Debris from their collapsing shelter threatened to bury Genma. He worked a blind translocation, aiming up, away, towards the wind-whipped treetops, hoping to catch a limb before he fell. His face slammed against rough bark, and only then did he remember his mask. Lost. At least he'd gotten his gloves and guards back on. Scrambling for a grip, he felt a tingle of electricity shiver through the entire tree trunk, through his body: his fingers clenched, toes curled, hair rose like an angry cat's.

He shoved off hard from the wet bark, not caring how far or badly he fell. Anything would be preferable to being roasted from the inside by a hundred-million volts.

The flash blinded him, wrapped in thunder so loud he felt more than heard it, and the tree exploded, splitting down the middle with a sound like a woman's scream.

He landed on his back, the air forced from his lungs by the impact so that for a second he lay unmoving, breathing impossible, vision reduced to the halo of that lightning bolt burned into his retinas. When he gasped in at last, vision clearing, he found a ninja racing towards him, blade held high to strike the decisive blow.

Genma translocated blind again. This time he collided with stone, a bone-jarring, disorienting jolt as he materialized against a former wall of their shelter.

"Rina!" There was no sign of her. And the lightning was gathering again, zigzagging down towards him as if the enemy ninja were controlling the strikes.

Maybe, he thought, with sick terror, they were.

The bolt blasted a crater in the earth where Genma had been, but he was safely away. Back up in the trees again.