27

Chapter 27: Twenty-Seven

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

IMPORTANT!!! Today was a double update, so make sure you've read Chapter 26 before you read this one. Also, if you feel warnings are necessary, they're located at the end-notes. Enjoy!

TWENTY-SEVEN:

Sansa kept her eyes closed. She wished she could retreat back to her mindscape or warg far away from her body, but she couldn't do that to Shin.

"You may reveal only one piece of information," she had been told, "and that is your code name– Megitsune."

She had been given another piece of information, a string of numbers, and had been told that if she revealed them, then they would stop interrogating her and Shin. But to reveal them would mean failure.

Failure was unacceptable.

Sansa had long-since learned her lesson about trying to step in Shin's place, to stop him from being punished. Watching her partner's head be held under water over and over, watching him be whipped, watching them break his fingers... it was so much worse than having that very same torture inflicted on herself, and that, she believed, was the entire point of this horrific ordeal.

She watched numbly in her restraints as Shin's face was forced again and again into the tub of water. Resistance to Interrogation, or RTI training, was so far easily the worst part about Root. Every couple of weeks she and Shin would be escorted away from Usagi and Koi and taken to some type of cell where they would be 'interrogated'. The first few times Sansa had broken quickly; she could deal with the pain being inflicted by the interrogators upon herself, but witnessing Shin being tortured had broken her every time. That was, until she realised that every time she broke, the next time it would be worse for her partner.

She'd gotten better at staying silent after that.

Eventually, Shin was pulled choking and spluttering from the tub and chained to the wall in the same kneeling position that she was. They were both fixed with thick blindfolds, ear-plugs and steel gags from nose to chin, with just a small gap over the mouth wide enough for a funnel to be forced down, and through it a tepid drink poured into her mouth.

(Their porcelain masks had been taken from them for this. Apparently the one time other than sleeping and eating that it was acceptable to remove their masks was for complete sensory deprivation torture)

Sansa swallowed the liquid flooding her mouth as quickly as she could to keep from choking. A dark panic borne of drowning clawed at her mind, memories of her own time having her face forced into the tub overwhelming her, hanting flashes of scorching, spasming lungs and water greedily rushing down her throat all she could think of until the funnel was eventually removed and she was free to cough and choke, the drink spilling down her chin, dripping onto her neck and down her bare chest.

Breathing heavily through her thick, clogged nose, Sansa hung listlessly in her chains, something almost like pride warming in her chest. This was the fifth session in a row that she hadn't broken. She'd been tortured and watched Shin be tortured without making a sound. She wondered if Danzo would be satisfied yet. If he wasn't... she didn't think she could cope with this any longer without truly shattering. She could deal with being hurt herself; her very bones had been moulded by the life she had lived to suffer and withstand the pain and suffering that would break lesser men, but to watch another be hurt...

That did more to break her then any other cruelty that Danzo could inflict upon her.

At least there had been one benefit to the extended periods of time she'd been forced to spend chained with her senses cut off from her. Sansa had never been more aware of her chakra under her skin, how the ocean currents twisted and churned under her skin, how she could make it dance and twirl and eddy– and form seals.

Mito was as proud of her progress as she was concerned about Sansa's current circumstances. Her rage was nearly as terrifying as Kurama's.

"Soon," Mito promised, every time Sansa managed to twist her chakra into more and more seals under her skin, "soon."

'Soon' couldn't come quickly enough.

Sansa still had tea with Danzo once a week. It seemed almost surreal to sit before him, knowing that he was responsible for so much of her suffering, for Shin's suffering. She hated him, she hated him, but she knew better then to attack him. She wasn't ready, not yet. To act too soon was to court defeat. And yet, to act too late was also to court defeat. 

If she acted too late, Sansa feared she truly would break and there would be nothing left of who she was.

There was a fine balance, and she was not there yet.

But she was getting closer.

~

Sansa thought it could have gone two ways, the RTI training. She and Shin could have been torn apart, or they could have drawn together. She was grateful it was the latter, though they tended to play more at the former in front of the other Root operatives. It was safer, for both of them.

After the sessions finally concluded, about six months after they started, both she and Shin could not only keep from revealing 'classified' information during their own torture but remain blank-faced and silent in the face of the other's tortured screams, no matter how prolonged or agonised, and Danzo was satisfied with what he called their "progress". He even tested Sansa by having Usagi whipped before her for some minor infraction during their training. Sansa didn't even flinch and Danzo smiled at her over their tea.

"You've come a long way since you first arrived here," he told her. Sansa couldn't deny that was true. She had learned much in her time in Root, both in the physical ninja arts and in the politics and warfare of the Elemental Nations. She had also changed as a person; the Sansa she had been before Root would never have stood by, blank-faced, as a child was whipped to unconsciousness before her. That Sansa would have been horrified, would have thrown herself between the whip and the child.

