by Sessha Batto
The pressure of the shuudan's hatred and mistrust acted as a catalyst for the evolution of his ki reserves and control, allowing him to learn the most advanced techniques with ease. It was, therefore, no surprise that he pushed himself to begin active duty, becoming an elite assassin before reaching his teens.
That was a long, long time ago, no one says those things anymore … at least, not to my face. The face in question regarded him dispassionately from the mirror, and Yoshi took a moment to study it, hoping to find what others seemed to see when they looked at him. High cheekbones, long aquiline nose and plump lips under a messy fall of glittering white hair. His coldly handsome, slightly stern visage looked more like a portrait carved in glistening marble than a living breathing man.
That's one good thing about going home, he realized, mouth twisting into a rueful smirk. I can uncover my face and no one stares. After all, it was a secluded ninja stronghold, odd characteristics were more the norm than the exception. No one dared taunt the fearsome shinobi about his coloring these days, something he appreciated more and more as he aged.
He suddenly felt the weight of every one of his thirty-five years, and Yoshi idly wondered if perhaps it was time to put an end to the farce his life had become. Not yet, he decided after carefully considering it for a moment. I am shinobi, my duty is to my clan and my shuudan. My own desires are unimportant. When I am no longer needed, perhaps. Abandoning the pointless train of thought he turned back to his task, packing the last few personal items strewn around the room. After one final look, he switched off the television and departed, suddenly eager to return to what passed for normalcy in his life.
No one noticed as a pale figure passed silently overhead, running across the rooftops under the moonlight. Once safely outside the city proper, Yoshi stopped to appreciate the harvest moon hanging low in the sky. He made a series of hand motions to focus his ki, and a milling knot of wolves appeared in a puff of smoke. “Shall we run?” Yoshi broke into a smile when they began to bay their approval and gave into the urge to join them, letting out a fierce howl of his own before loping off in the direction of home, the pack spreading out to flank him.
***
Sasaki Makoto surveyed his afternoon's work with distaste. This captive had been disgustingly easy to break, happily revealing his company's secrets almost as soon as the interrogator began. I hate dealing with civilians, he decided, shaking his head at the mess. No challenge whatsoever. Of course, just a glimpse of the torture master was generally enough to make even a hardened warrior piss his pants. At a towering six foot four inches, the muscular nin was a mountain compared to the average Japanese. One look at the scars snaking their way across his impassive face and it became painfully clear that Kobayashi's head of covert operations was no stranger to the giving, or receiving, of pain and would not be dissuaded from his goal. Once that became obvious his captives were more than willing to blab whatever secrets they held in hopes of saving themselves. It was unfortunate that they never realized how their cooperation only made the punishment worse.
Weak, disgusting little worms, don't they know where their loyalties should lie? The scars Makoto wore so easily were a reminder of his own time in captivity. Unlike his 'guests' however, the stoic ninja had never breathed a word, even after several weeks of grueling torture. He had no idea why Iwagashi shuudan suddenly decided to release him, but he was grateful nevertheless. No one knew just how close he had been to breaking down and spilling everything he knew about his clan and its defenses.
His mind drifted back to his return home. The first few weeks were hazy, filled with painkillers and long, unpleasant medical treatments. After that what he remembered best were the shocked and disgusted looks on his former friends' faces when they laid eyes on him for the first time. “It's not so bad,” a few of them ventured, but the lie was easy to read.
It was then that he chose his current occupation, studying under masters of interrogation, psychoanalysis, and torture. He had dedicated his life to guaranteeing that no one from Kobayashi shuudan would ever go through what he had. Now, twenty years later, he was tired. The reason why he continued to do his duty day after day no longer seemed as clear, and he often found himself wondering why he bothered protecting the very people who rejected him.
Now is not the time for this. The torture master headed for his office to deal with the paperwork threatening to overtake his desk.
“Boss,” his aide ventured tentatively, “they caught a spy snooping around. He's prepped and waiting for you.”
