Before you even begin this chapter, I want to apologize for it. That torture warning applies here. Oh, dear Jashin, does it apply. I'm a terrible person...

A month passed. Training became a routine, and I quickly regained my muscular physique. My eyes no longer looked sunken, and my silver mess of hair became shaggy and unkempt once again. I looked and felt better than I had in a year. More importantly, fighting came to me naturally again and I was finally able to get the upper hand on Pein-sama, at least in hand-to-hand combat.

But as I looked into the mirror, the man staring back looked far too much like Hatake Kakashi. The only things missing were the mask and red eye. And maybe the cool air of indifference that had more or less been beaten out of me during my slavery, but even that was coming back.

Pein-sama hadn't so much as mentioned the similarities. Then again, it wasn't uncommon for shinobi trained in counterintelligence to allow a spy to burrow into the trenches of their organization. It is still one of the easiest and most effective ways to discover the objectives of a spy, however risky.

The scissors in my hand tapped against the sink. He never said it outright, but he loved my hair. I could tell by the way his fingers weaved through it and how he buried his face in it. And maybe he already knew, and it wouldn't matter how I tried to disguise myself. But, if he didn't … I grabbed a handful of silver locks and brought the scissors toward it–

"Put the scissors down."

Gray eyes and fiery hair appeared as a reflection in the mirror. At the sight, I spun on my heel to face him and the scissors clattered to my foot. My jaw clenched to hold back the yell as my leg jerked. "'Morning, Pein-sama," I said through my teeth, my lips pulling into a smile.

"I didn't mean stab yourself." He lifted me onto the counter and grabbed a towel to wrap around my now bleeding foot.

"I'm sorry. I have masochistic tendencies." I bit my lip as he put pressure on the wound.

"Hm. I suppose I can't complain about that."

I didn't know what it was about the man, but he put me at ease. He hadn't even gotten the towel secured around my foot before my lips met his, warm and inviting. His hand weaved through my still shaggy hair and he pulled me in to deepen the kiss. A stir resonated in my pants as I wrapped my legs around his waist–

He pulled away. "I'm leaving for a week."

"You're what?" I asked as that stirring moved from my groin to the pit of my stomach.

"I have to see some of my colleagues. I'll be away for a week, two at most."

I nibbled on my lip, orange swirls invading my thoughts. "When are you leaving?"

A beat. "Now. I would've told you sooner, but I just found out about … this."

"Could I come with? I could help … I don't know, carry things?"

He shook his head. "Not yet. Your taijutsu is excellent, but, without access to your chakra, you may not be able to fend off an attacker should something happen."

Was that the whole truth or simply an excuse to keep me away from his dealings with the Akatsuki? Likely both. Any mission with the Akatsuki is bound to be dangerous, and I would just be dead weight. I leaned into him, my forehead resting on his shoulder. "So it'll just be me and Tobi?"

He smiled. "Just you. We'll be back before Tobi returns." He unwrapped my legs from around his waist and left me sitting on the sink in the bathroom with a bleeding foot. Alone. So wonderfully alone.

For the first three days, boredom seeped over me until my brain clawed restlessly at the inside of my skull. Icha Icha can only be read so many times, especially when the reader has acted out the best sex scenes it has to offer. Pein-sama gave me free liberty to explore Ame, but the possibility of running into Hazel's spies kept me locked safely in the tower. It wasn't long after that I found myself snooping through his files again.

I'd given up on finding evidence to implicate Pein-sama in the assassination of the Hokage. But that didn't mean the documents didn't hold potentially valuable information. If the Akatsuki still had an interest in the Kyuubi, there might be something on Naruto's whereabouts. He'd been mentioned in reports before, but those were dated before Danzo's coup. Of course, if there was something, it meant Naruto was in danger of the Akatsuki. But it was all I had.

In the perfectly artistic scrawling of one Uchiha Itachi, Naruto's name leapt off the page. Itachi spotted him on the border between the Land of Fire and Grass country a few weeks ago. If memory serves, Orochimaru had a hideout in that area and Naruto could be looking for Sasuke instead of evading potential assassins. Skimming the report, Itachi mentioned that Jiraiya-sama, four unnamed jounin, and several unnamed chuunin were among the group, which is likely why the Akatsuki haven't made a move. I pushed away the desire to know which of my friends and students survived and simply allowed the wave of relief to wash over me. With a sigh, I lowered the report–

A gloved hand snatched it from my hands. "What's this?" Tobi asked, barely maintaining his cheerful façade. "So were you always a spy, or were you just using this opportunity to snoop?"

