#please read this is like one small sample of my every day mental agony

[senju-sekhmet]

The Leash (Part 10)

Summary: Your rescue was supposed to be as smooth as these missions can be. However very quickly, Tobirama faces off against an enemy that has no form, color or smell - and time is running short, very fast. Unless he figures out what truly holds you hostage, your life will be lost. Warnings (for the finished work): Blood, illness, descriptions of heavy injuries and graphic violence, torture (both depicted and implied), needles, morally grey territory, human experimentation, panic attacks, character death, angst with a happy ending ~8100 words (this chapter, finished work: 80.000) Previous: Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4; Part 5; Part 6; Part 7; Part 8; Part 9 Read on AO3!   Disclaimer below the cut! again, used for updates too. sue me

DISCLAIMER! PART ONE of the finale! READ THE WARNINGS... especially the last one... Other than that: enjoy my very self indulgent work, filled with my own headcanons and angst galore. Let me know what you think and thank you so much for reading!!!! ________ The next few days became a blur. Tobirama cycled between the laboratory, your room, and the interrogation and information headquarters - just like he had been the last few days. Sleep was scarce, if he allowed himself any at all. 

The pace was dictated by your condition pretty much, which did not fare any better. Quite the opposite. 

Every passing turn, the interval by which they could stretch the administration of what remained of the leash diminished. You, on the other hand were paying a price that was nothing less than your sheer life force, it seemed. The amount of support they had to provide via the seals increased constantly. As time passed, they couldn’t lessen it anymore during your lucid phases, even - rather, only increase it further, step by step. A couple of seals were added when your chakra overload allowed it - as they had not been tending to your injuries from the torture anymore, they gained a little manuverability in that regard. It was not much, but you dearly needed any edge you could get. Both of your legs, arms, your abdomen, your chest were painted with medical seals that each supported your cardiovascular system, retained organs' functions, everything. There was little of your skin left unused. 

It was painful to see. 

“I surmise this is why the Stone did not use the withdrawal as an accessory means to put a victim under more duress,” Tobirama stated utterly caustic tone once. You’d been sedated after they had administered they leash again and both he and his brother were monitoring you while the war inside your body came to a well-known break. “Putting someone under the physical and mental strain of torture while also dealing with the effects of the withdrawal could easily kill a prisoner.” His bluntness hurt him - thinking about how you might be the one dying - but what was the point in sugar-coating anything?

Tobirama's mood was dismal, though his resolve still zealous.

“Indeed,” Hashirama agreed, slightly strained by the focus he’d been keeping up. “Frankly I’m wondering how they managed to not overload the amount of what foreign chakra Y/n could take with how they… injured her and the poor quality at which they kept healing her.” In the end, there was sorrow in his voice.

Tobirama instead felt anger overshadowing his ache. “I don’t think that ever was a concern of theirs, anjia.” In fact, Tobirama could hazard a guess as to what fate would've awaited you had they finished torturing you - had he not found you in time.

They shouldn't call it the Leash - the Noose seemed to be a better fit.

Still, chakra overload was unpleasant - uncomfortable, and to a point medically concerning, too, but lethal? Hardly. That is, if a patient was not in such a grievous state you found yourself in.

Yet the worst was your loss of vitality overall. It manifested in more agonising ways - it wasn’t as though you were becoming more haggard than you had been since the rescue - it was the way your hair lost its shine, the paleness of your skin, the tired gaze of sunken in eyes, the rasp of your voice as wheezing coughs wrecked you. 

Numerous of your organs had begun to show signs of failure more and more rapidly as soon as the withdrawal settled in. Soon, they barely had enough time to recover during the times you weren’t under the effects of the withdrawal - a vicious circle Hashirama monitored closely and one Tobirama dreaded like little else in life. If the balance tilted - if your body couldn’t recuperate enough any more - then your life was all the more on the line. 

Those hours - they felt the longest. He’d pace anxiously in your room, demand updates until Hashirama allowed him to join in his efforts. Or until he did politely tell him to wait. Politely.

Tobirama couldn’t remember when last he had felt so miserable in his life. He was watching you wither away in his hands, in the safest place he could think of in the entire world, due to a decision he had ultimately agreed to. Whenever he was with you the pain in his heart froze his entire being, his breathing was felt as laboured as yours and all of the world was numb besides the plight you were suffering. And he - he had allowed it. And if he hadn’t - if he hadn't… he didn't want to finish the thought, ever.

Worse yet, your consciousness began to wither more and more during the precious phases of lucidity, when the leash spared you from the hellish withdrawal. You simply were too weak to stay awake for long. But you tried. How you tried - and he knew why. For him. Your fierce spirit would keep fighting.

“How… is it going, Tobi?” you’d ask him always, your voice no more but a broken whisper.

He nearly collapsed by your side, the guilt corroding him inside out for not having accomplished his task yet. Every time his hand was under your head to stabilise it some as you looked at him; wanted to look at him - while the other held yours to his chest, stroking it tenderly. “I’m getting there, Y/n. Rest, please,” he implored you brokenly, each time, “I’m here, Y/n. I’m here.”

His heart broke when you didn’t find the strength to quip back at him like you usually would. 

You just smiled bravely.

For all the agony this put him in - all the torment you went through - it only fuelled his resolve to recreate the leash. The extra time you were giving at such great expense he put to good use - and there barely was a time there weren’t some shadow clones working on refining his copy of the leash. The price he paid for this was staggering. Each time he released them, the exhaustion almost floored him. Their experience and memories were invaluable for speeding up the process infinitely - to even give him a sliver of hope to make it in time - but a few days in and Tobirama was forced to sit down before he let go of the very jutsu he devised. Practical, it was. But the toll it took on one’s body was hellish - his vision would blacken, his knees shake and he was sure he fainted a couple of times, too, for the sheer amount of concentration each of his clones had poured into the task at hand. 

Yet every time Tobirama felt he was teetering on the brink of a collapse, he simply reminded himself of what was at stake here.

