"Hey, whoa!" Crouching wasn't his favourite activity right now; he hooked a foot up instead, catching Tsume in the concave hollow where her hind leg met her belly. She leapt arthritically over his foot, injured leg tucked up high, and spun around to give him a "what the hell?" look. Asuma gave her one right back. "Okay, first of all, don't go around sandpapering yourself to pieces. It's gross, and it makes me hurt for you. Second, give a guy a minute to think when you ask him eight questions at once."

Or one big question: now what?

He flicked the butt of his dying cigarette over the rail and licked split lips, eyeing the not-too-distant ship. The little rowing boat had almost reached it; the even littler figures on the ship were signalling to it, wheeling around to present an easily accessible broadside for the returning crew to reach.

As far as Asuma could sense, none of them were ninja. Which made things easier.

"See the clones?" he said to Tsume, pointing a hand at his two creations. "They move better than we do. Order them around if you need something." Eyes like chips of pale sky gave him a look that was all kinds of frosty. Asuma grinned back, feeling stitches pull across his cheek, and then climbed awkwardly up onto the ship's broad wooden railing, looping his arm around a rope to anchor himself in place. He crossed his legs loosely, dug a soldier pill out of one belt-pouch, and watched the other ship, waiting for the right moment. "Give me five minutes to knock off problem--" he called up her list, "--two. Then we can drag the remaining crew out and think about getting home."

The moon was a high crescent of silver in the velvety sky, gleaming over the waves. It was a good thing, Asuma thought, that they hadn't travelled far enough for the constellations to change. Even after five years away, he knew these stars better than any other sky-map.

The scroll dangled loosely between his fingers. He leaned the un-sliced side of his face against the taut gangropes, inhaling salt and brine. The soldier pill dissolved on his tongue.

"What's your preference, sweetheart: water, wind, or fire?"