“You know where I'll be.” Makoto shut his thoughts away and fixed his face into its usual slightly sadistic mask. He headed back the way he had come, hoping to finish with his new 'guest' quickly. Although I don't know why I'm in such a hurry, it's not like I have anything to go home to. With that thought reverberating in his head he opened the door to the interrogation room. He fixed the panicked man strapped into the chair with a sharp eye, sending him a smile showing way too many teeth for anyone's comfort.
“Let's get started, shall we?” he said by way of greeting, the smile never leaving his face. After a while he put his unsettled thoughts aside and relaxed into the familiar work, humming to himself even though it couldn't be heard over his victim's screams.
***
At least it's late enough that everyone should be gone, the shadow wolf concluded as he slipped into headquarters. He headed for the locker room, his only desire to scrub off the taint of his latest assignment. The last Takahashi warily checked the entire area, scanning for nearby ki, before quickly disrobing and getting into the shower.
None of this was unusual behavior for the reclusive shinobi, but tonight his reasons were different. He turned the water as hot as it would go, scrubbing his skin vigorously with a brush until it was red and raw. His agonized whimpers dissolved into anguished sobs barely hidden by the rushing water.
I am shinobi, I must master my emotions. The words kept running through Yoshi's brain, but tonight he couldn’t seem to summon his usual control. He dropped to his knees, hot water searing his back as hot tears seared his soul.
***
Makoto stood and stretched, releasing the tension that built up during his last interrogation. His most recent 'guest' had taken longer than usual to break. All he wanted was to fall into bed and sleep for eight hours. Better clean up first. His face twisted into a rueful smirk as he glanced down at his gore streaked form. He pulled out some spare clothes and headed to the locker room to clean up, anxious to spare himself the mess at home. Once inside the interrogator stripped, concluding after a quick appraisal that his clothes weren’t worth salvaging. That decided he dropped them in the incinerator bin, grabbed a towel, and headed for the showers.
His steps slowed as he approached the door. Someone inside was screaming in agony, their ki flaring wildly in response. Maybe I shouldn't go in. His hands unconsciously balled into fists as the voice rose to a broken howl. He stretched out his senses, hoping to get an idea of just who he was dealing with and why they were so out of control. He was surprised to find that, even in distress, whoever it was still managed to keep their identity hidden. Fuck it. I’m head of covert operations. I need to know if something is wrong with one of my men.
The torture master pushed the door open, peering cautiously inside. “Takahashi-san,” he yelped in surprise. He was so riveted by the hate-filled eyes that swiveled to meet his that he missed the tell-tale hand gestures Yoshi made. The white-haired shinobi simply disappeared, leaving the torture master staring at the swirl of smoke left in his wake.
Shit, shit, shit, Makoto of all people. How the hell am I supposed to hide anything from him? Yoshi reappeared in his own bathroom, still driven by the compulsion to rid himself of any evidence of his recent duties. He flipped the shower to hot and climbed inside, coating a rough sponge with antibacterial soap and scrubbing already red skin. When the hot water ran out he slumped to the shower floor, unwilling to bother moving himself any further.
“Boss, you can’t just sit there,” a stocky brown wolf argued from the doorway. “You’re bleeding, you need to take care of it.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore Pi-natsu,” Yoshi whispered. “He saw me, and once one person in the shuudan knows something, everyone does.”
“He, who, saw you, where?” the demon replied in confusion.
“Sasaki Makoto, in the showers, at headquarters.” The elite flopped onto his side and shut his eyes in an attempt to block out the world.
Pi-natsu huffed in exasperation. They weren’t playing Ninja Clue, a real answer would have been helpful. He trotted out into the bedroom, tugged a pillow off the bed and into the bathroom. He nudged snowy strands until the unresponsive man shifted his head onto the pillow before dragging a blanket over his shivering form. Calling the rest of the pack he left them standing guard while he went to look for the source of the problem.
“Hey, you, Sasaki.”