Hellish became a relative term, then. He paid the small price, he figured. 

And there were ways and means to keep going beyond any physical signs of exhaustion. Tobirama turned to them quickly when the usage of his shadow clone technique became too taxing - various medications starting with simple caffeine to more sinister substances if taken for too long a time. He didn’t care for that risk. Sleep simply was lost time. Needed, surely. He’d catch up, eventually. Because ultimately - ultimately, this whole game would be over very soon, way too soon. Cynically he did wonder sometimes when he’d start to see white mice running up the walls, hear voices whisper or other hallucinations - but his thoughts never strayed from either creating the leash or your current condition. There was no room for anything else. And he was nothing if not focused on his task.

Kimi’s blood samples had been valuable leads in the whole process of making this damned drug. They demonstrated how his alternative had affected her - which wasn’t far off the shot when it came to the muting component of the leash. The disruption only rudimentarily resembled the real leash. Nonetheless, he felt confident with enough shadow clones - he’d continue down this path and start to weave his chakra in better and better to get where it had to be. After all, the result had been promising. Lucky for him, because it did strongly suggest no jutsu was involved in creating the leash as such. It really boiled down to the weaving process and its complexity. He wondered how long it had taken Zenji to master creating the leash.

Weaving - as such it seemed to be a process that couldn’t just create a leash but any other kind of chakra infused drug.

Interesting.

His experiments on the prisoners supported his theory about the weaving further. Progress was exponentially accelerated due to his shadow clones, and as such the intricacy of his own weaving pattern made for better results. More and more, the immediate effects of the leash were becoming comparable to the actual leash - with no small amount of satisfaction, he observed how their chakra became just as muted and sluggish as yours, longer and longer. And with the same satisfaction he meticulously examined every second of their quite painful withdrawal to compare it to your symptoms and sufferings to ensure it’d be exactly the same - the fact the prisoners didn’t just harbor the same dislike for him they did for everyone at the headquarters but rather flat out hated him was entirely beyond him. He didn’t care. They were means to achieving a goal, nothing more. 

Especially Zenji used every opportunity to count down the time to what he believed would be your demise. His perception of such must be entirely broken, as he missed the mark he prophesied would be your end - much to Tobirama’s smug glee. Though he knew better than to let anything on. Bickering with this man - with any of them - was just more waste of time. He simply went in with Ikuro, sometimes one of his subordinates, to brutally administer the leash and start to observe the prisoners and take blood samples. If any of them acted up in whatever ways they could - which wasn’t much, given their restraints - they were punished, harshly. He couldn’t risk spilling these experimental drugs, either. As Tobirama’s patience wore down alongside the remaining supply of the leash - and ultimately, your life force - more jaws were broken.

Naturally, his cold, almost brutal demeanour wasn’t noticed by the prisoners only. More than once Ikuro had to call him off for pushing the limit on what a subject could take - or disagree on continuing interrogation. Things Tobirama mentally rolled his eyes at but never spoke up against save for curt affirmations past his clenched teeth. Ikuro would be well within his rights to stop his proceedings altogether - or worse, report to Hashirama. It was a silent understanding that if the experiments became too dangerous, Tobirama had to stop and provide medical aid to the stone shinobi. As much as he hated it. He had to make better progress. You were paying the worst price.

Unfortunately the leash’s creation proved to be about the best guarded secret of Zenji’s mind - and with how he was biding his time, he was extremely determined to last longer than Tobirama, or rather, you. They gleaned all kinds of information not just from him, but also the other prisoners - the better Tobirama became at replicating the leash, the more effective the interrogation was. He surmised there may be even more complex machinations at work in how this drug worked in a person’s mind, but he had no proof of this, only theories. Not that he cared - it didn’t matter right now. Still, Zenji remained the toughest fortress; he’d die before cracking. Although Ikuro did appear to be more lax when it came to torturing and experimenting on him; Tobirama was not. 

Just like Zenji, Kimi was refusing to surrender what little she knew of the leash, no matter how extreme the pressure. Two of their compatriots had cracked while under the effects of Tobirama’s leash-copy, a victory he did not celebrate at all. It was useless unless Zenji broke or he perfected the recreation of the leash. Anything else would result in your death. Still, it was one of the rare occasions he allowed himself a moment of smugness in front of Zenji.

No more than a sneer did Tobirama give him.

Zenji was fuming. “You think you’re so fucking clever-” he spat.

Tobirama raised an eyebrow and cut him off coolly. “I am. Despite your assertions, I am getting closer to recreating this precious leash of yours every day. And after that, you will be useless, given how your fellow shinobi keep cracking.” The last bit was spoken as darkly as he meant it to be.

Zenji bared his teeth - but not out of anger. He was grinning. “I’m sticking to my word, Senju - I will relish telling you the secret once Y/n died one of the most painful deaths imaginable while you sat by.”

Tobirama knew better than to let the ire that was flooding him show. Zenji’s jaw was barely healing. 

Well, there were other bones to break, though.

“You might get closer to creating the leash, but you won’t succeed, and I’d give my damn life to see the helpless look on your face when Y/n takes her last, tormented breath, whispering your name in sheer agony as life-”

Tobirama’s arm shot forward before he could think. But he knew better than to punch the prisoner again. His vice grip had seized the broken jaw, nails digging into his cheeks to prevent so much as a scream coming out. Only a slow moan of pain. His scarlet gaze was murderous. “Actually, your pathetic life hangs on Y/n’s survival, Zenji. Do you realise that, you very, very clever man?”, Tobirama explained, frightfully calm.

Zenji stilled completely. 

“I care not for something petty like revenge or your fate ultimately,” he continued icily, “but Konoha does not need to feed mouths that are useless to us nor send them back to the enemy to use them against us again. I think you can figure the rest out.” He released him as brutally as he could, turning on his heel. He had to leave before he did more to this man.

Zenji stopped shouting at Tobirama after this.

