Raidou didn't have a phrase tucked away in his vocabulary that accurately expressed his mounting frustration. He borrowed one of Genma's. "Holy Buddha's snot, woman. What do you think we are? Rattled genin with an aim to play hooky? We've been cooped up in this room for a week and we still haven't killed anyone. Genma's fine. I'm fine. We just want to go sit out in the grass for an hour and remember what the sun looks like. Post a damn ANBU up in the trees if you have to, but let us go outside."

He wasn't quite shouting--his burned jaw and missing teeth didn't allow for it--but fierce vehemence made up for the lack of volume, and probably won him half a shaved brownie point. Shouting patients could be drugged down and ignored; insistent ones were harder to deal with, especially when they were coherent.

Seven days in hospital. The staff were lucky the walls were still intact. No one did stir crazy like a shinobi locked away--especially when half the prison was their own damn bodies.

Raidou aimed a dark-eyed glare at both nurses. "Don't make me play the almost-died-for-the-village card. I've got a deck full of them, but I don't like to waste them on asking for something as basic as a hall pass."

Kaori's jaw set like steel; her arms folded across her chest. "If the Hokage were here, he'd tell you Konoha values your sacrifices. But I'm leaning more towards a 'don't bloody push me, shinobi' angle. You aren't the only ANBU missing pieces on this floor."

The blonde nurse's smile faded like stricken sunlight.

Raidou took a colourless breath. "One hour," he said, forcing himself not to bite out the words. "We'll stay away from people."

Kaori's expression didn't waver.

Raidou swallowed half his pride. "Please."