Warning:The chapter contains gore.
(Akio POV)
--------
riiiing
As I "wake up" at 5 a.m., the first rays of dawn filter through the window, gently nudging me from my "slumber." I grab my toothbrush, brushing with the minty taste of toothpaste slowly bringing my senses to life. Still half-mentally drained, I stumble into the shower, where warm water cascades over me, washing away the remnants of metal fatigue and preparing me for the day ahead.
Once refreshed and dressed in a simple white shirt, black pants, a black jacket, and my blue pendant (because why not?), I head to the kitchen to reheat the Anbu rations on the stove. It consist of a balanced mix of rice with barley, protein sources such as meat or fish, and an assortment of pickled or fresh vegetables. To add a burst of flavor, there's umeboshi, a type of pickled plum, along with shoyu sauce and miso or bean paste. Green tea accompanies the meal, offering a soothing, antioxidant-rich beverage.
A typical field ration includes 1½ cups of rice, often mixed with barley. This combination is a nod to historical lessons learned during the Warring States period, where nutritional deficiencies like beriberi were rampant among shinobi and hence barley's inclusion helps combat such deficiencies, ensuring a balanced diet.
tick-tick
The meal also features ¼ cup of canned minced beef, providing essential protein to sustain energy levels. A side of 1¼ cups of canned cabbage adds fiber and vitamins, while sweet potato and bean sprouts offer additional nutrients and a slight crunch. For a touch of sweetness, there are canned peaches and mandarin oranges.
To complement these components, 3 teaspoons of pickled radish (typically daikon) and pickled cucumber add a tangy zest. Umeboshi, scallions, and ginger are included to enhance the flavors further, making the meal not just nutritious but also enjoyable to eat.
Well the last part seems true if your taste bud is dead, because they are beyond tasteless.
After finishing my meal, I make my way to the office. The streets are semi-deserted at this early hour, providing a peaceful walk.
At this time of day, the city streets are already stirring with activity, as civilian jobs start around 8 a.m. Only the early risers or shinobi with ninja-like stealth are out navigating the urban landscape this early.
buzzz
While the noise here pales in comparison to vehicle horns—based on my memories from the transmigrated soul—I still don’t enjoy enduring it, even if I no longer have a truly human body.
Some things are simply beyond my control.
Suddenly, a voice shatters the morning's calm, jolting everyone from their slumber from the comfort of their home.
“YOUTH!!!”
With a resigned sigh, I wave in acknowledgment, already aware of who it is.
"Good morning," he greets, undeterred by my lack of enthusiasm, before resuming his eccentric training routine, traversing the streets upside down.
After that awkward encounter, I resume my walk to the office, resisting the temptation to use the Body Flicker Technique or that jutsu to get there faster.
Upon reaching the academy, I pause, glancing up at the Hokage's monument looming over the village from the tallest mountain in the Land of Fire.
click-click
Approaching the mountain, I knock on its smooth, vertical surface in a predetermined pattern.
Click.
The false wall slides open mechanically, revealing the entrance to the hidden tunnel.
As I step inside and slide the wall back into place, the Anbu Black Ops guards inspect me swiftly and efficiently before allowing me to pass. The torch-lit tunnel stretches ahead, with only a flicker of light visible at the far end.
Emerging from the tunnel and donning my rat mask from the inner pocket of my jacket, I find myself in a cavern lined with nondescript buildings. The largest of them is the Anbu headquarters, where I now head.
Inside, I walk directly to the receptionist’s desk, where a woman sits with a bored expression, doing her job as the Anbu receptionist.
"Codename?" she asks, her tone completely devoid of enthusiasm.
"Nezumi Ichi," I respond, equally apathetic.
“Gender?”
“Male”
“Age”
“24”
"Occupation?" she continues, flipping through papers.
"I’m the First Anbu Squad Leader of the White Ops Division and an Anbu Torturer in the T&I Subdivision of the Grey Ops Division," I reply flatly.
(It's become so routine I answer it unconsciously.)
ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
‘Damn this useless body,’ I curse inwardly, before I shake it off as usual.
As the Anbu receptionist verifies my information, I feel the indifferent stares of the guards around the building, performing their duties despite their physical disability and mental hindrance which few know of.
"Your identity has been confirmed. Here’s the key to your workplace," she says, her voice still flat as she hands me the key, an impersonal gesture that suits me just fine.
Exactly the way I prefer it.
I accept the key with a nod and head up the stairs to the second floor, still lacking any enthusiasm.
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"Good morning, Akio-kun," one colleague greets as I pass, his tone as monotonous as mine.
"Good morning, Akio-san," echoes another, their voice equally devoid of warmth.
"Good morning," repeats a third, the words empty and mechanically….actually never mind, he just blurted it out in his sleep.
I acknowledge them with a brief nod before entering my office—my designated torture room—unlocking the door with the key.
Click.
Once inside, I settle in, ready to perform my duties with the same disinterest I always feel.
whoooosh
With no captives today, as the flow of prisoners fluctuates, I immerse myself in the familiar pages of a book I’ve read countless times—revisiting the teachings of the Will of Fire, maintaining my ability to bullshit my way through conversations.
(And of course, it’s penned by that hypocrite.)
Even if the department is well aware of my… reputation, that doesn’t mean I can just say things out of line every time. I mean, I am employed here, after all.
After what felt like an eternity, a guard entered, brought the captive to my room, and handed the scroll over to me.
Unsealing the scroll, I read the details they managed to gather about the captive.
The captive, a shinobi from Kumogakure, had dark skin and a sturdy build, appearing to be in his thirties.
