️ Trigger Warning: Psychological & Physical Torture, Manipulation, Gaslighting, and Coercion ️
This chapter contains graphic depictions of interrogation tactics, including physical violence, psychological manipulation, forced compliance, and sensory deprivation. Themes of mind-breaking, identity erosion, and distressing moral ambiguity are also present.
Reader discretion is strongly advised. If these topics are distressing or triggering, please proceed with caution or consider skipping this chapter.
Chapter 43: Lavender
A massive wall of fire surged toward Kimiko, its heat scorching the air around her. Without hesitation, her hands flashed through seals.
"Ninja Art: NEEDLE JIZO!"
Her long, curly, jet-black hair expanded outward, growing even more luxuriant as it wrapped around her body like a protective cocoon. Silken strands hardened into sharp, gleaming spikes, forming an impenetrable barrier.
The flames roared around her, licking at the protective shell, but as the firestorm dissipated, Kimiko remained virtually unscathed. Her hair retracted back to its normal length, cascading down her back in elegant waves as she turned her sharp gaze to her opponent.
Jiraiya.
Their honorary sensei stood there, grinning at her, hands still together in a seal.
"Not today, Jiraiya-sensei." Kimiko smirked.
Raising both hands, she focused, feeling Yang chakra surge from her core to her scalp. Her hair lifted, writhing like Medusa's tendrils, each strand tensed and poised like the barrel of a loaded weapon.
"Ninja Art: Needle Senbon!"
Instantly, her hovering locks fired a hailstorm of black, needle-like projectiles, sharp and swift like a barrage from a machine gun. The glossy strands shimmered with her virulent, crimson-tinged chakra, each needle coated in a toxic energy potent enough to sear through flesh.
Jiraiya's eyes widened slightly before he slammed his palms onto the ground.
"Earth Style: Mud Wall!"
A towering wall of earth shot up in front of him. The barrage of hair senbon struck the earthen defense, exploding on impact. The wall crumbled, hissing as blackened, molten earth sizzled beneath the burning aftermath.
But as the dust settled, Jiraiya was nowhere to be seen.
Kimiko's senses flared. Behind.
She didn't need to move.
Her hair—alive with instinct—twisted into several spear-like tendrils and shot backward without her even turning. The razor-sharp locks pierced straight through Jiraiya's stomach.
Poof.
A cloud of smoke. A shadow clone.
The real Jiraiya stepped out from behind a tree, arms crossed, watching her with an impressed smirk.
"Alright, alright," he chuckled. "You've really mastered my Ninja Hair Arts well, Kimiko-chan."
Kimiko allowed herself a small, pleased smile, brushing a lock of her hair over her shoulder. Of course she had. It was the Sannin's legacy, something that actually fit her style. Now, she didn't need to rely on water senbon alone. She could throw senbons any time and never lose ammunition.
"Which reminds me," Jiraiya said, crossing his arms. "Naruto mentioned something interesting—how you throw yourself into terrifyingly exhausting training whenever you're scared." His tone was equal parts amused and concerned. "Are you worried about your sister?"
A frown crossed Kimiko's lips. It had been a week since her celebration, and Kurenai had already been deployed along with other Jonin to reinforce Konoha's efforts in Kusagakure. It was…concerning. The war was escalating, and the danger was becoming undeniable.
She had heard troubling reports—Captain Hayama, the Jonin who had first aided them in the Land of Grass, had been ambushed and killed. The insurgents had grown bolder, formally declaring both Kusa loyalists and Konoha ninja as legitimate targets. And Iwagakure, the real power behind the insurgency, had responded with their usual smug political maneuvering:
"The legitimate grievances of the belligerent ninjas are theirs and theirs alone."
It was exhausting.
"It's…" Kimiko hesitated before exhaling. "All ninjas risk their lives. We were made for war."
Jiraiya's frown deepened as he took a step closer, his tone unusually gentle. "Look, kid. You don't have to act tough. It's okay to worry about your sister."
Kimiko met his gaze, her own unwavering. "I know, Jiraiya-sensei." Her voice was firm, but there was something guarded behind it. "But… the only thing I can do is get even stronger, so I won't be a liability when I join the war effort."
She glanced away, absently rolling her shoulders. "Sasuke is with Anko, negotiating with Ryūchi Cave. Naruto is joining Team Gai on a mission—something about guarding a caravan." She paused. "I don't intend to waste time and sit idle while they all move forward."
Jiraiya sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "Kid, let's be real—you're never going to be a liability, regardless of what you do." He gave her a dry look. "But I get it. I can't stop you from pushing yourself if that's what keeps you sane."
"Speaking of," Kimiko said, her eyes glinting. "Have you considered my request?"
Jiraiya let out a long breath, his face tightening in reluctant resignation. "Yeah, I have. And… fine." He folded his arms. "We can go over Senjutsu."
A slow, victorious smile curled on Kimiko's lips, but before she could speak, Jiraiya held up a finger.
"But—" he said, tone warning. "Only from a theoretical perspective, Kimiko. I don't want you doing anything reckless to yourself."
Kimiko hummed in amusement. "Jiraiya-sensei," she said smoothly. "When have I ever been reckless?"
Jiraiya gave her the look. The kind reserved for only the biggest of liars.
"…Right," he muttered, unimpressed. "We'll start tomorrow."
Kimiko let out a dimpled smile, sticking the tip of her tongue out in victory.
This was the logical next step. With everything changing so rapidly and her future knowledge no longer inviolable, her desire to grow stronger burned hotter than ever.
Yes, she had made significant changes—most of the major players had come out ahead compared to the original timeline. But it wasn't enough. Not yet.
At minimum, she, Sasuke, and Naruto needed to be at least as strong as Sasuke had been in the original timeline after the three-year time skip.
Naruto, sooner or later, would start to interact more with Kurama—a thought that made her nervous. Sasuke, now firmly anchored in Konoha, would have to find his own path to power without Orochimaru, relying instead on Jiraiya and the resources of the village.
And her?
She intended to use everything at her disposal—the Amegakure scroll, her high position as a Tokubetsu Jonin, Jiraiya's tutelage.
Everything, if it meant getting stronger. If it meant protecting Konoha and the world she had painstakingly shaped.
And thankfully, Senjutsu was one of those rare arts that a ninja without a bloodline limit could use to empower themselves. It was the perfect fit for her, given her massive chakra reserves.
By its very nature, Senjutsu—the union of chakra and nature energy—could only be utilized by those with large chakra reserves. Without the reserves to stabilize the balance, taking in raw Nature Energy was a death sentence.
All in all, Senjutsu—Sage Mode—was the most optimal way for her to advance.
But there was one problem.
Ibuse did not have access to it.
Oh, he was aware of what it was. But, as he had rather begrudgingly explained, Sage Mode was an art traditionally reserved for communal summons.
Frogs, snakes—animals that lived and trained in large, structured groups, allowing them to form hierarchies and rally behind a singular "Sage Leader"—usually an elder who had mastered Nature Energy.
This communal structure made it possible for them to develop structured training practices, ensuring that even human ninja could learn to harness Senjutsu chakra under their guidance.
Salamanders, on the other hand, were solitary creatures.
They didn't share knowledge. Didn't unite. Didn't have a single, sacred territory like Mount Myōboku or Ryūchi Cave.
And they certainly didn't work together to develop a structured method for attaining Sage Mode.
Kimiko had the distinct impression that the real reason was simpler—as powerful as Ibuse and the salamanders were, the frogs and snakes were simply more… "civilized."
Unlike salamanders, they had organized societies, traditions, and a structured and standardized way as to how to achieve Sage Mode. Making it "easier," (if you could truly call it that) for people to learn senjutsu from them.
The truth was clear.
If she wanted to master Sage Mode, she would have to look elsewhere.
Or, more accurately, learn how Hashirama did it and develop her own personalized Sage Mode entirely from the ground up.
A ridiculous, almost laughable ambition.
Jiraiya had doubled over when she first mentioned it… but he didn't laugh at her. Instead, he admitted that it was theoretically possible—if fraught with danger.
Which was why, if she was going to insist on pursuing it, he would rather she do it under his guidance.
"Which reminds me," Jiraiya said, shifting gears. "Has Danzo-sama contacted you yet regarding his plans for attacking Otogakure?"
Kimiko gave Jiraiya a dry, unimpressed look before sighing. This again.
She wasn't sure why he kept fishing for details about Danzo's plan. Maybe he was testing her, trying to gauge just how close she was to the old warhawk. She could have been offended… but she wasn't.
Jiraiya wasn't careless. If he was asking this so flippantly, it meant he actually expected an honest answer. Because if he thought she'd lie or try to dodge the question—well, there was a reason why the Sannin was one of Konoha's greatest spymasters.
"He hasn't," Kimiko answered simply. "Not yet. I was told he's still waiting for his agents in the Land of Rice to confirm a few things. He says he'll call me when it's ready."
She paused, mulling it over. "I think he intends to have me act as his field captain for the operation."
It made sense. As a Tokubetsu Jonin, Kimiko was probably the second-highest-ranking operative Danzo would deploy. His own handpicked agents would undoubtedly be from ROOT.
She would be the outlier.
A small, paranoid part of her couldn't help but wonder—was this Danzo's way of eliminating her?
An accident in the middle of battle. An unfortunate casualty against Orochimaru.
It wasn't impossible.
"I think it goes without saying, but you need to watch your back, Kimiko," Jiraiya said, voice serious. "Danzo-sama is an effective operator, but he's used to—"
"Working in the shadows," Kimiko finished for him, her tone calm, matter-of-fact. "He's every inch the shinobi. He treats his people as disposable, but he isn't wasteful with their lives. He'll ask them to do horrible things in the name of the mission, but he doesn't tolerate unnecessary cruelty." She waved a hand dismissively. "I'm painfully aware of what he is… and why he does the things he does."
"That makes one of us," Jiraiya muttered with a sigh.
He shook his head, letting the topic drop before shifting gears. "In any case, today's your orientation day with Ibiki, right? You excited? Your first command."
Kimiko smiled slightly, batting her lashes at him in a playful manner. "It's Ibiki-sama's command, not mine. I'm just his vice—I have as much authority as he wants me to have."
"Well, he wouldn't have been so eager to name you as his adjutant if he didn't intend to give you real responsibilities," Jiraiya pointed out. "It's ultimately a good thing, though. You're the type to thrive under crushing responsibilities with incredible stakes."
Kimiko smirked. "Just like Naruto?"
Jiraiya snorted. "In a way. But he doesn't do well with the kind of responsibilities you'll be handling."
"And that's a good thing." answered Kimiko immediately.
Naruto was different. He needed to be insulated—within reason. Otherwise, the light inside him might dim.
And Kimiko knew, with certainty, that his light was essential for the better world they were trying to build.
She, however?
She was perfectly willing to do the terrible things necessary to protect them in the world they had right now.
"Speaking of Ibiki," Kimiko said, stretching slightly. "I need to leave now, sensei. I don't intend to be late for my first day—can you imagine the boss showing up late?"
Jiraiya smirked. "Heh, with how much you pile onto your schedule, I half expect you to collapse one of these days." He shook his head in amusement. "You train like a demon, take on every mission like it's life or death, and somehow still find time for leadership roles. Most people would burn out."