Makoto peered out his door in search of the person calling him, there weren’t many ninja who would bang on his door and then have the balls to run away.
“Down here,” the gruff voice continued. “I have a bone to pick with you.”
“Indeed,” the torture specialist rumbled as he eyed the glaring wolf in surprise, “and it is?”
“I need to know what you did to the boss. He's bleeding and he won’t take care of it. He's just lying in the bottom of the shower staring at the wall,” the demon familiar replied, worry apparent in his tone.
“Who's your boss?” Makoto asked. “I tend to have that effect on people.”
“Takahashi Yoshi. Now what did you do to him?” Pi-natsu demanded with a threatening growl.
“I didn’t do anything to Takahashi-san. I ran into him at headquarters, but we didn’t even speak. He was already upset when I got there,” Makoto defended himself. “I don’t know why you’re blaming me.”
“He said you were the reason he wasn’t getting up. I asked and he said ‘Makoto, the showers, headquarters’. You know, I don’t have a lot to work with here, a little cooperation would be appreciated,” the wolf groused.
“Why don’t I go with you and talk to him,” the interrogator suggested. “Maybe I can figure out what the problem is.” Technically Yoshi was covert ops, even if he did report directly to the Kobayashi no Shuhan, and that made him Makoto's business. Nevertheless, the torture master had a feeling his attention would not be appreciated.
The demon growled something unintelligible, and they disappeared with a pop of displaced air. Makoto's stomach twisted, his natural paranoia kicking into high gear at traveling under another's power. They appeared just outside the bathroom door, the wolf carefully nosing it open to check before motioning for the interrogator to follow. “Hey, boss, I brought Sasaki-san here to straighten things out with you. Please get up.”
The shadow wolf didn’t even attempt to cover himself, much less move. “I’m fine Sasaki-san, I’m sorry Pi-natsu bothered you,” he rasped. “Thank you for humoring him.”
“He said you were bleeding,” the interrogator ventured. “I can assist you now that I’m here.”
“That won’t be necessary,” came the frosty reply. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“Capable and willing are not the same thing.” Makoto bent down and scooped up the startled nin. Yoshi panicked when hands brushed against his bare flesh and he struggled to push away from the contact.
“Don’t touch me.” He twisted himself out of the interrogator's arms, landing hard on the bathroom floor. “Please, I’ll do whatever you want.”
“It's alright,” the torture master whispered as he scooted closer, unwilling to make the mistake of underestimating the damage Yoshi could do if he so chose. He swept an appraising eye over the huddled form, stifling a growl at the sluggishly bleeding whip marks artfully cross-hatching cracked, reddened skin. “Why didn’t you go see Rin when you got back? She would have had someone treat this while you gave her your report.” The interrogator paused before continuing in a barely audible whisper. “How long did they torture you before you escaped?”
“Rin has no desire to see me like this,” the shadow wolf insisted. “You don’t understand.”
“Well then, you need to explain it, or I’ll have her explain it,” the interrogator threatened. “I’m not just going to leave you like this.”
“I don’t see why not,” Yoshi retorted. “I out rank you, don’t force me to make it an order.”
“You may out-rank me,” Makoto decided, “but as head of covert operations I’m technically your boss. Don’t make me order you.”
“This was my mission. Now do you understand?” Makoto flinched as the meaning hit home. “I’m Rin's favorite bargaining chip, just like I was Kobayashi-sama's before her.” Yoshi studied the tile floor, unwilling to meet the torture master's hard, knowing, eyes.
“How long?” the interrogator demanded. “How long have they been doing this to you?”
“Since I started in covert operations,” came the sullen reply.
“That's over twenty years. You were just a child.”
“I was never a child.” Yoshi abandoned the last vestiges of his pride and rose to his full height, heedless of his nudity. “Now if you don’t mind, I believe you’ve snooped into my life enough.”
“I mind very much,” Makoto tried to protest. “You’re a talented shinobi, not a common whore.”
