Kuromaru finished spitting out loops of intestine--the guy had been living on ration bars and unripe berries--and gave Genma a dry look. It was lost on the man's back, hunched over Raidou. "I'm barely going above the gut," he said with great disdain. He forgave the human for yelling; everyone got a little crazy when their mates were down.

He nosed at the body, checking to be sure it really was dead, and then picked his way clear of the bloody, mutilated corpse. Prey he would eat, human or otherwise--but this hadn't been about hunting. This was about making sure this man paid in fear and pain for what he'd done to Tsume.

The smell of eucalyptus hit the air, obliterating everything else. He growled softly and couldn't quite hold back a sneeze, muttering under his breath about idiot humans and their delicate sensibilities. Considering how scent-blind they all were, he couldn't understand why they'd complain about the smell of death. He caught much more than they did, and it didn't turn his stomach.

Of more concern to him, now that the man was no longer a threat, was the fact that he couldn't smell Tsume. Then he caught the faintest sound of a half-step, and peered quickly into the shadow-wrought hall that led to this chamber.

She stood just outside the glow cast by one of the bulbs, her face white except for the two blood-red stripes down her cheeks. Her pupils were still dilated, black slashes in otherwise colorless eyes, shadowed by hair. She was pale, every step forward accompanied by a careful slide sideways; a dog ready to run at the slightest hint of something wrong.

Kuromaru stepped out into the corridor, sneezing again to clear the eucalyptus smell from his nose and taking a whiff of the cleaner air before the smell came out here, too, and killed everything.

The fear-scent rose as she stared at the tableau, and he turned to look. The missing nin's dead body, Genma and Raidou just in sight, various weapons littering the floor. He didn't see anything to be worried about, but her eyes were moving faster, face weaving back and forth to try and catch any sort of smell under the awful eucalyptus.

Kuromaru slid up to her, lowering his head to lick at her palm. Her hand lifted, fingers burying in his thick fur. "He's dead, now," he growled, hackles--still slightly lifted--rising higher. "Genma's going to eat his eyes."

He felt her twitch, but wasn't sure why. "What's wrong with Raidou?"

He had to think about that, had to trace back his memories because so little made sense. "Genjutsu," he guessed finally. "Genma's gonna fix him."

She twitched again, and he felt nails formed from chakra dig into his fur. Chakra up and down her arms, giving her claws, fangs, strength and speed. Even though the man was dead. Kuromaru whined, aware something was still wrong.

"Genma?" Tsume called, her voice barely carrying. "What's wrong with Raidou?" She didn't step any closer to the room.

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Tsume's voice. Genma snapped his head around, catching sight of the other agent in the dim arch of the tunnel beyond the storeroom door. She had a hand on Kuromaru's head, protruding fangs in what was almost a snarl, and a tension about her that said she was prepared to flee in an instant. Or attack. "It's genjutsu," Genma said, in as even a tone as he could manage. "Same as what got you. Genjutsu, but we killed the caster. Kimura had a doujutsu that let him cast some kind of complex genjutsu that doesn't break easily."

He prayed she was able to understand that much. That the jutsu had broken enough on her that she was able to recognize the truth. Because when she'd woken before she'd clearly been afraid of them. Afraid of him. At least this time she seemed to know his name. "It's just genjutsu, I think. I don't see any obvious injuries. How about you, are you hurt?"

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She couldn't smell him over the eucalyptus. She lifted her chin, weaving back and forth, trying to catch deception or stress or blood or anything and unable to do so. Her sinuses burned from the smell. She blinked back tears, and sneezed explosively. "No. I'm not hurt." Except for phantom pain that came and went with the memories--

smell of arousal, a hand on her thigh

--and those would fade. If she had to bury herself in the here and now and dive into Pack mentality, they would fade.

Seeing Genma and Raidou with the body in the corner didn't help. It was just like it had been.

Except it hadn't been at all. She curled her fingers, grounding herself in the feel of pelt. "What needs to be done?" She could function. It was her job. As long as she could keep Kuromaru between them, she could do almost anything.

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"Nothing's wrong with Raidou," Raidou grunted, forcing himself to sit up. He couldn't quite manage to let go of his face, but he did steal some of the strong-smelling goo Genma was waving around. A thin streak under his nose was enough to send menthol fumes right up into his sinuses, blocking out the scent of everything else. He blinked as his eyes watered, trying to keep his vision clear. "Raidou's have a fucking brilliant day."

Tsume was back, hovering behind her dog. Even through blurry vision he could see the tension rippling through her. Directed at anyone else, it wouldn't be a problem, but there was no one left to kill. He looked lower, at Kuromaru's blood-stained fangs bared in something that wasn't a smile.

Well, that wasn't good.

