Author's Note: Thank you for all of your support! I send my sincerest gratitude to JigokuShoujosRevenge, Caeleste, Guest, camomelody911, BloodyCamellia, Koneko, Tobi-Is-Fluffy-Chan, and Fiore12 for your reviews.

Chapter 4: Torture

{Part I}

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The sun hunkered down behind the mountains, and Aiko approached the safe house where Sasori and Deidara had taken up residence. She cautiously glanced over her shoulder, ascertaining that no one from town had followed her, and slipped into the shadows of the doorway. Sasori had told her that she would assist him with interrogations. Aiko closed her eyes. Throughout the day, she had attempted to sleep on her side, barely conscious, guts braided into unbearable knots. Torture and information extraction had not been part of her duties as a chunin in Konohagakure.

Doubting whether she would be anything but a nuisance, Aiko rapped her knuckles against the door.

It burst open.

Deidara stalked out of the house. Cramming his hand into the pouch of clay that hung from his narrow hips, blond hair limp on his shoulders, black liner smeared under his eyes, he stopped when he noticed the young woman. His disgruntled appearance made Aiko flinch backwards in disgust. Deidara looked unpleasantly surprised to see her, as well, and tugged his collar against his cheekbones. "Sasori is downstairs, in the basement, hm," Deidara muttered. "You better not keep him waiting."

Aiko sniffed, catching the faint scent of alcohol, and crinkled her nose. "Did you two have a long night together?"

Deidara stopped, annoyance betrayed by his strident tone. "Not as long as your night with him will be."

Careful not to take her eyes off him, Aiko gripped the door handle. "As long as I look human when I finish, I should be fine." She tugged open the door and crossed the threshold. Although she expected the safe house walls to be lined with the bodies of tortured souls, the front room was ordinary. Yellow, orange, and pink shapes flew in through the window and intersected on the hardwood paneled floors, dancing like fairy orbs, spurred on by the colorful sunset. Golden streaks flitted into her green eyes as Aiko discovered and approached a set of stairs that went into the basement. She gripped the railing.

Wooden steps creaked under her weight, raising her hackles, and Aiko kept her senses keen. A wail echoed through the cold depths of the stairwell.

"I already told you, I don't know when he's coming back, so leave me alone!"

"You really think I'll let you off so easily?"

Candlelight flickered from within the basement, casting a horde of shadows onto the toes of the eavesdropper, who crept nearer the crack in the door. Strange tools and gadgets had been separated into categories on the work benches. Above, cadavers dangled like animal pelts, but they did not belong to the scientists. Upon closer inspection, Aiko located three of the four captives, wedged into the far end of the room, drugged enough that they lay unconscious atop one another, a row of human dominoes.

The fourth scientist had been strapped to an operating table. Pants interspersed his desperate pleas, which fell on deaf ears. Sasori craned his scorpion tail over the head of the captive, poison beading on the tip, a swish away from envenoming his victim.

The scientist flinched when the weapon neared him.

"My patience has worn thin," Sasori threatened, "and your life hangs on a thread."

"Fine! I'll tell you about him—I'll tell you everything, if you'll let me—arghhh!"

The scientist convulsed, skin ashen under the harsh light, and vomited onto the floor. His eyes rolled under their lids. Teeth and shoulders clenched with annoyance, Sasori hissed. His head swiveled toward the door, then snapped to the incapacitated scientist, whose chest heaved. He glowered at the captives lined against the wall. Torture was a delicate art, and it had taken him an entire day to make this pest cooperative. His spidery hands wove signs under his cloak. "Where is that stupid woman? I told her not to keep me waiting!"

Aiko realized that was her cue. Her green eyes darted to the interrogator, and she leapt to her feet—but she was too late. The scorpion on her wrist clenched. Pain fired like a bullet into her peripheral nervous system, blasting each of her nerves, blowing straight through her cerebellum. Stricken, Aiko reeled forward, but recovered when her panic dulled. Thunderous resolve darkened her face as she tightened her fist.

The basement door banged open.

Sasori jerked the head of Hiruko over its shoulder, and its gaze clashed with an accusatory glare.

Aiko stormed toward the operating table, mouth roughened by outrage, cold fire crackling on her tongue. "You—" A convulsion from the scientist interrupted the start of her tirade. Aiko halted beside the operating table and looked down at the captive. Her temper cooled to a steely calm. She pinched the bridge of her nose, where a headache had replaced the burning pain, and spoke between her teeth. "What, exactly, do you need?"