“That's right, I’m a loyal shinobi of Kobayashi shuudan. That means I bow to the will of the Kobayashi no Shuhan and complete the duties I am assigned to the best of my ability,” the shadow wolf whispered, as much to himself as to his unwanted guest.
“At least let me treat your back,” the interrogator said after a long silence. “Then I’ll leave you in peace.”
“It will heal on its own, it always does. Right now I’d just like to be left alone. Oh, and Sasaki-san?”
“Hmm?”
“I’d appreciate it if you kept this to yourself. I value my privacy, for reasons I’m sure you understand. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Yoshi urged him toward the door. “I’m sure I’ll see you around headquarters. Thank you for your concern, I’m sorry you were disturbed.” With that Makoto found himself standing on the stoop with the door firmly shut, locked and warded behind him.
I’m not just going to let this go Yoshi, you haven’t seen the last of me. With that thought he headed home. Sleep eluded him though, his mind returning to the signs of torture littering the pale body. He finally slipped into restless dreams haunted by the shadow wolf's surprisingly attractive features in place of some of his recent 'guests'.
***
Yoshi rose early the next morning, the clotted wounds on his back peeling free of the sheets with a sickening sound. He staggered into the bathroom, emptying his stomach of its meager contents before stepping into the shower. As he washed he turned the events of the previous night over in his mind, unsure of what his course of action should be.
I don’t want to talk to Makoto, but I don’t want him going to the Shuhan either. The shadow wolf pondered his options while he waited for the kettle to boil. Maybe he’ll just let the whole thing drop.
Yoshi drank his tea and carefully rinsed the fragile cup. Slipping on his sandals, he headed out the door on his way to the cemetery. Once there he searched the stones until he came to a familiar name, stopping and squatting as he addressed his fallen mentor. The shadow wolf wondered, as he always did, if his life would have been different had Oonishi-sama survived. Lighting some incense, he clapped his hands together three times and bowed his head before speaking. “Hello, shishou,” he murmured. “I just wanted to stop by and say hi. I know it's been a while. Nothing's changed, but Makoto saw me at headquarters last night when I got back. I know he wants an explanation, I just don’t have one to give him.” He shook his head as he tried to figure out what his master would have advised. “I guess I should just go check in. See you later.” With that he shuffled off, pretending to ta
lk on his cell phone in order to guarantee his undisturbed passage.
Halfway there a booming voice broke into his thoughts. Oh damn, he's spotted me. Yoshi reluctantly stopped to wait as Watanabe Jun made his way across the street. Jun was known for his unworldly speed, it was pointless to try and evade him. The reclusive Takahashi regarded his self-proclaimed friend with dismay. Jun was loud and emotional … and far too likely to realize something was wrong. As much as it pained him to admit it, the boisterous, easy going shinobi was the closest thing he had to a friend here in the enclave.
“My dear friend, where have you been hiding yourself? You haven't come by to train in months.” Jun clapped a heavy hand on the shadow wolf's back. “It has been far too long since we have engaged in a spar.”
“Not today, Jun.” Yoshi shut his eyes as waves of pain rippled down his spine. “I need to go report in, I'm just back from an assignment. I’ll find you when I’ve got some free time.”
“Yosh, I look forward to it.”
The last Takahashi took a deep breath, standing up straight in hopes of preventing his shirt from sticking to the newly reopened scores on his back. He squared his shoulders and continued toward headquarters, trying his hardest to ignore the sticky trickle working its way down between his shoulder blades.
He soon found himself outside the Kobayashi no Shuhan's office, shifting from foot to foot as he waited for Rin to summon him. “She’ll see you now, Takahashi-san,” the Shuhan's longtime aide announced. “Sorry to make you wait.”
“That's no problem, thank you, Junko-san.” The shadow wolf bowed politely before taking another deep breath and following her inside. He strode toward the giant desk inlaid with the symbol of the Kobayashi clan. It was a reminder of why the shuudan was founded. Yoshi stopped abruptly and stood at attention, carefully studying the woman lounging on the other side of the desk.
