Several days have passed and it's just been work, work, and more work. It's gotten to the point where I don't rely on anyone to do what they're told correctly. Maybe when I was having my little episode everyone simultaneously turned into idiots. Nothing seems to go right, the furnace was overheating, someone forgot to stand a beam up in the repairs for the cave-in so more of the walls came down, the experimental chamber was nearly breached, and someone killed themselves in the night and stunk up a whole corridor for 3 days before we actually found the damn thing. And those were only the main issues. But, despite how atrociously mundane it is, I keep on top of everything.
After wrapping up the task of alternating work schedules for the slaves, and perfecting a couple of serums that will prove useful to me, I return to the crisis of the cave-in. If I let these imbeciles do it themselves they'd bury us all alive. While a few of my Lord's servants clear out the rubble, I explain to a number of others how the walls are supposed to be structured. I also threw in a new checklist I drew up last night so this sort of inconvenience doesn't occur twice.
In the midst of my explanation, someone from behind hollers my name. Turning around, it's another one of my Lord's servants. His face looks familiar, but I can't place him. Two others trail behind him, dragging an exhausted slave.
"Master Kabuto," he bows slightly, "this slave was caught trying to escape last night. We couldn't find any others and she refuses to speak."
I step in front of the slave, looking at the top of her head. She breathes deeply, possibly out of pain of recent torture tactics. Kneeling down to her level, she shakes miserably, only barely lifting her gaze to meet mine.
"What's the matter with you? She doesn't have anything to hide."
"Wha-? But-"
"This is Suki Mitsubishi, number 9084-1. She was isolated from the rest to perform private services. She wouldn't have any accomplices, you dunce. You tortured her for nothing."
"Oh, well, what do we do with her?"
I return to a stance, rubbing my chin as I contemplate. "Hmm, take her to the holding cellar where the rest of the slaves wait to be let out for breakfast, announce her offense, and give her 50 lashes. Remember to say the offense before the whipping so the others don't get confused again."
"Yes sir!"
"Alright, I have business down there anyway, so I'll meet you after my lecture to these guys."
The three servants nod and take her to the designated area. The rest of my explanation takes upwards of ten minutes with all of the questions they ask. It's just repair, it's not exactly rocket science.
Making my way over to the far end of the hideout, I go downstairs to meet those three servants. They were smart enough to actually wait for me before initiating the punishment.
I can't say I wasn't shocked.
As the two holding her strap and hang her arms over her head, the third walks in front, projecting his voice so all can hear. He holds the wrapped whip in his fist.
"Number 9084-1, attempted escape."
Making his way behind her, he gives me a parting glance-hoping I'm watching, no doubt. Any and all servants present in the slum of the slave workspace are desperate to get out by pleasing the "higher-ups." All the slaves watch in their 3x3 feet cells. I hear that often times many will turn around, unable to watch further, but not one dares to right now. I wonder if my presence has anything to do with that.
He scrolls out the whip, pulls his arm back and unleashes hell upon Ms. Mitsubishi. Her scream is the only sound audible after the crackling snap against her back reverberates off the walls. With every added lash, I notice some of the other slaves wincing or holding back their tears. One in particular flinches with every snap. Focusing on her, I recognize her features. She's Suki's younger sister. They were captured together when they left home to pick roses, flowers that were later going to rest on their Mother's grave.
I personally don't enjoy the scene, whipping a person until their broken, spirit and all. I've never held a whip in my life, but I do understand it's a useful tool to keep individuals in line. So, if others are willing to do the deed needing to be done, I see no reason in wasting the benefit.
Halfway there, her back is all bloody, her shirt slashing to ribbons. There's so much of the red that a medical expert can acknowledge they shan't make it unless healed very soon. Besides myself, there are no medical ninja or people on this floor. We make sure to not take individuals who are actually needed and difficult to obtain, and no one following Lord Orochimaru is interested in medicine.
The torn flesh starts to twist and shred, giving it the look of soft wooden bristles oozing with a thin-based liquid. The lip of her pants are stained with the color.
