Apparently, compiling a report and requesting a specialist Yamanaka to root around in my brain took a bit over a day or two. I was extremely interested to know what had been discussed as a result of the report Tiger had made following my interrogation, but apparently it had been kicked high enough up the chain not even the guards (who I was steadily getting on more friendly terms with) had heard a peep about it since the visit from the ANBU. If even the staff responsible with detaining me in the first place were being kept in the dark about what was to be done with me, then I was realistic enough despite my curiosity to accept I wouldn't be catching even a hint of what the top brass was currently saying about me.
In the end, all I could do was wait and see what came of it.
Wait and see… and prepare for the worst.
Which is exactly what I did the moment the ANBU had left and my guards had escorted me back to my cell. I hadn't seen Tsubaki in that time, but me buttering up the guards (who seemed to have developed a soft spot for me, with exception of the guard whose nose I had broken when I first woke up) granted me enough intel to know that she wasn't being confined in one of the lower levels with us for now.
Seems that, since she turned herself in, she was considered a non-flight risk. Ironically pretty much the opposite of me actually. I was pretty much a confirmed flight certainty, I just wasn't considered a threat.
Despite the woman ruining the first step of my already meagre plan, I still felt relieved to hear she hadn't been thrown down this hellhole to rot just because she wanted to help me.
When I wasn't badgering and entertaining the guard (which was surprisingly easy to do, considering how bored out of their minds they were and Mizuki having been a natural charmer), I stepped up my training in secret. Considering the guards only came to our cells to give the prisoners their food and collect them for various tasks and work details, that meant I spent the vast majority of the days it took the ANBU to get a specialist to genjutsu my memories working my ass off, for hours at a time. That much time each day meant I could fully immerse myself in the ancient way of Getting Prison Jacked, with the added spice that was chakra.
So there was the traditional calisthenics and body weight training, stuff I still remembered from my old life as well as habits ingrained into Mizuki's body, repeated often enough and diligently enough to the point it would even pass Gai's standards.
No really, that was how I kept motivating myself (in addition to the motivation my current surroundings and future threats provided). Whenever I got tired of a set, or my stamina dipped to the point I had spots in my vision and a burning in my lungs I thought of Gai, imagined him cheering me on, inspiring me with his 'youth'.
More than that, I imagined Gai, body burning red while a godlike Madara laughed in glee and declared him strongest of all.
Both aspects of that imagery, the potential gains and the potential threat, usually served to give me the needed strength to add more reps or get started on another exercise. He was of course completely unaware of it, but inadvertently Gai's determination and strength served to put me on my first steps to greater power than Mizuki had ever been capable of even imagining.
'I should buy the man a drink, once I get out of here. Just not Lee though.'
Hours upon hours of exercise until I was standing in a small pool of my own sweat, spent on nothing but push-ups, sit-ups, lunges, seated dips, overhead crunches, and whatever else I could think of that targeted a muscle group that wasn't burning yet, all of them made ridiculously easy with ninja balance.
Hell, at one point I wanted to bench-press my bed, but of course didn't have an actual bench for that full range of motion. So instead, I just let myself drop back into a picture perfect copy of a Neo bullet-time dodge and substituted the bench with the powers of chakra enhanced hamstrings.
Man, shinobi should open yoga schools, we were an absolute beast at flexibility and body control.
Those were all (muscle) memory, but then came the real secret sauce to take my puny body to Shippuden appropriate levels, get ahead of the power creep curve: chakra control exercises. And I do mean exercise in both senses of the word. For now, Tiger's reaction to my fear of incineration made me believe there was no immediate threat to me moulding chakra inside my cell, though I wouldn't go so far as to cast any techniques yet, didn't want to draw the wrong kind of attention.
However, controlling and refining my chakra should be doable and inconspicuous enough to keep at it for the majority of my waking hours. Additionally, combining physical training with chakra refinement would increase the maximum amount of chakra I could produce. Chakra is moulded from stamina and spiritual energy, so the harder I trained, the more stamina I got, the longer I could create chakra for my jutsu. However, eventually I'd be bottlenecked by my spiritual energy falling behind and being used up sooner, hence the focus on refining my chakra control, as studying and learning and new experiences increased your spiritual energy.
Most ninja preferred training the physical half of their chakra more though: even if you ran out of fireballs, you could still throw a decent punch, which was much more effective than throwing a research paper at your enemy.
"Tremble at my footnotes! Stand in awe of my bibliography! Please ignore my frail, unexercised body!"
It might have worked in academic circles back home, but in a military focused setting like this, punching your way to victory was the preferred method, hence why most shinobi could be considered the ultimate gym-rats, to say nothing of actual freaks like Gai and Lee, even if it meant letting their spiritual energy fall behind.
