Raidou caught his breath on a single hitching laugh. "Yeah, kid," he said, relief almost strangling him. "Four days. And I spent all of it with my ass in a sling, waiting for you to wake up. Next time, I want to be the unconscious one."

Another lie. He'd rather set his back against the wall than see Genma do it, every time. But after ninety-seven hours without that normally-drawling, always-level voice to steady the world, it was a chest-crushing release to make anything like a joke.

Hiro had backed him up. It was almost enough to make him forgive the brat.

Almost.

But there were questions to answer first--Genma's questions, which were a damn sight more important than Intel's. At least for the next few minutes. He kicked his ragged thoughts back into something like coherence, trying to think around drugs and gnawing anger. Worry that wouldn't fade. Pain.

Genma wanted proof. To be damn honest, so did Raidou.

In the end, he shrugged with one burned, seal-bandaged shoulder. "Don't borrow trouble, fearless. We're home, we're still breathing. And if the bastards left behind friends suicidal enough to come after us, they'd have to go through a whole ninja village first." He forced a crooked smile, reassuring as he could make it. "Not to mention me. Or did you forget I always have your back?"