Finally, 50 comes around and the whip slides back. The servant pants, proud that the rhythm was consistent. I push myself off the wall and walk to Ms. Mitsubishi's side. Tears weakly dribble down her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Saliva drips from her bottom lip as her breathing softens. I look around to the rest of the room, all their faces on me. Taking out my curved kunai, I slash her throat open, blood spewing and pouring to the stone floor. The slaves gasp and cry, one actually grabbing the electrical bars of her cell in protest. Whipping my weapon to the side, droplets of blood land on the nearby slaves. They jump as it strikes them.
Ms. Mitsubishi makes tiny sounds before dying.
The servants are a little shaken as well. A couple of them awkwardly try to pry her down before I have to tell them to.
"This is a warning," I say sternly. No eyes turn away from me. "Any who believe it is perfectly acceptable to cut into my schedule and have me come down here to give a demonstration on how serious this is, there is no sanctuary for you. Your lives are not as important to us as you think. You are all easily replaced, so don't think for a second that we won't kill you." I pause for effect, letting that soak in so that they may not forget. "Akira Noshiro," a cell door behind me loudly slides open, "number 10368-2, please step forward."
I spin around to face him.
He steps back and looks around, frightened. The servants give stern glares at him, prepared to use force if need be. He comes to the realization that he doesn't get a choice with what's in store and swallows down enough of his fear to be face to face with me.
"Mr. Noshiro, I know what you've been up to, but I'm feeling generous. I'll give you one chance to confess, and I promise to be lenient."
The slave sighs in defeat, "You have nothing if not integrity, Master Kabuto, and so I trust your word. I've been smuggling foods in, but not for selfish reasons. We get fed only twice every other day, and once for the days in between, I just-"
"I don't care about your reasons, Slave. You get what we give you."
"Yes sir," he sulks.
"Now, since you've been obedient thus far, with a respectable tone, I feel like giving you a reward. ...Freedom."
The slave's eyes glisten with hope.
"-If! You exploit your connections."
He hesitates like he doesn't know what I said. "I... I can't."
"Aww," I force a sad face, then inject the truth serum I made up this morning into his jugular-for a speedy effect. This would also conclude if I did it right this time. My other experiments ended up dying with the explosion of their head.
He gasps after I remove the syringe and bring my arm to my side again. In the next second, he points at the servant who whipped Ms. Mitsubishi, and one of the younger boy slaves across the room.
"Ahh," I say, "are you sure?"
"Yes, we've done business almost every day for the past year. I get the food from the guard, and in return he gets some private time with a slave of his choosing. It's been Goro ever since our business started. I think they slip away while we're all working, so they don't get caught."
"I see. And is there a payment method between you and the other slaves to distribute the food?"
"No. I made a list of all the slaves, so I go in order for who gets the next ration. The newest slaves go to the end if the list. We've made a full round twice."
"That's a lot of food. Well, I must thank you for your cooperation Mr. Noshiro."
The serum wears off. He shakes his head and gives confused stares all around. I used just enough, 3cc for 3 minutes.
"What? What just...why did I...?"
"I must say I'm surprised at you. After all, if you're so generous to just give away food to all the other slaves, it's odd you'd be so quick to sell them out to save your own hide. No matter, to the fact of priorities, you did disrespect our authority by "bending" the rules in your favor. So, to ensure trading isn't an issue," I grip my curved kunai. The two servants that dragged Ms. Mitsubishi away walk over and hold Mr. Noshiro in place. He fights, pleading that we don't do it. Not that he even knows what "it" is.
"No, please, I'm begging you, don't...please-gaaah!"
I slice off his right hand. He cries, screaming uncontrollably while staring wide-eyed at his missing appendage. I let him bleed out a little before applying a healing hand. The wound is closed, but the pain and shock are still felt. Immediately moving towards his left hand, he tries desperately to wiggle out of the servants' hold, but I manage to cut through that one too. His cries fill the room. I heal the wound completely, so not even pain can be felt on this side.
"Oh no, Mr. Noshiro, what a terrible accident! Now you can't work for us anymore."
He pants deeply, obviously trying to move his hands, then cries slightly, "You sick bastard."
A mere insult. "Without hands you're almost useless, but don't worry, you still have a purpose."