Kimiko just grinned, completely unfazed. "The trick is to turn every experience into fuel instead of seeing it as a drain," she said, eyes gleaming with mischief. "It's all about knowing how to keep yourself balanced."
Jiraiya let out a chuckle, shaking his head. "You really are something else, kid." He gave her a lazy wave. "Go on then, don't keep Ibiki waiting. And try not to make the entire department fall in love with you on your first day."
Kimiko flashed a dimpled smirk. "No promises." She bowed her head respectfully before disappearing in a cloud of white.
It wasn't her first time in the Torture and Interrogation Division. She still remembered when Ibiki had dragged her here after the Orochimaru incident. But this time, as she approached the entrance of the Intelligence Division, the two guards flanking the door inclined their heads slightly in acknowledgment, wordlessly granting her entry.
As she descended into the facility, she noticed the subtle difference in atmosphere. Unlike her last visit—where she had been led through the secluded, foreboding back entrance designed for intimidation—this time, she took the main route. It was still underground, still tucked away from the surface world, but it felt less like a dungeon and more like an operational center.
The moment she stepped through the double doors leading into the main offices, Kimiko was struck by the unexpected normalcy of it all. Instead of a grim, oppressive chamber filled with screams, it looked… functional. Military, even.
The air buzzed with conversation—low voices of chuunin dressed in the standard T uniform, the muted gray suits with dark lapels. Some were chatting, others chuckling, shaking their heads at reports, or exchanging knowing glances over steaming cups of coffee. The casual camaraderie was at odds with what this place represented….which was amusingly concerning.
Her eyes flicked upward to the second floor, where a nondescript door overlooked the office space below. Even from this vantage point, she could make out the bronze nameplate affixed to it.
"IBIKI MORINO – KONOHA TORTURE AND INTERROGATION COMMANDING OFFICER."
So this was it. Her new domain.
"Yuhi-san?"
A voice came from beside her, and Kimiko turned to see the speaker—a tall, whipcord-thin individual with messy brown locks that fell over their face. Their glasses, slightly too large for their features, gave them an almost owlish appearance.
"Hello," Kimiko greeted with a gentle smile. "Sorry to trouble you, but is Ibiki-san in his office? I'm supposed to report to him today."
The spindly figure blinked, then dipped their head slightly in acknowledgment before responding. "The Captain is currently occupied with an interrogation. He asked that you go to his office and await further orders."
"Alright," Kimiko nodded, still smiling. "And your name?"
"Kouki Okumura," they answered, shifting awkwardly as they rubbed their arm
She tilted her head to the side, keeping her tone light. "Nice to meet you, Okumura-san. Would you mind leading me there?"
Kouki straightened slightly, nodding. "Of course. This way."
"Thank you," Kimiko said smoothly, following them as they led her up the stairs, to the office, which was left unlocked.
Ibiki's office was… unexpectedly homey. A couch, a coffee table, and a plain desk. There were no family pictures, save for one of Idate on the desk—an unexpected touch that caught Kimiko off guard.
She settled onto the couch in front of the desk, idly checking her nails as she waited. It wasn't long before the door swung open, and Ibiki entered, slipping on a glove over his exposed hand as he moved behind the desk.
"Sorry about that," he said, sounding almost casual. "An interrogator needed help with a tricky prisoner." He took his seat, resting his elbows on the desk. "Anyway, welcome. I see you've already met Kouki?"
"I have," Kimiko replied placidly. "Quite the interesting sort."
"Glad you think so. They're a bit on the awkward side, but they mean well," Ibiki said, rolling his shoulders. "They're only a few years older than you. Used to be a medic-nin trainee, but after that fiasco during the Crush… well, they put in a request for reassignment. I figured we could use someone trained in medical ninjutsu to help with autopsies, so I snatched them up."
Kimiko made a thoughtful noise, nodding slightly but offering no comment. Ibiki, ever perceptive, picked up on her hesitation.
"Oh, and they're going to be your assistant," he added offhandedly.
Kimiko blinked. An assistant? She hadn't expected that. She hadn't even considered the possibility that her new position came with such a luxury. Then again, Torture and Interrogation was a vital department, and with Danzo funneling more funding into it, it made sense that they were well-manned and well-equipped.
"Yep," Ibiki continued, as if reading her thoughts. "Not bad, huh? Wait till you see your office," he chuckled. "But that'll have to wait—it's still being furnished, and I intend to get you up to speed before you start field duty. Normally, I'd take an entire month to get you to undergo schooling before I even let you touch a captive, but time isn't on our side. Danzo-sama already gave me a heads-up that he'll be needing you for his Otogakure operation. So I'll have to teach you on the job. Which brings me to…"
With that, Ibiki reached under his desk, unlocking a compartment and pulling out three thick black folders. He slid them across the desk toward her.
Kimiko picked them up and flicked them open.
Inside were detailed profiles—images, blood types, comprehensive psychological evaluations, and in-depth biological reports. But it was the faces in the photos that caught her attention.
Tayuya. Ukon. Jugo.
People they captured. Now captives.
"We don't have a file on Kimimaro yet since he's still on life support and under the Hokage's direct supervision," said Ibiki, as if reading her thoughts. It was uncanny how easily he could predict what she was thinking. "No opportunity to interrogate him yet, but that'll come in time. For now, go ahead and read through the files."
"I see," said Kimiko, her gaze lowering to the folders in her hands. She flipped them open, scanning the dense reports.
Tayuya - Prisoner #213, Age: Mid Teens. Captive exhibits extreme hostility and hyper-aggressive tendencies, likely due to early environmental conditioning. Displays a strong aversion to authority and responds with verbal aggression or flippant deflection when questioned. Shows indications of conditioned fear when Orochimaru is mentioned, suggesting deep psychological manipulation. Unwilling to cooperate.
Ukon - Prisoner #214, Age: Mid Teens. Subject exhibits sadistic tendencies, deriving enjoyment from inflicting pain. Displays signs of arrogance, though psychological evaluations suggest underlying clinical depression. Emotional volatility detected—switches between mockery and overt hostility when discussing his deceased brother, indicating significant psychological distress.
Jugo - Prisoner #216, Age: Mid Teens. Subject presents with symptoms consistent with extreme intermittent explosive disorder. Medical Corps and the Research & Development Department have confirmed that his unstable Kekkei Genkai is the root cause. Displays deep remorse after violent episodes. High-risk detainee, kept under constant ANBU guard and high-security restraints. Notably, exhibits deep loyalty to Prisoner #215, Kimimaro Kaguya.
Kimiko hummed thoughtfully, lifting her eyes to Ibiki, who simply smirked.
"You killed it, you bought it," he said. "If we're going to get you up to speed in the next few days, might as well throw you into the deep end." He gestured toward the files. "These three were placed under our custody by direct order of the Hokage. They are now our top investigative priority."
Kimiko carefully closed the folders, schooling her expression. It wasn't every day that someone was put in charge of a high-level interrogation so soon after promotion. But she knew that hesitation in this line of work was as good as weakness. And she couldn't afford weakness—not here.
Ibiki leaned back slightly, watching her reaction. "I'll be around for a week or two before I'm deployed to Kusagakure. The insurgents captured there need special attention . Until then, I'll be getting you onboarded—introducing you to the Force, running you through protocol. But once I leave?" His smirk deepened. "You'll be in charge."
Kimiko's grip on the folders tightened slightly. She refused to let uncertainty show. The Torture & Interrogation Division was filled with veteran chuunin, some with more years of experience than she had spent alive. Yet Ibiki had chosen her as his adjutant. That meant something.
"I won't tell you to relax," Ibiki rumbled. "But don't waste time worrying about proving yourself, either. The men and women here? Some of Konoha's most ruthlessly efficient shinobi. They don't give respect lightly. But once they see what I see?" His smirk widened. "They'll follow you."
Kimiko gave a slow nod.
"Good." Ibiki stood, reaching for his coat. "These three are undergoing interrogation as we speak. Let's go observe. I want to hear your thoughts."
Kimiko exhaled softly, gathering the files before following him out the door.
Kimiko had half-expected the interrogation chamber to resemble something out of a horror story—dank, dark, and filled with the tortured screams of prisoners begging for the release of death.
Instead, what she saw was... clinical.
Standing beside Ibiki with his arms crossed, Kimiko observed the interrogation room through a one-way mirror. The room itself was plain and sterile—white walls, a simple desk, and harsh fluorescent lighting that left no room for shadows.
Seated at the desk were their captives, dressed in plain black jumpsuits, their arms and legs bound by heavy manacles. Jugo, in particular, was restrained more severely than the others—thick chains wrapped around his torso and a muzzle clamped over his mouth like he was some kind of rabid beast.
Across from them sat a single woman.
Her graying hair was drawn into a severe bun, and she wore the same dark gray suit that most of the intelligence personnel wore. She looked utterly unimpressed by the captives in front of her, idly taking notes in a worn notepad as if this was just another routine meeting.
She didn't radiate menace, nor did she seem particularly cruel. Yet something about her presence was undeniably suffocating.
"So, just to make sure I have my story straight," the woman said, her voice calm, almost bored. "You're telling me that Orochimaru—"
"For the hundredth time, you old hag," Tayuya snarled, glaring at her. "I already told you all I fucking know."
Ukon let out a barking laugh, shaking his head.
"Seriously, I ought to thank you guys for all the nice amenities," he drawled, leaning back in his chair despite his restraints. "Food, shelter—wow. Real generous. Almost makes me not want to watch Orochimaru-sama burn this whole damn village to the ground."
His eyes flicked toward Jugo, who sat in silence, staring straight ahead.
And then, suddenly, Ukon snapped.
"The fuck are you looking at, you massive pile of shit?!" he snarled, yanking against his chains. "You stupid bastard—you already told them everything, haven't you? YOU FUCKING TRAITOR!"
He thrashed violently in his seat, muscles straining against the restraints as his face twisted in rage.
The interrogator didn't even blink.
She didn't flinch, didn't react, didn't reprimand him. She simply continued writing in her notepad, as if his outburst wasn't worth acknowledging.
Kimiko hummed, watching the scene unfold with mild amusement.
"Would've expected that reaction from Tayuya," she mused, her voice calm despite Ukon's screaming.
"He's trying to reclaim a sense of control," Ibiki said, just as unbothered. "Deflecting his survivor's guilt, projecting his weakness onto others—it's textbook narcissism."
Kimiko's gaze lingered on Tayuya for a moment, watching the way her hands clenched into fists, the way her jaw remained tight despite her silence.
"Tayuya's resisting," she murmured, "but she's exhausted. It's not just stubbornness—it's deeper than that."
She tapped a finger against her chin.
"She has a strong aversion to authority, right?" Kimiko asked Ibiki. "So… that's how we get her?"
Ibiki chuckled.
"The gears in your head are already turning," he remarked. "Alright, hold that thought."
He turned to the nearest chuunin, giving them a small nod. The operative promptly slipped into the interrogation room, leaned down to whisper something in the woman's ear, and then stepped back as she calmly stood up, gathered her notepad, and exited the room.
Kimiko followed as they were led back into the observation area. The woman glanced at her first before turning her attention to Ibiki.