Even so, Zenji’s words had not rung hollow. As much progress he made when it came to the weaving process, permanence of the effects would not be attained. The more time - really, each passing hour - pressed him, the more desperate he became to solve this riddle - this seemingly last riddle stopping him from creating the perfect copy of the leash.

It was after yet another quite fruitful session of experimentation that he -

“Damn it!”, he shouted, smashing his balled fist on the lab bench after analysing the yield of the day thoroughly. The woven pattern was swirling brightly like it would in the leash, the complexity well fit the real drug and the experiments were showing promising results.

However… “It’s not a damn leash yet-” he breathed through his clenched teeth, swaying back, vision tunneling. He gripped the edge of the table just in time before he lost his foothold. The exhaustion from releasing his clones before had struck viciously again. 

Hitting inanimate objects out of frustration was one thing. Talking to himself another. He dragged both palms over his face. By his current calculations, they had about sixty hours left.

Sixty hours, then they’d be out of leash and your time was cut very short.

Ice flooded his veins and his vision blackened completely briefly.

It couldn’t be helped. He needed a jutsu - or a seal - to perfect the leash. At this point - with this little time left - his previous evaluation of such a technique being an obstacle he'd scale easily compared to what he had done so far seemed quite daring. In fact, how could he have thought anything about this was going to be easy? Even when he had already guessed he’d need this, sooner or later.

Ultimately he started to divide his shadow clone force between perfecting the weaving process and starting to figure a seal out to make the effects last - rather, the disruption. Since the muting component did wear off at a comparable time in his own creations now, it was a fair assumption no technique sealed this effect in. And the way the disruption almost branded itself into a victim’s blood - that was all the more telltale. But how to create a seal that worked in a liquid? Back when he initially assumed such a seal to be of inferior quality due to a lack of external evidence, he automatically assumed it should be simple to create one himself. Now, it almost felt like starting over again - like when he was weaving the second component in. A seal that did not just ensure permanence of the effects but rather only concern a single effect - ridiculous. Somberly he realised actually back then, he simply had not grasped the complexity of all this fully to make such an assumption in the first place. 

More guilt to burden him, ultimately. 

Just as he feared, initial tests proved to be difficult in the way a seal damaged the delicate weave of his chakra in the base liquid. He quickly discarded the approach in favour of starting from scratch - if only the disruption stuck, then it was quite possible a seal was applied before the second component got woven in. That worked better - slightly, if just for the fact the substance was less intricate like this and a seal was simpler to apply like this. Even so, Tobirama could think of a handful of seals to preserve chakra in some capacity. He’d have to take a logical approach: given there had been no outward sign of a seal being used, it must be a simpler one. Furthermore, he knew from your blood samples the way the drug didn’t just cling but nearly branded itself to you; therefore there must be a way for the seal to interact with the victim’s organism as well. That seemed doable; seals followed the rules the user created. Like a string of orders. He felt confident in his skill to pull it off - if it wasn’t for the fact he was trying to place a seal in a liquid substance right now. A seal on a parchment, sure. Medical jutsu that required seals, absolutely. Seals in combat, too - but in a liquid? 

He had no time to dwell on whether or how that was possible. Once more his shadow clones would aid him in trying out different approaches: applying seals to the vial first, weaving the disrupting component in and then trying to seal it off, or even trying to weave in a seal alongside the disruption. The last of the approaches appeared to be more fruitful than the others truth be told, but the more effort he gave it, the less the tender fabric of the drug tore apart for it in either one. The leash really was about patience, a knack for handling very fragile threads of chakra and a lot of concentration. None of which Tobirama could claim he had in great quantity right now. By the end of this session releasing his clones resulted in him losing consciousness for a solid thirty minutes. When he woke, he had a headache as though someone drilled a hole into his skull.

Naturally that didn’t stop him. All three of his experiments were tested right away and despite Ikuro’s concerns to not divide Tobirama’s attention between three prisoners, the man enforced his will by ultimately reminding everyone of the ticking clock. Each passing second made him more desperate and the life of a Stone shinobi less valuable. Even if he lost all three. He still had three more.

“They still hold information we have not yet cracked,” Ikuro warned sternly.

“Testing each of these one after the other is going to cost hours that Y/n doesn’t have,” Tobirama spat back, unfazed. “I’m here, I can use a shadow clone to divide my attention if need be,” he elaborately nonchalantly.

Ikuro crossed his arms. “That’s not the same.”

Tobirama growled exasperatedly. He wasn’t about to explain his own damn jutsu to Ikuro now. “I assure you, it is. Let’s use the broken prisoners, they’ve lost value, if that eases your concern.” The coldness of his tone made clear what he was implying.

Unsurprisingly, Ikuro wasn’t taken aback by his lack of regard for human life. His job demanded a certain detachment from just that, Tobirama figured. “Alright.” Even though Ikuro still didn’t seem quite sold on Tobirama’s plan. The life of a Konoha shinobi still bore greater weight than that of Stone prisoners.

At the end of that day, Tobirama realised his intuition had been right: the test subject with the third method showed a prolonged phase of withdrawal, serious symptoms - serious enough to warrant medical observation that Tobirama left to the unit with clear instructions. He didn’t have time now. Sadly the seal’s permanence was not on par with the leash’s yet - the withdrawal had been fading, too. 

But this - all this, it was the right direction. He knew it. If he gave his all into his and worked with the time he had left, he felt he could reach this insane goal of recreating this drug. 

Following the experiments, he sat by your side that evening while you were allowed a short moment of simple sleep. No withdrawal, no terrors under the effects of the leash. He dared to feel a sliver of hope. No more. Gently, his hand stroked your forearm as his heart ached from watching you. You’d open your eyes briefly and recognition flashed in your gaze - he simply let his chakra coat your network in a warm embrace. Stiffness eased out from his shoulders as his eyes prickled again.

“I’m getting there, Y/n,” he simply whispered, tenderly. 

