"Wait," Imahara said. She gestured to Kumoto, who stepped to the side so Genma could see the television screen again. Someone turned the volume back up. Kakashi's voice rang thin through the speaker. "Where's Genma?"

Genma's breath stuttered. They'd broken Kakashi?

"Ah, the elusive teammate has a name." The interrogator again, deep-voiced, almost kind sounding. "Good start. Do you miss him?"

"Where is he?"

"Not here, obviously."

Genma watched in horror as the man raked his blade over Kakashi's head again, then caressed Kakashi like a man petting a dog. "Would it upset you if we'd killed him?"

Rage burned bright and hot in Genma's throat. Don't fucking believe him, Kakashi. Don't listen to him.

Kakashi shuddered, panting harshly. "I'll rip your heart out. Tear it out and feed it to you--"

"I'll take that as a yes." The interrogator leaned right over Kakashi's shoulder, in a sickening parody of an intimate gesture. "Well, then," he said smoothly, "let's talk about Genma."

The screen shimmered, blinked, came back into focus. A glitch in the feed, or were they editing this?

"Was it your fault? Is that why you came here, to fix your mistake?" the interrogator asked softly.

A terrible answer from Kakashi: "Yes."

Another glitch. This had to be edited.

"Fuck you." Kakashi spat.

"Don't swear," chided the interrogator. Had he moved? Was he in a different position now? "Angels don't like it. Besides, your friend might be watching."

I am, Genma thought fiercely.

"I hear heaven's a forgiving place," the interrogator continued.

"Not for us." Kakashi's voice sounded utterly dispirited. Utterly broken.

"You bastards!" Genma hissed. "Stop toying with us!"

"You heard the man," said Kumoto. "Koto?"

Genma felt the assistant's cold hands on his left foot, one around the middle to hold it steady, the other selecting his small toe.

"No, not that one. You want to start with one of the longer ones, but not the big toe. The hallux and the smallest toe are the two most difficult to fracture," Kumoto told her. Her grip over Genma's arch tightened.

"Last chance, ANBU," Imahara said. "Who helped you escape?"

"Kumoto," Genma grated. "Kumoto did. He got my message out because he felt sorry for me--"

Kumoto snorted. Imahara remained impassive. The assistant hesitated.

Genma put every bit of strength he had into calling on the frayed shreds of chakra he could still access, forced his hands closer together despite the shackles, formed his fingers into seals, and tried to translocate out of his bonds.

A searing light blotted out the center of Genma's vision and grew, eating towards the periphery. His bones melted, nerves vaporized.

"You idiot," Kumoto roared, somewhere outside the inferno. "What did you do? I just had him stable."

"I didn't do-- He did that, Sensei!"

"Now how long is it going to be until we can talk to him?"

"I don't know. Oh for heaven's sake, Koto, inject the damn paralytic! Do I have to tell you how to do everything?"

The fires extinguished, leaving ash in their wake.

Vision was gone. Pain remained.

Kumoto pushed one of Genma's eyelids up, then the other, flicking a penlight like a weapon. "He's still in there. I think." His hands enveloped Genma's face. Genma couldn't move at all. "This is going to take hours." The hands pulled away in disgust.

"I never liked you, Genma-san. Never liked you at all."