Hitomi's suds-slick fingers stilled on her arm. She stared down at the smooth skin, the faint scars. Then, almost reflexively, her fingers lifted to her forehead. The Caged Bird seal felt cool to the touch, but she had seen how it could burn.

"I may have to crush him," she whispered, barely audible over the squeaking pump and splashing water. "He's a smart boy, but he won't understand any other way." Her hand dropped; she tilted her head, rinsing out her hair, closing her eyes against soap and sight. It was too easy to see too much--the heat in Minato's eyes, the hope in Ryouma's. To sit seiza in the Branch House dojo and watch as the elders of the Main House activated the killing seal on a Hyuuga woman who'd dared defile her bloodline with an out-clan lover. She'd never heard what had happened to the man; she hadn't wanted to know.

But those were clan affairs, and she couldn't explain. She pushed herself up off the flooded floor, twisting under the warm stream as she rubbed skin clean with graceful efficiency. "If my opinion is worth anything, it seems to me that you are what Kakashi-kun needs. I don't believe that light in his eyes comes just from watching you stretch."

Minato blinked once, then a smile split his face that beat out all the rest. For a moment, he was truly brilliant. "You may wear that mark, Hyuuga-san," he said quietly, inclining his head in a grateful bow, "but your opinion will never count for nothing."

It counted for everything, to at least one person. He could still feel Ryouma's eyes on his back. And it wasn't hard to see the agony of a painful choice writing early lines into Hitomi's delicate features. But she was a shinobi, and painful choices happened every day.

Minato didn't overstep the mark by patting her naked shoulder. He just concentrated on keeping the water warm, and let his mind turn over words. "When you knock him back," he murmured finally, "do it quick, and don't torture yourself forever. You're already making him into something great." He leaned sideways against the pump, feeling warm mist catch against his side. Chakra flickered behind him. "I just hope he's a good catch," he added, and glanced sharply over his shoulder. "Ryouma! On your left!"

Kakashi wavered, paled, and dropped without a sound.

Chopsticks hit the floor. Kakashi didn't.

"Good, maybe," Hitomi admitted, as her swearing student manhandled Kakashi back into a position vaguely approximating upright. "He has his moments..."

Ryouma checked Kakashi's pulse, frowned, and started to ease him back down.

"Or not," Hitomi decided. "Don't just leave him there, brat. There are bunks behind you. Use them."

"I was going to!" Ryouma shot back, in the guilty tones of a boy who was clearly not. He struggled for a moment with his own blanket, dropped it at last, and scrambled naked to drag Kakashi across the floor and hoist him into one of the alcove-bunks. He straightened the limp body out, hesitated, and then fetched another clean blanket from the box to cover the boy up. When he wrapped up again and crouched down by the fire, he threw one brief glance over his shoulder before he wiped the chopsticks off against his forearm and poked at the pot again.

Hitomi wrung water out of her hair, knotted the wet mass up again, and rose to her feet. "I'll keep trying," she said quietly. "Your turn, Minato-san."

Minato didn't doubt it. He nodded once and asked, "Would you check on him?" His head tilted at the blanketed shape hidden in the shadow of a stone alcove. Only a lank tuft of bedraggled silver hair showed Kakashi was even in there. "He mentioned something about getting Hyuuga'd earlier. If you could sort his coils out, I'd appreciate it."

He shaped a spark of chakra and called a clone up to work the pump for him, freeing Hitomi to tend to Kakashi. The water splashed down cold before he brought his jutsu up again, warming it enough to be tolerable. He ducked his head down, sneezing under the spray. Then something occurred to him.

He yanked back out, shook water everywhere, and looked at Ryouma through dripping hair. "I forgot to thank you, Ryouma-kun. You did a good job with him. I won't forget that." He smiled the wry grin of one who knew just how much of a handful a certain young genius could be, and shoved his head back under the pump.

Hitomi's lips thinned at the gentle rebuke. Distraction was no excuse for a ninja; she should have opened the boy's tenketsu as soon as his former sensei arrived. She accepted the reproof in silence, with a bowed head, and skimmed water off her skin as she stepped away. Washing clothes would wait for later. A blanket from the box worked as a sarong, and she could ignore Ryouma's disappointed sigh.

The narrow stripe of face left bare between mask and sodden hair was alarmingly pale. Hitomi called up the Byakugan and studied the sullen swirl of chakra through his pathways. Some regions were almost dark. Everywhere was far too faint. She prodded tenketsu open, encouraged a little of her own chakra to bolster the boy's, and then touched a pressure point that would let the boy sleep through the night. He needed rest more than he needed food right now.

They all needed rest, if they meant to be ready for the morning.

"He's worn out and chakra low," she reported when she turned away. Minato was still washing up, aided by a shadow clone; her brat was practically glowing as he stirred the rice mixture at double-speed. It was already a sticky, glutinous porridge studded with chunks of rehydrated meat and vegetables. Hitomi winced. "That's enough, brat. It should be done by now."

Minato shook himself off with a flurry of water, laughing quietly when the clone pulled a face at him, and grabbed a blanket to use as both towel and cover. He knotted it around his hips, ignoring the water droplets dewed over his shoulders, and snapped the clone out of existence. It vanished with a crack of smoke; Kakashi didn't stir.

"Thank you," he said to Hitomi, and went to check on his former student. Even lost in something that wasn't quite sleep, Kakashi didn't look young. Minato touched gentle fingertips to the shadows under his eyes, and let a thread of his own chakra slip away. It sunk into dry coils, boosting the work Hitomi had done. Kakashi sighed once and shifted, rolling onto his side. Minato pulled his hand back.

"He'll be okay after a night's sleep," he said, settling down cross-legged next to the bubbling pot. "He's strong." A smile didn't quite make it across his face, but it glimmered for a moment. He glanced at the mess of rice and vegetables, and lifted an eyebrow. "Suddenly this place feels much more homely. My mother used to cook like that."

"Really?" Ryouma looked delighted. After four and a half years off the streets, he still hadn't quite managed the distinction between food and pig swill. Hitomi considered pointing that out, and somehow couldn't.

Minato was right. He was a good kid. Impetuous, obnoxious, reckless, and rebellious, with more talent than was healthy for anyone, and only a teenage boy's warped sense of what to do with it. But if he survived tomorrow, the next day, the next week, this war... He might yet make something of himself.

She hoped he would. That Minato's kid would do the same. And that both of them would be around to see it.