Tsume fought awake again as they moved her. Then she found herself on a comfortable lap, resting against a strong, broad chest, head lolling against the flesh covered steel of a shoulder.

It smelled like Ryouma. Unhappy, but not hurt. They'd been talking. Around her, over her. Words tangling in streams of exhaustion. There were things she should remember.

Kuromaru was gone.

No, she'd smelled him.

Ryouma had been tortured. Screaming, arching, falling into unconsciousness.

No, he was here.

She opened her eyes, gaze resting without seeing for a long moment. Then she reached up, palm flattening against warm, smooth skin. Her index finger traced the brilliant line of flesh where a tattoo used to be. "You're all healed," she murmured. "That's good."

The thought fled. She tucked her face against him, breathing in life and heat. "But you don't smell good." She rubbed her face under his collarbones, feeling bandages rasp and the salt itch on her cheeks ease away.

It was important. Important to think. Make sense of the words that had been floating around her. She grasped onto something she'd understood and spoke. "You don't want to be a ninja anymore? Jus' 'cause you got tortured..." She tried to smile, even if the teasing was horribly morbid and in bad taste.

Then she smoothed her fingers down his chest again, curling them into her palm, resting her fist on his heartbeat. "You did good, Coyot. Did really good. An' we all got home." And that was what mattered, wasn't it? She thought so.

She still felt like she was missing something.