My heart raced and I pressed further back into the seat, eyes locked on orange swirls. "I … I just wanted to help. I thought … if I knew what was going on … I could–"

In one swift motion, he grabbed me by the throat and hauled me over the desk and onto my knees on the ground. I took a moment to catch my breath before taking hold of his wrist with one hand and hyperflexing his elbow with the other. He released me. I fled, only to have him catch my foot under his own. I hit the ground, my arms braced for the fall. He grabbed my shoulder from behind, his fingers digging into the pressure points. By the time I thought to reach for his arm, I had already passed out.

When I awoke, my joints and muscles ached in complaint of being spread against the foot of the bed, arms tied to each post, naked on my knees with my feet tied together. Drool slid around the plastic ball in my mouth as I tried, in vain, to push it out with my tongue. The leather strap was too tight, and all I managed was to make my jaw even sorer than it was before.

Various shades of gray plagued Tobi's room, or what I could see of it. Payne's gray covered the floor, slate – the walls, and true gray bed dressings lay atop a black bed frame. I imagined Hell being more cheerful than this room. This bleak room was what lay behind Tobi's façade. Despair. Depression. Maybe I could've used it to my advantage, if only this damn ball gag wasn't in my mouth.

A door behind me opened and closed. Someone, who I presumed to be Tobi, walked in and began looking for something. I could only hear things being dropped or moved. No, not true. A whimper came from the corner of the room. Muffled sobs, probably belonging to Slave 2, who I had presumed to be dead. And then a whoosh, a cutting of air, the cause of the poor slave's cries – the sound of the Master twirling his whip so tauntingly.

My body tensed on its own and my eyes closed. The body is a beautiful thing. Resilient. And it knows how to protect itself if need be. So I simply let my mind wander. And waited. And waited …

"I bet you remember every one of these," Tobi casually commented as he ran his gloved hand along the raised, red scars that decorated my back. "How they felt. What you did to deserve them." I pressed further into the bed frame as my mind battled against his words. No stories of each scar came to mind. Haru did. His scars. Their stories. "Does it keep you up at night?"

He backed away. The whip made another whoosh through the air, but this time, searing pain followed. With each lash, my body convulsed. Beads of sweat rolled down my forehead and torso. Blood rolled down my back. Yet my mind was elsewhere. Nowhere. Gone. After thirty or so, as I sat on the brink of unconsciousness, he stopped.

"Let's try something new," he said in the too jovial tone that brought to mind images of my hands crushing his windpipe. I heard metal rattling against metal. After Slave 2 let a sob escape, I reasoned that Tobi must've been unlocking a cage, or something. At least Osamu allowed me a room. Perhaps he could take a lesson in sadism from the fuck in the swirly orange mask.

"Put this in him," said Tobi.

"Yes, Master," said his slave. I could hear the hesitation in Slave 2's steps as he came closer. He rested his hand carefully on my shoulder and whisper, "I'm sorry." A whoosh, a crack, and Slave 2's hand clawed into my collar bone. After he stopped whimpering, I nodded to reassure him. There was no reason we both needed to suffer.

The hard plastic pressed against my entrance. I jerked away from it at first, but forced myself to relax. Even without any preparation, it started out easily enough. As he pushed, though, the thing grew wider. After a while, the damn thing was tearing me open. Something thick and warm made the intruding object slide a little more easily, but I had a feeling it wasn't lubricant. Suddenly, the widest part had passed, and my damaged entrance closed around the narrow part of the object, keeping it seated inside me.

"Let's see him want you now," Tobi said with a laugh. He twirled the whip a bit before bringing it down on my back again and again. The object gave me an added bonus of stabbing pain every time my body tensed. Unconsciousness might find me quicker this time.

No such luck. Tobi dropped the whip and grabbed a fistful of my hair. He twisted my head so I was looking up at him. "Having fun?"

I blinked. Once.

"I know even you have your limits. Your last master broke you. I could see it in that lifeless expression. And I'm going to find out how he did it."

I rolled my eyes.

He released my head and backed away. I had expected a tantrum that would've led to sweet unconsciousness. Instead, he began removing my bindings – all but the ball gag. It wasn't uncommon for interrogators to put captured spies through a few hours of torture before beginning with the questions. But, at that point, I had no doubt that this was anything but pure sadism. Why me, though? If he wanted to torture me so badly, why not just buy me as well instead of giving me to Pein?