On edge from her entrance, Sasori gestured at the scientist and snarled, "Keep him alive. You're a medical ninja, so you should be able to handle that, right?"

A response was not necessary. Snatching a flashlight from her pouch, Aiko pulled open the eyelids of the scientist and found that his pupils had enlarged. She checked his rapid pulse. Deducing that he was in shock, Aiko snapped her fingers in front of her lips, activating her Ketsuekigan. Her irises swapped color in an instant. Yellow orbs spun around her pupils as she studied the labyrinth of blood vessels, pinpointing where the poison had already spread, and slipped on a pair of gloves. Sasori watched her with an impatient scowl.

"This is going to be difficult," Aiko informed him, voice as brisk as her movements, "but, it's doable."

"Whatever you do," Sasori hissed, "don't remove the poison until he talks. Got it?"

"Very well." Aiko narrowed her eyes. "What are you interrogating him for?"

Sasori angled his sharp head to the side. "Information about a man named Orochimaru. I've been ordered to retrieve a ring that he possesses, and you," he grimaced, voice becoming grittier, "are going to help me get it."

Aiko nodded. "Fine. Be patient, and I'll bring this guy back for you."

Sasori grumbled, irritated.

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{Part II}

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Tension was palpable between the two shinobi. Sasori watched Aiko bend across the operating table, poised like a tigress, cheeks striped by the shadows that came from the flickering candles. Chakra blazed crimson around her hands. She moved her energy through the blood vessels of the scientist, magnetizing the poison to a single location under the skin, and tucked her tongue between her teeth. While scrutinizing the reaction of the scientist and his body to the toxins, a curiosity surfaced and trespassed across her tongue. "Your poison, does it prevent the body from manufacturing proteins?"

Sasori narrowed his eyes at her swift deduction. "Yeah, something like that."

Aiko disregarded his grumpy response. With her Ketsuekigan, she could see how the poison had seeped into the muscles of the scientist and infiltrated his cells. He cringed unconsciously as she relocated the toxins. While one hand directed the poison through his bloodstream, the other lurked over his throbbing heart. Aiko glanced at her superior. "You didn't expect it to work this quickly, did you?" Sasori twitched, and his vague annoyance was enough of an answer. Aiko pursed her pensive lips. "You've refined the poison with too many heavy metals."

Sasori grimaced. He did not require her criticisms. Yet, he wondered about her technique. His sharp mind spun until he identified the reason behind her abilities.

Abruptly, he spoke.

"You have magnet release chakra."

Taken aback by the blunt statement, Aiko flicked her eyes to Sasori, hints of a wry smile tugging on her lips. "Yeah," she murmured, "something like that." It took Sasori a minute to realize that she was mocking him. Before he could snap at her, Aiko swept her touch into the shoulder of the scientist and his eyes snapped open, suddenly conscious of his surroundings, lurching forward. A commanding hand pressed against his chest. "Remain calm," Aiko remarked. Clarity rang throughout her voice, ultrafeminine and infuriating for the scientist, whose ragged breaths tore right through his throat. "Do not move."

Sweat lashed across his brow, the scientist growled, "Who put you in charge?"

Spurred on by childish spite, Aiko flicked a dash of poison back into his bloodstream. The scientist convulsed and his throat swelled like the gular sac of a bullfrog. When he was on the verge of vomiting, Aiko intensified the magnetic powers of her chakra, and withdrew the toxins back to his shoulder. She allowed the poison to disperse in his deltoid. Flexing her fingers, Aiko clenched the muscle, squeezing out the toxins like liquid from a sponge, then released the poison again. The scientist yelped.

"Enough." Sasori rebuked Aiko. "I will conduct the interrogation. Now," he turned his unforgiving glare to the scientist, "where were we?"

A shout erupted from the end of the basement.

"Strike him down, Genki!"

Palms anchored to the scientist, Aiko flicked her eyes to the speaker, whom she recognized as the crippled scientist who had called her a traitor. She flinched as a blur skimmed into her peripheries. Aiko identified an arrangement of veins, right down to the dorsal venous network of a hand, which slapped a tag onto the shoulder of Hiruko. Springing over the operating table, Aiko peeled the paper off his shoulder. Flames singed her fingers. She flung the tag across the room, calligraphy igniting on impact with a wooden bench, which exploded as Aiko charged after their opponent. Skidding across the cement floor, she fanned a handful of needles across her knuckles. The edge of a kunai hurtled past her cheek, and she heard the flap of a tag.

The blade struck Hiruko in the neck.

An explosion blasted Sasori across the basement.