You gave no reply or notion of having gotten the message. His heart hurt more for it.

Of course he already had a handful of clones working on the approach before he left for your side to join them in the endeavour. 

The final race began after that. Using as many clones as he possibly could, he started to create the leash - really create it, not just parts of it, practicing weaving or trying seals out. This was it - he would need to perfect this procedure until an immaculate result in a prisoner was achieved. Once he tethered one of them to the leash, he knew he had succeeded and could make more for you. The proverbial light at the end of this hellish tunnel kicked his system more into overdrive than any substance he could take to keep himself on track. It was a real high, almost.

Hashirama tried to get him to rest once he caught wind of the fervor with which he worked.

“You’re doing what?!”, his brother near shouted, horrified. 

Tobirama rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time for this. “Get out of here and back to Y/n,” he ordered sternly, not even looking back at his brother, standing in the door of the makeshift laboratory.

Hashirama’s footsteps drew closer, a hand on Tobirama’s shoulder had him whip around with unconcealed fury. “What.” Tobirama’s voice was an infuriated growl through clenched teeth. A warning everyone heeded. Except his brother, of course.

Hashirama didn’t pull his figurative punches now. “You’re using way too many shadow clones, you’re not sleeping and is-” he pointed on the lab bench, eyes wide now as he recognized the substances Tobirama had been taking, “-is that-”

“You worry about your work, and leave me to mine, anija!” Tobirama shouted back with unbridled ire, seizing his brother by the shoulders to start shoving him out. 

Sadly, he was determined to stand his ground, swatting the hands away. “Sure, destroy yourself so the first thing Y/n can do after recovering is mourn you!” His dark eyes were ablaze now. Even for a non-sensor shinobi, the magnificent aura of his riled up chakra was easy to pick up on. For Tobirama’s senses, it was suffocating, like staring into the sun. The overload just fueled his anger more.

“Get. Out.” The heat was gone from his voice. It was a threat now.

Hashirama held Tobirama’s scarlet gaze for far longer than anyone else did. Wordlessly, he summoned a wood clone. “I’ll watch you. You’re not going to kill yourself, brother.” Then, he turned on his heels to leave the laboratory.

Tobirama was floored for a moment. How dare he. Then, he proverbially exploded as the fury burned so bright inside of him, it was painful. “You will do no such thing!” He yelled after his brother, following with swift stomps. “Take your damn babysitter with you, I don’t need one!”

Hashirama all but ignored him and simply kept on walking down the corridor. Tobirama rushed back to the laboratory where his clones were still at work to eye his brother’s wood clone with sheer antipathy. Briefly, he contemplated destroying it - but ultimately decided against that just for the fact that might break anything precious in the laboratory.

That meant he just had to conceal his exhaustion better now. And no more help from additional medication. 

The rush to the finish line of the gruelling race was just as Tobirama had expected it. He didn’t measure time in days anymore but hours you had left. Your condition kept on worsening and ultimately, Hashirama decided they no longer could risk you going into withdrawal at all. That cut back the time slightly, but not much. Enough for Tobirama to not even feel the slightest bit of exhaustion anymore. Frankly during his work he was nothing but sharply focused. It was when he was by your side the emotions boiled up - the ache that teared at his heart, the suffocating sensation of sorrow, guilt. Overburdening protection paired with crushing worry. Your sheer will had bought them necessary time, he’d just make it work now. It was all he could do.

But now, even in what should be your rest - the precious hours in which you may wake - you barely opened your eyes anymore. They were forced to amp the seals up to a maximum of support to deal with the backlash of all the times you had suffered from the withdrawal, and either Hashirama or Tobirama constantly found themselves at your side to ensure your condition didn’t worsen. Every bit of additional chakra your strained system could take went into stabilizing you further from the inside. It was an extremely fragile balance they upheld - but the truth was, in the Stone shinobi’s hands your body had suffered grievous, outward wounds and now your inside was just as impacted by everything it had gone through. 

Your path to recovery would be an arduous one. One Tobirama did not doubt one second you’d walk strongly and gracefully, one on which he’d not leave your side, at all. He still felt tremendous guilt for everything they - he - had been forced to do to you, everything you went through under his watch. Even now, what little time he spent monitoring you, examining your condition, he never let the warm connection fade - hoping you might at least feel that.

That you weren't alone.

Progress on the leash was as exponential as expected. His shadow clones and his own vigour ensured as much. Over and over he perfected the results he produced. Time would not allow for lengthier tests anymore as the better his craft became, the longer a test subject suffered from the effects of his leash. He had to cycle through the prisoners who barely caught a break now, not that he cared, of course. But every experiment needed to start from a fresh slate, otherwise the result might be muddled. What he could do in the laboratory was to compare his own substance with the actual leash - which he did with unmatched diligence. Once a confusing swirl of chakra, intricate and impossible to pick apart easily, he now saw structure in it. With the experience of not just himself but many copies of himself, he now was sure: learning to create the leash might take months, if not years. 

When your hours were down to a single digit, he was unable to find a difference between his version of the leash and the actual drug.

An eerie kind of excitement gripped him. His head spun dizzily from it. Had he done it? Was this it?

Only one way to find out. And no time to waste. They had just a single dose of the leash left to give to you. 

Tobirama turned to what he sarcastically dubbed his babysitter. “Tell my brother with luck, I’m off to the interrogation headquarters for the last time.”

The last time he slept was forty-one hours ago. Involuntarily, at that. Overwhelmed by releasing the shadow clone jutsu, as it was.

The wood clone nodded and turned to leave.

Tobirama used his hiraishin seal to teleport to the interrogation headquarters after slipping the vial into his pocket - he had placed a branded piece of parchment there days ago. Another way to save time.

He headed straight for Ikuro’s office. By now the members of the interrogation unit knew when not to stand in his way - it was the kind of thoughtfulness he appreciated, even though he never uttered a word to that regard. Given the time of the day, early morning, Ikuro was behind the desk. Tobirama didn’t even knock but tore the door open. 

