Naru woke to a familiar pain. Head hanging on her chest because the muscles in her neck were too weak and too stiff to keep it upright. Skin caked in dried blood and old grime. It itched and prickled, and she was half convinced it would come off with the dirt if she scratched at it. Not that that was an option. Her wrists had been chained to the wall above her head for days now. Arms long gone numb, yet somehow still burning and shoulders alternately screaming in pain or just dully throbbing in sync with her heartbeat.
She'd found herself in that position a lot lately, but never this long. When was the last time she'd had food? Water? It seemed like weeks. She couldn't even remember. There were so many things she couldn't remember, and didn't want to. Pale face and golden eyes. A friendly smile, twisted in anger, then came the pain, so much pain.
She'd had questions in the beginning. Where's mama? And papa? Who are you? Many, many questions. Pain was a good teacher though. Don't ask, don't suffer. Easy. Effective. It was one of his favorite tools. Pleasure was the other, and they worked so well together. When there was nothing but pain, always pain, feeling numb became bliss. He liked drugs too. Here, take a pill and feel alive.
But only good children got to not be in pain and Naru had never been a very good child. He liked her because she was smart, that was how she'd gotten her name. She didn't remember the real one. The one from before. He'd said it didn't matter. He'd given her a new one, a gift. There weren't many with names. Most just had numbers. Hers had been seven. One of the first. Strong to last this long. A favorite. Sheltered, he'd said.
The others screamed when he stuck them with needles, cut them open or painted lines on their skin. They bled and begged and cried. Some lived, some didn't. He did it to her too. Once it was safe, once he knew she wouldn't die. She never got to die. Doomed to stay alive and suffer. Because she was his favorite. White snake. Monster among men.
He hid well. Slithered around their rules and beneath their feet. Weak he'd called them. Blind. But he'd been gone for a while now. Days at least. It wasn't right. They were his precious little experiments. His children. And they were screaming. Why were they screaming when he wasn't even here? Someone else was though. That wasn't right either. There had never been anyone else before, just the snake and the children.
Now there were animals with white faces and dark fur. One looked like a dog, but he didn't growl or bark. He just stood there and stared at her with mismatched eyes. One was dark, old and empty like her own. The other was red and spinning slowly. That one belonged to someone else. She could tell. He felt like thick, gray clouds and lightning. The eye though was fire and smoke, burning hot and excited, where the rest of him was like the calm before the storm.
The other children were wild things. She could almost taste their pain and fear in the air. They struggled and screamed. Fought for their lives. She didn't see why. What was the point? All another day would bring was more misery. They should be thankful to be granted death early, even if it was at the hands of more white animals. Her dog seemed nice though. He was still quiet, just watching her as she watched him back.
Her mind was fuzzy, she knew. Not enough food or water, too many drugs. She was burning up from the inside out, yet every breeze that slipped through the half-open door only made her shiver. The colors weren't right either, or rather there were too many, too vibrant. The lights down here were never that bright, but she could see everything. Even the things she usually just felt. Chakra in the air like mist and wrapping around the dog tightly. Then her chains were gone and the world suddenly shifted, sharply to the left and up.
"Bad dog," she tried to say, but it sounded slurred even to her. Naru could feel acid burning in her throat. Closed her eyes against the vertigo, but it was no use. She retched, spat what little there was left in her stomach out and onto the dog's black fur. He didn't bark then either, but his chakra curled in distaste. She didn't apologize though. It was his fault for not warning her.
When she woke again she was greeted by white. Ceiling, walls, floor, even the blanket that covered her. Everything was white. And then there was the dog of course. Still there, waiting next to her bed. Her mind was a little hazy, but she could tell now that he wasn't really a dog. His face was a mask, his dark fur a black cloak.
"Dog," she rasped out, forcing the word past dry lips.
"Hound," he corrected and held a glass of water to her mouth. She wanted to drink all of it at once, but he didn't let her. He was right of course. It would only make her choke or hurl it up again, but she tried anyway. He took the glass away when she wouldn't stop struggling. Stared at her with hard eyes until she heaved a sigh and gave up.
