"I do," was Hayate's curious answer. He could read the sudden tension in her face, the tightening of her body, and focused on her dog companion as the source. Kuromaru looked like he was sleeping. Then Hayate narrowed in on the unusual stillness, and got uneasy himself, the warm glow of his practise washing away.

"Is he okay?" he asked anxiously, coming to crouch beside her. His voice rasped and cracked.

He wondered if she meant for him to go get help. He wouldn't be much use for anything else. He doubted he could lift Kuromaru, even with the help of chakra. He would bet his sword the dog outweighed him by at least twenty pounds, if not more. And even if he hadn't, Hayate was still built all wrong to carry burdens. He wasn't compact with a low center of balance, like Tsume herself was.

He cleared his throat, roughly. "Do I need to go get anyone...?"