Once he had finished with the bindings, I slid across the bedframe and hit the ground where Slave 2 worked the object out of me. It hurt, but not as badly as going in. Tobi pulled me to my feet and forced me over to the other side of the room. A false wall had been pulled away to reveal a box, stood upright and built into the wall. Metal cuffs had been fastened to it, positioned for wrists, ankles, and neck.

No.

I dropped to my knees. The fear rose like ice rushing through me. I stumbled back, scurrying, not taking my eyes off the coffin. Bile rose, and the meager contents of my stomach found its way to the floor. Tobi grabbed my arm and all but threw me against the back of the coffin. Though it had no effect, I clawed wildly at his arms, his mask, whatever.

No no no no no.

"This? Really? You succumbed to this? A little alone time to make you remember how horrible of a person you are? How many people you failed to protect?" He pressed his whole body against mine, holding me firmly. The rough cloth of his clothing rubbed against my bare skin. "Let's say I'm in a good mood. What would you do for me if I decided to let you out of this cage?" His hand drifted down to grope my swollen and bleeding ass. "Would you suck my cock? Would you moan like a bitch in heat as I fucked you?"

I nodded feverishly, without thought. Through the haze of panic and desperation, I couldn't think. I couldn't even breathe. I had to get out now.

"Too bad." He secured the cuffs and closed the box. Not a sliver of light seeped through. And in the darkness, all I could hear was the pounding of my heart and screaming muffled by the ball gag. The only thing that kept me from sobbing was the knowledge that, if my nose started running, I'd suffocate.

Periodically, I'd pass out. My head would lull forward, causing the metal binding fastened around my neck to cut airflow, and I'd jerk awake in a fit of terror. Repeat ad nauseam.

"Are you ready to come out?"

I swallowed. "Yes, Master."

"Are you going to be a good slave?"

"Yes, Master." Let me out.

"Are you going to obey me?"

"Yes, Master."

I awoke in a forest, my back pressed against a tree. My fingers gripped its bark. The clouds above raced across the sky despite there being no wind, staining the sky in a greenish hue. As my gaze drifted downward, I saw myself. Hatake Kakashi. Only this version was younger, and I immediately recognized him as the voice – that part of my mind that had disowned me. He stood a meter away, dressed in ANBU gear, with the porcelain mask pulled to the side. The haughty, headstrong look was bright in his eyes.

You know who he is.

"Who?"

He ran his finger down the scar on his left eye.

It had been too long. My feet didn't ache; they throbbed from standing for so long. My neck had become tender and likely bruised from the strip of metal. And bugs infested the small space. I felt them crawling on my back, picking at the wounds. I pushed my back against the wood until the pain became too great to bear. But they never died. They just kept eating. And picking. Why does my head feel like it's on fire?

I was going to die. My head lulled against the metal bar one last time and I couldn't lift it back. No air came. I was too tired to care …

The door and the bindings pulled away in one violent motion. Bright white light flooded my vision, though I was able to make out the fiery orange hair and black of the cloak. I tried to walk to him, but only managed to fall forward, arm outstretched toward his feet. He reached down and removed the ball from my mouth.

"He's a spy!" The voice sounded as if it was coming from under water, but I could still make out most of it.

"Then you let me handle him." Pein-sama, without a doubt. The calm, yet dangerous tone gave it away.

"And jeopardize the Akatsuki's entire operation? Abandon our goals to die for a slave?"

"You could've detained him."

"This man is incredibly dangerous–"

"So you already know his identity?"

"Of course I do." A fist grabbed me by the hair and lifted. Gloved hands wrapped around the lower part of my face. "He's the Copy Nin. Hatake Kakashi."

That cut through the haze and fear set in again like a cold wave. I searched Pein-sama's expression, but his face was still a blur. The hand clasped around my mouth until I was gasping for breath, but I was too weak to fight. The orange blur faded into black.

NothereNorthere asked: "CAN"T GET ENOUGH! but what happened to kakashi's sharingan?"

Even though Kakashi can't control whether his Sharingan is active or not, it's still powered by his chakra. I figured that Tsunade's chakra-suppressing collar would absorb enough chakra to force the Sharingan to become inactive, thus making his eye black again. I don't know if this is true to cannon or if it's ever been explained in cannon, but that's what I went with, haha. I'm sorry I didn't make that clearer in the beginning. And thanks for pointing it out.

I'm also sorry if I ruined the "goofy Tobi" character for anyone. I was going off Obito's sadistic tendencies and anger at Kakashi for Rin's death. I might've gotten a little carried away...