Adrenaline slowed time to a near standstill, so that Genma had time to really think in the space of seconds before Sago applied the pliers. He watched the slow motion of Greasy-hair crumpling over his fractured knee, the medic rushing back in to kick Raidou in the chest, and thought Raidou was a heroic fool. He watched dull silver jaws close over his little finger, and thought Ito-sensei would be seriously pissed if he had to fix his hands again. He thought how strange it felt, how bizarrely calm, to be facing his greatest fear after four years of nightmares. How wrong it was that Raidou was there. That it was pliers this time.

Bone snapped.

It didn't hurt immediately, so much as make him feel faint. Like he might pass out or vomit. Like he couldn't breathe at all. It was like touching white hot metal and feeling the burn as if it were ice cold. He gagged and choked, and felt strong hands on the back of his neck, pushing him down against the table. Panted shallowly through clenched jaws. Couldn't move.

"Damn, that's a good jutsu," Weasel drawled. "He didn't even flinch."

"It isn't permanent," Sago warned. "Be ready for it wearing off." He studied Genma's hand, with its obscenely bent pinky, and opened the pliers again, this time choosing Genma's thumb.

The crack this time was slower coming, as thicker, stronger bone gave way.

It took Genma a moment to realize the screams echoing from the cement walls were his own.