Though getting into fights and practicing your jutsu tended to work well enough to pump those numbers up to usable levels. Trauma and determination worked even better, a literal mind-over-body type deal.
If I wanted to increase both sides of my chakra capacity and control, then efficiency was the key here. Which meant Chakra Control exercises, or in my case, exercising through chakra. The most famous Shape Manipulation excercise was of course Wall-Walking as displayed by Naruto and Sasuke during the wave arc. Sticking yourself to a vertical surface while simultaneously reinforcing your body to not flex under the sudden shift in gravity. Forget that step and you'd be dangling upside-down off the side of a tree with your ankles bent at 90 degrees. Too little electro-static pressure then, and it was a steep drop. Too much and you'd blast yourself away like a human exploding tag.
Equal and opposing forces, but the tree was being much more stubborn than you.
Even in magic ninja-land, Newton was not to be fucked with. Which is why I started only gently experimenting with my nebulous ideas of making a taijutsu style based on intentionally doing Wall Walking wrong. Even Naruto and Sasuke (though with respectable reserves for their age) were able to strip bark from tree unintentionally during their training in Wave. Imagine striking at an opponent, but when he goes to block, you transition into a grip on his bare arm instead and overload the spider-man coating on your hand…
'Ouch… or just tear away your hand and their skin comes with it. Though their own chakra running underneath their skin probably prevents something like that, I can't really recall people sticking to each other mid-combat like that. Besides, the only surface I have here to place my hands against are the walls and the blow-back will probably shatter my wrists before it cracks the stone.'
As said before: even ninja dare not fuck with Newton. Even when I gently placed my palm flat against one of the flagstones and intentionally overcharged the field just enough to push my palm back, as if we were opposing magnets, it left a noticeable strain on my wrist. Sadly, until I strengthened my body or figured out a way to direct the backlash away from me, I wouldn't be slapping holes in solid stone anytime soon.
'There's my bed of course, that's a lot more forgiving but, well, I still need to sleep on it and that goes marginally better if it isn't full of holes… well, more holes.'
Back to the fundamentals of Wall Walking it was, considering I didn't have the proper surroundings to progress with more advanced excercises. The next step for control was of course water-walking. No more solid surface, instead of making your body rigid, you needed to send enough chakra into the water to make it stick together, artificially enhancing existing surface tension to create a 'solid' platform you could then stand on, constantly adjusting said platform to account for the flow and shifting of the water itself.
Which made me question if there was an even more advanced version of this control exercise, one where you gathered enough air atoms underneath your feet to stand tall in the sky? Was that how the shinobi from Sky Country did their tricks? Gai was able to kick off literally nothing but air pressure, but then again that was only in the Eight Gate.
Still, the potential for, if not outright flight, then at least some Wuxia wire-type flowy shit…
'The chakra cost would be horrendous though.' I thought somewhat dissappointed, shaking myself from my Crouching Moron, Hidden Tiger fantasies.
Even water-walking, especially for extended times, would eat up chakra at such a constant rate, some ninja could legitimately pass out from exhaustion, both their body's stamina and spiritual energy depleted. Which is why it was considered a key skill in separating genin from chūnin.
While Mizuki had been a chūnin (a mediocre one in the grand scheme of things, but still chūnin) and thus was pretty decent at Water-Walking. But he had never increased his level of skill with it, hadn't sought true mastery of it, hadn't tried to push himself even further simply because he had reached what was usually deemed as 'sufficient'. For all that he bitched and moaned about not having the power he felt he deserved, he hadn't actually bothered a whole lot in mastering the power he already had.
Lazy asshole.
Me though? Fuck sufficient. Fuck being mediocre. Being just average wouldn't guarantee my freedom. I needed to be exceptional. I would become exceptional.
'… Just as soon as I can draw out my chakra and refine it. Now… how the hell do I do that?'
I had felt the energy within me before of course, it was hard not to, something between a comforting warmth and an electric buzz (as if I just had a large filling stew made of Red Bull) underneath my skin sinking down into my very bones. Actively guiding its flow and drawing it out so that it settled in a sheen over my skin? Unless you counted faint whisps of power, sadly no.
However, now that I didn't need to fear incineration-by-seal (… probably) I could go further with it and I already had an idea in mind to connect with my mystical ninja-wizard bullshit energy: mediation. Meditation worked great to calm the mind and relax the body and hey, guess what, those are the two key components in chakra!
Not that I had ever attempted meditation in my previous life, but hey, I was stuck in a ninja's body with nothing but time on my hands.
'Worth a shot at least.'
And so I spent the rest of that morning on the floor of my cell, legs folded, back straight, palms face down on my knees as I tried to focus on my controlled breathing. At first, I got way too distracted by my surroundings to really fall into anything remotely resembling a proper state of mind. Meditation isn't easy when the world is just you, iron and stone. You hear everything. The dripping of the steam pipes. The scuffle of sandals. The coughs from Block D down the corridor. Not to mention the constant shifting and rumbling of the caldera.