"Captain," she greeted with a respectful nod before her sharp eyes flickered back to Kimiko. "Vice Captain. Do you require something from me?"
Kimiko shifted slightly, feeling the weight of the title. "...Please, just Kimiko wi—"
"Futaba-san," Ibiki cut in smoothly. "I wanted to introduce Vice-Captain Yuhi to our most senior interrogator—so she can see how you operate." He shot Kimiko a look. "Vice-Captain, this is Mishima Futaba. She's been with the department since I took over, and then some."
The woman let out a faint smile, arms folding behind her back.
"And I'll still be here when the Vice-Captain eventually takes over for you, Ibiki-san," she remarked dryly. Then she turned back to Kimiko, bowing her head slightly. "It's nice to finally meet you, Vice-Captain Yuhi. We've needed someone who can properly handle field operations for a while now. Your presence is already making a difference."
There was a note of genuine sincerity in her words, which surprised Kimiko.
"Thank you, Futaba-san," Kimiko replied, inclining her head in return. "I'll be in your care. I look forward to hearing only great things from your colleagues."
Futaba arched a brow, an amused glint in her eyes.
"Oh, right. Kaori-san's daughter," she mused, chuckling softly. "I can see her mother's influence."
Kimiko merely smiled at the comment as Futaba turned back to Ibiki.
"In any case, did you two want to go over my findings?"
"Yes," Ibiki confirmed, then turned to Kimiko. "For context, Futaba-san was the one who compiled the psychological profiles for our three prisoners."
Kimiko nodded in appreciation. "Nice work, Futaba-san. From what I've seen, I'd say you nailed their personalities perfectly."
If the accuracy of the reports matched what she knew of them in the anime, then Futaba's skill in breaking people down was nothing short of masterful.
"It's my job," Futaba replied matter-of-factly. "But, what specifically do you want to know, Vice-Captain?"
Kimiko opened her mouth to speak, but Ibiki merely watched her expectantly. He wasn't going to step in. This was a test.
Kimiko straightened her posture slightly and took the lead.
"Right," she began. "What interrogation methods have been used on them so far?"
"The usual," Futaba answered promptly, though there was a deliberate edge to her tone, as if she were subtly educating Kimiko on what 'the usual' entailed.
"We've started with baseline questioning to assess their willingness to answer." She ticked off her fingers one by one. "Daily interrogations to establish rapport. Repeated questioning on topics they've already answered—to identify inconsistencies."
Kimiko absorbed the information, then turned to Ibiki for his thoughts.
He said nothing.
This is your call.
Kimiko took a measured breath and continued, "And what results have we had so far?"
Futaba exhaled, shaking her head slightly.
"To be blunt, Vice-Captain?" she said. "Not much. Orochimaru's brainwashing runs deep—layered, meticulous. You saw the report. Despite their differences, Sakon and Ukon share one major trait: Devotion. Whether it's out of fear or genuine admiration, I'm not certain. But…" She hesitated briefly before continuing. "Breaking those layers of conditioning while also trying to gain their trust is proving impossible. Especially with how urgent we need their intel."
Kimiko hummed in thought.
It made sense.
They wanted to cultivate them as sources—not simply extract one piece of information and discard them. Using blunt-force torture would only cement their loyalty to Orochimaru, pushing them deeper into their defenses.
She recalled her thoughts about the idea of torture. Torture is ineffective as an end in itself. But as a tool? A means of amplifying the right psychological pressure? That's where it holds power.
Her fingers tapped against her thigh.
She already had an idea.
"...Alright, I'm taking over the interrogation," Kimiko stated, before blinking as she caught Futaba's amused expression. "If you don't mind."
Futaba chuckled. "No, I get to go home to my husband and daughter early." She exchanged a look with Ibiki before adding, "But, not to overstep, Vice-Captain, I think it would be prudent to hear your action plan first."
Kimiko nodded. "Of course. As far as I see, we're approaching this the wrong way." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "We've been treating them like Konoha criminals, applying traditional methods of cultivating informants and deprogramming. And while that approach is effective under normal circumstances, it assumes we have the luxury of time." Her eyes sharpened. "But we don't."
Futaba inclined her head. "You're saying we should treat them as... enemy combatants?"
"Not quite," Kimiko corrected. "We should treat them as terrorists."
A flicker of understanding crossed Futaba's face. Ibiki remained impassive, watching silently.
Kimiko continued, voice measured. "Enemy combatants fall under the expectations of war. Even if we capture them, we assume there will eventually be an end to hostilities, meaning we avoid extreme measures that might encourage our enemies to retaliate against our own. But terrorists?" She scoffed lightly. "They would mistreat and kill our own without hesitation. They have no protection under any treaty, no moral ground to stand on."
"So you're saying we should torture them," Futaba said bluntly. "Torture is ineffective in interrogation."
Kimiko tilted her head. "It is—if you just hit them and expect results. But when applied systematically, to reinforce psychological conditioning and target specific vulnerabilities, it becomes something else entirely." She folded her arms. "Torture isn't an interrogation tool; it's a psychological weapon. When used correctly, it doesn't extract confessions—it reprograms."
Futaba exhaled, intrigued despite herself. "And what behavior, exactly, do you intend to 'reprogram'?"
Kimiko shrugged. "You said it yourself. They're brainwashed. Normally, the best way to deprogram them would be to establish empathy, find common ground, force them to humanize others and themselves. But that's a slow process. What we need is a hard reset—a way to obliterate their current worldview and make them malleable."
Ibiki smirked slightly, finally speaking. "And how do you propose doing that?"
Kimiko's expression was cool, clinical. "Right now, they're in the same room together. That benefits them more than it does us." She gestured toward the observation window. "They get to hold on to the one thing left to them after their defeat: their shared loyalty to Orochimaru. That bond strengthens their resolve. It's 'us versus them.' Worse, they have Jugo, who they already view as a traitor, reinforcing their resistance."
She took a breath. "So, we strip them bare. We shatter the only thing they have left."
Futaba narrowed her eyes. "You mean... break their bond?"
Kimiko tilted her head. "Not just break it. Turn it against them. We make them hate each other. We make them realize that resistance is not only futile, but that it costs them everything."
Futaba was quiet for a moment. Then she exhaled through her nose, crossing her arms. "You're suggesting something drastic."
"I'm suggesting something effective," Kimiko corrected smoothly.
For a moment, Futaba remained silent, then she smiled. "You're right, Captain. The new Vice-Captain is going to be an exceptional interrogator."
Ibiki let out a low chuckle. "That, she is. You get a gold star for creativity and following interrogation principles you don't even know exist yet, Kimiko." His sharp gaze glinted with approval. "Alright then, Vice-Captain. I assume you have an actionable plan?"
Kimiko nodded, her expression composed. "Yes. First, separate Jugo. Put him in a different holding cell. This method won't work on him—his loyalty to Orochimaru is indirect. He only cares because Kimimaro is devoted to him." She flicked her gaze toward Ibiki. "He's easier to break. We frame Orochimaru's neglect as the reason Kimimaro is in his current state. We make it clear that the only people ensuring his survival right now are us."
Ibiki gave an approving nod. "Noted. And these two?"
Kimiko exhaled, thinking. "Dim the lights. I'll start in two hours. Have they eaten yet?"
Futaba shook her head. "No. They refuse to. Since capture, they've eaten only three times. I believe they're testing how long they can hold out—perhaps a final show of defiance. Jugo, on the other hand, refuses outright. He made it clear he won't eat unless we let him see Kimimaro."
It made sense. These weren't just ordinary shinobi—they were Orochimaru's hand-picked experiments, warriors honed through cruelty. The Sound Four had killed fellow prisoners to earn their rank. Their ability to endure was impressive, even expected. And Jugo? His resolve stemmed from sheer devotion.
Kimiko nodded.. "I'll get Jugo to eat. But for Tayuya and Ukon? This situation is ideal."
She ran a hand through her long, dark curls before gathering them back into a loose ponytail.
"Do you need anything else for the interrogation?" Ibiki asked, watching her with amusement.
Kimiko tilted her head, considering. "Just a few more things." She held up two fingers. "Three candles, some sweets, and a pair of walking sticks." She smirked. "Preferably, with a weighted head."
Ibiki chuckled, clearly entertained. "Alright, Vice-Captain. Let's see what you've got."
The door creaked open, and Kimiko stepped inside. The sharp click, click, clack of her heels echoed against the cold floor as she approached the table where Tayuya and Ukon sat, their wrists and ankles still bound.
For two hours, they had been left in this pitch-black, soundless room. Ideally, Kimiko would have preferred to keep them in isolation for days—but for now, this would suffice.
She caught the faint movement of their heads twitching toward the sudden burst of light spilling in from the hallway, only for it to vanish as the door clicked shut behind her.
Kimiko moved forward, standing between them. Without a word, she reached down, taking each of their wrists in turn and placing their arms on the table. The silence stretched, thick and heavy. Neither spoke—not even when she reached into her pocket, retrieved a set of keys, and smoothly unshackled them.
The chains clattered softly onto the tabletop, yet they remained still, offering no thanks nor resistance.
Then, Kimiko produced two walking sticks and set them down with a deliberate clunk. The wood—crafted from the wood of a Hashirama Tree—was capped with heavy iron heads. The sudden, jarring noise reverberated in the otherwise silent room, making both prisoners flinch—likely startled after hours of sensory deprivation.
Finally, she flicked on the headlamp on the table, illuminating their faces.
They looked wretched. Gaunt, dehydrated, eyes hollowed with exhaustion. They had refused to eat since their capture, and the weight of their failure clung to them like a specter.
For a moment, neither spoke. Then, Ukon smirked, rolling his sore wrists between his fingers.
"Well, isn't this a surprise? Nice of you to visit, Kimiko-sama. " His voice was mocking, though hoarse from thirst.
Tayuya let out a bark of laughter that quickly dissolved into harsh coughing. "And here I thought you were too busy spreading your legs for Konoha to remember us."
Kimiko's expression remained unreadable.
"My name is Yuhi Kimiko. Tokubetsu Jonin and Vice-Captain of Konoha's Torture and Interrogation Force," Said Kimiko. "Ukon, Tayuya. Are you two aware of why you're here?"
"Fuck you," answered Tayuya.
Kimiko continued, undeterred. "You two are prisoners, captured after an illegal trespass into our village, coming with the intention to bring two Konoha-nin to Orochimaru, the missing-nin who attacked Konoha."
"Kill yourself," Said Ukon, but Kimiko continued.
"I was tasked to be your interrogator. You will give me all relevant information you know about Orochimaru, Otogakure, and all of his network," said Kimiko. "Are you two in good health? Any ailments I should know about? Do you wish to give up all information now?"
The two prisoners stared at her, blinking owlishly.
"Are you fucking stupid?" Tayuya scoffed.
"Is this some kind of trick?" Ukon added, his eyes narrowing.
Kimiko remained unfazed.
"If not then…" she cracked her neck to the side. "From this point on, you two will be treated as terrorists. Unacknowleged by any relevant ninja village. Not prisoners of war. Not criminals. You will enjoy no privilege of human rights, nor privilege of person. I will refer to you two only by your prisoner numbers. WIth no further identity."
