Hayate couldn't even think where Genma had come from, but the high keen of clashing steel was a very welcome sound. Genma's intervention gave him time to get his balance back, feet properly back under him, and wrench the kunai from his shoulder. The man with the kusari-gama flung his blade again, and Hayate skidded aside, realizing a moment too late the strike was aimed for Genma, not him.

Well, that wouldn't do.

Metal rang a discordant note as Hayate lunged, trusting that Genma could handle one man. The sudden flare of light behind him highlighted the ninja with the scythe backpedaling quickly, working with loops of matte-black chain that failed to catch the light. He didn't have time to retrieve the bladed end, not with how fast Hayate was closing, but he wasn't helpless. Hayate knew better than to keep a straight line. Attempting to make the man commit and try to tangle him in the chain, he feinted to the right.

The man shifted his weight and threw, but Hayate realized too late it was just a kunai: a feint to match his. The weighted end of the chain slammed into his right arm with a nasty numbing impact that nearly threw his strike off-course; but he was left-handed, and too far into the attack to stop. The stroke nearly severed the man's head, blade grating hard against the spine and half-tangling as the man dropped.

Hayate flexed his right hand. His entire arm felt numb from the blow, but he thought he was alright. Probably be a bruise, he thought, tugging at his sword, lodged in the man's spine. He took a half-step back as it came free, raising his right arm for balance.

And something in his arm grated.

Hayate's brain stuttered to a halt, but instinct or something like it took over as he curled his injured arm to his side again, hastily bringing his other arm around to support it. He bumped his right elbow with the hilt of his katana and winced as something grated again, high up near his shoulder in his upper arm.

That's not supposed to do that.

Genma's voice broke the holding shock, and kicked Hayate's brain back into gear. For a moment he could only blink, then found his voice. "I think it's broken," he said, and could have kicked himself. There was no question--bones just didn't do that if they were whole!

And it wasn't numb anymore. It was beginning to ache, deep and throbbing and dark red, building as the adrenaline in his system faded.

The lurid flames flickered in the alley, light glancing over Genma's mask and the drawn blade still in his hand. The narrow alley reeked of burning garbage, roasted flesh, hot metal, the stench of burning hair. The smoke hung thick and sullen in the back of Hayate's throat, tasting like ashes and the urge to cough. Though his jutsu was still holding strong, he cleared his throat and tried not to think about it. He didn't look at the bodies or the flames, just at Genma, trying to catch the honey-amber eyes behind the feline mask.

"Are you okay?" he asked, and despite himself his voice wasn't quite steady. The pain was getting stronger, demanding his attention.