After several hours though, without even consciously being aware of it, those various noises became singular distractions. Instead, they began to flow together. Repeats became rhythms, dissonance turning into harmony, every noise, no matter how sudden or distant, became part of a larger, overlapping tapestry of just… sound. No more, no less than just a presence of sound.
Which is when I realized the energy within me had shifted. My stamina and focus had dipped slightly, but in return I could feel a churning, growing presence behind my navel, a well of power that was just begging to be guided, to be used.
I called upon it, not really with muscles but with more than simply the mind, not forcing it in any particular direction, simply calling it to the surface of my skin, feeling it twist and coil and flow through unseen pathways within my body.
I (slowly, gently) raised a hand in front of my face and there, in flickers of mist and heatless flame, a pale-blue bordering on white, chakra danced over the surface of my skin. I didn't laugh out loud, didn't dare to, but my grin split my face, teeth visible in the dim light of my cell.
'Right… now to actually train it!'
Mizuki, for all his faults and weaknesses, was still a chūnin and thus already capable of producing the electro-static field for Wall and Water-Walking. A single leaf wouldn't do much to refine his control further.
So I didn't stick to just one leaf. Everything that wasn't screwed down (and in those cases, only if I couldn't unscrew them), heavier than a leaf and multiple at a time, forks and tin cans and even tightly rolled up bedsheets, I stuck to my body (all over my body, not just the forehead) while I did lunges and jumping jacks. Not regular excercises either, as there was a way to further tax my body and chakra. As mentioned before, an often overlooked but crucial step is the reinforcement of the body to ignore gravity's pull as you did your Spider-man impression.
So I did my set of sit-ups, flat against the wall, two feet off the ground. While upside down.
I did my push-ups, but against the ceiling, constantly adhering myself only by the very tips of my fingers and toes.
The increased weight meant I needed to expel and maintain more chakra, and the increase in items meant I had to keep this up several times simultaneously, all the while moving under extreme fatigue. Constantly I was expelling just the right amount of chakra, going off from what felt right, instinctive even, Mizuki's own experience telling my body what it had been trained to already know. Moulding the chakra felt like a weird core exercise that spread a warmth from my belly all the way through my body, even noticeably bundling up in certain places that I quickly guessed were the Eight Gates. Despite the internal warmth, it felt both slick and static when it actually left my tenketsu and settled over my skin, like a heatless flame wrapped taut around me. I could feel it pull against me and the surface of my cell, smushing us together like a plastic sheet that sticks to your skin after you've gotten static electricity all over you.
Having advanced to Water-Walking, Mizuki's control and reserves were enough to tackle any one of these problems with relative ease. All of them at once though? For the entirety of the first day, all the items I stuck to myself inevitably fell to the floor, sometimes with annoyingly loud clangs that made me freeze up and wonder if I caught the attention of the guard.
Even without trying actual techniques, just the act of moulding chakra, guiding it through my body and then expending it through so many points of contact in such large quantities began to drain my reserves. I could feel myself eating into my supply of stamina, causing me to become out of breath, a muscle soreness that seemed to seep down into my body, all the way to my bones and organs. Like that crash I once had after downing six Red Bulls right after another trying to make the deadline for my Master Thesis, the body just looking at your lifestyle choices and going 'nope! I'm out!'.
What somewhat surprised me was the mental tax as well though. Like that numbing feeling you get after a full work day, or yet another hour long meeting that should've been an e-mail, or an all-night study session because you have test, four hours of sleep and a dream, your brain fried and logic going out the window, instead being replaced with a not-quite sleepy feeling.
The mental tax was doubly annoying because the drowsiness began to mess up my control, forcing me to either exert even more chakra, or focus on my refinement, which took my attention away from my exercises leaving me with bad form.
When I fell onto my knees after my latest set of overhead crunches (fully putting into perspective to me just how far even average shinobi stood above baseline humans, as I had cracked the triple digits an hour ago) I called it a day and went to bed.
Despite the creakiness of the rusty springs groaning whenever I so much as twitched, I slept like a rock, only being woken when a guard physically slapped my cheeks because otherwise I'd miss breakfast.
I thanked the guard profusely (which clearly weirded her out), practically inhaled the bowl of plain white rice… and went right back to training the moment she had turned a corner, still shaking her head. With my stamina and focus back to normal (no matter how much my sore body protested), I was determined to make full use of my chakra again and so the exercises continued.
