| [Nov. 29th, 2016|09:54 pm] |
A lightstick cracked behind them, shedding a neon green glow. Kurenai moved quietly around, finding a ledge to wedge one stick into, then passing two more to Ryouma and Raidou. The lights cast eerie shadows beneath Genma's hands, and then none at all as Genma's fingers lit with medical chakra.
"I'll close the wounds from the bottom, so they doesn't trap infection," Genma said, placing his fingertips on each side of the first set of punctures. Wet hair dripped into his face and coiled on his neck. He asked Kuroda, absently, "Do you want pain meds?"
"No." Kuroda was still pale, and beginning to shiver, but he didn't flinch.
Ryouma held the lightstick high and watched Genma work. He was vaguely aware of rustlings and movement behind him; murmured voices, opened sealing scrolls, ripping foil. Ginta was bandaging Satomi's hands. Kurenai came by again with rat bars for Abe, Ryouma, and Raidou. Genma shook his head no without even looking up.
Kakashi hunkered down beside Genma. "We've made a bed away from the water," he said quietly. "We can move him when you're ready."
Between Genma's fingers, the ragged edges of the puncture wound slowly crept closed. Genma drew a breath and looked up. "Do it quickly. I don't want to keep that vessel tourniqueted too long." He met Abe's eyes. "Ready?"
Abe nodded, his jaw clenched tight. Genma pitched back on his heels and scrambled out of the way as Usagi, Kakashi, and Raidou closed in. Ryouma helped them lift Kuroda and settle him further up the cave, on a bed Kakashi had built out of piled cloaks over gear bags. Abe crouched down again, fingers still curled into Kuroda's armpit. Genma accepted a proffered elastic from Kurenai, scraped the wet hair off his neck, and got back to work.
At last the deep holes were shallow pink dimples, their gouged edges faintly oozing. The green glow around Genma's hands died. "Let it drop," he told Abe hoarsely. Abe released Kuroda's arm and cut the jutsu, swearing softly at his cramped fingers. They were both breathing hard, and sweat sheened Genma's skin instead of seawater.
Sluggish bleeding welled from the shallower lacerations. Genma ignored them for the moment, reaching for the vice-commander's wrist. He nodded to Ryouma. "Help him sit up."
Ryouma switched places with Abe, sliding around behind the vice-commander. Kuroda's skin was fever-hot. His shoulder lumped beneath the skin. Ryouma braced him, wrists locked around his chest, and felt Kuroda's pulse hammer.
Genma slowly extended the arm up from Kuroda's side at a 90 degree angle, elbow bent. Then he rotated the forearm up, pressing the elbow in with his other hand. Kuroda breathed through his teeth.
The joint clicked into place. Kuroda made a soft, suppressed noise — almost a sigh of relief — and said, "Tousaki, you can let go."
Would it kill the man to be grateful? Ryouma scrambled free. His shoulder bumped into damp, clammy rock, and he stood abruptly still.
This tunnel flooded.
"You can handle bandaging, Tousaki. And a sling." Genma sat back on his heels, steadied himself with a hand on the floor, and looked around blankly. "I should—"
"Drink this." Kakashi shoved a steaming canteen into his hand, and draped another of the oilskin cloaks around his shoulders. Kasumi had the same for Abe. Usagi knelt briefly beside Kuroda with another canteen and a blood pill.
Ryouma sorted through the medical kit, finding ointment, bandaging, long strips of waterproof patching. They'd used similar patches on their shoulders, skin-dyed, to cover their ANBU tattoos. He bound bandages over Kuroda's arm from armpit to wrist, sealing them with the waterproof patching, then used another roll of bandaging to fashion a sling and strap it down. Kuroda lay still, lips pressed thin, and gazed at the ceiling.
"That's it. I think. Vice-commander." Ryouma finally dropped his hands to his thighs. He hadn't made much of a mess of the medical kit; there was nothing to sort through and clean up. He almost did, anyway.
Kuroda grunted. He levered himself back upright, flexing his fingers against his side. They moved, but stiffly. The grim lines carved a little deeper into his face. He looked up. "Any other injuries?" |
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