Raidou pushed himself up into an unsteady crouch, bracing himself against the old barrel at his back. He glanced at Kimura again, but unless the man had the ability to fight on with half his intestines missing, he was probably staying down. But there had been other men--

No. Genjutsu.

Raidou winced, trying to fix himself in the real world, and glanced at Genma. He could see his friend's face now. "So how's everyone el--what's wrong with your leg?"

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"Nothing serious," Genma answered. He felt torn, with his attention divided. Tsume and Kuromaru in the doorway, obviously not alright. Raidou there next to him, also not quite right. Himself, with his leg blazing every time he put weight on it, and that being the anchor that kept him from slipping back into Kimura's hand-crafted nightmares. They needed to get the hell out of these tunnels, where it was dark and smelled like a grave. Like a prison cell where men had been tortured. Genma took a deep breath, inhaling eucalyptus in a pungent wave that made his eyes water. "Hah. Kuromaru bit me to break the genjutsu before. It's not that bad. We need to get out of here."

Tsume had asked something. What she should do. They all needed to get out of here. "Tsume, you and Kuromaru go make sure there's a clear path to the exit." He took another breath. Crisp, astringent, minty smells overpowering the blood and feces reek of Kimura's remains. "I just have to collect what we came for." It was almost hard to breathe. Almost. Almost felt like his ribs were still broken and his hands were in splinters and...

Leg. Bleeding. Dog bite. That was the thing that was real. Genma's left hand was clawed against the bite, digging viciously into the wounded flesh. He panted through clenched teeth. "Tsume, go. Raidou, are you good to watch my back?"

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"Yes," Raidou said, without a pause to think. After seven months the answer to that went deeper than instinct. That Genma even had to ask--

He shook his head again, throwing off the thoughts, and shoved himself to his feet. His stomach lurched, roiling in a way that promised vomit if he didn't get control. He took a sharp breath, and finally dropped his hand from his face. Another flash of old instinct made him shift, turning the scarred side away from his teammates. Hiding the weakness.

Then he moved enough to reach down and snap the kunai out of Kimura's shoulder with a flash of chakra. Metal grated against bone, jarring the corpse. The eyes weren't closed. Raidou made sure not to look at them. He flicked the kunai into one hand, and stood up to rip the other out of the wall. Both were blood-stained, one body-temperature warm, but they were solid in his hands.

He glanced up at the Inuzuka pair, making out their distinctive shadows in the darkness. Neither one of them seemed injured, just tense enough to snap. He studied them for a moment, reassuring himself they were both fine, and pulled a glo-stick out of a belt pouch. A quick dry crack, and green light added a familiar feel to the room. Mission light. It was just a mission, like every other mission.

He looked back at Genma, and tossed the stick down next to Kimura's body. "Leg first, mother medic. You know how the order works."

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Tsume relaxed slightly when no one's eyes lingered on her overlong. "If you've got him covered, then," she said to Raidou, nodding at their medic, "we'll clear the path." It got her away from there. Out of the caves, if they worked fast enough. She desperately wanted to be out of the caves.

A soldier pill fell into her hand easily, and she slid it into her mouth, crunching down with her molars and feeling the heady rush of too much chakra--enough, since her own wasn't depleted, to burn her system out if she didn't use it. She let go of Kuromaru, whipping through seals and feeling the familiar whirlwind of chakra between them, the pop and snap as her body shifted, twisting into something completely unlike human.

Her wolf senses were sharper, and with the missing nin dead she didn't have to worry about anyone trapping her in this body through injury.

Men didn't rape wolves. That was an entirely different sort, and not one she'd ever come across. But that wasn't why she changed. It wasn't. It hadn't happened. It didn't matter.

Dropping her nose to the ground, Kuromaru's solid bulk to one side, she turned and slunk off into the shadows to find their way out.

She'd send Kuromaru back in for the men, while she found a place to camp.

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"Yeah. Fine," Genma said, though his tone was anything but acquiescent. He watched while Tsume popped something in her mouth--probably a soldier pill, but it could have been anything--and snapped her hands through seals, transforming into a smaller wolf-twin to her familiar. Just as fierce, just as black, just as menacing, though only two-thirds Kuromaru's size, and much more lean and feral-looking. It didn't matter how many times Genma had seen an Inuzuka work that jutsu, didn't matter how much he knew about it, it never ceased to both fascinate and unnerve him to watch a fellow ninja become something wholly inhuman.

He waited until Tsume and Kuromaru were out of sight before he pulled out his medkit and repositioned himself so that his legs were out in front of him. "Why'd she do that?" he asked, not really expecting an answer from Raidou. "And are you alright? You still look like you're about to hurl." He wrapped bandage around his leg as quickly as he could, not bothering with cleaning the wound. They could do that later, when they were out of here. For now a good tight bandage to lend some support to torn muscles and stop the continuing oozing of blood would suffice.

