Heeey, everyone n.n;

Well, I think I do far too much ramling before these things, and way too much complaining. XD as someone pointed out (and I thank them for it) I do far too much whining and bitching (my words, not theirs's XD) about the quality of my writing. From now on, I'll keep my own opinion out of my tangents. It's for you to decide if the writing's any good, and I have no right to sway anyone one way or the other. I apologize.

So, without any more from me....

Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto

Also: torture is bad, boys and girls D: Ren's not endorsing it, she swears XD;;

It was an art, and she would treat it as such.

Pain was all fine and dandy, of course, but really driving a person mad took time and patience.

Two leaf ninja was a rare treat indeed- ideal for what she'd planned. They were an odd culture; and she didn't understand how their mind set could be applied to the shinobi way. They threw words like 'team work' and 'friendship' around ad nauseam. They operated under the assumption that their lives meant something beyond their directive. It was laughable.

Because of this sickening sort of dependence, the first logical step was to separate them. This was standard procedure for any group captured; it kept the other members in the dark as to what has been confessed, and what may await them. The two leaf-prisoners were different. It was an odd day when their first reaction to the kunoichi's mask was not to demand to be told of the other's state. Of course, the leopardess used this to her advantage. Worded things in a way that let them squirm in uncertainty... Let them catch what just might have been an echo of a pained scream.

She'd taken their things, too. Their hitai ates, flack jacktes... anything that marked them as members of the leaf village. She took away that part of their identity; their connection to the group. She removed every shred of evidence that might remind them that they were shinobi.

These tactics never worked against her countrymen, and Hikyuu was always glad to expand her repertoire.

But, the two were surprisingly resilient; their tenacity always elicited a cruel snicker. They really did believe that there was hope for them; that somehow, their precious 'friends' from Konoha's ranks would liberate them, or that the old man they called Hokage would negotiate their release. It was absurd, but she could see it in their eyes. Taking that from them was what would do it. It was fun, seeing the realization slowly creep into their heads as she watched them from across the interrogation room, or from the floor of their cell: no was coming to save them. No one would ever come to save them.

Yes, their political agenda did involve their eventual release, but it was Kirigakure no sato that would instigate their return. Konoha had nothing to do with it. And why would they? These two were failures. After capture, a ninja's only purpose was to keep their village's secrets until their final breath (actually, she was surprised that the Leaf village hadn't trained it's shinobi to bite their tongues off, as the Mist village did) and their own life was forfeit. So it made no sense to be worrying about their teammate.

It was strange, and it puzzled her; fascinated her. And like any unknown thing so enthralling, she longed to take it apart. She wanted nothing better than to tear apart their psyches bit by bit, and rearrange them as she pleased; in this case, thrown completely into chaos.

It was cold in the basement where the cells lined the walls, and the prisoners were kept shirtless and barefoot. This made it difficult to sleep, which weakened their will to Hikyuu's liking. There were no windows, there were no clocks. They knew not the time, or the day, and the interrogator captain did her best to stretch it, and mold it surreally. She'd give them two breakfasts in a single day to confuse them further, sometimes forget it all together, though they were always well fed- if they died, the entire plan, and all her work, would be for naught. Restraint was the mark of a good interrogator. She'd make a remark about a week's passing after three months; a day after a week; a few hours after a day. She'd yawn at noon, say goodnight in the morning. All to make them see what she wanted them to realize.

There was no time here; this was hell.

And Hikyuu enjoyed every second that didn't pass.

The walls themselves were embedded with seals too powerful to overcome. They leeched chakra at a constant rate that would spike if the one inside attempted to mold any of it. Trying to escape only strengthened the cage, and she'd stand stalk still; inhumanly so, like a doll or a stone, because she had to be more than human; and watch bemused as they clawed at the lock; every attempt futile.

She'd giggle from behind the polished and painted surface of her face. Hikyuu felt no real happiness, save for that moment when she deemed it necessary; a controlled calm interrupted only by short bursts of acted emotion when it best fit her purpose.