He was discovered alone in the Land of Rice Paddies, without any companions.
During his capture, he had suffered a concussion at the hands of the Anbu White Ops division, which required several days for him to recover.
Despite previous interrogation attempts, no useful information had been extracted from him, which led to his transfer into my custody. His chakra points were sealed, and he was restrained to a vertical whiteboard positioned in the center of the room, awaiting further questioning.
‘Yup, this is my first victim for today.’
Observing him closely, I couldn’t help but notice the way his mouth was tightly sealed, his eyes filled with defiance. It was a look I was all too familiar with, one shared by every captive who was sent to me—always the same expression.
With a soft sigh escaping my lips, I cleared my throat, preparing to initiate the interrogation.
“Before I proceed, I want to offer you one final opportunity to share any information voluntarily,” I declared firmly, my tone leaving no room for ambiguity.
As expected, his expression remained unchanged. It was a predictable response, yet protocol demanded strict adherence, or else the risk of me earning my 12th suspension was very real. (Though, as if that matters at this point.)
Utilizing my shadow manipulation ability, I initiated the process by entwining his shadows with mine.
“What’s happening?!” he yelled, alarmed as his own shadow constricted around his limbs and torso, tightening like a sinister embrace with every passing moment.
As his shadow tightened, his expression shifted from confusion to fear, realization dawning on him like creeping twilight.
‘You should have surrendered earlier,’ I thought as I commenced the torture, a silent lament for his defiance.
zzzz
“Aaagh!!”
His screams echoed in agony as shadow needles materialized, piercing his legs like ethereal daggers plunging into flesh.
“Please stop! Please stop!!”
His cries grew more intense as the needles traversed his flesh, rupturing nerves and cells, rendering escape futile in the face of the onslaught of darkness.
“Aaaaahhh!”
Careful not to damage his pain receptors beyond repair, I moved the shadows as slowly as possible to maximize the pain inflicted.
An hour passed before I finally dispersed my shadow, leaving a pool of blood beneath him, a price he paid for his resistance.
He lay panting, his legs crippled with pain, a vessel of defiance now reduced to a mere vessel of suffering.
‘Quite disappointing.’
He wasn’t some strong-willed shinobi who I needed to send to an Anbu Extractor to get intel. He was just a sheep following the shepherd, unaware of the butcher standing before him.
“Will you cooperate, or shall we continue?” My voice, a whisper that hung heavy in the air.
Tears welled in his eyes as he trembled, torn between divulging information to the enemy village or enduring further torment, the weight of his decision pressing on his battered soul.
Unfortunately for him, in my eyes, mercy was never part of the equation.
His hesitation was short-lived before another barrage of shadow needles plunged into his back, a symphony of agony playing out in the dark theater of his despair.
“STOP, I’M BEGGING YOU!” he pleaded, overwhelmed by the excruciating pain, his voice a desperate cry swallowed by the abyss of torment.
Ignoring his cries and the presistent ringing in my ears (which, honestly, I cared more about), I persisted in manipulating the needles, amplifying his suffering.
“I will talk! I will talk!” he insisted after 20 minutes, unwilling to endure any more pain.
Good, I don’t have to waste any more time.
“Now speak, and if I detect any lies, your arms won’t remain intact,” I coldly declared, holding a writing pad, ready to record his words.
‘He proved weaker than anticipated,’ I noted mentally, comparing him with other captives I’ve mentally broken through pain. I jotted down his disclosures while scrutinizing his body and face for signs of deception.
As he continued to divulge information, I closed the distance between us.
"I-I," he stammered, his trembling worsening as I drew nearer. The pool of blood beneath him expanded, a discarded piece of his flesh nearby—an unintended error on my part.
His breath hitched, and the air thickened with tension. His gaze darted around the room, limbs struggling against their restraints, searching for an escape that wasn’t there.
Riiiing
Eeeeee
Buzzz
Ssssss
Wheeee
Ignoring his theatrics and the background noises in my mind, I placed my right palm on his head for good measure.
"Mind Body Transmission Technique."
……
'Nothing out of place…'
He had indeed divulged the entire truth. His memories revealed no hint of deception. There were no seals or mental barriers in his mind (at least, I don't believe anyone would be capable of hiding them from me). This suggested either the information he provided wasn’t considered critical by his village, or it was an oversight on their part.
The former seemed more plausible, as I found nothing noteworthy, though I kept noticing a pattern with captives from Kumogakure and Kirigakure.
Of course, with the transmigrator’s memories, I wasn’t curious why Kumogakure and Kirigakure showed no inclination to participate in the war, unlike Ame, Suna, and Iwa, as indicated by the intel collect from their shinobi by force.
I just needed more concrete proof to make both the peace-loving hypocrite and Blamekage believe my educated guess.
Click-click.
After unlocking the door, I informed the guard that my task was complete, prompting them to remove the unconscious captive. I then ascended the stairs to relay the information to the Deputy ANBU Captain of the T&I subdivision after locking my room.
As for the captive, he had two possible fates:
Become part of the new vanity project approved by the hypocrite and Blamekage a day ago, getting closer to Mother Nature, freed from the shackles of this world. (Yes, I’ve learned quite a bit from that hypocrite.)
Or, he would become part of my experiment, where I needed enough captives to experiment on until the mortality rate for handling the power boost was reduced to 99%, with the assistance of the Gelel stone—at least enough not to kill B to S-rank shinobi the village have in hand.
Either way, he would be better utilized for someone's goal rather than being wasted in other scenario.
Though not saying this is a better fate for him.