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"Makes you think, really." Raidou said, shifting to put himself between the exit and Genma. "When a woman turning into a dog almost qualifies as normal." 'Almost' being the operative word. He glanced up the tunnel, but Tsume and Kuromaru were already lost in the gloom. "Maybe it makes her feel safer. S'gotta be reassuring to be able to rip off a guy's arm in one bite."

He spun the kunai in his hands, reassuring himself with their presence, and looked down at the corpse on the floor. Kimura was splayed on his back, belly ripped open. One arm shredded from Kuromaru's teeth, the other stretched out, grasping for something. Silver had cooled over his face like a rich muzzle. "Not that he'd agree."

Raidou flicked a look at his partner, relieved Genma wasn't arguing about the leg thing. He inhaled another menthol-laced breath, forbidding himself to throw up and ruin his veneer of ANBU efficiency. Instead he focused, splitting his attention between the caves and the enemy he was almost completely convinced was dead. "And I'm fine. The glo-stick makes everyone look green. How're you doing?"

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"You're a liar, but I'm not gonna call you on it right now," Genma said. He cinched the bandage tighter, split the free end down the middle and wrapped the two halves around his thigh, tying them in a graceless and utilitarian knot, and getting to his feet. He didn't bother to suppress the pained whimper putting his weight on the leg pulled from him. "Alright, I've got to get the bastard's eyes," he told Raidou. "And don't give me that look. It hurts, alright? That dog's got teeth like kunai, and it hurts, but it's not gonna kill me or anything."

He pulled out the box the mission office had given him, and the slim knife carved all over with seals. Groaning again, he knelt by the dead man's head. The eyes were wide open in terror, an unnatural orange that the green light of the glow stick turned almost amber. Like his own eyes, reflected in the smooth, solid silver that obliterated Kimura's nose and mouth. The metal flowed over Kimura's face like a princely version of the black cloth mask every ninja knew, hiding his features just as effectively. Only the charred flesh at the edges of the mask told of the destructive power that molten metal had held. Genma reached out one finger to touch the surface, still warm. His deadly handiwork. Then he very carefully opened the box, steadied the head, and slid the slender blade in to trace a delicate curve, hugging Kimura's left eye socket and freeing the eyeball whole, taking eyelids and underlying fat with it. He tried not to listen to the sucking wet sound that came from the body when he popped the precious eye free and carefully nestled it in the welled recession the medics had prepared for it.

He glanced at Raidou. "Almost done. We can get out of here in just a second." Raidou was trying not to be sick. Genma started work on the second eye, and made the self same effort as his partner.

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"That," said Raidou, with great feeling, "is completely disgusting. And I've seen people set on fire." Which was not actually a memory he wanted to re-live either. He pulled a face and set his sights on the dark corridor, trying not to pay attention to the squishing, slurping sounds behind his back. The sharp little snap as Genma cut through what had to be the second optic nerve.

Raidou cracked a second glo-stick and tossed it down the tunnel, obliterating any shadows for an enemy to hide in. Blood drips smeared over the floor caught his eye, but a second's study dismissed them as cast-off from Genma's leg wound. He looked beyond that to dry stone, and tried to meditate on concrete.

A shift of movement behind him pulled his attention back to Genma just as the man lifted Kimura's second eyeball free, dripping gelatinous blood and some sort of viscous fluid. Raidou gritted his teeth as his stomach cramped, mouth flooding with saliva. He was an ANBU, and ANBU didn't throw up over a minor amputation. Not even when their heads were still full of broken images kicking up old memories. Battlefields where crows feasted on carrion, ripping eyes out of faces that were far too familiar...

Oh, definitely going to be sick.

He gagged, shoved his kunai away, slapped his hands together long enough to call a clone into existence, and gasped, "Be right back." Then he staggered out into the hallway to throw up everything he'd eaten since childhood.

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Leaving the clone to stand guard, and the fact that it didn't burst in a puff of smoke the moment Raidou started retching, were both good signs, Genma thought, as he carefully transferred the second eye to the box. The bloody orb settled into its artificial socket, and Genma had to look away. One more step, just one more step. He pulled the stopper on a small black bottle and dumped the contents, a clear liquid just slightly thicker than water, over both eyes, then snapped the lid of the special box shut and activated the seals to secure it. Then he stowed it back in the pouch he'd taken it from. The weight of the stolen eyeballs added almost nothing.

His hands were a blood-soaked mess. The knife still a danger, glittering black and wet in the green glow. Genma jammed it back into its sheath with no finesse, not caring if he damaged the blade. It had done its work and he was finished. Raidou was still being sick in the hall, and the scent of eucalyptus was wearing away, so now blood and shit and vomit and the cold-grave smell of the catacombs they were in overtook it.

