Raidou dragged a hand through greasy spikes of hair that really needed a wash and cut. "Yeah," he said, with the shadow of a self-mocking smile. "Yeah, I know." And in another week or two he'd probably unwind enough to believe it. Genma had his back; that was a fact. But Raidou still wasn't happy with his friend--his teammate--doing anything more than focusing on healing. No matter that they both had about as much fight in them as a damp tissue.

Talent and back up. Someday he was going to learn to think outside the roles they'd carved for themselves. But it damn sure wasn't going to be today.

He dropped his hand, fingers catching briefly at the bridge of his nose in an old gesture he'd mostly shaken off. Stiff bandages rasped under calloused fingertips; he could feel the hard-edged ridge that marked the outskirt of the scar, where it began. Sago's rake hadn't reached that high. It was just old scar tissue, long healed. Four more years and he'd have carried it half his life.

He let the thought fall away, not liking where it led.

"I have a confession," he said, finding the words out of his mouth before they'd finished forming in his head. Two confessions really, he thought, remembering a drunken grab and slam and Genma's shoulders meeting a wall. Raidou's lips catching his. But there was a time and a place, and Raidou only had the courage for one secret at a time. Genma was sane enough, strong enough now, to hear at least one.

Raidou tipped his head back and sideways, finding amber-brown eyes watching him.

"When that Hyuuga interviewed us, I told you Sago was dead -- and that's true. But the others..." He hesitated, trying to find the right words. "I don't know. Two of them might have made it out. No one will tell me."