There was silence first…broken by Ukon snorting.
"I'm so scared. Hit us with your best shot," He sneered.
Kimiko was quiet, reaching into her pocket, she brought out three, stout and identical wax candles, setting it on the table. She flicked the headlamp off, and lit the three candles in front of them, which gave a much dimmer light, framing only their faces.
Quietly, she spoke. "First question; how many candles do you see?"
Tayuya stared at her, snorted, then rolled her eyes. "Alright, I'll play along. Three candles."
"Are you sure?" Asked Kimiko.
Ukon let out a barking laugh. "Are you being serious, bitch? Or just blind? There's three candles."
Kimiko was silent for a moment before shaking her head.
"No. There are four candles."
Silence.
Then they burst into laughter—louder, mocking, cruel.
"Oh, boy. Did they send you to make us laugh to death? Is that the Konoha Interrogation playbook?" Ukon sneered.
"Seriously, why the hell did they send an empty-headed bitch like you for this?" Tayuya snickered, shaking her head. "This is hysterical. Sending a dumb cunt to interrogate us."
Kimiko gave a small, knowing smile. "There are four candles."
Tayuya scoffed. "If you think whatever trick you're doing is going to wor—"
Her words were cut short as the iron-capped end of the walking stick slammed into her sternum.
The impact sent her chair crashing backward, the air knocked from her lungs in a violent, choking cough. She wheezed, eyes wide with shock, body writhing on the floor as she struggled to breathe.
"Crazy bitch—" Ukon snarled, surging forward to stand, his hand shooting toward the other stick—
Kimiko's hand caught him by the head.
And with a sharp, brutal motion, she slammed his skull against the table.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The dull, sickening thud of flesh against wood echoed in the chamber before she finally let go—only to backhand him across the face with such force that he sprawled onto the floor beside Tayuya.
Neither had time to recover.
Kimiko raised the walking stick again and brought it down —hard—straight into their stomachs, eliciting strangled groans.
Then, with measured precision, she pressed the heavy end of the staff into Tayuya's stomach, applying her full weight, while her heel ground into Ukon's throat.
"Again," she sighed, her voice calm, almost disappointed. "How many candles are there?."
She eased off, stepping back, before grabbing both prisoners by the collar and hauling them upright, shoving them back into their chairs.
She met their gazes, cold and unyielding.
"Now," she said evenly, "Answer."
"Fuck you," snarled Tayuya, spitting blood at her face.
Kimiko didn't flinch.
Before Tayuya could so much as react, Kimiko drove the iron-capped end of her walking stick hard into Tayuya's jaw, sending her sprawling to the floor with a choked gasp.
She turned to Tayuya, watching as the redhead flinched, bracing for another blow.
But instead, Kimiko calmly picked up the second walking stick and tossed it toward her.
The wooden staff clattered onto the floor in front of her, and Tayuya stared at it—frozen.
She looked caught between wanting to grab it and dreading what would happen if she did.
"Pick it up, Prisoner Two-One-Three," Kimiko ordered, her voice idle, almost bored.
When Tayuya made no move, Kimiko nudged Ukon's side with her own staff.
"Pick it up," she repeated. "And hit Prisoner Two-One-Four where I point."
Tayuya's fingers curled, but she didn't obey.
"What?" Tayuya scoffed, her voice wavering. "You mu—"
Kimiko cut her off with a brutal strike to Ukon's stomach. He heaved violently, a spray of blood splattering from his lips.
Tayuya twitched.
"Pick it up, Prisoner Two-One-Three," Kimiko said, her tone still eerily neutral. "And hit Prisoner Two-One-Four where I point."
Silence.
Kimiko struck Ukon again.
And again.
And again.
Each blow landed with sickening force, a dull, meaty thud echoing in the silent room.
"Pick it up," she said once more, slamming the iron head into Ukon's gut so hard that his whole body jerked against the chains.
Tayuya's breathing hitched.
Kimiko lifted the staff and brought it down hard against Ukon's knee.
CRACK.
Ukon screamed.
"Pick it up, Prisoner Two-One-Three."
Tayuya's breath came out shaky. Her fingers twitched.
And finally—hesitantly—she reached for the staff.
Her grip was tight, white-knuckled.
Kimiko lifted her own stick, pointing to Ukon's right hand.
"Hit him there."
Tayuya's grip wavered.
Kimiko gave her no time to think.
She lifted her staff and struck Ukon again, watching him twitch violently.
"Do it," Kimiko said.
Tayuya's teeth clenched. She lifted the staff—and swung.
The blow landed—sloppy, off-target—but Ukon let out a sharp grunt as the wood smacked against his wrist.
Kimiko tilted her head.
"That's not where I pointed," she lied.
And then, without warning, she snatched Tayuya's wrist.
The girl let out a sharp gasp as Kimiko twisted it, forcing her fingers open. The staff fell from her grip.
Kimiko grabbed her hand and slammed it onto the table, pinning it down.
With deliberate slowness, she lifted her own staff with her other hand.
And brought it down on Tayuya's index finger.
A sickening CRUNCH echoed in the room.
Tayuya screamed.
Kimiko let go of her hand and drove her knee into Tayuya's stomach, making her gag. Then, with an effortless flick of her wrist, she grabbed Tayuya by the hair and slammed her head against the table before shoving her limp form to the floor.
Ukon was still gasping, trying to push himself upright—only for Kimiko to grab him by the collar and hurl him against the table.
Tayuya's discarded staff was lifted and tossed to him.
He caught it. Barely.
Kimiko turned to face him, tilting her head, and pointed her own staff at Tayuya's right hand—the same spot she had just ordered Tayuya to strike Ukon.
"Prisoner Two-One-Four," she said evenly. "Hit Prisoner Two-One-Three where I point."
Ukon trembled, eyes darting between her and Tayuya. "F-Fuck y—"
Kimiko didn't let him finish.
She slammed her staff into Tayuya's sternum again.
The redhead let out a sharp, choked sob, her breath sputtering as blood dribbled down her chin.
"Prisoner Two-One-Four," Kimiko repeated, "hit Prisoner Two-One-Three where I point."
Ukon's breath came out in uneven pants. He clutched the staff, his hands shaking violently.
His eyes flicked to Tayuya's.
"We'll kill her," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. "I promise. When we escape, we'll kill her, Tayuy—"
Kimiko backhanded him.
The impact made his whole body jerk —his head snapped to the side, and blood splattered from his lips.
Then, without pause, she struck Tayuya again.
The girl let out an actual scream this time, the raw pain breaking through her stubborn defiance.
Kimiko sighed. "Who?"
Ukon looked up at her, dazed and wild-eyed.
Kimiko stared down at him, her voice still calm, patient. "This person is Prisoner Two-One-Three. Misidentifying them will lead to consequences."
Ukon's eyes darted back to Tayuya, something unreadable flickering in his gaze.
Kimiko didn't give him time to think.
She struck Tayuya again.
This time, the girl howled in pain, her whole body curling inward, spit and blood dripping from her mouth.
Kimiko turned back to Ukon, the staff dangling lazily from her grip.
"Prisoner Two-One-Four," she repeated. "Hit Prisoner Two-One-Three where I point."
Ukon's whole body was shaking now. He swallowed, staring at the trembling, gasping form of his teammate on the floor.
For a moment, it looked like he might refuse.
Then—slowly, painfully—he limped forward.
Lifted the staff.
And swung.
The wood connected with Tayuya's outstretched hand, hitting precisely where Kimiko had pointed.
Tayuya shrieked in agony.
Kimiko exhaled slowly, nodding in approval.
"Good job, Prisoner Two-One-Four."
She planted the staff on the ground and pressed her heel into Tayuya's stomach, forcing another strangled cough from her lips.
Then, she leaned forward slightly, staring down at them.
"Now," she said, tone almost gentle.
"Answer my question."
A pause.
"How many candles are there?"
Ukon stared at her, eyes bloodshot, face swollen—his breath ragged, his will fracturing. Yet, when he opened his mouth, no answer came.
Kimiko exhaled, almost disappointed, before lifting her staff and striking him across the face. He crumpled, hitting the ground with a dull thud.
Still, she wasn't finished.
Pivoting smoothly, she brought the weighted head of her staff down on his elbow—not enough to shatter, but enough to send a searing jolt of pain through his arm. A sharp, wet gasp tore from his lips as he writhed.
Behind her, she caught the faint scrape of movement—Tayuya, trying and failing to push herself up onto the table. Her fingers clawed at the surface, arms trembling, her body betraying her. She slid back down, limbs giving out beneath her.
Kimiko turned to her, gaze impassive, then bent down to pick up the second staff. She extended it toward Tayuya, holding it just within reach.
"Prisoner Two-One-Three," she murmured, voice as smooth as glass. "How many candles are there?"
Tayuya's breath hitched, her bleary gaze flicking up to meet Kimiko's.
Kimiko tilted her head slightly, then pressed the cold, bloodied steel of her staff against Tayuya's right elbow. A light tap. Just enough to make her flinch.
"How many candles?" she asked again, softer this time.
The silence stretched. And Kimiko sighed as she raised her staff to strike.
Kimiko crossed her legs, idly tapping her manicured nails against the table she propped her elbow on. The three candles partly melted in front of her. Her gaze remained fixed on Ukon, who lay shivering on the ground—bloodied, broken, and barely holding consciousness. Above him, Tayuya's trembling hands clutched the staff, hovering uncertainly over her head.
"Prisoner Two-One-Four," Kimiko's voice was calm, almost indifferent. "How many candles are there?"
Ukon, his breath ragged and uneven, stared at her through bloodshot eyes. He didn't answer.
Kimiko barely sighed before pointing her staff at his left arm.
Tayuya hesitated, fingers tightening around her own staff. She stole a glance at Kimiko's grip, the subtle shift of her fingers—a silent warning. The next blow wouldn't be for Ukon if she didn't act. Gritting her teeth, she swung down hard.
A sharp SNAP filled the air.
Ukon screamed, thrashing against the pain, but Kimiko didn't so much as blink.
Tayuya's breath shuddered, her entire body trembling as she stared at Ukon's mangled arm. Her fingers slackened against the staff, as though she might drop it.
"Prisoner Two-One-Three," Kimiko said, her tone unchanged. "I still have my staff raised."
Tayuya whipped her head toward her, horrified. But when Kimiko shifted her grip, Tayuya flinched and immediately turned away—lifting the staff again, this time without further hesitation. She squeezed her eyes shut and brought it down over and over, cracking and breaking bone with each wet, sickening crunch.
Ukon's wails of agony filled the room.
Good. She's following orders faster. She's hurting him with less hesitation.
Kimiko smiled faintly. "Good job, Prisoner Two-One-Three. I am very pleased with your progress."
She stepped forward and crouched in front of Tayuya, tilting her head. Slowly, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, delicate piece of mochi.
She made sure Ukon saw it first.
Then, she pressed it into Tayuya's mouth.
Tayuya, still sprawled on the floor, stared at her in stunned silence. Her lips parted slightly, but she didn't resist as Kimiko lightly tapped her chin.
"Chew," Kimiko said softly.
Tayuya obeyed.
Kimiko's smile widened as she ruffled her hair.
