“You’re also kind of a smart-ass,”’ Katsuko added. She rubbed her hands together, absently, trying to regain some of the warmth lost when he’d let go of her. “But I want to believe you. Gods, do I want to believe you.”

She looked out into the hall, at the rows of cells with huddled, silent shapes in them. This had been her whole world for half a year; Konoha had faded to a distant memory, more of a talisman against the worst of her nightmares than an actual place. She could remember Sensei’s face, Nori’s and Beni’s faces, if she tried hard enough. Makoto and Mother required a bit more effort. Her father--

“I’m starting to forget what Dad looks like,” she realized, looking at Asuma with a resigned expression. “He’s an ambassador to Suna, so he’s away most of the year. He came home once after the Fox, but I’d already been sent to patrol the border of Lightning.”

“Then it’s about damn time you got out of here.” Asuma stretched, reaching back to gingerly touch the back of his head. Whatever he found there didn’t seem to alarm him too much, as a second later he flexed his hands like he was calling up energy for a jutsu. Katsuko sighed and waited for him to discover that the suppressing seals laid into the very groundwork of the cells prevented chakra manipulation.