Clones. An obvious answer. Hayate felt like an idiot, but smiled a little for her instead of wincing. "Allright. If you're sure he's okay."

Tsume didn't look overly upset, not like she might have if something were really wrong. She glanced up at him as he stood back and folded his hands through signs well-memorized. He hardly had to think about forming his chakra the right way anymore: he used clones so often in battle.

A pair of clones ruffled into appearance, mirror images of himself. He glanced down at Tsume and Kuromaru, and bit his lip in thought, sorting out the logistics. Then he nodded. "Right. Tsume-san, will you be able to help a little?"

She might, but then, she might be as tired as Kuromaru and hiding it well. She was obviously older and more experienced that Hayate himself, and capable of such deception. Well, if she couldn't help, maybe she wouldn't mind carting his katana along with them, so he wouldn't have to leave it unwatched.