| [Feb. 12th, 2010|08:16 pm] |
Takajin's hand lingered on his cheekbone, calloused fingers catching the filthy black mask, and for the first time Kakashi didn't try to bite him. Didn't do anything but stare, sick and horrified.
"You're insane," he said finally. "Or lying. Iwa can't afford a war; you don't have the resources."
"Neither does Konoha." Takajin tapped him on the forehead with two fingers, smearing sweat and sticking hairs. "You value yourself pretty highly, don't you? Would your Hokage really risk that much just for you? One ninja?"
"Two ninja," Kakashi grated. Takajin was lying. "Stone might abandon their soldiers, but in Konoha loyalty works both ways."
"Ah, but you're not just a soldier, are you? You're an ANBU." Takajin's other hand traced the red spiral inked into Kakashi's arm, already four years old. Kakashi barely twitched. "Dying's part of the job description."
"So's living," Kakashi snapped back, and that was true. Living until you couldn't, and then selling the price of your last breath for something worthwhile. And it didn't matter if he'd meant to do that four years ago, that the only reason he hadn't yet was because no one had been good enough to take it from him; he was still alive. And he had a duty to stay that way, as long as he could. "And you're just stalling. If you were going to torture me, you'd've started already. This is just -- playing, while you wait for a message. You can't touch me."
He welcomed the laughter this time, spat it into Takajin's face like a challenge. Until a wash of smoke choked him, and he coughed hard enough to make his head spin.
Takajin's palm flattened over his mouth before he could regain his breath. "I'm already touching you, Kakashi," the interrogater said, all smiles, and covered Kakashi's nose as well. Air ceased entirely. "Would you like me to stop? Just say the word."
Kakashi wrenched back, but Takajin's other hand cradled his skull, yanking him forwards. Agony crowded his chest, red and hot, broken with coughs he couldn't get the air for. His ribcage heaved, lungs spasming. A full body-memory of Genma pinning him down, stripping his mask away, and forcing a gout of antidote down his throat, hit Kakashi like a shovel to the head. But this wasn't a poison, and Genma wasn't here--
"Just one word," Takajin prompted, encouraging as any jounin-sensei. "Any time you like."
Kakashi strained against his bonds, making leather creak and metal dance. Reached desperately for chakra that wouldn't come, that wasn't there. Blood pounded in his ears, splattered the floor as it cast off from his sword-sliced hand; the fragile scab had broken again. Everything was already dark, but he could feel his vision narrowing all the same.
"See? I knew you didn't mind it, really." Takajin said, and released his grip just as Kakashi's eyes started to roll back. "That's common in ANBU. You like a little pain."
Coughing, gasping, retching breaths almost tore Kakashi apart. He inhaled smoke, fought for air, and felt like someone had filled his lungs with broken glass. Still jerked his head back when Takajin's hands settled around his face again.
"Easy," said the man, soothing as a viper. Another stream of blue-burning smoke wreathed Kakashi's head. "Breathe like you mean it."
Kakashi retched froth and bitter saliva into his mask. "I'll -- kill you," he swore, rusted-hoarse. "If you don't -- kill me first. You're dead."
"And destroy this beautiful relationship? But we have so much more to try, Kakashi." Gentle fingers wiped away the wet, silvery trails left by reactionary tears. Resettled Kakashi's mask a little higher on his nose. "So much time to spend together. Wouldn't you like to know Genma's last words?"
Pain helped fight the drug, overwhelmed it with a thundering heartbeat. Kakashi felt himself shiver all over, and forced his muscles still. "He's still alive."
"Let's talk about Konoha," Takajin said, as if Kakashi hadn't spoken. "I'm just dying to know what it's like." |
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