“We need to start another test now.” 

Ikuro glanced up from the document he was reading. By now he knew not to expect ‘good morning’ from him anymore or other pleasantries. Still, this was quite straightforward even for Tobirama’s standards. “You’ve been here last night,” he replied evenly, raising an eyebrow.

“And I’ve made progress since then. I have reason to believe I’ve done it.” Finally.

That elicited a whistle of surprise even from Ikuro, who seldom did more than smile slightly at whatever was tossed in his direction. But a frown followed. “I don’t need to tell you that-”

Tobirama slammed his palm on the table a huffed through clenched teeth. “I know and we don’t have any time left,” he hissed, borderline desperate now. The fact this would be his last shot before you - he refused to finish the thought.

Ikuro’s mien was stony, but he rose to his feet. “Kimi should be most recovered.”

He followed silently down into the holding block. Whatever gazes he might have felt upon him he either was accustomed to or forgotten. Except for Zenji’s stare. The damn, knowing stare. He never looked more than a spare second into his eyes.

Upon unlocking Kimi’s door, the woman’s head raised up slowly to muster her new company with contempt. The last days had left traces on all the prisoners. Like her compatriots, even the mental bulwark of seeming sheer insanity was showing cracks. Kimi had dark rings under her eyes and the proverbial paint was flaking off. “Is Y/n not fucking dead yet?”, she commented lazily, gaze settling on the vial in Tobirama’s grasp. They had long passed the stage of feigned pleasantries, inquiries about your wellbeing, or even Ikuro behaving like a friend towards her.

All of this had become a well practiced ritual the prisoners knew better than to resist. In a way, they had broken them all in that regard.

Ikuro seized the back of her head already and gave Tobirama a nod.

Kimi’s nostrils flared. “Can’t be much longer now. Y’still gonna keep trying to make the leash after she’s dead, by the way?”, she spat, fighting against the vice hold of the interrogation master.

Tobirama walked closer slowly, expression steely. As cold as he felt inside. He always did when he was down here - these people were barely human to him, anymore. Threats like Kimi’s were their favourite to make. He knew better than to react. His hand shot forward to grasp her jaw - her resistance was notably weaker than it had been a few days ago. 

Good.

Easily, his hand could coax her jaw forward to open her mouth and pour only a small portion of the vial in. Ikuro shot him a questioning glance. “I’ll explain later.” Tobirama answered gruffly as he secured her throat to prevent her from spitting anything back at them. She gagged briefly, prompting Tobirama to up the pressure until she swallowed.

“Fuck you,” she spat, but her pupils dilated already. 

Ikuro closed his eyes to get to work. Tobirama monitored the effect of his leash unfolding briefly and with no small amount of satisfaction. The muting component hammered Kimi’s chakra network just like yours had been. His heart beat faster. Swiftly he withdrew to take a first blood sample of the initial effect and continued to monitor Kimi, who had surrendered to the torture silently by now. Unusual. Most of the time, she found ways to spew colorful insults at either him or Ikuro.

Interesting.

The rest of the experiment proceeded just as perfectly. Tobirama felt near dizzy from the nervousness that gripped him and he was surprised to find he wasn’t shaking from excitement when the withdrawal began to hit the stone shinobi as the muting component wore off - sooner than usual, thanks to the smaller dosage, but it still took quite a while. Ikuro wasn’t finished with the mental interrogation yet, but a frown wrinkled his forehead.

“She’s becoming weaker,” he noted.

“I know. Keep on going.” Hell, they might even crack her now with the added pressure. After all, Tobirama was painfully well-versed in dealing with withdrawal effects, and Kimi’s body was not suffering from chakra overloading at all. 

The shift in the dynamic hadn’t escaped Kimi, either. Restlessness was gripping her. “This doesn’t change anything,” she pressed out, breathing laboured. Her forehead was covered in a fine layer of sweat. It wouldn’t be long now until the withdrawal will become painful.

Tobirama ignored her and gripped her throat tighter as he examined more closely. If the disruption didn’t fade he -

“It doesn’t change-,” Kimi choked out again, against the vice grip he held her in. “-fucking anything!” Her voice had become a fine sneer in the end.

Tobirama opened his eyes to find the prisoner grinning, staring at the ceiling with a hollow glance. That didn’t sit well with him. Kimi knew more about the leash - knowledge they hadn’t yet gotten out of her. 

They’d still proceed now. No turning back.

More time passed. She shouted out again a couple times, more slurred than the other before a tremor gripped her body and the words became gargled moans of pain. Inflammation began to kindle inside of her in an awfully familiar way. The disruption was starting to wreak havoc inside of her. Time for the next blood sample, which Tobirama took swiftly.

“Her mind is becoming fragmented, Tobirama,” Ikuro warned, pale eyes opening. That wasn’t good. He wouldn’t continue like this.

“I’ll stabilise her. I need to know if this fades or not,” he answered tersely, blood rushing in his ears. If it didn’t fade - then he’d -

One step after the other. Carefully he let his chakra strengthen each of Kimi’s organs somewhat, only enough to keep her going. The tormented groans subsided if just slightly, and Ikuro closed his eyes again as the haze that surrounded Kimi’s mind became thicker again. So close. They were so close.

Relief did not last long for her. Very soon, the prisoner was deteriorating again.

Tobirama almost shouted from the utter relief he felt. It could only mean one thing. His heart beat so frantically it might as well jump out of his chest at this point.

Ikuro gave him a stern reminder to watch for Kimi again, but Tobirama’s hand had seized the spasming jaw of the prisoner already. Silently, Ikuro watched as he poured the rest of the vial in only to directly continue monitoring her again.

The disruption subsided swiftly as her chakra network became near mute again. Kimi stilled completely, raising her head slowly to let out a drawn-out groan. Her gaze fixated Tobirama, pupils blown wide. There was recognition in it, but in a deranged, wild way - akin to an animal rather than a human person.

