Princess wasn't so bad at first--better than sweetheart, surely. But by noon on the second day, even Natsumi's practiced patience was wearing a little thin. In the last fifty hours Asuma had called her princess twenty-six times (occasionally changing it up with other spur-of-the-moment endearments) and hadn't used her name once. He also snored, smoked, slept with his boots on, claimed he'd forgotten his razor, tried new pick-up lines by reflex or boredom, and whistled enthusiastically and only occasionally tunefully.

He was relentlessly, mercilessly cheerful. Natsumi was beginning to get a headache from gritted teeth and the suppressed desire to either hit him or laugh at him. Or, possibly, knock him down, sit on his chest, and use a kunai instead of that razor he'd forgotten to pack.

The closer they got to Amatsuki Shrine, the worse the whistling got. When they turned off the main road onto a narrow, overgrown path winding through a pine forest up the slope of a steep hill, Asuma switched to singing. He had a deep, pleasant bass, and he even managed to stay on pitch most of the time. Natsumi wasn't sure he had the right words; she hadn't remembered the lyrics to the old Second Ninja War marching song as being quite that raunchy. But that wasn't even the point!

"The sign back at the turn-off said five miles to the shrine," she pointed out, scrambling over a fallen tree. "Do you plan to sing the whole way there? Are you sure there's no better way to let them know we're coming? I have fireworks in my kit."