That was proof. The last time Raidou had seen their dogtags, they'd been hanging from Sago's belt-loop, clinking faintly each time the big man had swung a blow--

And that was not the thing to think about. It went right up there with dead kids, dead sensei, and four funerals they'd never make it to. He could already see the unfading horror in amber-brown eyes, a permanent watermark beneath the mission report mindset Genma was struggling to keep. It didn't need a mirror in his own.

Besides, Raidou had been awake four days already. Mostly conscious, in between the bouts of drugs-delirium and nightmares about Genma's name on the stone. Long enough to start crushing the memories down, locking them into a place where they didn't hurt anymore.

He'd given his report. When Genma was done, neither one of them would ever have to think about it again.

"Bring 'em over," he rasped, and left his chakra ghosting over Genma's skin as he turned his head (carefully, only halfway, measuring how much pain he could take) to bring Hiro back into his line of sight. Twin sets of metal and chains hung from one pale hand, twisting to catch the light. He could almost see his own name pressed into scratched steel. It'd be impossible to genjutsu something as mundanely precise as that familiar pattern of damage.

Sago was dead.

And Raidou wasn't thinking about him.

"Slowly," he added, lifting his left hand. At his side, Genma's breath rasped in his dry throat. "And we'll take that water, too. If you bring a medic in."