The burns on his ribcage, carved through almost pristine flesh, were easy to heal--especially when half the job had already been done. After the third session with the medic bearing scrolls and seals, they scabbed and flaked and closed, melting into shiny purple scars, and the nurses left the bandages off.

His chest was harder. His face was worse. Already damaged skin resisted chakra, fought against the healing, sparked a welter of broken signals through degraded nerves. There wasn't much more they could do, the green-eyed medic told him, beyond fighting away infection, keeping the pain as low as possible, and letting things heal as they chose. He'd have to stay in the Burn Unit for a while.

She offered to let him see a mirror. He refused.

His teeth, after everything else, seemed almost inconsequential. And nothing could really be done for them until he could open his mouth wide and not black out when the movement made his cheek crease. He tried drinking water once, swore up a blue storm, and decided IVs were enough.

There was still no news.

It wasn't until the shift changed, long after the green-eyed medic had finally gone home, that Ito-sensei finally tracked him down, submitted to wearing the mandatory sterile whites, and woke Raidou up with a tired smile he couldn't see behind the surgeons mask.

"Genma pulled through."

Raidou stared at the little man, distantly heard him repeat the words, and found himself finally grateful for the cuffs on his wrists. Because nothing else would have kept him from grabbing the doctor, hauling him into a rib-crushing hug, and probably bursting into tears on his shoulder.

"Thank god," he managed finally, and swallowed down a gulping, throat-aching laugh when he realized Genma would have approved.