| fallen_senbon ( @ 2008-03-13 02:27:00 |
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| Entry tags: | genma, raidou |
Freely Given [closed to Genma & Raidou]
Backstory, set in November. Immediately follows Fair Trade, Brother
Genma didn't remember a lot about his father. He'd died when Genma was only seven, so while he had some solid memories, they were mostly the sort that a child forms. Impressions as much as events. One thing he was sure of was a memory of his father waking him in the early morning by pulling the blankets away and lifting his sleepy son from his bed with the phrase, "Up and at em, Genma-chan. No rest for the wicked, you know." As a child Genma never quite understood why his dad called them wicked, but he had no doubt that his father meant both himself and his son when he said that, and he meant it with affection.
Genma wasn't sure why he thought of it now, but it was certainly apt. He'd been asleep maybe an hour when the agony of returning sensation to his frozen hands and feet broke through half-formed dreams. The first thing he was aware of after the pain in his extremities, was Raidou, right there, with one arm under Genma's head and the other thrown around his shoulders, pulling him in like he was afraid Genma might slip from his grasp. Funny, since Genma was really the one who was afraid Raidou was going to try to run away again.
His feet burned and itched and were an agony. The bones within ached. And what happened for his feet went double for his hands. It was odd how clear-headed he felt thinking about it. How he could tell himself I've had worse; it was worse in Iwa, and not have it set off the shaking, nauseating flashbacks pain like that sometimes did. He wanted a painkiller. He wanted it to stop. He didn't dare get up, because Raidou was still asleep, and undoubtedly would be hurting just as much when he woke. More because his ankle--broken or sprained in that desperate flight the night before--would be screaming now. Didn't dare wake him up because for the moment Raidou's scarred face was at peace.
Flashbacks, Genma thought, and could feel ever single scar on his hands, ever single mended bone, every single regrown nerve. That had to have been behind Raidou's break. Something like that. What else could drive a man so mad with grief he'd run for miles barefoot through the falling snow?