Genma felt saliva welling under his tongue. Eyes watering. No time to get out the eucalyptus salve again. He was almost done. He swallowed hard, made the mistake of looking down at the eyeless face of his victim, and felt acid surging in his throat, pulsing against his clenched teeth. Was puking on the corpse an indignity for the killer or the killed? Genma didn't spend a lot of time pondering the question. He did what he couldn't help doing, stopped as soon as he could, staggered to his feet and called into the hall. "Rai. Done. You okay? Let's get out of here."

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"Can everyone stop throwing up, please?" asked the clone, standing to Genma's left. It had a hand over its mouth and nose, the other grasped a kunai. "It's hard enough to breathe down here without adding Eau de Bile to everything."

Raidou hacked and spat, one hand held up to brace himself against a dry stone wall. "Remind me to stop making clones with personality," he croaked, voice raw. "They always pick the worst time for wit." His throat felt etched, burned by acid, but his stomach felt a whole lot better, so he was willing to suffer the trade. He wiped the back of his free hand over his sweaty forehead and straightened up.

His clone gave him a wry look. "I'm based on you, y'know. With your sense of humour. That's why they call us clones."

"See?" said Raidou, pulling out his kunai again. "The worst times. And it's mocking me. Give me one reason not to fillet you, buddy."

"Because you'll throw up again?"

"Besides that." Raidou quirked a faint smile, happy to lose himself in an odd sort of self-banter. It was familiar, and much more welcome than thinking about everything else. He looked at Genma, studying the pale, sweat-soaked face of his friend. The blood-stained hands that were shaking ever so slightly, and nodded at the clone. It shifted a little closer, falling behind Genma to guard his back. "And I'm fine," he added. "I may have just lost six or seven pounds, but I'm fine. I'm just going to spend a week eating junk food when I get home to put the weight back on." He swallowed once and wiped his mouth. "Possibly vegetarian junk food, but still."

The clone snorted.

Raidou glanced up the tunnel, eyes tracing the way Tsume and her familiar had gone. His mask was probably still back that way, too. He could feel cool air on his face. Air from outside. "Guess we go that way." He looked back at Genma, falling into place slightly in front of his friend. His chakra shifted, senses stretched tight to pick up the trace of any enemy. His mouth, however, remained on autopilot, trying to banish the shadows from both their heads. "So what're you going to do when we get home?"

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"Even if I'm generous and assume your stomach held two liters, which at that volume you'd have been wanting to puke anyway, that's only about four and a half pounds. So you know, a couple of good dinners ought to put you right again." Genma limped up the hall with his double Raidou escort. One shaky and pale and pretending to be fine, the other a clone and unable to really suffer, despite its complaints about the smell.

Limping in an echoing, stinking, underground warren of tunnels, flanked by guards. There was a lightning burst in Genma's head, and for a fraction of a second it was a prison again, not a mine, and those guards were Iwa ninja, not his best friend. Then it was gone, leaving him blinking and gasping a sharp breath in, reaching a hand out to catch himself against Raidou's shoulder before he fell.

"I'm gonna write a mission report," he managed, in a voice not nearly normal. "And then I'm gonna go outside."

He felt the clone's hands on him, steadying him, and shook it roughly off. "I'm alright. Just. Need some more light." It was darker up ahead. Darker in the unlighted tunnels that connected to the area where they'd found Kimura. Genma's leg twitched, he lurched and cursed, and shoved the clone away when it tried to help. "Let's just get the fuck out of here."

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"Easy," said Raidou, voice pitched at a level somewhere between calm and casual. Not a command, just a buddy talking to a buddy. He jerked his head at the clone, forcing it to back up a little. "Make yourself useful, funny me, and pull up some proper light. Nice and bright."

The clone nodded and stepped back, giving Genma some room. Its hands blurred, working neatly through seals. Chakra shifted, pulling out of Raidou with a little jerk that made him twitch. It held its hands in the air, palm up. White light gathered, soft at first, like a dim bulb, then it strengthened. Between one blink and the next, the hallway was filled with brightness. The shadows gone.

Raidou blinked, very aware he'd just fried his night vision, and focused on his friend. The brighter light washed out the colour, leaving them all as white as their masks. But even with that Genma looked unnaturally pale, eyes wide and dark; pupils blown out when they should be constricted. Shaking worse than he had been. He was stuck underground, buried in rock with bloody hands. It didn't take much imagination to figure out why he was having issues, even without Kimura's jutsu stacked on top.

Raidou leaned forward and caught him under the elbow, steadying him carefully. "I realize you're not a fan of my clone, but mind letting me help? It's sorta my job, y'know." He smiled slightly, a real smile, for all that it was tired. "Besides, I can't get you back for using medical comebacks on me if you're not staying with me, and I really need to get you back. That was definitely unfair, loverboy. A lesser man would even call it cheating."

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