As the hours slipped past and the number of excercises and repetitions kept climbing, it became more and more difficult to maintain the constant static film, forcing me to focus more and more on moulding the different energies (both rapidly depleting from my continued chakra use and physical exercise) and draw them out more efficiently. Let less chakra escape my skin, but make the chakra that did escape stronger, denser, do it's job better even though there was now less to work with.
The idea of making my chakra 'tighter' or 'denser' somehow led me to consider an alternative form of Shape Transformation, arguably one as famous back in my old world as the Rasengan had been. It came to me when I was done with my set of push-ups against the ceiling (285, an ungodly high number back in my old world), cutting off the chakra at my feet and letting them swing down, but still clinging to the stony roof by the tips of my fingers, like Andrew Garfield's Spider-man in that scene where the cast first meets the alternate Spider-men in No Way Home.
I was watching the tips of my fingers, hanging as I was suspended a few feet off the ground, feeling myself slowly being dragged down by gravity, allowing the statically charged field of chakra lengthen and stretch before inevitably the electrostatic forces became to weak to overpower gravity and my bare feet slapped against the cold floor.
Still, the drop hadn't been a few feet, a little over a foot at most.
'Chakra Strings. Of course. They're basically the next step in expelling chakra through tenketsu and sticking it to another object, just over a vaster distance and much more refined.'
It took it even a step further by then allowing you to manipulate whatever thing you'd 'grabbed' with your chakra, somewhat similar to tactile telekinesis. From that realization onwards, whenever my body was literally too tired to even move, I'd lie down on my cot and hold my pointer finger in front of my nose.
Tenketsu were too small to be seen with the naked eye (unless said eye was a Byakugan), but if I recall Naruto's fight against Neji in the Chunin Exams correctly, then there should be two big ones on the underside of the wrists. They very well could be, but I (or Mizuki's body) wasn't adept enough at chakra sensing to really feel any noticeable difference there. So, for simplicity's sake, I focused on the tip of my index finger instead, calling on what little chakra remained after my exercises.
Pushing it out of the tip of my finger, it resembled a tiny flame like a candle or something. Extended past my skin, sure, but far from an actual Chakra Thread. Those could be meters long at the least and were just a fraction of the thickness, probably only as wide as the tenketsu themselves were.
Without a proper teacher, I resorted to trying to push the chakra further away from my skin without calling on more chakra to feed the small flicker in order to stretch it out. The next step was to strengthen the string itself. Chakra layered on the tip of a finger could be used to inscribe words into solid stone (or a toad's back if that was more readily available), so chakra, even without Nature Transformation such as the Hell Stab or the Chidori, was cable of cutting and carving, so I should be able to do the same with the tip of my Chakra String.
All I managed was a barely visible scratch against the stone next to my pillow on my first attempt. I also almost broke the top two joints of my index finger when the chakra cut out unexpectedly and I smashed it head-on against the rock.
'Right, back to the drawing board. Extend it from the finger… push it further, stretch it, don't feed it, keep it thin… now feed it chakra, but don't led it expand, make it tight, make it dense…'
It was… a slow process to say the least and somewhat surprisingly, the next day when I woke up I found not just the usual muscle aches across the entirety of my body, but that I had managed to overexert the finger as well, leaving it cramped for the rest of the day.
While Chakra Strings would be a valuable addition to my toolset, essentially being pseudo-telekinesis, I was unlikely to make any great strides with it unless I got my hands on an instructional scroll or picked up some tips from other shinobi.
Maybe I was lucky and they threw a Hyuuga in here? Some poor sap who hadn't bowed deeply enough when one of his more important cousins passed by in the hallway or some bullshit like that? Those guys were quite literally the clan in Konoha when it came to controlling and extending your chakra beyond your fingertips and sticking it to something else. They even went a step further and were actually able to make their chakra dense enough they could insert 'plugs' of it into another being that would persist even when they stopped supplying it with power.
'Nah, unlikely. Not only would no self-respecting Hyuuga share that secret with an outsider, much less a traitor, but I doubt the Clan would even bother with a jail like this. They'd just flex those creepy eyes, shout something dramatic like "you dare?!", just one handseal later and boom. Brains leaking outta your earholes. No need for prison then.' I thought dourly to myself and went back to trying to thin and lengthen the flicker of chakra extruding from my fingertip, no matter how slow progress was.
For now, it served as a capstone at the end of my training session (alternating fingers of course), when I had used up so much of my stamina and chakra I couldn't continue with my insane work-outs that would've given even Richard Simmons pause (mostly because I've taken to doing most of them upside down against the ceiling).
You think losing a teammate is bad? Watching a loved one die? Bitch please, you haven't known true pain unless you've planked for an hour while suspended against the ceiling, your raggedy blanket rolled up and hanging around your middle, suspending your prison cot underneath you. Despite the self-inflicted torture, I kept at the excercises. They'd increase my chakra reserves, eventually increasing the amount of techniques I could cast while needing less energy for each one, pushing the amount of spammable jutsu even further.