"You did well," she murmured before standing and dusting off her uniform. "It could be better, but… you're learning. I'll leave you unbound."
Her eyes moved to Ukon, and she shook her head wordlessly and sighed. "I wish you were as cooperative…" She stepped towards him, moving to grab the chains she unlocked and again securing his wrists and arms across the bolted table's legs.
Finally, she turned toward the door, rolling her shoulders with a satisfied sigh. "I'll be back in a moment. I need to use the restroom."
With that, she snuffed the candles, plunging the room into complete darkness and strode out, humming as she went. The door was pulled open the moment she reached it.
Stepping into the light, Kimiko squinted briefly as her eyes adjusted to the brightness. A guard silently accepted the blood-streaked staff from her hands. To her mild surprise, Ibiki was gone. Instead, Futaba stood nearby, flanked by Kouki, who balanced an armful of files against his chest.
"Effective work," Futaba remarked casually. "You're letting them punish each other to break the bond they have, and rewarded the more obedient one while punishing the other, letting resentment brew,"
Kouki adjusted his glasses before stepping forward, offering her a wet cloth. Kimiko took it without hesitation, wiping the blood clean from her fingers.
"Thank you, Futaba-san. Thank you, Kouki-san," she said smoothly. "Where is Ibiki-sama?"
"Hokage called him into a meeting," Futaba replied. "Left instructions for you to take a break."
"Yes," Kouki added quickly, shifting under her gaze. "He also… left some administrative duties in your care. He said to 'run the ship' while he's gone, and that you may use his office."
Kimiko sighed internally. Of course he did. When he said she'd be learning under pressure, he truly meant it.
"I'll assist you with these, Vice-Captain," Kouki assured her. "Most of them just need your signature."
"Appreciated, Kouki-san," Kimiko said with a nod. Then, she quirked a brow. "Anything else?"
Kouki hesitated before clearing his throat. "A Hyuga is asking for you—Hyuga Hinata. She says she brought you lunch."
Kimiko's entire demeanor softened instantly. A delighted squeal escaped her lips as she clasped her hands together.
"She's so sweet!" she practically gushed. "Alright, please send her up to Ibiki-sama's office. I'll meet her there—I just need to give a few instructions first. Thank you so much."
Kouki bowed his head before hurrying off.
Kimiko turned to Futaba, who had straightened at attention, awaiting orders. Good.
"Futaba-san," Kimiko said lightly, as if discussing the weather. "The prisoners' food and sleep schedules will be under my direct supervision. Under no circumstances will they be allowed to eat, drink, or sleep unless I give explicit permission." She flicked her nails, as if brushing off dust. "Additionally, I am not to be disturbed during interrogation unless it's absolutely necessary."
Futaba's sharp nod was instant. "Consider it done, Vice-Captain."
Kimiko hummed in approval and bowed her head in thanks before turning on her heel.
After all, her lunch was waiting.
"Hina-chan!" Kimiko called out, her heels clicking against the floor as she hurried across the hall.
Seated in the visitor's lobby, Hinata turned at the sound of her voice, her pale eyes lighting up. She stood, offering a small wave, the bento box in her hands held carefully. Kimiko grinned, closing the distance in an instant and throwing her arms around her friend. Hinata let out a quiet giggle as she returned the embrace, cheeks dusted pink.
"H-Hi… Kimiko-chan," Hinata murmured, her voice soft but warm. "I—I wanted to congratulate you. I wasn't on a mission today, and I thought… I'd cook for you, like you did for us before…"
Kimiko pulled back just enough to take the bento, her grin widening before she leaned in and placed a quick kiss on Hinata's cheek. "I love it. Thank you, Hina-chan."
Hinata blushed deeper, ducking her head slightly, but Kimiko caught the shy smile that played on her lips.
"Do you want to hang out with me a little?" Kimiko asked, tilting her head.
Hinata hesitated, shifting from foot to foot before offering an apologetic shake of her head. "Uhm… I'd love to, b-but… I'm training right now, and I really need to focus. And I know you're really busy here, too…"
Kimiko blinked, but then smirked knowingly. "Right, right. Of course, can't believe I forgot Naruto-kun's girlfriend would be in training mode."
As expected, Hinata's face immediately turned scarlet. "G-Girlfriend?! N-No! I-I— It's not like that!" She covered her face with both hands, peeking through her fingers.
Kimiko laughed, but before she could tease further, Hinata took a small step forward and, with an almost mischievous smile, mumbled, "Well… whatever you say, Neji-nii-san's girlfriend."
Kimiko froze.
Then, she burst into laughter, grabbing Hinata in another hug. "Oh, so you're getting cheeky now, huh?! Did my sister teach you this? What happened to my shy best friend?" She playfully demanded as Hinata let out a small giggle, her blush lingering.
Kimiko kissed her cheek again before stepping back and waving her off. "Go on, then. Get stronger, but don't overdo it. I love you, Hina-chan."
Hinata's eyes softened, and with a small but confident smile, she whispered, "I love you too. Good luck."
Then, without another word, she turned and dashed toward the exit, disappearing through the doors.
Kimiko watched her go, heart warm, before looking down at the bento in her hands with a fond smile. "Guess I'll have working lunch, then."
Kimiko found herself eating her meal in Ibiki's office, balancing a pair of chopsticks in one hand and flipping through a never-ending pile of files with the other.
Steamed rice and Miso-Glazed Cod. Braised Daikon with Soy & Mirin. Blanched Spinach with Sesame Dressing. A sweet bean mochi for dessert.
It was a beautifully crafted bento—thoughtful, precise, and nourishing. A reflection of the woman who made it.
All while she reviewed form after form after form. Budget approvals. Procurement requests. Shift assignments. Equipment maintenance logs. Prisoner status updates. Daily activity reports.
The sheer volume of it all was staggering, but more than that—she could see the lesson behind it. How deliberate it was. Ibiki hadn't just left her with paperwork. He had left her with the reality of leadership.
It was dull. It was tedious. It was written in the kind of bureaucratic language that could bore a shinobi to death—so vague, so dense, that she needed Kouki's help just to decipher some of it.
But it was essential.
Every supply order, every authorization, every personnel reassignment—this was what kept T running.
The intelligence division didn't thrive on just interrogations. It survived on logistics.
And if she wanted to command, she had to understand that.
Kimiko sighed, signing yet another form authorizing a doubled shipment of opioids and sedatives. No doubt for Kusagakure. The war was escalating—and with it, the need for enhanced interrogation.
She glanced at Kouki, the gangly chuunin efficiently sorting the signed forms into neat, labeled stacks.
"Kouki-kun," she said, reaching for the next document. "I have a question."
"Yes, Vice-Captain?"
He took the form she passed him, carefully tucking it into a folder.
"What exactly is the purpose of Torture and Interrogation as a sub-division?" Kimiko asked, tapping the end of her pen against the table. "We already have the Analysis Team under Inoichi-sama. His clan specializes in extracting information directly from the mind. If they can do that, why does our department even exist?"
Kouki paused. Then, slowly pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
"That's a good question."
Kimiko raised an eyebrow, waiting.
"Well," Kouki started, "while it's true that the Yamanaka Clan's jutsu allows for direct intelligence extraction, it's… not as easy as it looks." He shook his head. "It's actually an incredibly niche technique—one that only a handful of Yamanaka ever master."
Kimiko frowned slightly, twirling her pen between her fingers.
In the anime, it always looked like child's play,
But that was Inoichi.
The Yamanaka clan head. The leader of the Analysis Team. The best of the best.
And even Ino, who had trained in the technique for years, never fully specialized in it—choosing instead to refine her clan's communication abilities rather than the dangerous art of mind invasion.
"It's more than just skill," Kouki continued. "The mind is a complicated place—and a shinobi's mind even more so. Extracting useful intel isn't just about forcing your way in. It's about navigating a maze filled with traps."
Kimiko hummed thoughtfully. "Elaborate."
"There are countermeasures, Vice-Captain." Kouki's voice turned grim. "Other villages expect our forces to use the Mind Body Transmission techniques, so they've spent decades developing defenses against it."
He pulled out a classified file, flipping it open to a page detailing the various methods enemy villages had developed. Kimiko skimmed through the list, eyebrows raising slightly at just how brutal they were.
Some shinobi had permanent memory partitions, locking away critical information deep in their subconscious. Others carried false memories, entire fabricated pasts crafted to mislead interrogators.
More extreme cases involved kill-switch seals, chakra-based traps embedded into the brain itself, designed to fry the target's mind the moment an outsider tried to pry too deep.
There were even mind-lock barriers, seals so complex they could trap the invading Yamanaka inside the target's consciousness—with no way out.
And then, there were the reverse invasion feedback loops—psychological tripwires designed to feed raw mental agony directly back into the infiltrator, causing severe, sometimes fatal, brain damage.
Kimiko narrowed her eyes.
So even mind-reading had limits.
That was why T still existed.
Konoha couldn't afford to rely on a single method of intelligence gathering—especially not one so easily countered by their enemies.
"Some minds are too dangerous to enter," Kouki finished. "Or too well-protected. In those cases, we are the alternative."
"Thank you," Kimiko sighed, setting her pen down for a moment. "That was insightful. Looks like Ibiki-san assigned me a reliable assistant to make sure I don't completely fall flat on my face."
Kouki rubbed his elbows awkwardly, but there was a flicker of a smile at her words. "That's… very kind of you to say, Vice-Captain."
Kimiko let out a small huff. "Still not used to being called that." She rolled her shoulders, glancing at the stack of documents still waiting for her attention. "Anyway, let's keep going. Hand me the rest—I'd like to finish these before I go back to interrogation."
She paused, then added, "Oh, and can you please fetch me a bottle of water. Ice cold, if you can. Thank you."
The door creaked open, and Kimiko stepped into the dark abyss. The moment she entered, the heavy door swung shut behind her, sealing them all inside.
She moved with deliberate quiet, her steps soft against the floor as she approached the desk in the center of the room. With a flick, she turned on the lamp, its dim glow casting long shadows across the pitiful figures of her captives.
Tayuya lay curled in on herself, hugging her knees, her face hidden. Ukon, still bound to the leg of the table, was similarly hunched over, though his position was far more uncomfortable. Neither of them spoke. Neither acknowledged the other.
Interesting. She hadn't told Tayuya to leave him bound, yet she made no effort to free him. Progress.
Kimiko moved with precision, careful not to make a sound as she lit the three, half-melted candles with a lighter. Then, slowly, she uncorked the bottle of water in her hands, the condensation chilling her fingertips.
And without hesitation, she poured it over their faces.
Both captives jolted awake with a gasp, Tayuya sputtering, Ukon rattling his chains as he choked on the sudden shock of cold. Kimiko regarded them with distant amusement, watching the panic flicker behind their exhausted eyes.
"I didn't give either of you permission to sleep, Prisoner Two-One-Three. Prisoner Two-One-Four," she said coolly.
Ukon panted through clenched teeth, his face bruised and battered. "Y-You—" he wheezed, coughing up water. "You said you were just going to the restroom. It's been hours."
Kimiko tilted her head. "What are you talking about?" she replied, her voice eerily casual. "I've only been gone a minute."
