She started to point out that four clones and her couldn't sail this ship, when she clued in as to why he might not have released the sailors yet.

Four clones and her could scare a bunch of seamen into good behavior, even if Asuma was unconscious below. Which meant there was no more time for stalling.

"Right," Tsume said quietly. "Let me go get some clothes." She slunk across the deck, back down into the hold where her uniform lay in a pile of soft black cloth and pale ceramic armor. She nudged the door closed, then, with a deep breath, released the jutsu.

Chakra shoved through her narrow coils, a flash of agony before she managed to modulate it all more carefully. It nearly overwhelmed the pain of scabs breaking as her body warped and twisted. The stitches under her jaw pulled, one of them tearing, but didn't pop entirely. The deeper welts along her back, where one line had crossed another, spilled bright red blood down the length of her spine. Where she'd clawed her own throat, trying to keep from choking, more blood ran.

She ignored it.

There were scattered bits of first aid gear amid her clothes, from Asuma's dig through the kit earlier. He'd taken most of it up with him, but she found a fat roll of medical tape and half a dozen bandages. She snagged the tape and began to bind her shoulder, stretching it from her bicep on up, using it to support her arm but leave her mobile. It took the strain off pulled tendons and muscles, and gave her some limited strength back. With an effort she managed not to notice her claws, broken off and rimmed with old blood. Instead, she focused on the mild sunburn and darkening bruises scattered here and there.

She couldn't see her own neck to bandage it, or reach her back effectively enough to bandage that. She could just leave them... nothing was so deep as to be dangerous.

Then she thought about blood sticking cloth to injuries and drying there. All right -- at least her back needed to be seen to.

Before that, though, she pulled on underwear and pants, folding the waistbands down so they hung low on her hips below most of the lash marks. She eyed her sports bra. It was tight under her breasts, all the way around her body.

Where she'd been whipped.

Her breasts weren't that big. She didn't really need them strapped down.

She glanced at the form-fitting ANBU shirt next, and scowled. Torso still bare, she cracked open the galley door and bellowed. "Asuma! Grab a crewman's shirt and get down here, would you?"