Post by Haruno Sakura on Mar 15, 2012 23:46:55 GMT -7
[/color]To reply to this thread you need to be one of two things: Kurai, or a spy within Kurai, meaning basically you need to have access to the Kurai meeting room.
To be a spy you must also take up the post within the Hozuki or Akatsuki meeting boards. If your character is mentioned as a spy in your history, good luck getting in - or sneak in. BE GOOD ABOUT IT.
I WANT OUUUUTTTT PLEASE.
How long had it been?
Days? Weeks? Months? The sun was a distant memory to the young kunoichi, the warmth of the land of Fire something of the past. She couldn’t remember what it looked like or how the grass felt between her toes; what the glow of healing chakra felt like as it passed through her fingers. Simple smells – cotton, rain, earth – were lost within her memory, suffocated by the dull scent of dirt and cement walls. She could smell mildew and rat shit; the tang of her fear and something darker that had spilled from her skin and onto the floor. Her blood was everywhere – she was shocked she wasn’t dead yet.
This wasn’t so bad, though… The first day had been the worst.
Miyoko had been nowhere to be found, and Sakura knew it was because of what she had done to the camp. Sakura knew from her own expertise that the other woman was nearly dead because of it and if they hadn’t fucking had to get everyone out of there, she was certain that Naruto could have taken her out. Instead, however, she had been in the fight of her life with the grey-haired woman to buy time, taking the injuries with a smile, goading her into paying attention to nothing else. It had been a battle for the history books, and it would have been in her favour if she hadn’t just… just allowed her that breather. If she hadn’t have had that time she would never had been able to flatten the camp, and Sakura never would have had to give herself in like that. It had been humiliating and crippling to the rebels’ hope and resources, and it was all her fault.
And of course, since Miyoko was on her deathbed, she had been left to the ravenous hands of her peons. The harm that had befallen her that day was something she would, in time, deal with – it was the mental torture that had gotten to her. If she wasn’t hard enough on herself, they had to rub it in to make her feel worse – there was nothing that any one of them had said that would make her feel better, and she hadn’t expected there to be. She had been hoping for some silence, for a moment to grieve for the life she could have had. The kunoichi didn’t care about the shackles, didn’t care about the pain – she cared about her people. What were they going to do without her?
Yes, she trusted Naruto implicitly, but he wasn’t ready for that kind of responsibility. He wasn’t mature enough, he wasn’t… His skills didn’t fall under what was needed for the leader. They had lost their best medic, their shield, and their leader all in one fell swoop. If anything, if Itachi had been around … she would have trusted him to take over instead of her blond friend. But no, he had left - from what the guards had said, he had been with Kurai the entire time as a double-agent. Why the hell hadn’t he said anything about that? Why hadn’t he sent a letter? She had felt hot tears spill down her cheeks as her fists slammed into the wall, her natural strength enough to leave cracks in the wall. The intense pain had set in a moment later and she soon realized her knuckles were indeed broken from that little outburst. Of course, it was needless to say she hadn’t had the chance to heal herself before the next round of interrogation started.
Miyoko hadn’t shown up for weeks, but when she did, Sakura’s loathing reached an entirely new high. The woman held herself like she was hot shit, like what she had done hadn’t displaced a serious amount of people and caused many their lives; acted as if drugs and guns and whatever the other sick, twisted things that came out of her mind weren’t things that were going to pollute society and ruin the hidden villages, if not the rest of the shinobi world. And then what? Where would they go? What the hell was she trying to prove? That she was the stupidest bitch in the entirety of the universe? Because if that was the case, Sakura thought this woman would surely win the prize. And how bland could someone be, honestly? The sad thing was that the kunoichi had expected nothing less, knowing how soulless this one person could be.
If Sakura was fine under torture before, she didn’t know what this was. The things that this woman could do, the things she could do… The kunoichi didn’t think she had ever screamed so much in her life, tears running fresh and hot down her face as her muscles tore themselves apart from the insides, her blood vessels being compressed and squeezed, leaking their precious blood into her organs and surrounding tissues… and that was just the beginning.
Mental torture didn’t often get to the woman, the Will of Fire being strong within her but… after a few weeks, she was cracking. The slate-eyed woman seemed to know every single one of her insecurities: her looks, her flaws, the things she had done to keep her people safe, the lust she had harbored for her friend, and finally her old lover, Itachi.
