken all over the medic, Asuma guessed. Tsume laughed.

"Do you mind?" the medic demanded. "I'm trying to prevent infection here!"

Pale green chakra rolled over Asuma's back, lessening the sting; Asuma leaned his forehead against the wall and smiled, slow. Thought vaguely of cigarettes, invitations, family. Which bit of medical equiptment he'd fling at Kuromaru if the dog started shaking again.

He glanced sideways at Tsume. "Your kids're cute. How'd you manage that?"

Tsume grinned and hooked a thumb over her shoulder, toward the now-empty hall. "Tori raises 'em. I just donated the genes." Which wasn't strictly true; she'd been home for the last five years. But it was close enough.

And she was starting to shiver, her wet hospital garb stuck to her skin. "All right, pup," she said sternly, "listen up. I'll go with you to your father's thing, but only because if I don't I'll catch flack from my sister. Don't even think it's for anything else." She peeled her clothes away from her stomach, tipping her head so water didn't drip into her face from her hair. The next she added in a mutter. "Besides, I don't suppose I should leave you to the political wolves."

"But don't think I'm going," Kuromaru announced loudly. "I don't like you that much. Even if you did help Tsume with her mission."

Tsume smirked.

Asuma snorted loudly, air hitting the wall in front of his face and curling back, warm against his lips. Depressingly smoke free. "Gotcha," he told the giant wolfhound. "Glad to be useful."

There was a pleased-sounding sniff somewhere around hip level. It wasn't hard to picture Kuromaru preening a little, head up and proud -- though the image got a little more disturbing when you remembered that it included a rhinestone eyepatch and a whole lot of soaked fur.

More chakra poured over his shoulders, warm and itchy. He flexed his spine, wincing. "You almost done?"

The medic huffed, did something that burned, and then clapped Asuma on the back with a calloused hand. "There, that should do it. Now just don't do anything stupid."

"Who, me?"

"Ha."

When Asuma turned around, the medic had already side-stepped Kuromaru, nodded at Tsume, and fled halfway down the hall. Asuma watched him go with interest. "Nice fella."

This time, Kuromaru and Tsume snorted in tandem.

Asuma glanced at his erstwhile partner. "So," he said, grinning slow, "just because you'll catch flak from your sister, huh?"

Tsume gave him a sharp, blue-diamond look.

"Not because you like me or anything?" he went on. "Or owe me for being all alive and whatnot. It's just a favour for a guy you kind of know, right?"

Tsume's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Kuromaru cocked his one remaining ear.

Shirtless, barefoot, bloody from shoulders to hips, and in full view of the entire corridor, Asuma indulged himself in the lewdest-looking victory dance Konoha's hospital had seen for a while. "I knew you'd crack," he crowed, and then sing-songed, "She liiiiiikes me. Can't get enooooough of me, oh yeah..."

Tsume was caught between horror and laughter. Laughter won. "Try humping the wall. It might give you some friction." That said, she turned and headed down the corridor, poking her head into rooms as she went, looking for an empty one.

Behind her, she could still hear Asuma singing. What had she gotten herself into? Against her better judgment, she glanced back. It only seemed to encourage him. With another burst of laughter, she retreated into an empty room and stripped the blanket off the bed, wrapping herself up. "You're as nutty as a berry-high bluebird," she called out.

Asuma kept singing.

"I don't know about this one," Kuromaru said solemnly. "He might be a little bit weird for you. Maybe he's too virile..."

"Yes, Kuro, that's the problem. He's too virile," Tsume drawled. It was definitely a problem. And it was not a date. They just had to remember that.