The swelling had gone down in Genma's leg, but the pain evidently hadn't. He threaded his IV needle out by himself, but he needed a hand up from the platform, and a strong arm and a steady shoulder as they made their way out of the bunkroom. First to the bathroom, to deal with certain consequences of a round-the-clock IV; then, even less pleasantly, to the prisoner's cell.

Fukuda's fever had broken. She'd drunk water, Katsuko's new clones reported, diligently mining through the memories of the previous watch. Still hadn't eaten, hadn't even tried to speak. The metal pot with its congealed lump of stew lay by the cell door, untouched. Ryouma left Genma and three clones with the prisoner and took the pot to the kitchen to wash.

He finished before Genma did, and went back into the bunkroom to scrounge for more dishes to clean.

When he came out of the kitchen the next time, Genma was outside the cell, leaning heavily against the packed earth wall and giving quiet instructions to the new clones. Fukuda lay blanket-covered in the shadows beyond him, breathing quietly. Her eyes were open.

"She'll live?" Ryouma wasn't sure why he was asking or whether he wanted to know the answer. Maybe it was something about watching the way Genma had worked tonight, steady despite his own hurts. A medic was supposed to look after himself first, and care about himself last. Had Genma said that, or had he heard it somewhere else?

Half of being a good medic is wanting the other guy to stop hurting. He remembered Genma saying that, at least.

He looked at Fukuda, and then away.

Still not there yet.

"As long as nothing changes, she's improving." Genma braced a hand on the wall and tested his weight on his right thigh. He grimaced, teeth clenched, and leaned back again. "Your bandage change earlier helped."

Ryouma started to shove his hands in his pockets, remembered his spare ANBU blacks didn't have them, and tucked his thumbs into his waistband instead. "Bet you won't catch her being grateful."

Genma gazed at him for a moment, light eyes caught a vivid gold in the flickering overhead glow. He seemed to be considering his words, and discarding them. At last he said, "Shibata-san's department will be glad we saved her."

Even less reason for Fukuda to be grateful, then.

Ryouma stole one more glance at her. She hadn't moved, but she was watching him. He wondered if she knew, or guessed, who Shibata was. Raidou'd said Konoha wanted a word with her, hadn't he? She had to know they were only saving her for interrogation.

He'd handed prisoners over to T&I two or three times before, but they'd been missing-nin, traitors to Konoha or to other villages; he hadn't felt guilty. He didn't have any reason to feel guilty now. He'd have been happy to kill her. He'd already crippled her. T&I couldn't do much worse.

He dropped his eyes, all the same. "We done here, lieutenant?"

"We're done," Genma confirmed, but the careful, evaluating look still simmered behind his eyes. He pushed off from the wall, limping heavily. His shoulder brushed Ryouma's in the narrow hall. "Hatake will keep for a while longer. I could really use a cup of coffee. Come sit in the kitchen with me a minute, and I'll share my stash of instant."

"Thought you were a tea man," Ryouma said.

Genma shrugged. "I am. But instant coffee's easy to carry, and I usually have teammates like you who'd rather drink it than tea. We can make a cup of each."

Ryouma hadn't had a decent caffeine hit since they left Konoha. He could guess at Genma's motives for the offer, but he couldn't drag up the energy to care.