Tobirama's scarlet gaze was ablaze, his eyes widened. A low, utterly satisfied growl resounded through the cell - "Yes," he muttered, entirely absorbed in his examination.

Her reply hit like a kick to the gut.

“The leash is tied to a person… and the hand that holds it.”

Right after, her body went limp again as she surrendered to the psychotropic effects of the drug.

Tobirama took a step back, reeling. The blood still rushed in his ears and the elation had cracked like glass that had been put under too much strain. What the hell was that supposed to mean? What was it now? What else did he possibly have to think of? The experiment's result was perfect. 

By all means, this woman was tied to the leash now, the leash Tobirama had created.

He just had to make more of it now - you’d be safe and he could work on a cure. But why was he feeling like his breath had been stolen from him? As though he had run the mile, won the race and yet still had to keep running, or else? His hands trembled slightly as he kept staring down the limp prisoner.

Ikuro cleared his throat. “That’s enough for today. Follow me, Tobirama.” His voice sounded urgent. Startled, Tobirama’s eyes widened slightly, he nodded only.

As they passed Zenji’s cell, the man stirred. “So,” he called out, chains clinking as he threw his body against them. “You made it? Tied Kimi to the leash?” His tone was about as icy as one might get.

Tobirama stopped in front of the cell to give him a lethal glare, all nervousness subsiding in favour of sheer fury. Ikuro stopped as well, giving Tobirama a warning glance.

“I won,” he sneered back, eyes narrow. “As I said, I recreated that little tool of yours.” His voice was dripping with caustic arrogance.

Zenji attempted a grin that looked crooked by how swollen his face still was. “I wonder about that.”

Icy dread was pooling inside of Tobirama faster than he could control it. His mien turned stony as he tried to just not rush in and break Zenji’s jaw again for his insolence. And yet the words were haunting him. Just like Kimi’s had. “You had better start thinking about another way to appear useful to us.”

Without allowing another word from the prisoner, he walked towards Ikuro, heading for the office. Surprisingly, Ikuro shut the door as soon as they were inside.

The burly man cut straight to the chase. “Kimi’s mental defenses were extremely low today,” he began. Tobirama’s heartbeat picked up again. Ikuro frowned. “I was able to glance at her knowledge about the leash. Perhaps she wanted me to, I don’t know.”

“What did you learn?”, Tobirama snapped back before he even realised what words his brain had chosen. His tone wasn’t just stern - it was commanding.

“The Stone’s interrogators use the leash frequently.” Nothing new there, Tobirama figured. With how much effort that went into this drug. He was ready to ask for more information, but Ikuro beat him to it. “However, it seems once the leash is administered to a prisoner, they always receive it from the same creator, or one of his students.” Ikuro’s frown deepened.

The realisation hit Tobirama before he could coherently process the words. The dread that had formed earlier spiralled out into every vein of his body, an ice cold shiver ran down his spine. No, he had not come this far to learn this - all this-

“What does that mean?”, Ikuro inquired when Tobirama gave no answer.

He turned around slowly to put his hands against the doorframe, taking deep breaths now. His head was swimming. This information - all he knew about the leash - it was already pooling into his mind to form a muddied mess that wouldn’t produce a coherent thought.

His breaths were raspy and short. Finally, he swallowed against the lump in his throat. He didn’t want to speak about this. He had to return to the lab. Now.

“It means Zenji might be the only one able to create the leash for Y/n,” he answered, voice dead.

 _______

 He had precious little time left until you needed the last dose of the leash. After that, your lifespan was down to a mere few hours. Tobirama’s heartbeat never slowed down as he arrived in the laboratory, his shaking hands placing Kimi’s recent blood samples in the rack containing a great variety of vials now. His vision was tunneling. 

Only one shot.

Kimi’s statement - Zenji’s following it - and Ikuro’s information pointed towards one thing: the creation of the leash and the following interaction with the victim’s body was such a complex reaction that it didn’t allow for a different torturer’s leash to be administered to the same victim. Why was that? Tobirama could easily guess. With how much time he had spent weaving this damned drug all the little intricacies, the finicky process, it was easy to think there might be different ways to create it. Different patterns. The leash demanded repeated doses of the same drug for the disruption to be muted by the muting component - they were woven together like threads of fabric. A different pattern would not fit. That much his experiments had ascertained, too. 

Lucky for him - for you - he had stuck closely to Zenji’s sample and while primarily trying to imitate the effects of the drug, he had unintentionally copied the weaving pattern of the man himself. That much he was sure of - he had analysed his version and Zenji’s, finding no difference.

Did that mean Kimi and Zenji just thought Tobirama had - somehow - found out how to weave the leash differently? It was a possibility.

He grabbed the blood sample that contained Kimi’s blood right after administration of Tobirama’s leash. Closing his eyes, he began to examine it in great detail. The drug had spread through it hazily, coating it thickly - clogging and fuzzy. Just like it had been in you. No, exactly like it had been in you.

A first wave of relief washed through him. There was no doubt about it - had someone placed a vial of your blood under the initial effect of the leash in front of him and that of a prisoner under his own, he could only tell the difference by the innate chakra signature every body part carried, available to his fine sensor skills only. Otherwise, this was the same.

His body vibrated with tense energy, teetering on the fine edge between nervousness and sheer panic. Things he’d never show to anyone. But in the privacy of this lab - his hand shook, his heart was jumping out of his chest.

Now to the second sample.

He clasped Kimi’s blood sample tightly and shut his eyes again. Examining closer and closer, the disruptive component became obvious - the sharp edges of the chakra that had coated the blood’s cells, scathing as they went, damaging, scratching. Just like in Zenji’s leash. That, also was to be expected - after all, he had tailored the effect as per the example he had been given. 

Then why did he feel on edge? Why was time still running out? Something - something -

He took an even closer look.

And almost dropped the vial when it struck him.