Kami, she couldn’t take it when the beast of a woman talked about him. There was nothing – nothing – she regretted more in this life then sending Itachi on that mission. It had cost her everything she had with him – their love, their future, their potential family. She had played on her feelings, had pointed out how Itachi had betrayed her and their people. Called her so many horrible things and goaded her about the child she had lost from stress with a particularly hard edge, as if it hurt her to say it as well, and when Sakura had brought it up with a sarcastic remark, she was rewarded with a swift backhand and a torn shirt, Miyoko’s too-pretty lips much too close for her own for her to bear.
And then she had spoken to her, much too gently, her breath tickling her ear in a way that was almost intimate as her hands travelled up marred skin, smearing blood against the porcelain flesh. Sakura’s hands had fisted around their chains, pulling hard as she tried to lean away from her, the movement causing the rattle of chains to echo around the room. It wasn’t because she didn’t want to be touched like that – it was partially that – but it was because of what those hands had done to her, done to her people, done to her home. It had felt like fire against her skin, but the growled threats of future harm seemed to do nothing to the grey-haired leader: in fact, it seemed to make her want to do it more. That was what had finally caused her to break: the soft caresses and intense pleasure that Miyoko brought to her, all while she begged for it to stop. All the other woman had said was
“Can he do this to you?”
A dry smile crossed parched lips at the memory, though her dull eyes grew harder than they were previously. After a while, it became a regular thing. Soon enough after that she had gotten used to it, almost wanted her to come more often. The pleasure grew more intense, the satisfaction enough to keep her from the dark for another day, and Miyoko knew it. Sakura knew if she kept her occupied this way that there would be no more of that unbearable physical pain, and as such, she had dealt with it and degraded herself to the point of begging for it. The sad thing was that she knew she was doing to keep the other woman distracted, but after time… well, she kinda started to like it. It was just one more thing to add to her list of flaws that Miyoko could pick on, and this one stung almost as much to the jibes about her raven-haired lover.
More time passed. Days, weeks… She didn’t know anymore. The room was windowless and her only inidicators were the small slivers of light that creeped through the cracks in her door on the rare occasion she was awake. Most days she had passed out from sheer exhaustion or from the pain or blood loss or the weight of her own despair. She prayed for a chance to get out, to get help – anything.
And then one day, someone had left paper near the bars of her cell, and Sakura had captured it between shaking fingers. Finally, something she could do – thank the gods she had learned a thing or two about getting messages out. There were spies here, she knew, and though they couldn’t help her out, maybe they could help her with this. Sakura had bitten through her thumb and used her nail to scrawl a note of objectives to her people, praying that they could understand the cramped, messy handwriting. It had taken her a few days to finish it but soon enough she was done, and she folded her prize up carefully before passing it off to one of the many disloyal guards, smirking just slightly to herself.
Her satisfaction hadn’t lasted long – Miyoko had soon found out and come for her. Sakura didn’t think she’d ever been through so much pain in her life, but it had been well worth it. The smirk had never left her pretty face, no matter how hard she hit – no matter what she said. Knowing that her word was out there was enough to keep a sliver of hope alive within the pink-haired kunoichi, and a sliver was all she needed.
That was, of course, until no one had come. It had been weeks at least since she had sent that letter out, and she was starting to get the feeling no one was coming. Miyoko didn’t even have to say anything about it – Sakura could beat herself up just fine over this, and she was soon sent spiralling downwards, taking to devising her own methods of escape. On one occasion she had finally stored enough chakra to snap her chains, bend the bars of her cell and take out a fair number of guards before being captured and thrown back into her cell, chakra-disrupting handcuffs in place. She had never felt so helpless in her life, and that was all anyone needed to know.
And so there she had sat, day after day, counting seconds to pass the time before someone came in to beat her for the information she was never going to give. Miyoko didn’t visit much anymore, and the kunoichi was rather grateful for that – it was the last thing she wanted. The steady drip of water from the ceiling was enough to keep her hydrated and sane, and kept her mind steady as she waited, collecting chakra, watching the doorway for any hint of weakness. Guards didn’t stop to look at her, other prisoners feared her influence.
An opportunity was all she needed. One small sliver of time… And then she’d be free. [/size][/justify][/blockquote]