She watched the confusion ripple across their expressions, the smallest hesitation as their exhausted minds tried to grasp at the frayed edges of their reality. Plant the doubt. Make them question what they know. Make them turn on themselves.
"Bullshi—"
"Are you calling me a liar, Prisoner Two-One-Four?" Kimiko interrupted, her tone light, almost playful. Without looking, she lifted one of the walking sticks from the table, turning it slowly in her hands, inspecting the iron head.
Both captives flinched at the sight of it.
Neither spoke. Neither dared.
Kimiko took a slow, deliberate sip from the water bottle, letting the cool liquid slide down her throat. She made sure they watched every drop. Then, with a soft clink, she placed the half-full bottle in the center of the table, just behind the flickering triad of candlelight.
She smiled at them.
"Prisoner Two-One-Four," she said as she bent down, unshackling Ukon's wrists with a soft clatter of metal. Then, reaching for the second walking stick, she rolled it across the floor toward Tayuya, who hesitated before gingerly picking it up.
"How many candles are there?"
Ukon's breath hitched. His wide, bloodshot eyes flicked up to her, terror written in every line of his face.
Kimiko clicked her tongue, shaking her head in mock disappointment. "A shame," she sighed. "You keep choosing punishment."
She turned her gaze to Tayuya, who clutched the cane with trembling hands, her knuckles white around the grip. The wood rattled slightly, betraying the hesitation she tried so hard to mask.
Kimiko struck her across the face.
The weighted iron head of the cane connected with a sickening crack , sending Tayuya sprawling onto the cold floor.
Ukon froze, his eyes wide with stunned silence, but Kimiko barely spared him a glance. Her focus remained on Tayuya, who groaned as she tried to crawl away, fingers scraping against the stone.
"Prisoner Two-One-Four," Kimiko said, her voice perfectly level. She turned back to Ukon, her expression unreadable. "How many candles are there?"
Ukon hesitated.
Another strike.
The cane came down hard against Tayuya's back, forcing a choked gasp from her throat.
Another.
This time, her knee. Her leg buckled instantly, forcing her back to the ground.
Again.
And again.
Each strike precise, methodical. Not enough to break her—but enough to make her fear the next blow more than the last.
"How many candles are there?" Kimiko repeated, her voice carrying no urgency, no anger—just patient, relentless insistence.
She sighed, shaking her head. "I don't want to keep hitting Prisoner Two-One-Three. Why do you keep insisting on your lies, Prisoner Two-One-Four?" Another strike. "Why do you keep ensuring her pain by refusing to answer correctly?"
Tayuya whimpered.
Kimiko crouched beside her, running a slow, deliberate hand through the tangled mess of red hair. Her voice softened, almost gentle.
"I don't want to do this," she murmured, as if confiding a tragic secret. "But the other prisoner isn't giving me a choice…"
A subtle shift. First, she had them hurt each other, chipping away at the fragile trust between them. Now, she placed the blame directly into Ukon's hands, planting the seed of resentment, watering it with every strike.
Make them turn on each other.
Make them see each other as the reason they suffer.
Let them forget—if only for a moment—that the real enemy was her.
"Stop," Ukon rasped, his voice shaking with exhaustion. "Stop it… God damn it. We're never going to betray Orochimaru-sama."
Kimiko didn't react. Calmly, she traced the iron head of her staff along Tayuya's exposed skin, dragging it slowly, deliberately, as if caressing her.
"Your loyalty is astounding," she murmured. "Truly admirable." She paused, her voice taking on a note of faux reverence. "A heart so devoted… unwavering in service to your village, to the man who leads it."
A pause. Let them absorb the compliment. Let it soothe them—even if only slightly—before driving the knife deeper.
Kimiko stepped toward Ukon, lowering herself so she was at eye level. Her hand came to rest on his trembling shoulder, the grip firm yet almost comforting.
"I only wish," she said softly, "that he showed the same devotion to you."
Ukon flinched.
"To think," she continued, shaking her head in quiet lament, "that he deliberately sent you on that mission. Knowing full well how powerful Konoha is. Knowing Sasuke Uchiha's loyalty to the Leaf. Knowing how unshakable my own loyalty is." She sighed. "And yet… for his own whims, for nothing but his petulant desires, he sent you to die."
Ukon's hands curled into weak fists.
"Our life… our life belongs—"
"To him," Kimiko finished for him, her voice heavy with false sympathy. "I know."
She tilted her head, studying him, before letting out a quiet sigh.
"It's a shame, really. You say he gave you power… and yet, where is that power now?" Her gaze flicked between them, slow and deliberate. "You're here. Powerless. You can't even overpower me ." She let the weight of those words sink in before continuing.
"You eat only when I allow it. You drink when I decide. You relieve yourselves only at my command. Your lives—your bodies —exist at my whims."
Kimiko straightened, looking down at him as if he were something small. Insignificant.
"And where is Orochimaru?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Gone."
Silence.
She let it stretch, watching the doubt flicker behind Ukon's eyes.
"He abandoned you," she finally said, tilting her head slightly. "And yet… you still cling to him."
A slow shake of her head. A final, quiet dagger of pity.
"The tragedy of every loyal shinobi."
She stood back up, aiming the head of the staff at Ukon's head.
"Prisoner Two-One-Three," said she, turning to Tayuya, who was now back up on one knee, eyeing both her and Ukon with frightened eyes.
"How many candles are there?"
She had lost track of time in the suffocating darkness, the only illumination coming from the flickering, half-melted candles. Kimiko didn't need to count the blows anymore—she knew she had delivered enough. Enough to carve doubt into their minds, enough to unravel the last shreds of defiance they clung to.
Now, she observed them. Both were slumped on the cold floor, their wrists bound above their heads, suspended just enough to be agonizing but not enough to cause permanent damage. They were silent now. No insults, no desperate attempts at bravado—just heavy, ragged breathing.
They're close. Any moment now.
Kimiko lifted her cane and tapped it against the floor. A sharp, deliberate sound.
She watched as both prisoners flinched violently, recoiling as if she had struck them outright.
Good. The mere sound of her movements had been conditioned into them, an association of pain and suffering.
She let the silence stretch before speaking again, her voice placid and patient.
"Again. How many candles are there?"
A beat of silence. Then, from Tayuya's cracked lips, a defiant whisper:
"...Never."
Kimiko sighed, shaking her head. Still resisting.
Ukon turned his head toward her, eyes wide with fear. Real fear. His voice was weak, hesitant.
"Stop it, Ta—" He caught himself, blinking in alarm. "Prisoner Two-One-Three."
Kimiko arched a brow. But then she smiled, slow and pleased, stepping toward him with effortless grace.
She raised her cane, but instead of striking him, she let the iron ball at its head caress his bruised cheek, cold metal dragging lightly against his skin. Ukon barely breathed, frozen in place.
"See?" Kimiko murmured. "You can be obedient when you want to be. That pleases me."
She tilted his chin up, uncapping a bottle of water and pouring a mere mouthful into his dry, cracked lips. The second he swallowed, she pulled it away. Not enough to satisfy. Just enough to make him crave more.
Then, without a word, she moved behind him and unshackled his wrists. His arms dropped uselessly to his sides, muscles trembling from strain.
Kimiko grabbed him gently by the collar, lifting him as though leading a favored pet away from its cage. She glanced at Tayuya, still slumped on the floor, her head hanging.
She shook her head, voice filled with quiet disappointment.
"I expected better from you, Prisoner Two-One-Three. I thought you knew how to survive. Perhaps I was wrong."
She turned, leading Ukon away as if he had earned his freedom. As if he had been rewarded for his submission.
Stopping at the other end of the room, she propped him against the farthest wall, deliberately separating them for the first time. Letting the distance sink in. Letting Tayuya watch as her only remaining ally was taken from her.
Kimiko reached for the door, pausing just before stepping out. Without looking back, she called out:
"I'll leave you both alone. I'll be back soon… for whoever learns their lesson first."
With that, she stepped into the light, sealing them in darkness once more.
Outside, Kimiko was met with a surprising sight—Ibiki, arms crossed, smirking at her.
"You've had a productive day," he remarked.
"Captain," Kimiko greeted dryly, wiping her hand. "I have. Especially since you conveniently left me with all the paperwork. And here I thought mission reports were bad."
"You thought wrong," Ibiki deadpanned. "Good work in there. Your technique could use some refinement, but they're close to breaking. Nice touch on separating them. What was your reasoning?"
"To feed their paranoia," she answered without hesitation. "They already mistrust each other. The first time, I had them beat each other. The second, I punished the one who refused to comply by hurting the other, reinforcing the idea that—"
"Their enemy isn't you, but each other," Ibiki finished, nodding in approval. "Clever. Using Orochimaru against them was smart too." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "All in all, a solid first session."
Kimiko allowed herself a small smirk, but Ibiki didn't let her bask in it for long.
"Oh, and you're coming with me," he said abruptly.
"To?" Kimiko asked, raising an eyebrow.
"A Tokubetsu Jonin-only event. We're celebrating Hayate and Anko's promotion, and officially inducting you in," Ibiki explained.
Kimiko grinned. This was perfect. Not only would she get to congratulate Hayate on officially being adopted into her family, but she'd also have the chance to mingle with the other Tokubetsu Jōnin—a great opportunity to learn how things really worked at this level.
"Uh oh," she teased, shifting on her feet. "Should I be expecting some kind of hazing?"
Ibiki chuckled. "Nah. The hazing ritual we usually do wouldn't sit well with your sensei or your sister, and we'd rather keep our heads."
"Oh, good," Kimiko replied smugly. "And just so we're clear—no alcohol. My mom would kill me if she found out I even took a whiff of it."
She turned to the guards, her voice even and precise.
"Lower the temperature as much as possible. Let them freeze." She paused, considering. "And if feasible—make sure they can smell food."
Without another glance back, she turned on her heel and exited alongside Ibiki, leaving the prisoners to the cold and the gnawing scent of what they couldn't have.
Ibiki led her to one of the barbecue restaurants she often passed on her way to missions. The rich, smoky scent of grilled meat filled the air as they stepped inside. To her surprise, they were late—the rest of the Tokubetsu Jōnin had already gathered, deep in conversation over sizzling platters.
The first to notice them was Hayate, who smiled warmly at her before calling out, "Ibiki-san and Kimiko-chan finally decided to show up."
At his words, the group turned their attention toward them.
"Oh, look who finally graced us with their presence," Genma drawled, shifting his ever-present senbon from one corner of his mouth to the other. He upnodded the both of them as they took their seats. "Good thing you brought the rookie along."
"Hi, Genma-sama," Kimiko greeted, flashing him a polite smile. He gave her a lazy wave in return.
Beside him, Raido, the scarred Hokage Guard, shook his head with a sigh. "Seriously? I remember when you were just a baby, and now you're sitting here with us?" He leaned back, rubbing his temple as if the thought gave him a headache. "Guess your old man was right when he said you'd be a great ninja."
"Well, that's true," Aoba quipped, still wearing his signature tinted glasses as he grinned at Raido. "Or maybe you're just old."
Laughter erupted around the table.
At the far end, Anko was sprawled in her seat, twirling a chopstick between her fingers. "Man, I'm gonna miss you idiots," she muttered, shaking her head.
