Kakashi tried to headbutt Takajin in the face.

He got closer this time, despite the feeling of warm syrup pooling through his veins, slowing his muscles. Close enough to feel the faintest breeze when Takajin melted away. It had to be a jutsu, that trick. Or a genjutsu, and Kakashi hadn't moved at all.

Strangely comforting thought -- if this was a genjutsu, he'd wake up with his hair intact.

Or his hands missing.

A shiver ran all the way through his centre. Without his chakra-sense, or access to Obito's eye, he was truly blind. Entirely helpless. And with the drugs, he couldn't even rely on his own mind.

He snapped the thought in half. It would only drive him mad.

"Now, what was that?" Takajin said, reappearing in front of Kakashi. He loomed, easily six foot tall, filling Kakashi's entire frame of vision -- a shadowy smudge in a world of darkness. "I thought you wanted to talk about your friend?"

"I want him alive," Kakashi spat, trying to lurch forwards. Steel and leather caught him short. "Your ninja agreed--"

"Technically," Takajin interrupted, "they're not my ninja. I'm just a working man." He crouched down, a new cigarette flaming between his teeth, and brought his hands to rest on Kakashi's spread thighs. "Just like you. Of course, I like to keep my hands clean of my friend's blood. It's a personal rule. Just enemies, you know, so I can sleep at night."

Kakashi was starting to feel hysterical. He dragged a smoke-filled, unlaughing breath, and tried to stay calm. Silent.

"Was it your fault?" Takajin said softly. "Is that why you came here, to fix your mistake?"

One word, it came out raw. "Yes."

"Ah," said Takajin.

Kakashi threw his head backwards, trying to beat silence back into his skull. The metal chair-edge caught him a sickening crack, knifing pain through the sticky wound where that earlier, undodged kunai-hilt had taken him down. White stars burst in his vision. Everything lurched. Then firm, cool hands caught his head and steadied it, and Takajin was right there.

"Consider this therapy," he said, close enough that Kakashi could see the dull orange cigarette glow reflected in dark brown eyes. "It's always your fault, isn't it, Kakashi? That's why we're here. Working out what to do about it."

The laughter swept back, all shatter-glass harmonics and no air.

"Tell you my sins?" Kakashi rasped, when it strangled out. "You setting up for priesthood? Fuck you."

"Don't swear," Takajin smiled. "Angels don't like it. Besides, your friend might be watching. I hear heaven's a forgiving place."

"Not for us." Kakashi closed his eyes. Tried to think over the broken reel of Genma's dead, Genma's dead, I got him killed, Genma's dead-- Takajin was lying. "Konoha's coming," he got out. "Soon. And you'll have a war on your hands."

Takajin patted his cheek gently. "Won't be the first time."