A man barged into the room, black coat billowing out behind him as if caught by a breeze. There were scars on his face, the top of his head covered by dark cloth and more of the white animals behind him. Men, she thought. They were men, not animals. That was important. Animals just did what they needed to to survive, but men did what they wanted. Men could be monsters.
"Bring her to room 6C," the one without mask instructed and the others obeyed. Was he the worst of them then? The others didn't seem afraid though. Their actions weren't hastened by the fear of someone expecting punishment if they didn't move fast enough. Maybe they were numb too.
Sometimes the snake got tired of punishing her because she didn't scream anymore. But why should she? It never helped anyway. He had seemed to like the sound, the song created by pain. Not screaming had become her own little rebellion. There wasn't much else she could do to defy him.
So when these people picked her up she didn't scream either. Nothing but a huff escaped her as her bruised ribs were jostled. The dog noticed though. No, Hound, he'd said. He took her from the one with a cat mask. Not gently, but mindful of her wounds. The cat didn't bristle and Hound didn't growl, so their odd little procession moved in silence. Out of the white room and into gray hallways.
These were a lot more like what she was used to. They were cleaner and the biting smell of chemicals didn't cling to the air, but they seemed familiar all the same. It was comforting somehow, even as echoes of old pain flashed through her mind.
Hound placed her on a wooden chair at some point. The room was square and empty but for a table and another chair. The maskless man sat down on that one. Hound moved to stand in one of the corners behind her, but the other two left without being told to. They knew this game then. Naru wondered if someone would explain the rules to her or if she had to figure them out for herself. She needn't have worried.
"I will ask questions, and you will answer truthfully and to the best of your ability," the maskless man instructed. He stared at her with hard eyes and it took her a moment to guess why. He was waiting for confirmation. She blinked, then nodded. That earned her a tiny smile and the killing intent she hadn't even noticed before lessened. How odd. The snake had always just expected that his orders were understood and followed. What he said was law, no discussions, no arguments. Would this man allow her to ask questions? What an intriguing thought.
Naru decided she would play his game, and play it well. When he asked if she knew the name Orochimaru she didn't just say yes. She told him everything she had ever learned about the white snake and what he did. It was fascinating to watch the man's expression. He didn't wear a literal mask, but his face was one all the same. The muscles barely ever moved, so at odds with the way his chakra simmered in quiet anger. Behind her Hound's was a veritable storm, but she didn't turn around. This game was about information and she couldn't give hers away for free. So when she was done talking she asked a question of her own, and when the maskless man refused to answer she did the same.
He was smart enough not to threaten her with pain. It wouldn't have worked. Instead he tried a different tactic. Offering answers as payment before she could come up with questions herself. The trades weren't fair, but he was in the stronger position and she didn't want to risk ending the game by testing the rules too much.
"My name is Ibiki Morino," he told her and then waited expectantly.
"Naru," she told him. "It's not the real one, I don't remember that."
It was good enough apparently, so they continued playing. For hours and hours he would share little things and get little things in return. He was the head of Torture and Interrogation, T&I for short. She had been the most important experiment, the favorite child. T&I belonged to the Intelligence Division. Orochimaru had been trying to change chakra somehow. Hound was part of the Special Assassination and Tactical Squad, ANBU. Naru was eight years old and her number had been seven before she got a name.
"The village you are in is called Konohagakure," he offered.
"What an insight," she scoffed. "I know that, I was born here. Your offers are getting cheap."
"They are indeed," he admitted, standing up slowly. She flinched back, expecting to be struck and toppling her chair in her haste to get away. Ibiki stopped dead in his tracks, watching, waiting. Hound's chakra had surged at the sudden movement, but he hadn't left his corner.
It took Naru several minutes to calm down again. She could endure pain, but that didn't mean she liked it. She nodded at Ibiki when she was convinced they were still playing the game. Just words, no violence. Questions and answers, those were the rules.