'Man, why doesn't every shinobi do this every day? The increase in control andreserves could be a game changer. Oh, right, because my everything hurts like a sonuvabitch right now. Ow. Ow. Owowowow…' I thought to myself, lying spread-eagled on the floor in a pool of my own sweat, panting like I'd just ran a marathon to Earth Country and back.
This rate of exhaustion would be unsustainable for any ninja that needed to remain mission-ready, but well, I didn't exactly have to worry myself with that, did I? The main question I had to worry about was: was any of this actually having the effect that I was hoping for?
Back in my previous life, I had been the type to check his belly in the mirror after eating a salad, annoyed I wasn't seeing an effect yet. Even when I started weightlifting, it took every ounce of maturity I had to accept that the benefits would only show themselves after a couple of months at the earliest and once they did, I got annoyed all over again because building up from those initial rookie gainz took even longer.
That was in my old life though, in my old, regular human body. Mizuki's body though? As said, ninja seem to have a much higher metabolism, making them naturally heal faster, to say nothing of the way chakra seemed to be able to grow and evolve in explosive bursts, owing to its spiritual aspect no doubt.
I had been at it with an absolutely gruelling pace during pretty much the entirety of my waking hours for the better part of three days now, and the changes were already noticeable. Not drastic. Not great enough for me to feel completely confident or safe yet, not by a long shot.
But noticeable. On that third day, I could tell I needed to mould less chakra in order to stick myself to the walls and ceiling than it had taken that first day. Not much less, but still, noticeably so.
Strangely, while it gave me a boost of determination to keep up the pace for as long as I could, it also made me angrier at the canon Mizuki than I already was at the bastard for landing me in jail in the first place.
'You damned, whiny slacker! If this is what your body is capable of after just days, then how were you still so weak after having had a full year!?'
Sure, he beat Iruka, meaning he had actually gotten stronger, but he still lost to the same twelve year old that had kicked his ass in the first place. Meaning that in the overall scheme of things, his power had progressed… by zero.
I would've punched the bastard in the face if it weren't for the fact that I was currently wearing it.
Still, though I had renewed determination to throw myself back into my self-inflicted torture session, my training that day was abruptly cut short by an early visit from the guards, two of them this time.
Over these past few days, I've found the guards are creatures of habit. The same ones rotate shifts in Lower Block B, four in total, never more, never less. Two per shift, two per each block spread across the lower levels. For my cellblock, there's Kenta and Ryoma on nights, and during the day there's Genda and Okabe. Genda's a wiry, sharp-eyed man with a crooked grin and a voice that always sounds like it's mocking you, even when he's not. A classic case of someone who thinks he's funny, only because he's never been on the receiving end of his 'jokes'. Anyone else just calls it bullying: smirking quips about escape attempts, limp threats wrapped in humour. Never enough to provoke, just enough to remind you who's holding the keys. Though he tends to go a bit further with me than with the other inmates.
Part of that is because I'm new. Part of it (most of it, I'm guessing) is because he was the guard whose nose I broke when I first woke up here. It was him and Okabe that dragged me to the med bay that first day and since then he takes every opportunity he can to loudly complain how I don't deserve to have my "rightful punishment for breaking his nose reduced just 'cause I'd gone schizoid".
His words, not mine. He won't shut up about it either.
Okabe doesn't talk at all. He does, however, chew sunflower seeds obsessively, always spitting the shells into a pouch on his belt.
From the anime and wiki, I know that Kotetsu and Izumi (though I always forget which one is which) occasionally help out at the prison as well. Most fanfics I've read had them as eternal gate keepers of Konoha, but considering their appearance in the prison and later at Ibiki's side during the Chunin Exams, they seem more attached to T instead, until Tsunade essentially makes them her errand boys.
Either they're back at Konoha or working another cell block, since it's Genda's sharp grin that greets me through the bars, thin-lipped and crooked, like he knows something I don't and enjoys watching me guess. He leans in just close enough for the sour-sweet scent of amazake on his breath to reach me, his eyes glinting with that familiar, mean-spirited amusement. The grin doesn't fade as he speaks. If anything, it stretches wider, like my discomfort is the punchline to a joke only he finds funny.
Genda taps the bars with his knuckles, the metal ringing sharp in the silence.
"Well, well," he drawls, that crooked grin already in place, "looks like your fan club's finally shown up. ANBU, no less. Must be your lucky day."
Seeing that I remain silent in the face of his taunting, Genda shrugs as he straightens, jingling the keys from his belt like wind chimes. He's lazy in finding the correct one, enjoying seeing me stew behind bars, even if only for a moment.