Ducking behind a work bench, Aiko covered her head, elbows shaking beside her ears. The scorpion tail shattered. A metal plate ricocheted off the wall, spinning like a top into the corner where Aiko had crouched, and she dodged the deadly shrapnel. Her chest lurched as she beheld the basement. Strewn across the floor, the remains of Hiruko were unrecognizable among the rubble, nothing but metallic joints, bolts, and inhuman body parts. Horrified by his fragmented body, Aiko glanced at the operating table, which had tipped over. Strapped to the cold surface, the interrogated scientist wrenched with convulsions, vomit splattering onto the floor.

Clutching his bandaged stump, expression resolute and churlish, the crippled scientist snarled, "Get the girl! Slit her fucking throat, Genki!"

Aiko landed beside the basement door. Unable to see the shadowless phantom, Aiko tensed when she heard him brush over the broken skull of Hiruko, and strained her Ketsuekigan eyes. Genki was coming for her. Throwing her needles in his direction, she panicked when he parried her attack, and her weapons clattered against the skeleton of Hiruko. Aiko twisted on her waist to retrieve another handful of needles, but her joints stiffened. She strained against her body, which ached with chakra depletion, and her confidence faltered. When she turned back around, the pointed tip of a scarecrow nose skimmed hers, and Aiko peered into the pitiless gaze of her opponent. She bared her teeth in a hiss.

"Stay back, or else I'll—"

Haggard and giggling, Genki smiled. "You were too slow, Aiko." His blade skimmed her throbbing jugular, and he leaned close with a thrilling whisper. "This is for Lord Orochimaru!"

A sword ran through his back.

Genki stiffened, and Aiko stumbled backwards, bracing her weight against the doorway, undoing her Ketsuekigan. Her opponent crashed face first onto the floor. Blood pooled around his motionless body, and she looked at the swordsman responsible for his death. Devoid of thoughts and feelings, the man who had rescued Aiko stared back at her with blank eyes. His head clacked to the side, his sparse hair scattering across his scalp, and his jaw unhinged. She swallowed the lump that had dislodged from her heart into her throat; he was nothing more than a puppet.

Another man spoke.

"What insolence."

Drawn to the soft voice, which might have been pleasant—seductive, even—without its merciless edge, Aiko glanced from the marionette to its master. As her eyes crossed the floor, sweeping across the empty bowels of Hiruko, she reached a startling conclusion. Too irascible to be anyone but Sasori, a young man yanked on the shimmering blue strings, which flashed as he clenched his fingers, commanding his puppet to the opposite side of the room. Crimson hair soft and flaming, Sasori glanced at Aiko, then disregarded her altogether.

Aiko opened her mouth to speak, but her body went rigid. She crumpled against the doorway. Hand against the cool frame, she sank onto her haunches, pain ebbing throughout her limbs. Using the Ketsuekigan for an extended period of time had exhausted her. The advanced medical techniques had pushed the young woman to her limits. Sweat dribbled behind her ears, glistening in her loose strands of hair, which curled at the nape of her neck. Aiko felt her buttocks hit the floor. She tried to sit upright against the frame, but she collapsed into a heap.

Sasori heard a soft thump. Although his ears pricked to the noise, he focused his unforgiving glare on the scientist, peering at his victim through heavily lidded eyes. He tugged on his glimmering chakra strings. The deceased swordsman reared like a spiteful curse over the cripple. "You feigned unconsciousness well enough to fool me. Bravo," the young man punctuated his congratulations with an applausive clack from his puppet, "really, I had no idea."

One swift tug, and blood splattered onto the basement wall.

Recalling his puppet into its scroll, Sasori grated the heel of his hand against his forehead. Only one prisoner remained alive, and Hiruko was destroyed. "That philistine ruined one of my masterpieces," he muttered, "how dare he." Sasori strode over to where Aiko lay. Stretched across the basement threshold, elbow digging into her ribs, she breathed in small trembles. He knelt and snapped his fingers beside her ear. "Get up, girl." The sound did not stir her. Annoyance flickered in his wide brown eyes. Her lack of awareness had nearly killed her, forced Sasori to dispose of two valuable information sources, and would set them back a considerable amount of time.

He had overestimated her abilities.

Cloak snapping over his calves, Sasori stood and fired a glare over his shoulder. Aiko had not moved a muscle. His intensity rebounded, and he gloomily stooped to lift the face of Hiruko off the floor.

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{Part III}

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Aiko lay unconscious, but her mind lurched into overdrive.

