| [May. 3rd, 2009|07:28 pm] |
Count, Raidou said, and Genma got another jolt of unwelcome memory. A Konoha chuunin named Taisei, in the bowels of Iwagakure, counting the blows of a hammer to an ANBU's hands, numbering the breaks. Altogether, there had been one-hundred eight, Genma remembered. Like the hundred eight names of Buddha. It had held poetic justice for him at the time. Kept him sane.
Raidou wanted him to stay sane. Needed him to stay sane.
"One thousand," Genma said, as loudly as he could. "Nine-hundred ninety-nine..."
He looked at Raidou's face. At his body. Trying to cultivate the same detachment that had let him catalog Yukaho's injuries. He'd need to apply a healing jutsu to Raidou's face first. That had to come first. Next the fresh burns on his right side, since the skin there was thinner than the thick scars where the other burns lay.
He kept counting, struggling for air between each number. Coughing again, wincing at the pain and hunger for air that brought. His throat was so raw it was in danger of swelling shut, he thought. That would be a disaster, for him to pass out while Raidou still suffered. For him to leave Raidou alone.
Another thought welled up from the same place the first had. What if that worked? What if him passing out put an end to Raidou's torture? After all, if they really were doing this to try to get Genma to talk, then there'd be no point continuing if he couldn't answer.
He tried the experiment, forcing his coughs to fall off. Letting the desperation for air overwhelm him. Sagging in his bonds. The tension on his shoulders pulled open the wounds on his chest, letting blood ooze along the parallel lines. He let his head loll.
Greasy-hair's voice cut through the room. "Shit, Daimon, don't let him lose it. We only just started."
Weasel yanked Genma's face up, smacking his head back against the wall. "Nice try. Now pay attention. Or answer my questions."
Sago put down his rake and went to his chest, pulling out a pair of slender needle-like tools with large handles. As he held them, one in each hand, they began to crackle and glow. He touched the points to either side of Raidou's jaw. Electricity arced, leaving an ozone scent.
This time, Raidou didn't scream. He couldn't, when the muscle spasms the current created held his jaws clamped shut.
"His teeth are probably cracking," Weasel-Daimon said. "Just imagine that: teeth, splintering into fragments. Have you ever had a nightmare like that?"
Genma choked out another number, eyes still locked on Raidou's.
Merciful Bodhisattva, let him pass out. Don't let him suffer anymore.
He would be damned if he abandoned Raidou now.
"Nine-hundred sixty-one..." |
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