Jokes on him, even in the low light of the low-slung ceiling, Mizuki's eyes are adapted to the darkness well enough and I commit the number and shape of the teeth of the key that Genda eventually selects.
He unlocks the cell with a flourish, stepping back with an exaggerated bow.
"After you, honoured guest. Wouldn't want to keep the executioners—pardon, interrogators—waiting."
I keep my head up, back straight as I walk out of the cell, extending my wrists and allowing Okabe to shackle them with heavy chains, chewing on his sunflower seeds as always. I've quickly learned to give up hope on him trying to reign in his colleague. It's not that Okabe dislikes me as Genda does (the majority of the guards don't), it's more than he just doesn't like me enough to bother coming between us.
"Try not to wet yourself—those masks don't hide judgment nearly as well as you think." Genda can't help but remark as he and Okabe take position at my sides, hand firmly on my shoulder.
"Thanks for the tip. You're right, I can only imagine how the mask would interfere should they pull up their nose at me." I respond cheekily, the reminder of our first meeting not sitting well with the miserly man.
The grip on my shoulder tightens, painfully, but already these past few days of conditioning make it noticeably (if minutely) easier to bear than when he had first literally dragged me up the stairs and down the corridors.
'If this is the effect of just three days… imagine what three months can do- Oof!'
Clearly, Genda didn't appreciate my call-back, his usual smirk replaced by a deep scowl as he roughly shoves me forwards with each aggressive step, causing Okabe to nearly inhale one of his pits as he suddenly needs to hurry to keep up.
"Upstairs. Now." Genda growls and I decide to bite my tongue metaphorically, before I have an 'accident' on the stairs and am forced to do so literally.
The trip, hurried as it is by Genda's frustration, is blissfully short and to my surprise it doesn't take long before I'm standing before a familiar door leading to the same interrogation room where Hawk and Tiger had grilled me. The door is still closed and next to it, leaning casually against the wall like he's a part of it (even though his gaze is alert and focused once it lands on me) stands the sappy guard from before, Jūrō I recently discovered.
Though I'm probably the only inmate (or guard, for that matter) whose first thought upon seeing him involves the word 'sappy' in any way, shape or form, since he sure doesn't look it. Where Genda is wiry and Okabe is lithe, Jūrō is the stereotypical tough guy prison guard, broad-shouldered, thick-necked, and built like a battering ram. His face is all hard lines: a heavy brow, a crooked nose that's been broken more than once, and a scowl that looks carved in by an apprentice sculptor that only had a potato, a rough idea of human anatomy and an unsteady grip to work with.
Even so, despite the way he puts up an air of indifference, I immediately notice how that craggy face of his lights up when he sees me approach, before he badly hides his excitement.
"ANBU are here for ya, Mizuki."
"Thanks Jūrō. You gonna stay and watch again?"
"You know it!"
For once, Genda and I are united as we flatly stare at the broad man, who coughs sheepishly before shrugging and scowling fiercely again. Even Okabe's eternal chewing sounds judgemental.
"J-just for security reasons. Of course."
"Of course." I drawl.
Grunting, Jūrō leans over, giving a sharp rap on the steel door before opening it slightly.
"ANBU-san? The prisoner is here as requested."
"Good, send him in."
I was surprised at how relieved I was when I heard it was Tiger's voice, the man's stylized mask turning to silently observe me as I crossed the threshold, considering he was responsible for uncovering my escape plan in the first place.
'Probably the fact he kept a cool enough head to not immediately claim mine for Konoha once he did.' I think somewhat morbidly, my attention shifting to land on the other ANBU standing at Tiger's side.
Somewhat surprisingly, Hawk isn't there. While Tiger is clad in the grey combat fatigues of the ANBU, this new one is wearing a long cloak, wearing a mask with several coloured accents, but all I really get from it is cat mixed with racoon. The platinum blonde hair is a far better indicator anyways, and also a relief for a worry I hadn't even dared to think about.
'A Yamanaka. And not Danzo's pet one either, thankfully.'
"Sit." Tiger's command snaps me from my observation and knowing the drill by now, I swiftly take a seat, making sure to keep my hands above the tabletop, palms flat.
Tiger also takes up a position at the head of the table as he had done during my previous interrogation and Jūrō similarly takes his old spot by the door at my back (probably so I won't see him reach for a handkerchief, the big softy). Okabe silently takes up position in the far corner, self-consciously returning a sunflower seed to his pouch as he shrinks a bit under Tiger's forbidding gaze, even hidden as it is behind his mask.
To his credit, Genda seems less impressed with the ANBU, still strolling with his familiar swagger as he leans next to the small window overlooking the caldera outside.
The Yamanaka ANBU takes a seat across from me, movements unhurried, calm but precise, measured, the cloak not even rustling as it shifts around his tall form.