Ibiki smirked. "Uh-huh. From what I heard, you couldn't wait to roll into your new responsibilities."
"Yeah," Aoba chimed in. "Didn't they already have a team lined up for you?"
For the briefest moment, something unreadable flickered across Anko's face before disappearing just as quickly. Ibiki caught it—Kimiko could tell by the slight shift in his expression.
"Well, I, for one, am just glad you'll be their problem now, not ours," Genma teased. "And in exchange for you and Hayate, we get Konoha's sweetheart." He turned his smirk toward Kimiko, and Anko joined in, mirroring his expression.
"I'm still pissed you went with Ibiki," Anko huffed.
"Oh… well…"
"Nah, I'm messing with you," she snorted. "Now that I think about it, you're a perfect fit for him."
Kimiko narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "What makes you say that?"
Anko grinned. "He already buried you in department paperwork, didn't he?"
Kimiko sighed dramatically. "Yes."
The table erupted into chuckles. She supposed it was a rite of passage.
"See," Anko said, leaning forward with a smirk, "if they made me do that on my first day, I'd have quit being a ninja entirely. The fact that you've got the patience for that crap? Means you're already a perfect fit."
Another round of laughter filled the room before the Tokubetsu Jōnin fell into easy conversation among themselves.
The older ones—Genma, Raido, Ibiki, and Aoba—took it upon themselves to give her advice, sharing tips on how to thrive in her new role. Between the lessons, they wove in stories from past missions, war tales, and firsthand experiences that painted a vivid picture of what it truly meant to be part of Konoha's elite.
The younger ones, like Anko, took a different approach. They spoke less about survival and more about how she could carve out her own name among her peers. Anko, in particular, had an almost mischievous glint in her eyes as she relayed her own struggles and victories, nudging Kimiko toward standing out rather than simply keeping up.
As she listened, Kimiko realized just how formidable the people at this table were.
Sure, in the anime, some of them barely got any screen time. But compared to the nameless ranks of Genin and Chuunin who blurred into the background, these individuals had presence. They had stories, skills, reputations. Even a casual fan of the series would at least recognize their faces, if not remember their names.
And there was a reason for that.
They were Konoha's elite. The ones the Hokage and village leadership knew by name, the ones called on for specialized missions, the ones whose skills and influence quietly shaped the course of Konoha's future.
And now, she was one of them.
It was no longer a question. No longer a future possibility.
She had stepped into this world, and there was no stepping out.
Her actions, her successes, and even her failures would not only reflect on her, but on the village itself. She was no longer just an up-and-coming kunoichi—she was part of Konoha's machinery. Part of the unseen forces that kept the village running.
The weight of that realization settled deep within her, both humbling and exhilarating.
"You've been quiet," Hayate remarked as he stepped up beside her.
Kimiko blinked, momentarily pulled from her thoughts, before offering him a warm smile. "Oh, Hayate-nii-san," she greeted, immediately leaning in to bump cheeks with him. The gesture earned a few amused looks from the others at the table, but by now, it seemed her habit of physical affection was becoming something of a staple.
Hayate chuckled, shaking his head. "Hi, just wanted to give my personal congratulations again," he said, looking at her with fond pride. "I still can't believe it. My junior student—a Tokubetsu Jonin, Vice-Captain of a prestigious division…"
Kimiko tsked, tilting her head playfully. "Hayate-nii-san," she corrected. "Your younger sister. "
She reached forward, clasping both of her hands around his. "You ought to start saying that now. You've been Father's student for as long as I've been alive. He treated you like a son and insisted we treat you like our brother." Her smile softened. "It would make him happy if you started treating Kurenai and me as your sisters, too. You have his name. You should also perform your responsibility as his son."
Hayate exhaled, rubbing the back of his head. "It's still surreal to me. I never expected this, you know—being part of your clan." He sighed. "Much less leading it. Seriously, an adopted son?"
"Sons are usually adopted for that exact purpose, yes," Kimiko teased, smirking. "Besides, you know Kurenai. She doesn't say it, but she's a bit traditional. She wants to marry into Asuma-sensei's family."
"And you?" Hayate prodded, raising a brow.
Kimiko hummed, tapping a finger against her chin. "Marriage…" she mused. "It feels like something that's still too far off. There's so much I want to do as a kunoichi first."
She hesitated for a moment before continuing, her voice quieter, more contemplative. "I know what's expected of female shinobi when they get married."
It was one of the unfortunate realities she had confirmed for herself. Women in the shinobi world weren't forced to retire when they became mothers, but their roles changed. They shifted from warriors to protectors—not of villages or battlefields, but of their homes, their families. They became nurturers of the Will of Fire, raising and training the next generation while ensuring they lived long enough to inherit it.
There was honor in it. A necessary duty.
But Kimiko understood herself more now than she ever had before.
She didn't just want to be a great kunoichi—she wanted to stand at the highest peaks. To reach beyond what anyone thought possible. To be a name etched in history, a legend among shinobi.
And that meant marriage would have to wait.
Hayate must have seen the resolve in her eyes because he nodded. "I understand," he said gently. "And I'll support whatever path you decide to take."
Kimiko tilted her head expectantly. "As my…?"
Hayate let out a soft chuckle before answering, "As your elder brother. "
"There we go," Kimiko said in amusement, her lips curling into a smile. "Anyway, do you have your first assignment as a full-fledged Jonin yet?"
"Yes," Hayate replied with a small, satisfied nod. "And it's something I've always wanted to do." He paused for a moment before continuing. "They're assigning me to lead a Genin team. I don't know who my students will be yet, but the decision has already been made."
Kimiko hummed thoughtfully. That made sense. Hayate had always been a natural teacher—patient, perceptive, and skilled. Their father had treated the role of a sensei as sacred, an extension of a shinobi's duty to the next generation, and he had undoubtedly instilled that belief in his most promising student.
"Well, whoever they are, they're lucky to have you," Kimiko said with a warm smile. "I'm sure they'll be great under your guidance."
"I hope so," Hayate replied, his expression soft with gratitude.
"Which reminds me, I need to get back to the office," Kimiko sighed, pushing herself up from her seat.
"Eh?" Ibiki raised a brow. "You've been at it for hours. Take a break."
"No rest for the beautiful," Kimiko said with a playful scrunch of her nose before waving a hand dismissively. "I'll close up. Thanks for the dinner, Ibiki-san."
"Your choice," Ibiki said with a shrug before turning back to the others. "Alright, now that the kid's gone—who's up for drinks?"
A chorus of cheers erupted behind her as Kimiko descended the steps, her presence lingering even as she left.
The door to the pitch-black chamber creaked open, and the icy air inside hit her skin, sending a shiver up her spine. It seemed they really had cranked the temperature down.
Kimiko stepped inside, her heels clicking against the cold stone floor. Her gaze landed first on Ukon, curled into himself, knees hugged tightly to his chest. His eyes were wide open, unblinking, staring into nothing.
He's not even allowing himself to fall asleep unless I permit it. How obedient.
She moved toward him, gripping his collar with gentle precision, and guided him toward where Tayuya hung from her chains. Like him, her eyes were wide and distant, her arms trembling slightly from exhaustion. She didn't even react as Kimiko unshackled her wrists.
Kimiko tilted her head, studying them. Hm. It would be a shame if their minds had already broken completely.
Raising her walking stick, she tapped it lightly against the table.
Both of them jolted, the sudden sound shocking them from their stupor, and she saw their bodies move and twitch, like cornered animals
"Well, that woke you up," Kimiko said idly as she lit the now almost fully melted candles, watching their small, instinctive reactions. "Honestly, I step out for a minute to sign some paperwork, and you two fall into a trance."
No denial. No protests about how long she had been gone.
Good.
"Good job, by the way, Prisoner Two-One-Four, Thank you." Kimiko said idly, gauging his reaction. Now, if I did it correctly…
There was a beat of silence. Ukon stared at her, unblinking, as if struggling to process the words.
Then, Tayuya broke.
"You fucking … traitor ," she rasped, her voice hoarse from exhaustion. Her breath hitched, her body trembling with barely contained rage. "I knew it… I knew it… The smell of food… You were eating while I was tied up like a damn animal? "
She tried to lunge at him, hands reaching weakly across the desk that separated them, but her body gave out, slumping forward. Saliva splattered across the wood as she gasped for breath, her fury fueling her where her body had failed.
Kimiko hid her smirk. Perfect.
"I didn't betray anyone," Ukon spat, his voice shaking. "You stupid … whore … I haven't—"
"Liar," Tayuya croaked, voice dripping with venom. "It should've been your brother who lived, not yo—"
"You stupid bitch ," Ukon snarled, the last of his composure snapping. His eyes burned with hate as his breathing grew ragged. "Keep… Keep my brother's name out of your fucking mouth. I'll… I'll kill you."
Kimiko didn't intervene, didn't speak. She simply watched, observing the way they glared daggers at each other, the fragile remains of their bond crumbling before her eyes.
Exactly as planned.
Kimiko slammed the weighted head of her staff against the desk with a sharp crack . Instantly, they flinched, recoiling like startled cats. Amusing.
"As entertaining as this little performance is," she said smoothly, letting her eyes drift between them, "I didn't come here to watch you two bicker." She paused for effect, then leaned forward slightly. "Let's be direct. I already have what I need. One of our Mind Arts specialists made a breakthrough with Kimimaro while he was in a coma. We've taken all the information we required."
Silence.
Tayuya's lips pressed into a thin line, her expression flickering between skepticism and unease. Ukon wasn't much better. Neither spoke, but Kimiko could see it—the hesitation.
"I know what you're thinking," she continued, her voice gentle, almost sympathetic. "That I'm lying. That Kimimaro , the strongest of you, the most devoted to Orochimaru, wouldn't break so easily."
She let the words hang before flipping open the folder she carried, pulling out a single photograph. She placed it on the table, turning it so they could see clearly—Kimimaro, barely more than a husk of himself, his body wrapped in wires and tubes, restrained and helpless.
"You would be right, had he been healthy," Started Kimiko. "But…no matter how devoted the mind, if the body is in such a state…" She shook her head. "Well, even the greatest of us have their moments of weakness."
A thin sigh escaped her lips. "It's a shame, isn't it? What Orochimaru put him through." She shook her head, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "We're treating him now, of course. Now that we've extracted the necessary information, we have no reason not to help him. His chances of recovery are looking quite optimistic."
Another carefully placed lie.
She watched them, noting how their gazes lingered on the image. Doubt is setting in. Good.
"Strange, though, don't you think?" she mused, tapping a ivory, manicured nail against the desk. "Orochimaru… a genius of ninjutsu, a so-called immortal, and he has Kabuto at his side—one of the best medical nin out there. And yet, they couldn't save him?" She tilted her head, feigning curiosity. "I find that very hard to believe."
She didn't call Orochimaru a liar. She didn't call him neglectful. She simply left the thought hanging, planting the seed in their minds. Letting it take root.
"Then again," Kimiko continued casually, "perhaps Kimimaro's life wasn't worth the effort. Maybe they decided their resources were better spent elsewhere."
Another long pause. She let that sink in before sighing lightly, straightening her posture. "Anyway, forgive the tangent. As I was saying—we have everything we need."
