"My older sister was a medic," Genma said. "She used to get excited about stuff like this, too. And I'm an assassin. I took the same theory classes on chakra flow. She was learning how to keep it moving and I was learning how to stop it." He stared at the diagram, a broad, complicated tree in which he could see the outlines of hands. At far too many of the junctures where lines should have flowed one into another, there were abrupt breaks, sharp lateral shifts, angled nodes.

"Those are supposed to be my chakra maps? For these?" He lifted both splinted hands a few millimeters, then carefully eased them back down. He kept the pain off his face, but not entirely out of his eyes. "I know what the maps are supposed to look like. Those..." He glared at the papers. "Those are just sick."