"Frog. Begin." Tiger orders in his usual brusque tone and I can feel myself and the guards do a simultaneous double-take.
'That's supposed to be a frog? Since when do frogs have whiskers?! … I mean, considering this place has giant rhinos and pink ostriches, they might have actually…'
"Mizuki-san. None of your memories of your life have returned to you, specifically those pertaining to your past dealings with the traitor Orochimaru, either due to your physical or mental trauma. As such, we shall place you under a genjutsu induced hypnosis which shall allow you to access them instead through your subconscious recollection. For the technique to reach it's maximum intended effect, a calm state of mind is required. Please, clear yourself of all thought." The Yamanaka starts, voice soft but certain, immediately snapping me from my musings.
"Tch, that shouldn't take long." Genda scoffs, still leaning against the windowsill, though he visibly shudders as Tiger's masks icily turns into his direction, the entire room falling deathly silent, even the lava sprays outside seemingly not daring to make a noise.
The ANBU doesn't even need to say a word, yet Genda ducks his head, shrinking a bit and I can't quite suppress a vindictive smile at that.
"Mizuki-san." The Yamanaka reminds me.
It's not a question and I sit up straighter. Right, calm mind, focus now, laugh at Genda later.
'I wonder… will this reveal more memories of my past life, or will I get a glimpse of Mizuki's?' I wonder, before going still, both body and mind.
Frog must've spotted it somehow, because he suddenly flips through a set of handsigns. Thanks to me repeating them over and over again the past few nights just out of the sheer satisfaction of pulling them off at speed (I still remember that time when I was seven or eight and me and a buddy of mine tried following Kakashi on the tv until I somehow managed to almost dislocate my ringfinger) I was actually able to follow them this time.
Dog, Snake, Ox, Bird and landing (ironically) on Tiger. Interlaced knuckles, index and middle finger pressed together and extended, thumbs up. The Yamanaka ANBU rests on the seal for a moment, before raising it slowly until its on eye-height between us.
"Regressive Hypnosis!"
A barely perceptible shimmer extends briefly from around his interlocked hands. I barely even know what's happening until I feel my eyelids almost forcefully being pulled down, arms lying slack on the tabletop, yet somehow I can't bring myself to try to resist, or even be alarmed by it at all.
There's… not even peace, just… nothing. An almost suffocating calm. From far, far away, impossibly distant yet sounding out from right next to my ear comes the soothing voice of the Yamanaka.
"Listen to my voice… listen to the sound of your heartbeat thrumming in your ears… right now, you are travelling forwards down a path that leads only backwards, backwards through your memories… keep going back into the past… back a day… back three days… back to almost a week ago… the night of your betrayal. Where are you?"
'Wha- where's Mizuki during the betrayal? Waiting in the forest of course. Mizuki had just tricked Naruto with some bullshit about giving him an alternative graduation exam if he stole the Scroll for him. Which, actually, raises so many plotholes. Why did Mizuki think someone who flunked the Academy was even capable of stealing the Scroll in the first place? Hell, why did it work? Seriously, how bad was security in this place! Where were the biometrically locked flash-frying seals?! How could people just keep walking in and out of wherever they damned well pleased! How many times did the enemies of Konoha enter past the gate in some of the most ridiculous budget-cosplay disguises you've ever seen, wasn't there supposed to be a fuinjutsu barrier around the place or something-!'
The calm voice of Frog cuts through my rambling, though he sounds a bit… off?
"The night of your betrayal. You wished to posses the Scroll of Sealing. In your statement made shortly after your arrest, you declared you wanted to learn its secrets to become unstoppable."
'Mizuki? Unstoppable? Hell, half the stuff in there would probably kill him on the spot, the rest of it… maybe? Kage Bunshin would be nice to know, but he doesn't have the reserves to utilize it properly. Same as with the other stuff that might be in there. He just lacks the basic fundamentals to actually use a power-up like that properly. Typical one-note villain who thinks he has the one unbeatable trump card, until he gets outplayed and is left with empty hands instead. Lazy slacker son of a-'
"If not for your own purposes, why did Miz-… why did you seek the scroll then?"
'Hmm, bartering it to Orochimaru most likely. Little weasel doesn't have any connections with any of the other villages and the Snake Bastard is always on the lookout for Konoha morons lured by pretty promises of power… wonder when they first met? Man, the timeline's so wonky… definitely before he started working at the Academy, must've been on the mission he strangled his own teammate. Still, where the fuck was Orochimaru that he actually saw that? Does he just lurk around in bushes spying on missions that pass by? … actually, knowing him he probably does, doesn't he? Also, how did he approach Mizuki in the first place? "Hey, nice job being a teammate-killing murdering bastard, wanna join the club? We have cookies." Yeah, right. Mizuki was too dumb to even realize he didn't get a proper seal like Anko, just some instructions for a potion… which I don't know how to make. Dammit. Didn't he steal from the Nara? Yeah right, hell to the fuck no on that front-'
"Did Mizuki receive any further instructions from Orochimaru? Any orders to meet at a hidden location? Any other agents he should report to?"