Inflicting pain was an essential part of an interrogator's training, and how they used it defined when and how they were useful. Naoko preferred to overwhelm her victims as quickly as possible, and make their every second an existence of nothing but searing agony until they gave her the information she wanted. It was quick, but given the agony, unreliable. It was possible that the victim would confess simply to end their suffering. Hikyuu's slower method was more reliable when she had the time to employ it well.

Hikyuu always hurt them this way once, and very soon after starting. That was enough. They just needed to know that she could.

And then she'd leave them alone; as often as possible. Completely isolated from everything but their own thoughts. Kirigakure no Hikyuu was a very busy demon, and her victims had nothing to do but sit and think of the horrors she had in store. Their imaginations would supply them with fiendish tactics she hadn't the time to conjure up; their own minds could scare them better than she ever could, given she coaxed it along properly.

Hikyuu relished the whimper her footsteps brought forth. The man being held in this small cell block was coming along nicely; he couldn't tell if she was coming or going anymore. And with that contenting thought, she reached the end of the hallway, leaning against the heavy door to the stairwell so it shifted open, and begrudgingly allowed the mask to be taken from the face behind it.

Kotone sighed as she tucked the mask into the front of her yukata. Six months had passed since she'd acquired her little project. She didn't need much more time; they could be returned home shortly. A moment ago, she'd found herself relishing the thought of accompanying them to Konoha. Not as herself, of course, Hikyuu had best remain without form whenever possible, her stature wasn't quite imposing enough, compared to what she'd heard of the man Konoha had given the equivalent of her duties to Kiri.

The prospect of observing this 'Morino Ibiki' first hand was very tempting... As a subordinate, of course. It'd be ideal to let someone more like Hatsuka handle things. She'd borrow someone's mask, try to blend in as best she could; baggier clothing would be needed, her's would never do. Best not to attract attention by being the only woman with the party, as that was highly unusual for the mist's ninja, and anyone who knew this fact might find her suspicious. Perhaps she'd assign Naoko to the mission, as a sort of 'decoy' female.

The leaf ninja... once they saw the state of their comrades, they'd be horrified, she knew full well; But Kotone's heart was fixed, and her loyalty unwavering. Her homeland's safety, and honour were at stake. If breaking these two gave the world enough warning to deter an invasion, she would do it a hundred times over.

Or, at least, Hikyuu would.

Another echo of footfalls on concrete steps caught her attention, and she paused briefly at the landing. Bright blue hair identified the younger kunoichi, and Kotone gave a nod in greeting and a near-smile as Naoko passed. The greeting went unreturned; Aoyama had been indignant since being left out of Kotone's 'project'. But, being the excellent interrogator she was (Aoyama was becoming more acclaimed day by day. It was not uncommon for Naoko to be associated with the captain of the department, while Kotone was, when remembered, known mostly as a member of the shichi nin ) she understood the importance of a single tormenter in this case.

Of course, Naoko had other reasons for being irritated. Zabuza would not allow her to visit with Haku, but judging by his unusual cheeriness after some training sessions by himself, there was little doubt in Kotone's mind that one had managed to run into the other.

Judging by the fact that she, Haku, and Zabuza still had pulses, Aoyama had thankfully kept the boy's existence a secret, and for that she was grateful.

The chill in the basement always left her unprepared for the heavy scent of earth and melting snow as she stepped outside into the suddenly warm air. Summer held its blessings and curses equally. It was generally less frigid, though the weather was in the habit of changing quite suddenly to near January dispositions. Tracking became easier in the thick mud left by melting snowdrifts and the sudden appearance of liquid rain. However, this also impeded the trackers. And, she decided as the sun somehow managed to beat down on her face through the thick clouds above, it was uncomfortable. She was used to cold wind, and chill air; now, the sun's warming glow was trapped by the grey blanket between the village and blue skies. The heat was unlike the burning of her black hair against her bare neck from Hi no kuni's climate, or the harsh, inhumane torture that was Kaze no kuni's deserts. Instead, it was a dull sort of inconvenience, that left an uncomfortable sheet of unwarranted perspiration between her katabira and skin; the air trapped by her yukata was warm, and awkward.

