Genma shoved his mask back with a scowl. "Beggars can't be choosers. I came straight off a mission, so you get this, a henge, or me naked." There was no spark of recognition in the other agent's eyes. Dull, sunken eyes.

Fucking hell, the guy was in bad shape. Genma eyed his bare chest, his torn black pants — uniform pants, though where the hell the rest of this guy's uniform was, who knew? Undercover ops usually meant civvies anyway. His left leg was a bloody mess, and there was dried blood on the floor. Genma knelt next to him.

"I'm Genma. Shiranui Genma. And you have no idea who I am, do you?" He reached out a hand to touch Yanagi's wrist, feeling a slow, thready pulse. Checked out dilated pupils, a raw, runny nose. "Lucky for you, I don't hold grudges, and I'm a field medic. Do you know what you got tagged with? And how long ago? Does your head hurt?"

Dehydration was the first problem to take care of. And IV access would let him get an antidote in faster. Genma pulled out a bag of fluids, looked around for a place to hang it, found none, and drove a kunai into the door frame to serve as a hanger.

"Hope you're not afraid of needles."

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"Petrified," Yanagi murmured, giving Genma a mocking look. Or trying to, and failing completely. "If this is you not holding a grudge, I'm frightened of you when you are." He watched as the medic began to unload supplies, trying to think around the fogginess in his brain. "Dunno what I got hit with. Was doing a sneak-through and ended up in a scuffle. Got hit by a shuriken dropping through a window." He gestured to his leg. "That was... five this morning. S'posed to meet my handler at six... she send you? 'Course." He dragged his thoughts back. "No clue what it was. Took everything in my kit." He twitched his fingers toward it, and all the empty little vials now scattered across the floor. "Tried to bleed it out. By that time I was already feeling sick."

Damn, medics carried a lot of gear. He watched as Genma found a vein and slid the IV needle in, hooking up a drip with the quick movements of someone who'd practiced. Someone definitely not Yanagi.

His head fell back against the sink again. Now that he had help, it was a relief to simply let someone else take charge. Take care of things.

Someone who knew him, apparently, and was annoyed he didn't recognize the guy. "Did we fuck?"

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