There was no pain.

For a wild moment, Kakashi thought Takajin had sliced in so deep he'd punched through bone, into brain, and cut out Kakashi's ability to feel anything at all. Then Kakashi felt the wrenching tug on his scalp, heard the skrrrrkk noise of tearing hair, and realized the blade had never come that close.

"Are you serious?" he gasped out, half-choked.

Hair showered down the nape of his neck. There was another tug, another rip.

"Perfectly," said Takajin, cigarette clenched jauntily between his teeth as he worked. "Have you never read a T & I manual? Hair cuts are dehumanizing. It's very traumatic for some people."

His grip shifted, yanking Kakashi's head to the side. The blade flashed far too close, barely visible in the nothing-light, and blood-clotted hair came away in a matted clump, followed by another. Kakashi's slippery thoughts circled the idea of pulling away, then abruptly discarded it. Better his hair than an ear. Better Takajin focused on this project instead of another.

"I still feel human," his mouth spilled out, without any intervention from his brain. "Don't think your plan's working."

"Give it time," Takajin assured him. Another cut; Kakashi lost half of his bangs. The interrogator paused thoughtfully, his blade tapping once against the side of Kakashi's head. "You actually feel human?" he asked. "A ninja of your calibre?"

"Insanity runs in my family."

Takajin didn't miss a beat. "Mother or father?"

"Didn't know my mother," Kakashi mumbled, and realized he'd failed to dodge the question. He closed his eyes, fought for control. "What was yours like?"

"My mother? Lovely woman. Baked cookies for neighbourhood children." A shearing slice took off the rest of Kakashi's bangs. The blade rarely touched his scalp; at a guess, he thought he probably still had an inch or two of hair left. Takajin pulled his head the other way. "Do you regret not knowing your mother?"

"Does yours regret knowing you?"

"Ha! Touche. You are good at this, aren't you?" The blade scraped down the back of Kakashi's neck; he could feel hair drifting in downy clouds over his shoulders, left bare by ANBU blacks. Takajin brushed him off. "Does your village like you?"

This time, the words caught because Kakashi didn't know the answer. Useful wasn't liked.

He grabbed the second's respite to think. Village meant teammates meant--

"Where's Genma?"

"Ah, the elusive teammate has a name. Good start. Do you miss him?"

"Where is he?"

"Not here, obviously." The blade did a final sweep, snick-snick-snick, and then vanished. Takajin ran his hand over Kakashi's shorn head, but this time his fingers could barely get a grip. "Would it upset you if we'd killed him?"

Kakashi's breath came out in a long, shuddery exhale. "I'll rip your heart out," he promised. "Tear it out and feed it to you--"

"I'll take that as a yes," Takajin said dryly. He leaned his chin back on Kakashi's shoulder. "Well, then, let's talk about Genma."