When the medical ninja in Konohagakure had diagnosed her with retrograde amnesia, Aiko asked if her memories could be recovered. Her nurses exchanged glances that were inhibited by guilt. The nurse assigned to Aiko sank onto her bedside. Blonde hair escaped from her fishtail braid. "Your case was very traumatic," she murmured, the scent of lilacs wafting off her swan neck. "My name is Ayame Yamanaka, and I will help you suppress any remnants of your memories."

"I understand," Aiko had mumbled, "but, will I remember anything?"

"You might see fragments of memories in your dreams, but nothing concrete will surface."

For many months, Ayame used her memory suppression techniques to ascertain that Aiko would not recall the events that happened between her childhood in Iwagakure and her introduction to Konohagakure. She had impressions of parents who rejected her and working in underground laboratories where she refined her poisons and medical techniques. But conversations, figures, and occurrences had evaded her, skittered away from her outstretched fingertips, lost to the depths of her subconsciousness.

All of her memories had been untouchable—

Until now.

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{Part IV}

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Aiko opened her eyes. Cabinets, secured with silver chakra locks, were spread across the walls of an underground facility. Fluorescent lights illuminated the long room. Aiko stepped across the floor tiles, and seeing her shimmery faint shadow, looked at her feet. She did not recognize her shoes. Confused, she placed her palms on her stomach to ascertain that she was still in her body. Feeling the pressure of her palms, she calmed, but panicked when she found that she had shrunken into a childlike form.

What is this?

The clanking of metal utensils directed her attention to a tall man who towered over an operating table. Black hair stretched down his spine, flirting with the edges of a chunin flak jacket, and shifted when he glanced over his shoulder. Aiko saw a sliver of a nose that was straight and white. Pangs of longing reverberated in the deepest chasms of her heart. She approached the man, and sensitive to her movements, he acknowledged her with a smile.

"Something the matter, my dear? Come, why don't you help me with my newest experiment, mm?"

His silvery voice was enticing. A sense of loyalty, stronger than any impulse that had ever possessed her, magnetized Aiko to the enigmatic man. She strode forward. When she joined his side, he placed a pale hand on her shoulder. His thumb kneaded her sore muscles. Although a sense of trust had been instilled in her, Aiko could not relax in his presence. She did not remember him. Her mind strained when she tried to recall when she had felt so peaceful, but furious throbs forbid her curiosity.

Frustrated by her uncooperative memory, she disregarded the warning signals, determined to know the identity of this man.

Glancing up to catch a glimpse of his face, Aiko flinched when the vision cut short.

She plunged into absolute darkness.

Thrashing against a relentless tide of shadows, Aiko surfaced in a different memory. She gasped. Lights swung like scythes above her head, slicing across her squinted eyes, and an IV rattled when she tried to look away. Visceral pain gripped her body, and she was vaguely aware of an incision in her stomach. Blinking away the blurriness of her sight, which refused to focus properly, Aiko glanced down her front.

She nearly vomited.

Mangled organs pulsed and squirmed in her center, bodily fluids sloshing out of a wide opening, and Aiko choked on a scream. She wanted to cover her mouth, but her wrists had been restrained. Tethered by unbreakable leather bonds, Aiko realized that she could not move, but her ears stiffened when she distinguished two voices. The first one was unfamiliar, but the second voice belonged to the man who had been in the previous scene.

"I am afraid her condition is too serious. She will never recover from her injuries, not enough to be useful; I have done all that I can to save her."

Turned away from her prying eyes, the enigmatic man spoke in conspiratorial tones, demanding a more satisfactory report. Her longing for him intensified tenfold. Wanting him to look at her, Aiko pushed her cheek upon the operating table pillow, into her tangled hair and against the crinkling plastic cover, but her rustling did not redirect his attention. Posture tightened by fatigue, the man impaled his translucent fingers into his forehead, and spoke with a low, taunting chuckle.

"Pity," he sighed, "it's such a pity."

Aiko panicked. She could not bear it. She needed him to know that she was conscious. If he would only sense the resilience in her heart, then all would be well.

But the man walked away.

Crushed by a disappointment so deep and absolute that her throat ached, Aiko restrained her furious tears. She hurtled back into the darkness. Betrayal overwhelmed her. Wild emotions slashed through her thoughts, butchering her attempts to make sense of the situation, leaving Aiko in a state of hysteria. She attempted to wake herself up, convinced that all this nonsense was a bad dream, but she could not escape.

Waves of confusion submerged her until she lurched onto another shore.