Besides; despite the boy's best efforts to remain blithesome, it was quite obvious that he missed the snow dearly.

Haku was a paradox: a boy with icewater-blood, and a warmer heart than any she'd come across. Perhaps, she mused, it was this warmth which kept him from freezing solid.

He as a sweet little creature, and therefore alien to her. Still, though, he'd become a constant over the past few months, and she'd grown very fond of Haku. He was always out training with his Sensei, or asleep on the couch, reading (she was always impressed by his ability; it far surpassed her own) or otherwise milling about their home, happy as anything. Except for when he wasn't.

The boy had nightmares. It was a few days after he'd come to live with them that he had first woken her. He hadn't meant to, and apologized frantically when she came to check on him. She didn't need to ask what the dream had consisted of, and it had left him frightened, and whimpering. She had sat with him, and stoked his hair as he bit his lip, and still livid with fear, mumbled apology after apology for his weakness. She shushed him.

There are things in the real world more terrifying than anything your imagination could possibly dream up. Go back to bed.

Where had that come from? She'd nearly said it.

He was untrained; he couldn't yet hold himself to the same standard as she and Zabuza. As it stood, he was a young civilian who'd been through something traumatic; she might not have been able to bear showing that sort of frailty herself, but she certainly couldn't fault him.

"You must've had bad dreams before this, right? How'd you cheer yourself up then?"

He had bit his lip, studying the floor timidly before turning an expecting look to her. "I used to go sleep in Mama and ...and ...and father's room."

Kotone shrugged. "You could stay in my room, if you'd like." After all, as much as she disliked to remember, that's what she'd done as a child when she had been afraid. He'd hugged her with a gleeful, and grateful giggle (As Zabuza had pointed out, and tried to correct, on several occasions, Haku was unusually affectionate. He'd apparently been in the habit of referring to the demon as 'Onii san' for the vast majority of their trip home, after having found one another).

Kotone's bed was small, but Haku occupied very little space. It was a lot like sharing the area with her cats; save that Haku smelled a great deal less like corpse, and didn't growl. He woke her not long after having fallen asleep, and met her eyes anxiously as he hid himself behind the sheets.

"Is something the matter?"

"No," He answered with a shake of his head. "But I think you were having a bad dream too, Kotone San. So I woke you."

She shook her head as well, and muttered around a yawn for him not to worry. "Most of my dreams are nightmares, Haku. It's just something that comes with being a ninja. I don't mind."

"Oh." He replied, settling back down. This scenario repeated many times, as his night terrors were frequent, and Kotone never seemed to mind being woken up. And nearly every night, he'd find her fighting with an unpleasant dream again. He'd always wake her up, though, and always, with his childlike, innocent concern for those dear to him, ask what it had been about.

"I never remember." She always lied, only to roll over, and fight behind closed eyes to exorcize whichever of her personal demons was plaguing her that night: Suishou's claws.... The angry spirits of the Kaguya... Coming home to find the house empty, and receiving the news that it always would be; his body long burned, his existence obliterates... Memories of a long forgotten time, where the water had not obeyed her chakra's pull, overpowered and overwhelmed her... father dripping blood as he staggered down the hall... Haku, dragged away by faceless jonin to meet the fate allotted to his kind... failing her Kage....

She finally reached home.

Haku was seated, cross legged on the floor between the couch and the kitchen, staring intently at a glass of water that no longer resided in it's glass. Instead, between his hands, it danced and writhed, like liquid glass; invisible save what it did to the now warped-looking space behind it. He closed his eyes, and the droplets of water stuck more tightly together forming a perfect, glass- smooth ball. Before, he'd flinch as a splash got away from him, but no more. It stayed clear, and solidified under his will; frosting over and constricting as his chakra forced it to a crystalline state. And then, finally releasing the breath he'd been holding, is once again became molten as it fell neatly back to the cup.

