By the time the runner made it back to the ICU, Genma was flattened against the mattress by two bulky guards, and still struggling despite it. He was gasping for breath, there was fresh blood blotting the bandages over his abdomen, and his hand was twisted in its traction device, though still suspended.

A bedside table and an IV stand were knocked over, and the IV itself had pulled free from Genma's arm. Chakra and heart monitors screamed alarms. Two medics were hastily drawing up drugs into syringes. Another was tending to the nurse Genma had attacked.

A large crowd clustered the hall outside Genma's room. People shouted unhelpful questions and instructions. It was as much chaos as a critically ill patient in intensive care could possibly create.

The medic who had been to see Raidou forced his way into the room, elbowing his way to the foot of the bed. "Curry," he shouted. "Namiashi-san says the safeword is curry, and he'll never let you eat it again if you hurt yourself."

Genma went suddenly still.

The medics with syringes rushed in to inject their patient and make sure he was still breathing.

"Curry," Genma whispered, as his eyes drifted closed. He thought of ill-chosen prawn dishes, and Raidou's foolhardy insistence on death by equally fiery crab soup.

"Tell him--" He shuddered and struggled for air. A medic slipped the oxygen mask back over his nose and mouth. "Peri-peri crab..." The words were nearly inaudible in the noisy room.

"Mother of God, I hate these ANBU cases," someone swore. "Can we do something about this? Get him down where he can see his partner before he kills himself or one of our staff? Look at this mess!"