“It’s the seal,” he muttered, shock and frustration fighting inside him as he felt as though he was bursting inside. The way his leash had near branded itself to Kimi’s blood - it was different, in such insignificant and tiny ways, Tobirama would’ve overlooked it. Were it not for the damned comment the lunatic witch had made, the information Ikuro had gleaned - there was no question about it. Zenji must use a slightly different sealing technique in his own version of the leash. 

What would happen if he administered his own leash to you now?

Tobirama groaned painfully, rubbing a palm over his face.

This is a nightmare. It can’t be. You only had little time left until the next - the last dose of the leash. And he had no idea how to even figure out how Zenji sealed the disrupting component of his leash.

His breaths were coming faster now and the tightness in his chest became painful - so painful he clutched the black fabric of his shirt, wheezing. Closing his eyes, his other hand reached for the edge of the laboratory bench for support as his knees shook. Distantly, he realised what the panic attack for what it was, now. Logically, he recognized it. While all the same he figured he did not have time for this.

He had to work now. He had to try - to try and do - do something-

“Damn it,” he panted. His breaths were coming in abruptly, rashly.

His vision tunneled.

He had no time- He had to work- This wasn’t-

Darkness crept from his peripheral reception into the center and Tobirama closed his eyes to force his breaths to slow down. Weakness. This was nothing but temporary weakness he had to overcome swiftly. 

By sheer willforce only quite possibly, he was riding the anguishing sensations out slowly before his body would obey him again.

Then, he grabbed the precious tiny sample of Zenji’s leash and did the only thing that came to mind: to try and dissect it for any clues. Anything at all that might tell him how Zenji sealed off his leash - anything for Tobirama to guess at the process to copy it. He began the procedure much like he’d perform an autopsy on a cadaver: from the outside to the inside. Peeling off layer after layer, removing bits and then cutting them apart into tinier pieces to examine them more closely. Systematically - thanks to his extended knowledge about the leash, there was some of that to his approach here. Of course the leash didn’t have organs like a body did, however since he knew how it was woven, he was able to trace it back this way, sort of.

Zenji’s seal was woven into the disruptive component like Tobirama’s was, intertwined in an intricate fashion he frantically sought to unravel. 

But try as he might - it was impossible. Since there was no ink work - no physical trace of the seal left save for the chakra threads alongside the disruptive component - there just was no telling just how his sealing technique might be working. Tobirama knew this.

He knew - he knew it simply was not possible.

Yet he kept on looking, searching for any clue - until the last bit of the tiny sample was entirely dissected.

And he was left empty handed.

His heart stopped for a moment and ice-cold shock burst in his chest.

Was this it, now? Had he come this far to surrender to this damn detail? He closed his eyes slowly as breaths came in faster and faster again, more ragged each time. The world was frozen. Time stood still for a moment as his mind raced faster into nowhere, while his heart, his heart knew well enough there was nothing left.

Crushing sorrow followed the shock, his lip quivered. Wetness formed under his lids and quelled down his cheeks.

“Fuck!”, he shouted - no, roared as he smashed the vial containing the useless sample of the leash against the wall.

“Fuck, fuck, -” he kept yelling the profanity over and over as if that brought any relief, his hands in his white hair, pulling. He didn’t feel any physical pain - he felt nothing except for overwhelming despair that filled every crack of his mind and emotional pain too great to put into words yet his heart was being torn into two.

He’d lose you - you, the only person he’d ever entrust that silly organ to. 

He had promised you -

After all he’d done -

Limply, he sunk down with his back against a wall of the laboratory, having no idea how he had gotten there. Tears were streaming down his face freely now, he didn’t even make any effort to wipe them off or reign in any feeling anymore. It was all too much. Wheezing and sobbing he sat there for who knows how long - letting desperation and grief crush him like metal between hammer and anvil. Jaw taut as he clenched his teeth, eyes hidden under his palm - he couldn’t move. He didn’t want to.

He had failed you.

And now you’d die. ______ the story isn’t over yet! but i reckon I should be hanged for this cliffhanger. STAY WITH ME THOUGH OKAY!!

[miraculoussideblog]

Phase Eight

Today is my birthday! And since Operation Lovebirds reached 200 kudos on AO3 I promised to release the first chapter of the sequel!

Three years after the failure of Operation Lovebirds, Alya and Nino’s relationship is tested when Alya comes across a startling secret. 

Read Operation Lovebirds

Chapters: [you are here]

[A03]

Chapter 1

Alya’s head leaned over the trash can as her entire breakfast expelled from her stomach. “Fuck the zoo.” She muttered before throwing up again. She and Marinette had stopped by to deliver her father’s lunch before hanging out. Almost every time she stepped into that wretched place something terrible happened. The universe was trying to tell her something, and she had no idea what.

“You good?” Marinette patted her back.

Alya nodded. She’d been feeling ill all week, and to top it all off, Nino was out for the next couple days on a gig in London. She tried to keep herself distracted by getting a jump on wedding planning, but she couldn’t shake whatever bug she had.

“I’ll be fine.”

“We can postpone.”

“No,” Alya spat in the trashcan one last time. Marinette handed her a water bottle from her bag. Alya took a big swig. She felt a little better at least, enough to get through the afternoon. She had big news to share with her best friend, she didn’t want to wait another day to share.  “I’m fine, let’s get to the restaurant, I’ll get some soup.”

The past year had been crazy for Ayla. After she and Nino decided the date and venue, Nino began booking more and more gigs to help pay for the wedding cost. Nino tried to get her to agree to marrying at the zoo where he proposed, but Alya refused to spend the happiest day of her life surrounded by animals that tried to kill her.

No. The Zoo was out.

They agreed to have the wedding at Le Grand Paris Hotel. Pricey, but with the extra gigs Nino’s been taking, the ad revenue from the Ladyblog, and the seed money her mother and father started saving when she was little, they could make work it.

Alya managed to make it to the the restaurant without throwing up on the way, but her stomach was still in knots.

The hostess seated the two outside, and handed them their menus. “The waitress will be here momentarily.”