The black night sky hung overhead. Too dizzy to distinguish the stars, Aiko inhaled, determined to see past the haze. But when she took her first breath, she choked on the rancid stench of waste. A fingernail scratched her cheek, and Aiko flung her stare into the looking glass of two blue eyes. She threw herself backwards. Flesh bitten away by rats, the chubby arm of a child hung across the carcass of a dog. Her fingers twitched, movements caused by the ferocious rip of teeth, and Aiko recoiled from the rotting cherub, stricken when she beheld a heap of mutilated corpses.

Aiko scrabbled against the ground until she sliced open her fingers on shards of broken glass. Looking down, she discovered chunks of a beaker, and tried to stagger to her feet, but lost her balance.

Falling from grace had never been so unbecoming.

Aiko smashed her face into the dirt, upsetting a nest of flies, which hurricaned into a black fury around her head. Despite her circumstances, she refused to die in the filthy mud and dragged herself onto her elbows, straining her body. A split bolted as fast as lightning across her belly. Blood gushed from a poorly sewn incision, and Aiko clamped her palm against a surge of organs, which spilled outward. Tears stung her eyes. She activated the mystical palms technique, chakra spluttering around her hand, wavering like the light of a dying lantern. Aiko trailed her knuckles across her broken mouth, lips trembling with a sob, unable to bear her memories.

She had been thrown out with the garbage.

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{Part V}

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Aiko flinched awake.

Holding her head, she reminded herself that the memories posed no threat to her, and inhaled deeply. She needed to focus on her ambitions. The faint scent of hushed candles filtered into her nostrils, and when she looked into the basement, not a soul dwelt in the pitch black shadows. Peeling her limp body off the floor, her ponytail swung over her shoulder, knocking against her cheek. Her brown hair completely unraveled when she gripped the railing to yank herself onto her feet. Riddled with aches, Aiko staggered against the wall and fetched painkillers from her medicine pouch. She popped the pills between her teeth, and her ears pricked to two recognizable voices.

"Deidara, just do it."

"Sorry, but I still don't get it, my man."

Quickly swallowing the pills when she heard the quarrel overhead, Aiko knelt on the first step. Sasori snapped at Deidara, incensed and contemptuous, having argued with him for nearly an hour. "She needs to learn how to pay attention to her surroundings. Her combat skills," his voice lowered to a venomous hiss, and Aiko assumed that he was discussing her, "are pathetic. It's a wonder she's lived this long."

"Yeah, I get that, but why do I have to train her?"

Aiko frowned. While she had a poor opinion of Deidara, she wholeheartedly agreed with his bafflement. She wanted an explanation. Ghosting up the wooden stairs, Aiko reached the ground floor, and crept across the panels. Her spine tingled when she stood against the wall. Inching towards the kitchen, Aiko peeked around the corner. Slouched into his chair, drumming his fingernails against his temples and on the table, Sasori glowered at his partner. The conversation had not been going well, and his patience had reached its limits.

Fanning out his long fingers, Deidara hoisted his palm upwards, retort smug enough to make Sasori hiss.

"Why don't you get a different informant, hm?"

Infuriated by the mocking tone, Sasori clenched his teeth and spat, "I already told you, I can't." Hostile flames darkened his brown eyes, which slimmed when he sensed another presence. Breath hitching in her throat, Aiko pushed her back against the wall, but she knew that Sasori had already caught her. She divorced her body from the shadows. Listening for her light footsteps, Sasori did not acknowledge her until she stood on the threshold. Owlish, his gaze swiveled over his shoulder, voice softening with his cynicism. "How nice of you to join us."

Aiko nodded, leery of his placid tone.

Suspecting that she had overheard most of the conversation, Sasori remarked, "Deidara was just talking about how he would love to have you a sparring partner, weren't you?"

Deidara grimaced. Then, seeing how uncomfortable Aiko looked, he scoffed and combed his fingers through his thick bangs. "Fine! Have it your way, hm." He flicked a cool glance at the young woman. Guard raised from their previous encounter, Aiko tensed when Deidara approached her. She skirted the edge of his approaching shadow. His unswerving eyes snared hers, and they circled each other, stepping in a sideways dance. Her pluck amused him, and his voice loudened with a declaration. "I won't go easy on her. You sure you're okay with that, my man?"

Sasori put his elbow on the table and perched his chin atop his knuckles. "I couldn't possibly care less about your methods." He avoided the uncertain look in his informant's eyes. "Like I said before, just do it, Deidara."

Arching his visible eyebrow at Aiko, the blond chuckled.

"This is going to be fun."

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{End}