Rina nodded absently, her attention already caught in the mangled and twisted chakra networks laid bare in front of her, by now as familiar to her as her own. "Sit down and rest them on your leg," she instructed, and arranged him to her liking.

The physical tracery of seals was gone now, of course, but she could still feel the scaffolding around which unnatural linkages had been forced to grow. It resonated with her own signature, a light and agile cursive, and with Ito-sensei's clear, strong hand. The patterns themselves were beautiful, Rina thought, even if the end result was not.

The repair work she could do in the field was minimal, certainly, but it was better than nothing. Soothing burns, smoothing kinks, patching leaks with stopgap precision. She parceled out her own energy in a steady, even flow, her paintbrush dancing in delicate lines, and watched some semblance of order reform from the shambles.

When the last swirl of ink snapped it all into place, Genma made a strangled choking noise, the tension in his shoulders running down to twist his palms into knots. Before he could jerk away, Rina drew her hands back.

"You'll thank me later," she told him clinically, cleaning her brushes and putting away her inks in swift, economical motions. Giving him a chance to recover himself. "Ito-sensei would have had you for another week, if you'd left that until we got home."