"Second wave, yeah," Ginta agreed. Interesting that Asuma didn't tread on his tatami with his boots. You could take the boy out of the palace, but not the palace out of the boy, evidently. As was more than evident by Ginta's own carefully lined up indoor and outdoor shoes in the entry.

He grabbed a handful of coins from a bowl on his dresser with one hand, while the other deposited his wallet into one of the many pockets on his pants. They were awesome pants, he decided. Weapons all over the place, not to mention scrolls, powders, maps, tools, papers... They were easily as useful, if not more so, than his mission gear. Although the fabric was probably not woven with the idea of stopping a kunai strike... Still, he should talk to the quartermasters. Show them the pants. Pockets! Compartments! That was the thing.

He stepped into his sandals and rejoined Asuma on the outside of the door, carefully sealing everything back up with locks and chakra. "I got knocked out of the fight after about twenty-seven hours in; the assault team I was on got caught by three of the tails. Four out of twenty are still alive to talk about it." It was easy to let that part of the story roll off his tongue. He'd told his story, as had all the survivors, over and over, until it was something he knew more by rote than by real memory.

The memories, for the most part, only came out in their dreams.

"I wasn't there when Minato-sama cast his jutsu. But he did what you said. Sacrificed everything to subdue that fucking monster. He used a Death Summons jutsu to seal the Kyuubi's chakra inside his own kid, and gave his own life in the process." His voice held a bitter chill. "That kid's around--an orphan. I guess Konoha's welfare system is raising him somehow. I think everyone pretty much feels like a bastard about it, because it's Yondaime-sama's kid, but he's not human anymore. He's the Fox. You can see it in his eyes."