Tsume held Hana tighter, wrapping one arm around the girl’s head. Hana was ignoring them both, still crying, the occasional cough blowing wet air across Tsume’s clothes, which were now soaked. “She’s half,” Tsume growled, willing Ibiki to back off. “Things don’t always work right.”

He waited, eyebrows tipped expectantly, muscles tired and loose. He was still pale, wet hair dripping down his back.

She floundered. “We should go back up. Get you checked out.” She staggered to her feet, carrying Hana awkwardly. Hana was almost as tall as Tsume was; the girl’s legs dangled until they wrapped around Tsume’s hips in a vice-grip.

"Half what?” Ibiki asked, startling Tsume into a halt. “Is there any reason to think I won't be fine if I take it easy for a day or so?" He looked skeptical for a moment, as if still doubting Tsume’s story. Then he reached out, the skinned knuckles of one broad hand visible as he brushed Hana’s shoulder. "Is she as drained as I am?"

Tsume yanked Hana away. Her crying was beginning to subside, tears coming slower. “Half Inuzuka. She’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. Just rest.”

Tsume hoped. Her stomach twisted, making her feel vaguely ill. She didn’t know. Not really. It had only happened a few times, and the only experience she had with Hana’s father—

It had never seemed to hurt him. Tsume had recovered. She thought she might puke. This was more thought than she cared to give to Hana’s occasional mishaps.

“Mom,” Hana whimpered, squirming. “Too tight.”

Tsume opened her arms slightly.

Hana rubbed her face on Tsume’s shoulder, opening one eye to peer at Ibiki. “I’m half Inuzuka, an’ the bloodlines go funny sometimes.” Then she turned her head the other way; not looking at Tsume, but refusing to look at Ibiki, either. “I forgot.”

Tsume patted her, studying Ibiki for any response. “We’ll deal with it, cub.”