In a slightly unnerving display, all three simultaneously smiled the same polite smile. Hayate cleared his throat roughly. "No problem," he answered, and if it was a bit short, well, the giant black dog was heavy.

The little plaza right in front of the hospital's doors was about as far he he could manage. He and his clones very carefully set Kuromaru down on the chill cement. A flick of his hand sent one clone jogging off into the hospital before Tsume could start that way herself. She looked a little pale, under the thin winter sunshine.

Hayate crouched beside Kuromaru, and took the grand liberty of threading his fingers into the thick black coat, stroking from the coarse hair on the dog's back to the finer stuff along his flank.

"Just glad to help, Tsume-san," he told her, and smiled, though he certainly wouldn't mind food. ANBU's salary was generous, but a lot of what he was paid went back to his aunt, and their little house. Some of the long-needed repairs were being fixed, now. They'd never been poor, but they'd never been rich, either. He didn't exactly lack for food, but he wouldn't turn it down if she pressed the issue.

The clone, back to Tsume, mouthed his words back at him, with a roll of its eyes. Hayate's smile tightened a fraction, and he stopped petting Kuromaru to dismiss the mocking doppleganger.

A brief chakra-touch told him the second clone was coming back, medical personnel in tow. Hayate stood, and took his katana and water-bottle back from Tsume. "You'll be allright now?" he asked, tilting his head to indicate both her and the still-sleeping Kuromaru. He angled the katana to rest against his collarbone, a familiar weight.