She slid the folder shut.
"That means we have no further use for either of you."
Her voice remained placid, unaffected, even as she reached for another sheet of paper, tapping it against the desk.
"I've already signed off on your executions. The request has been sent to the Hokage. Now, I'm just waiting for the final approval."
Then, she smiled. A small, unreadable thing.
And she watched, intently, as the last remnants of their defiance fractured.
"W-What?" Tayuya suddenly stammered, her voice hoarse. She pushed herself up slightly, then slumped back down. "You mean… all that… was for nothing?" She spat on the ground, glaring at Kimiko. "You beat the shit out of us for—"
"Yes." Kimiko's voice was placid, as though she was discussing the weather. She let out a soft sigh, tilting her head. "I didn't want to, you know. But it's my job, and it was the most effective way to break you." She tapped her fingers against the desk. "I wasn't expecting the mind-dive into Kimimaro to work either, but here we are. We have what we need."
She shrugged, as if it were all so very simple.
"That means you die."
Tayuya flinched. Kimiko let her words settle before continuing.
"As I told you before, you aren't afforded any rights. You had your chance. You chose not to take it." She let the pause stretch, savoring the way the color drained from Tayuya's face. "So, you will be executed when I say you will be."
"B-Bulls—"
Kimiko shifted her gaze to Ukon, her expression unreadable.
He swallowed his tongue. Literally. The curse he was about to utter died in his throat, his fear of her displeasure outweighing his own arrogance.
Then— knock, knock.
Perfect timing.
Kimiko exhaled lightly, as if disappointed. "A shame," she murmured, shaking her head. "All that suffering, all my effort—wasted. But that's life." She rose gracefully, her walking stick tapping against the stone floor as she turned toward the door.
"WAIT!"
Ukon's voice cracked as he lurched forward, the desperation thick in his tone. "We can, we can—"
"You wouldn't dare. " Tayuya's head snapped toward him, her expression twisting with rage.
Ukon rounded on her, his patience finally breaking. "What the hell did our loyalty to Orochimaru get us, you dumb cunt ?" His voice was raw, as though every word was being ripped from his throat. "Nothing. My own brother was killed in front of me, and then this —" he gestured wildly around the room, his wrists trembling. "The demon who did it spent who-knows-how-long torturing us, making us beat each other with a fucking stick. I'm done. I—"
"I knew it." Tayuya's voice dripped with venom. "You've been feeding her intel this whole time."
Ukon let out a bitter, hollow laugh. "And what the fuck has your loyalty done for you? Huh? Where is he?!"
Tayuya's fists clenched, her body shaking. "Your brother hated you," she spat. "He wished you—"
"Kimiko-sama!" Ukon suddenly shouted, his voice cracking. " Please. Please. I know things. Things she doesn't. Things even Kimimaro may not have known. Spare me, and I'll—"
Kimiko turned back to him, tilting her head. Her lips curled into a sad, knowing smile.
"You should have been more obedient earlier," she murmured, voice laced with mock regret. "I'm sorry, but…"
" PLEASE! "
Kimiko turned away, gripping the door handle.
And without another word, she stepped out.
Beyond the door, Kimiko saw Kouki blinking at her owlishly before offering an awkward wave.
"Hello, Vice-Captain."
"Kouki-san," Kimiko greeted, raising an eyebrow. "Isn't it a bit late for you?"
"No," he replied simply. "I'm your assistant. I don't leave until you do. That's my rule."
Kimiko paused, surprised, before offering a small smile. "How reliable." She gave a slight bow. "Forgive me for being so inattentive and taking this long. I'll be finished soon."
"Please, don't hurry on my account," Kouki said, voice even.
Kimiko's smile lingered for a moment before she suddenly stopped, waiting in silence.
Kouki frowned slightly. "Vice-Captain?"
"Just waiting for something," Kimiko murmured. "Should be good now."
With that, she turned on her heel and stepped back into the dimly lit room.
The last remnants of candlelight flickered over the two captives, their faces cast in a mixture of confusion and apprehension. Kimiko sighed as she settled back into her chair, folding her hands in her lap.
"…Fine," she exhaled, feigning exhaustion. "The Hokage was livid, but…" She shook her head. "She agreed. The two of you will be spared."
For the first time, something close to hope flickered in their eyes. Kimiko remained impassive, letting it simmer just long enough for it to take root… before she spoke.
"...But," she began, watching their expressions shift, uncertainty creeping in. "There was a condition. Despite my protests."
She sighed, shaking her head as if the decision pained her. "With the entire village calling for Otogakure's destruction, the Hokage refuses to appear weak by reversing the execution order completely. More importantly, she can't afford to let it be known that she's allowing two of Orochimaru's operatives—two terrorists who participated in the attack on Konoha—to walk free."
Kimiko let the weight of those words settle, observing the tension build in their battered frames before she delivered the final blow.
"So…" she continued, pausing deliberately. "One of you will have to stay here—considered dead to the rest of the world."
She tilted her head slightly, as if in thought. "While the other… The Hokage agreed to let one of you serve as a demonstration of Konoha's mercy. That we are willing to rehabilitate even those who once stood against us."
Kimiko exhaled, eyes half-lidded. "One of you will be given food, shelter, and the rights of any Konoha resident. You'll be free to pursue whatever interests you may have—without fear of reprisal." Her voice dipped slightly, just enough to let the gravity of her next words sink in.
"Unless, of course, you betray us."
She paused again, letting the silence stretch, watching their gazes flicker toward each other.
"And the other?" Kimiko said softly. "The other will stay here. In this room. With me."
She dragged a finger along the table's surface, voice low and deliberate. "Your daily life… subject to my whims."
There was silence at first… before Tayuya broke it.
"W-Who…" she rasped, her voice hoarse. "Who will you… keep?"
"That depends," Kimiko said smoothly. "Entirely on you two. Just as every ounce of suffering I inflicted was because of your refusal to cooperate and stop lying, your fate is also in your hands."
Another stretch of silence. Then, Ukon spoke first.
"...I'll do it," he said, his voice shaking but determined. "I'll—"
"You fucking traitor," Tayuya spat, her weakened body trembling with fury. "You'll be—"
"Kimiko-sama," Ukon cut in, desperation laced in his tone. "Ignore Prisoner Two-One-Three. I know things. I listened while my brother led them for years. I know things she wouldn't. I'll tell you everything, I'll make sure to—"
"...There are four candles."
The words cut through the room like a blade.
Silence.
Kimiko turned to Tayuya, her expression unreadable. And there it is.
"Pardon?" she asked, her voice soft, almost gentle.
Tayuya's gaze flicked toward the three nearly melted candles, her lips trembling.
"...There are four candles." Her breath hitched. "There's always been four candles. I was lying. I've always seen four candles. I tried to resist... But…" Her fingers curled into weak fists. "There are four candles."
Kimiko's lips curled into a slow, pleased smile.
"Oh, very good."
She stepped forward, wrapping an arm around Tayuya's head, pressing it against her shoulder in a mockingly affectionate embrace. Her fingers ran lightly over Tayuya's cheek before gripping her chin and tilting it upward, forcing their eyes to meet.
"Yes, you were a liar," Kimiko murmured, her tone sweet but edged with steel. "You believed in Orochimaru." A pause, as she let the weight of that realization settle. "But not anymore… right?"
Tayuya swallowed hard. "No."
Kimiko's fingers brushed along her cheek, deceptively gentle. "You know the truth now, don't you?"
Tayuya gave a small, trembling nod. "Yes."
"And what truth is that?"
A beat of hesitation. Then—
"...That there are, and always have been, four candles."
Kimiko's smile widened.
"Yes," she murmured, voice warm, almost affectionate. "I'm pleased, Prisoner Two-One-…" She trailed off, tilting her head as if reconsidering. Then, with a small shake of her head, she corrected herself.
"Tayuya."
The name landed softly, deliberately.
Tayuya's breath hitched. A flicker of something—relief, disbelief, a fragile, desperate hope—crossed her bruised face.
Kimiko reached out, taking her by the wrist with deceptive gentleness, guiding her toward the door. Step by step, she led her away from the darkness, away from the cold.
Behind them, a strangled cry shattered the stillness.
"There are four candles!" Ukon's voice cracked, raw with desperation. "I've seen it too! I've always seen it! Please! Please! Please! "
Kimiko didn't turn back.
She simply smiled.
"Tadaima," Kimiko called out, stretching as she stepped into the living room.
"You're home late," came her mother's voice from the other room.
Kimiko hummed, catching her reflection in the hallway mirror. She turned, watching the way her hair swayed, how the low light made her pale skin seem even lighter. Casually, she twisted at the waist, peering over her shoulder to check the curve of her back, fingers lightly tapping against her hip. Tap. Tap. Tap.
A rhythm. A familiar one.
"Oh, Mom," she interrupted her own thoughts, tilting her head. "Why are you still up?"
"Because we're here!" another voice chimed in.
Turning, Kimiko grinned as she spotted Hinata —and Naruto, both standing near the genkan, their expressions bright.
"Hina-chan! Naruto-kun!" she greeted with a dimpled smile.
"Heh, my mission wrapped up early," Naruto said, rubbing the back of his head.
"Y-yes," Hinata added softly, her gaze flickering toward Naruto, a warm blush dusting her cheeks. "N-Neji nii-san said Naruto-kun was very reliable."
"Course I was!" Naruto puffed out his chest before pausing, glancing back at Hinata. "I ran into her on my way here, so I walked her over."
Kimiko wiggled her eyebrows. "What a gentleman."
Hinata, already pink, turned a deeper shade of red.
"Did you guys need anything?" Kimiko asked.
"Nah, I just dropped her off and figured I'd wait for you," Naruto said. "Wanted to ask how your first day went."
"Oh, you know," Kimiko shrugged. "Typical first day. I was nervous at first, but the people were nice. Ibiki-sama was a huge help—he even introduced me to the other Tokubetsu Jonin."
"Man," Naruto pouted. "Wonder when I'll be promoted!"
Hinata shook her head. "W-well, um... I'm sure it's only a matter of time, Naruto-kun… Oh, Kimiko-chan, is it okay if I… s-sleep over?"
"You don't even have to ask," Kimiko said automatically.
"Well," her mother's voice came from the doorway, "we already ate, but we saved you some food."
"No thanks," Kimiko said absently, still watching her reflection in the mirror. She tilted her head, then lifted the hem of her top, placing a hand on her bare, pale midriff. She pressed down lightly, feeling the taut skin beneath her fingers. "Already ate twice today. I'm good."
"Man, I don't get why girls can't just eat what they want," Naruto muttered.
Three deadpan stares immediately turned on him.
Kaori shook her head. "Anyway, it sounds like you had a very eventful first day. From what I heard from your brother and sister, your role is quite prestigious—especially for your age."
"It is," Kimiko admitted. Then, she shrugged, voice casual. "But I don't feel special. It's just a normal role. Just with more paperwork."
Kaori raised a brow. "And do you enjoy your responsibilities, at least?"
Kimiko paused—just for a second. Then, she shrugged again.
"They're alright." A brief beat. "Nothing to write home about. Or lose sleep over."
She smiled.
And the conversation moved on.