'Further instructions? Hell, I'm betting that for Orochimaru, Mizuki was the equivalent of a pump and dump. If I were to seek out the bastard now, I doubt he'd even remember me. Maybe the potion he gave Mizuki, but he'd probably just see it as a failed experiment and turn my skin inside out as an experiment or something… blegh. Other agents? I mean, sure, there are some inside Konoha-'
"Which ones?! Can you identify them!?"
'Whoa, Frog is agitated all of a sudden. Wonder why they named him that. I was so sure that those were whiskers-'
The sensation of a deep, calming breath. Strange, I'm already calm?
"Mizuki-san. Please, focus on my voice. Turn your attention to my words. Think back. Walk backwards through your subconscious memories of your past. Did you ever learn of any identities of Orochimaru's agents embedded in Konoha?"
'Orochimaru agents embedded in Konoha? I mean, the obvious one is Kabuto. Though does he go by that name already? Or is he pretending to be a ROOT agent at this point? No wait, he worked at the hospital, didn't he? Son of a doctor there or something? Which makes no sense, considering his mother figure was that one ROOT lady that led an orphanage or something. Wait, so is he Danzo's man or Orochimaru's? Man, no wonder the dude's cracked under an identity crisis, when I'm already getting confused about his loyalties…'
A long silence this time, somehow the drowsiness, that oppressive stillness pulling away just enough I can question it, before the blanket of calm smothers my worries again.
"Any other spies?" the voice says, though even in my drowsy state, I can tell the calm is definitely faked this time.
'Well, Kabuto's teammates for the Chunin Exams, obviously, since they defected not long after. Uhm, any others? Can't remember any. Well, there's the Suna nin that are allowed in once the Exams start, though I wonder if Orochimaru already killed the Kazekage at that point? Baki does bring out his report to Kabuto, so they're willingly working with Sound… Nah, I doubt they'd still work together once they find out their biggest star got murked, off-screen no less. Outside of Konoha… well, he's certainly not friends with the rest of Akatsuki, that's for sure, though Kabuto does work for Sasori. Or pretends to, at least… man, that guy has commitment issues…'
"Anything further to add?" the voice is strained now, the calm from before agitated and churning and I can feel myself 'waking up', a bit more aware of what's going on around me.
'Let's see, outside of Konoha… wait, there's that Hiruko guy, with the Chimera Technique! He was a childhood friend of the Sannin, right? Probably got on like a house on fire with Orochimaru, considering how closely related their Forbidden Techniques are. Orochimaru melding people to natural energy, Hiruko melding genetics together… they probably exchanged research and experiments, allowing Orochimaru to perfect his Curse Seal. And Hiruko does do a lot of animal crossing… Maybe he gave the beast-transformation potion to Orochimaru to use as a jumping off point for his research into natural energy? Intending Mizuki as a first test run of sorts? If so, then maybe Hiruko can help me improve the potion so it doesn't end up killing me? His Chimera Technique would also work well with Step 2 of my plan…'
The calm recedes, a blanket being pulled off my brain and I find myself blinking a couple of times before the room comes back into focus. The first thing that strikes me is the silence, even the rumbling of the caldera seeming distant. Glancing around, I can see Tiger leaning on both fists as he stands at the edge of the table, head bowed. Frog sits slumped back in his chair, for some reason seemingly exhausted, weird mask tilted back as he's staring at the ceiling.
The other guards are more expressive however, Okabe having a small pile of spent sunflower seeds at his feet, eyes and mouth wide open as he's in the midst of biting down on another. Genda's still at the window, but looks like he might try jumping through at any moment now, hands fisted deep into the pockets of his pants, face ashen-white, his expression stuck somewhere between shock, rage and… fear?
Craning my neck, I glance back over my shoulder towards Jūrō, the large man this time not with a handkerchief, but a… note pad?
"Man, this is some good stuff." He giggles to himself as he keeps scribbling, reminding me of a certain white-haired Super Pervert.
Glancing back towards the stressed looking ANBU, I manage to piece things together, leaning back into my chair and crossing my arms over my chest, the chains around my wrists clinking loudly in the silent room.
"I want to negotiate a deal. And I want my ninja lawyer." I state firmly.
Tiger's resulting glare is a Fire Jutsu all on its own.
Fun Fact: Depending on the kanji used, Genda can be read as "gen" and "da", meaning "field of origin". However, as "da" can also be read as "rice paddy", you could read Genda as "originating from rice paddies"…
AN: Slight edit, removed 1.2k words