"You're getting good at that," He noticed her presence about the same time as she chose to speak, and looked up at her wide eyed. He relaxed, and smiled sheepishly as he saw the genuine admiration in her expression. "How do you do that?" She asked, stealing closer to sit beside.

Haku watched the water carefully as he thought. "I'm not sure how to describe it." He admitted. "I simply.... can. I want to. I'm so glad that I can now, as long as no one but you and Zabuza San see." He smiled fondly turning to her. "It's like... how you know your left from your right, or how a bird knows it can fly, or how you know to breathe. I just....do."

She sighed, and nodded in defeat. There was no way she could understand. Only another kekkei genkai user could.

His improvement was rapid, and impressive. His control had become perfect; second nature. A reflection of his training, and skill, rather than blind, dumb instinct brought on by a panic. She was impressed, and proud. It felt... good, watching him excel. She only wished she had a hand in his training herself. Zabuza insisted that she'd have no part in it.

And so, for the first time, Kotone was found entertained the idea of taking a student of her own.

She payed a great deal more attention when she dropped by the academy, and did so more often. She observed their posture, tone, and talent; their behaviour alone, and with others. The training had changed sp drastically... It was like watching an entirely different species of 'child' than she and Zabuza- especially Zabuza- had once been.

It was bizarre. They played together; they laughed, they smiled. Except for one.

Only one had ever really caught her eye.

She heard no sounds coming from his room, or the bathroom, and a quick sweep of the scene had revealed it to empty. She was unsurprised to see the house otherwise unoccupied. She hadn't seen much of her old training partner for a long while now. She'd wake up, and he'd be gone. Had always 'just left' when she herself returned from a mission, or interrogations assignment. She'd notice food that was there wasn't anymore; she never actually saw him eat. Perhaps she lived alone. Perhaps Momochi Zabuza and Haku were figments her imagination had cooked up to at least give her company in her madness.

It was understandable that he'd be absent frequently, even when not in missions. Haku needed supervision, and teaching, and the secrecy involved meant his training schedule had to be worked around his sensei's duties as both a member of she Shinobigatana and the head of the assassination unit. It made sense that he'd be out at all hours, and sleeping at odd times.

Naturally, this left him with little time to himself; or herself, as it happened. Not that it bothered her, of course. Kotone glanced down at the mask staring at her accusingly from the front of her yukata. She was a kunoichi; nothing bothered her.

It was beautifully simple: She didn't feel, and therefore couldn't be bothered. The nineteen year old sighed, and glanced, through the window, at the sun; still high, in the hazy patch of cloud it managed to show itself through. Haku would be more than fine here alone.

With that, she found herself back into the sticky, pressing heat of the day; mask fitted back over her face, and that intoxicating sense of calm it brought settled into the heart she had only in the most literal sense.

There was more work to be done.

vvvvvvvvvv

Months passed by, and the negotiations remained unsettled.

Kotone sighed, (Hikyuu now satisfied by bloodstains and the ringing of cries in her ears) setting her mask down on the back of the beaten couch, as had long since become her habit. Her more tidy counterpart might have been irritated, had her mask ever stayed unused for any real length of time; it never idled long.

As set her mask down in it's usual spot, and Haku made a soft, questioning noise to catch her attention.

The boy was still tiny, though fast-approaching the age of ten (her own birthday would be soon, but she avoided any reminders of the date; best not to know when it was. When January came, she'd know she was twenty; she felt less.... whatever it was, this way) and was on tiptoes, tracing patterns in the frost dusting a drafty window. He looked over as she entered, and beamed.

Returning the grin, the kunoichi took a quick scan of the room, and found their home otherwise unoccupied. "Where's Zabuza?"

The boy bit his lip. "Not here." He replied evenly after too long a pause. She silenced the twinge of suspicion her years interrogating inspired. As of late, she found herself ignoring that nagging doubt more frequently than she'd ever remembered. It was work, she decided; it was getting to her. It was Haku, after all; she could relax.