“Thank you,” Alya nodded.

“So,” Marinette started looking through the menu, “how have you been with Nino gone?”

“It’s been a little lonely, but I can manage,” she shrugged. She and Nino finally moved in with each other a couple months ago. She spent so much time at his apartment anyway it was only a matter of time. However, since becoming a full time DJ, Nino’s sleep schedule was completely out of sync with hers. She’d go to bed at night alone, wake up with him beside her and tried not to disturb him as she got ready for the day. They managed to find time in the afternoon and evening together, but soon enough he began booking gigs outside of Paris.

Nino discussed it with her first of course, he was all too willing to turn down the opportunity to be with her, that’s just the kind of guy he was. As much as Alya missed him, she couldn’t let him give up his dream (and the money).

“I’m keeping myself busy,” she said, smiling slightly. “That being said, I have some big news.”

“Oh,” Marinette leaned forward. “Please tell.”

“I’m turning the Ladyblog into a book!”

“A book?” Marinette looked puzzled.

“Yeah, I’ve been taking to an editors and sent in a couple sample chapters and they like it!”

“Oh my God congratulations,” Marinette stood up and hugged her. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Thank you,” she sat back down. “What was with that first look though?”

“Well I thought it was something else…”

“Hello ladies,” a waitress with a bright red flower in her hair approached the table holding a coffee pot.  “My name is Iris and I’ll be taking care of you today. Would you like to try a sample of our new house blend?”

“Sure,” Marinette said. Alya nodded. One sip of coffee wouldn’t hurt.

Iris poured a small amount into her coffee cup. The second Alya placed the cup to her lips, the scent assaulted her nose and twisted her stomach. She couldn’t hold it in anymore. She stood up, ran to the nearest trashcan and threw up.

When she finished, Alya walked slowly back to the table. Marinette and Iris’ mouths hung open. “I am so sorry,” she sat back down. “I didn’t even drink the coffee, the smell was too strong.”

The woman behind her leaned over. “When I was pregnant, I couldn’t stand the smell of coffee either.”

Alya froze.

Pregnant? No, she couldn’t be. Her last period was…

“What day is it?” she asked Marinette.

“It’s the third...”

Shit. She was three weeks late. With Nino being gone and the wedding planning stress she didn’t notice. “Shit, shit shit.”  

Nino woke up in his hotel room late in the afternoon. He felt around to the other side of the bed, but no one was there. He still couldn’t get use to it. Usually he’d grab Alya’s pillow to snuggle with after she’d leave for the day. The smell of her coconut shampoo always calmed him down. Without it, he missed his fiancée more.

Nino reached for his glasses and phone to call Alya.

“Hey babe,” Alya finally picked up after several rings. There was an edge to her voice she usually had when something was wrong.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” her voice squeaked. “I’m fine.”

Liar. He knew he well enough to know her voice squeaks a bit when she lies, a tell she picked up from Marinette.

“I can cancel my last two shows and come back to Paris.” If she was missing him as much as he missed her, he’d be home in a heartbeat.

“No!” she exclaimed. “It’s only three more days, have fun and stay safe. I’m not going anywhere.”

Nino sighed. He loved that woman. She constantly encouraged him to follow his dreams and supported him one hundred percent. That’s why he wanted to give her the wedding of her dreams. “All right dear, in that case remind me what brand of shampoo you use. I need the hotel pillows to smell like you.”

Alya laughed. “You’re gross. I’ll see you in three days.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said softly.

Nino hung up and flopped back down on the bed. Three more days.

“You didn’t tell him?” Marinette asked.

“No,” she glanced down at the positive pregnancy test. “Not yet. I’ll wait till he’s home to give him the news.”

After the restaurant incident, they bought the test at the drugstore and went back to Marinette’s apartment to take the test. Fifteen minutes of pure agony later, the test came back positive. Nino called, before she could really process anything.  

Marinette kneeled down next to Alya. “Are you okay?”

Alya shook her head.

She and Nino talked about kids before. They both wanted to wait a couple years after they got married to have them. She had a plan, a timeline. Being pregnant while planning her wedding was not part of it.

“How am I going to fit into my wedding dress when I am seven months pregnant?” She burst into tears. “We already booked the venue and sent out the save the dates. Do you know how many hoops we had to jump through took us to get that date? The next opening won’t be for another year. At that point I’ll have an infant at the wedding and--” she stopped.

“Alya, what’s wrong,” her friend asked.

“Marinette,” she wiped the tears from her eyes “I’m going to be a mom.”

“Congratulations,” Marinette squeezed her tight.

“Thanks girl. I should get home though. I’m exhausted.”

“Of course,” Marinette let go. “Do you want me to walk with you?”

“No thanks,” she shook her head. “I need some time to myself. We’ll talk soon.”

Marinette walked her to the door, giving her one final hug before she left. “Congrats again,” she kissed her forehead.

Alya strolled down the street leisurely, mentally planning the next step. Telling Nino. He’d be thrilled of course, but his career was finally taking off. He’d want to give up traveling to take care of her and the baby. She wanted him to succeed, but having him home more often would best.

Alya’s phone beeped a few minutes later. Akuma attack a couple blocks away. She might be able to get there in time. As people began to clear away, Alya sprinted down the street to the source of the attack.

She ducked behind a car, out of the akuma’s sight. “I am Coffee Queen,” the akuma shouted. Alya’s eyes trained on the bright red flower in her hair.

Iris, the waitress. She must have been having a really bad day.

Before she could get any closer to film, Ladybug’s yo-yo wrapped around her arm.   “What the are you doing out here,” Ladybug snapped.

“I’m doing my job,” she said, trying to set herself free of the magical string.

“Go home Alya, this is too dangerous. I can’t have you running out in the middle of akuma attacks anymore!”

“Why not!”

“Because you’re pregnant!” Ladybug’s eyes grew wide when she realized what she said. Her hand quickly covered her mouth.

“Marinette?”