"What? Wait, I thought... I thought you said I could be free!"
"Right, when you're useless." I walk past him, then stop in my tracks, remembering. "I did say I was going to be lenient though, didn't I?" I look back at the servants, "give this man any meal of his choosing. Uhm, you may have to feed him." One of them tries to hold back a chuckle. "When he's finished, send him over to the experimental chamber for our Lord to play with."
They nod, and the man cries as they haul him away.
When the door closes, I walk down the aisle, facing away from the exit. I flick blood off of the blade of my kunai before wiping it with a damp rag one of the servants hands me. Meanwhile the slave and servant accused of playing a part in the smuggling are taken out for a good whipping.
That servant will never leave the slum now.
Their cries are heard through the thick stone walls. I gesture at Yuki Mitsubishi. Her cell door opens. "She'll take the place of Suki Mitsubishi."
Two servants take her to different quarters.
The rest of the slaves continue to have their eyes glued on me. "Now, because it's evident that you all feel so deprived, tonight there will be no sleeping, no eating, no bathroom breaks. I don't want you to feel so neglected, because you're very much needed. Since you don't know that already, maybe 48 hours of good, hard working will enlighten you." The slaves try to be quiet, but it's almost impossible when hearing that kind of news. "This will happen once a week for the next month. Then I'll be back to see what your thoughts are." I gesture to let the servants know it begins now.
All the cell doors open when I step out of the room and go back upstairs. In the hall leading to the slaves' corridor, Sasuke leans against the wall, arms crossed with a smile. A smile.
"Well, well, well, hel-lo there."
"What're you doing here?" I keep walking, putting the kunai away.
"I've never seen you so... aggressive."
"If that filth is to stay in line they require an aggressive authority."
"Yeah, I get that. I just meant that you look hot doing it."
I almost stop walking, "Why..." would you say that? "…are you here?"
"Orochimaru wanted me to seize the smuggling issue, but it looks like you beat me to it. You know, you've really picked up your act from a week ago, it must be exhausting. Maybe you should take some time for yourself and unwind, relax, let yourself go."
With those last words, it's almost as if he was trying to insinuate something. "I can't, there's too much to do."
Sasuke steps in front of me so we stop walking, his hand planted on the wall next to me. "Forget that, you've done enough to keep the hideout afloat. The real issues have been handled already. If not a night, take an hour off."
"I do, when I sleep. Why do you even care what I do anyway? Are you trying to hint at something?"
His shoulders slouch.
"Unlike you, I am responsible for the state of Otogakure. Lord Orochimaru rules it, I sustain it. Which means, even the small issues are real issues. Now step aside."
I push past him and keep walking, making mental notes of what to do next.
Stopping by Jirobo's room, I inform him of the task to warden a few slaves as they clean the wreckage in the honor chamber, where servants have turned into prisoners and subject themselves to Lord Orochimaru's Juinjutsu, so that he may achieve immortality. Jirobo sighs with the rub of his neck, but ultimately accepts the task since he has nothing better to do.
Just down the hall is the experimental chamber, where I faintly hear my name being called. The metal door is cracked open, a bright light shining through, belittling the candles' efforts to brighten the area. Nudging it open, I see Lord Orochimaru busy at work on the slave I sent him. There's an air mask over his face, so I can only assume Lord Orochimaru hopes to either disfigure or infuse him with a form of "talent."
"Lord Orochimaru, were you calling for me?"
"Yes. First, thank you for this lovely specimen. The hand work isn't your doing, is it?"
"Uhm, well..."
"Don't worry, I don't care. I called you here because I need you to go to Shukuba Town for me. There's word of a rogue ninja hiding out there, with a delicious power. I want you to find him and bring him here." He hands me a bloodied scroll with specifics. Still in possession of the rag from earlier, I use that to grab it.
"As you wish." Uck, leaving the hideout again. I bet there'll be a massive heap of things to do when I get back. "I'll leave immediately."
As I turn to depart, "Oh, and Kabuto. Don't disappoint me."
My gaze drops slightly to the remembrance of my incompetence, but I lift it so I may burn his image into my mind further, "Never again, my Lord."