"Kotone San," he started, eyes focused calmly on the painted mask, "why do you wear that?"

"Ah. Well, it's..." She inclined her head in thought, her dark lazuline bangs falling in her face. "There are a lot of reasons. It hides facial expression, makes it difficult to see where the person's looking....Anonymity....That's what they tell you, anyways." She smiled, and leaned against the back of the couch. "More than anything, it's dehumanizing. Shinobi with particularly vile work wear them; it helps to keep one self from another. If you're wearing your mask, you're on duty. Without it, you can allow yourself more..." she pursed her lips, as an adequate term escaped her, "human liberties." She flinched as thought the term was not quite accurate, but let it stand.

"But Kotone San," Haku's eyes were intelligent beyond his years, despite the innocent tone. "Zabuza San always keeps his face covered."

Kotone smiled mirthlessly. "Perhaps Zabuza is only human in the shower, Haku."

The sky grew dimmer, and the tracker-captain returned, giving no real answer to his whereabouts when asked. She convinced herself to think little of this. Besides that, he ignored her quite completely; as he had been wont to do, as of late.

Haku was sitting on the floor before the couch, pouring over a book Zabuza had found in another village, somewhere, while on a mission.

It was thick, and the letters tiny; not meant for a boy his age, but he managed without much difficulty. Kotone took a seat next to him, and stared at the printed characters lamely. She recognized the odd word; the ones that concerned to her work, but besides that they were alien.

Haku took pity on her, and, quietly, began to read aloud.

There was a pounding on their front door that the kunoichi had been far too engrossed in the story to have anticipated. The door opened, and a blue-white curtain of hair poked it's way around the doorframe. "Hey, Zabuza sempai, I wanted to know- " Suigetsu trailed off, his eyes landing on the other boy is age. His face fell. "Zabuza sempai, who the hell is this?" He bared his teeth indignantly, apparently staking his claim as the demon's only 'apprentice.'

The room went quiet.

The silence was broken, and all three males glanced, astonished, in the woman's direction. She didn't bother looking up, and flipped a few of the book's indecipherable pages. "He's my cousin."

Suigetsu's mouth twitched into a sharp-toothed frown as he stared at the bloodline user as though for a confirmation. Haku nodded obediently. Kotone shrugged, ignoring the tenseness in her chest, matching the precarious nature of the situation. "So there I am, on a mission, questioning people about a target, and a contact asks for my name. Some lady overhears me, and asks if I know an Ume Hirumae. If Misao sempai's to be believed, which he is, he's my uncle, so I say yes..." She sighed, and closed the novel. "Apparently, Ojisan had some kind of fling with a village girl before he died, and she couldn't afford to look after her son anymore. So they dump the kid on me."

He furrowed a pale brow in contemplation. "So your uncle...?"

"His grandfather, yeah." Well, of the four of them in the room, it was the one that mattered that seemed to be buying it. Something occurred to her, and her eyes flew open in uneasy panic. Haku, Zabuza, Suigetsu and herself...

"One, two, three, f-...fuck." She jumped hurriedly to her feet, nearly shoving the younger ninja outside. "You can't be in here." His protests were both violent and vulgar, but Kotone's superstition managed to chase him away. She sighed, slamming the door closed, and muttered a quick 'I'm going to take a shower', before disappearing into the bathroom.

"Haku." The demon was sure to wait until the running water drowned his voice, and they would not be overheard. "Remember what you just saw. Ume Kotone is a fantastic liar; you can't believe a word she says." He dropped down to one knee to look the child squarely in the eyes- the eyes claimed to be like his own- and lowered his voice more still, and repeated what he'd told his apprentice a thousand times before. "She is the enemy. When the time comes, we'll need to be rid of her. Always keep this in mind."

"I understand, Zabuza San." He replied calmly, after a moment's hesitation that Zabuza chose warily to ignore.

vvvvvvv

In the end, she had to settle for Hiraku.

