Genma followed Raidou’s gaze down over himself and had to agree. “Yeah. This isn’t exactly sterile.” Rivulets of rain water oozed down his gore-spattered armor, littering the ground around him with bloodstained droplets. “Can’t believe how cold it got. We were bitching about the heat all the way to Ibaragashi City.”
The Katsuko clone Raidou’d designated as Genma’s bath attendant looked up at him expectantly, nudging Genma’s own clone to get a move on.
“Your hands,” Genma said, eying Raidou. Every finger was wrapped in bandages. “Are those burns? How bad?”
Katsuko’s clone swiveled its gaze to Raidou, keeping mute.
“Cuts,” Raidou said dismissively. “Minimal. You can check 'em out later, if you've got the energy left. Katsuko already cleaned the hell out of 'em.”
Was there an edge to Raidou’s voice, or was it just too much worry making him sound tense? He looked… functional and his wounds were all bandaged. Genma could see the fatigue in the captain’s eyes, and creases in the sooty grime on his face that said he’d been squinting or scowling, but he seemed alert. And he had a good point—Genma’d be useless as a medic if he was falling over himself.
“Alright,” he said. He could worry about Raidou later. “Shower. I gave Hatake my spare blues, but I’ve got another set of blacks I can change into.”
“Good plan,” said Raidou. He pulled a box of non-stick burn dressings and a pair of bandage scissors out of the closet to add to the armload of medical supplies Katsuko’s other clones had already marched off with, and turned to follow them to the barracks room. “See you in five.”
Genma didn’t even get a chance to acknowledge that before the clone assigned to him tsked impatiently and made an urgent, ‘follow me’ gesture.
His own clone, nearing the end of its lifespan, tugged at him, too.
“Don’t you start,” he told it. “One clone nagging me is enough.”
Katsuko’s clone, complete with sling-bound right arm, darted into a supply room and came back with a washcloth and a thin, greyish towel. The bathroom it led them to was tiny but functional, with a shower stall just barely large enough to hold two bodies. Katsuko’s clone handed his clone the towels, and crowded past them to put its good hand on the tiny cistern that fed the shower head, dumping in chakra to heat the water.
Evidently her clone was staying—not much room for modesty in a foxhole. He got his own clone to help him unbuckle his weapons and belts, setting medkits and utility pouches carefully in the narrow metal sink. Black fabric stuck wetly to his skin, leaving a reddish layer of filth on him when he peeled them away. He had to lean heavily on the wall and let his clone do the work of getting him out of his torn up pants. The contours of his right thigh were lost under red-black swelling, the fresh healed wound strained and badly puckered—he’d sealed the skin, but left something bleeding inside. Damnit.
When he was down to nothing but underwear, he looked over at Katsuko’s clone. “Last chance to get out of here before you see more than you want to.”
The clone kept its back pointedly turned. “Would if I could,” it said. “But unless you like your showers arctic cold, I gotta stay here.”
“Definitely stay.” Genma hesitated for a second, then discarded his cup and jock, and limped past his own clone to share the stall with Katsuko’s. It did him the courtesy of closing its eyes and flattening itself against the tiles.
He let the blissfully warm water sheet over him for a moment before he held a hand out to his clone for a washcloth and soap.
“How badly were Ueno and the captain hurt?” he asked. “Any injuries they didn’t tell me about?”
The clone was trying to blend into the shower wall so thoroughly it would have turned itself the color of the tiles if it could have. “All their injuries are treated,” it said without turning its head. “Wouldn't hurt to double check the bandaging jobs, though. They were in a hurry to find you guys.”