Hatsuka would be tied to the village for an indefinite length of time; as the eldest male of the Nezumi household, Ekirei was his to inherit, and Risu's to train. Extensive, and difficult training that would require all of his attention, and most of his time. She hadn't learned a great deal about the other swordsmen since becoming one of their number, but this she knew: A deadly toxin had been smelted directly into the blade of Nezumi family's katana. A scratch from Ekirei was enough to bring crippling pain, and a slow, agonized death to the strongest of opponents.

She thanked the gods and whatever kind spirits had helped her the day she had challenged him unknowingly.

With Hatsuka unavailable, the only seasoned member of their ANBU that she could think of with the ability to speak for the group was Kasumi Hiraku. Zabuza had been reluctant to let her borrow him, but had eventually conceded with much grumbling, and snarl. The rest were novices (or, as the experienced trackers called them under their breath,"cannon fodder") as this was, technically, an assignment designated to Zabuza's division. She was only being allowed to go by their kage's kindness; not out of necessity. It had taken months longer than she'd expected to arrange their return, but finally it had been settled, and the group departed.

Her old happi was fine, and she bound her chest more tightly than usual, flattening the female curve that betrayed her disguise as best she could.

The hakama were Hatsuka's, though. She didn't usually wear them, but given the situation, anything that might hide her shape was welcome. She'd never been exceedingly dainty, or girlish in appearance but wasn't about to take any chances.

She'd asked, and been lent a pair he'd long since grown out of. The boy, who really wasn't a boy anymore (he must have been at least twenty by now) was still thin, and gangly, never having really filled out to match his height. His collarbones were sharp where they showed, his cheeks thin, his limbs scrawny. But there was something bright in his eyes; something intelligent and crafty, and he was, without question, a brilliant ninja. "What, so my pants can go to Hi no kuni when I can't? No fair." He'd joked, in that odd, easygoing way of his that never ceased to puzzle her. How anyone could be so familiar with a stranger...no, how anyone from her year could be that way was the thing. Had he been in Aoyama's class as Momonga had, she'd have understood.

It had taken her a while to decide how best to keep her hair. Many men from her country wore theirs long, and so cutting it wasn't an issue. She'd eventually thought it best to put it, bangs and all, into a long plait. She was somewhere to the feminine side of androgynous, but with her mask on it should have been more than ambiguous enough to avert attention. She considered it a success.

Zabuza had arrived home from his open duties shortly before she had departed, and had been sitting in a kitchen chair idly; not eating anything, just sitting. Haku was seated on the couch, and giggled when she emerged from her room.

"How do I look?" She said, joining Haku in his laughing.

He glanced in her direction, and looked her up and down once before, with a sharp movement of his head, turning his focus outside. "Like Risu." He grunted.

That was the closest she had gotten to a 'goodbye,' and there was a cold, heavy sort of pressure in her chest as she left the house. But the mask was fitted into its place, and the pressure was lifted. Kotone may have cared, but Hikyuu was impervious to such pathetic sentiments.

The plan had been to float, exchanging masks with Hiraku for fear of having the prisoners' eyes fall on her. But that was a risk she would have to take: Kotone was unwilling to part with her adopted face. Without it, she felt... small, somehow. Hiraku's just wasn't the same. It wasn't her face.

No, not her face. It was no longer her face, and never would be again.

It was Hikyuu's.

Ok, anyone who's read "Sutego" from "odds and ends" would get the Gyouten refference XDDD

This wasn't where I meant to end the chapter, but it was getting really long again. The scene in Konohagakure (though I have it half written) won't be part of "Breathe again", as there's simply no place for it, really XD;;; It'll be in "Odds and ends" when I finish it.

For anyone who cares, I'm also writing GaiKotone crack for the hell of it. I love it way more than I should XDDDDDDDDDDDDD It's like, my noncannon Kotone OTP. (ok, so there's barely a canon pairing to begin with XD;;) Anyhow XD that'll be in Odds and Ends too when I finish. It takes place way after this, though, so majot Spoiler-age. owo

Anyways! Thank you so much for reading, thanks so much to those who've reviewed, and have an awesome day! 8D