That Sansa was dead.

(Danzo hadn't been wrong when he told her everyone breaks)

"Change is inevitable," she murmured, sipping her tea.

"It is," Danzo agreed. "But not all embrace it. Some cling to the past, refusing to let go of what has been. Only those who can truly open themselves to the possibilities that change brings can pave the way to Konoha's future."

"You're in a philosophical mood today," Sansa observed.

"I'm dealing with a rather... particular situation at present," Danzo told her. "It has me reminiscing."

"Oh?" Sansa asked.

"It seems that the same old problems just keep coming around, and yet we keep turning to the same old solutions," Danzo said, and his sigh seemed genuinely frustrated. "I feel that it's time to look towards new solutions, but Hiruzen... he does not agree."

"Hiruzen is weak," Sansa said flatly and Danzo's mouth quirked slightly, his amusement just as genuine as his frustration. Sansa wondered when she had learned to read him so well.

"You're right," Danzo agreed. "He is." He looked thoughtful. "You have given me much to think about, Megitsune," he said. "I think I will have to conclude our tea early today."

Sansa stood and inclined her head to the elder before leaving the office.

She no longer needed escorts, now trusted to make her own way around the base. She knew there was no point trying to escape, after all, and Danzo knew that she knew. So why would either of them bother with pretences?

It was easy for her to find Shin. He was training, of course– they were always training. It was their sole purpose as recruits for Root, training for nearly the entire of their sixteen-hour days, seven days a week, until they would be deemed useful enough to complete missions for the good of Konoha. Washi and Buta no longer supervised all their training sessions so when she entered the training rooms, Sansa was able to cross over to where Shin, Koi and Usagi were all sparring and lightly brush her fingertips over Shin's shoulder in greeting. He returned the gesture and she imagined he was smiling like she was, though it was impossible to tell with the porcelain bear-mask.

"How was our lord and master today?" Shin asked, managing to sound perfectly respectful when Sansa knew he was anything but– not that Koi or Usagi would understand. With their stunted emotional growth, sarcasm was beyond them both. Shin had been slightly older when he was 'recruited' and had suffered less damage in that regard.

"Delightful, as always," she replied lightly. "Though I think I may have accidentally encouraged him to take some sort of unsavoury action," she admitted.

"I doubt he needed much encouragement," Shin said with an edge of bitterness to his voice, which eased her conscience slightly even as she winced in agreement. "Spar with me?" the boy offered and Sansa pulled the tipless tanto from her back that was standard Root issue, sliding easily into a ready stance.

Sparring wasn't her idea of fun, but her taijutsu and kenjutsu had both advanced impressively over her time in Root– her instructors wouldn't accept anything less and decades of dance lessons had been surprisingly useful. Despite the two-year age gap between them, she and Shin were very nearly evenly matched as they twirled around the training room, blades flashing, feet dancing, and her skin was damp with sweat when Shin finally yielded, her tanto to his throat.

When they both straightened up, Sansa realised that a blank-masked Root operative she hadn't seen before was standing in the doorway. Discomfort prickled at her as she observed the way they were staring straight at her before turning and leaving. 

"What was that about?" Shin asked, sounding as uneasy as she felt.

"I don't know," Sansa replied, troubled. "But I doubt it was anything good."

~

Sansa's unease lingered in the weeks that followed. It seemed that the blank-masked Root operatives were watching her more and more often. When she questioned Danzo over tea, he simply waved her questions aside which only served to increase her unease.

It was about two months after she first observed one of the blank-masks watching her that she and Usagi were summoned.

They were taken to a training ground Sansa hadn't been to before. Four blank-masks were present and both she and Usagi were stripped of every weapon on them except for their tantos and a single kunai each.

"Only one of you leaves here today," one of the blank-masks said and it took Sansa a moment to process their words and realise just what they meant. And even then, she still didn't truly understand, struggling to comprehend.

"What?" she asked dumbly.

"Only one of you leaves," they repeated and Sansa shook her head in complete denial.

"I can't," she said blankly. She wasn't particularly close to Usagi. Despite Sansa's best efforts, the poor girl was too emotionally stunted to form connections and the older she got, the worse it got as the conditioning increased. But that didn't mean Sansa was in any way prepared to kill her.

"You have no choice," the blank-mask said and Sansa kept shaking her head and backing away from Usagi, towards the door. One of the blank-masks caught her before she could reach it, pushing her back towards her partner. Sansa struggled, fighting their grip, but it was useless.

"Begin," they said, and Sansa had half a second before Usagi was lunging at her with a kunai.

Sansa defended herself automatically with instincts honed from just under a year of intense training, bringing up her own kunai to block Usagi's strike. She felt sick, she felt panicked, hysteria was clawing at the edges of her mind like a panicked wolf caught in a snare as a hunter with a knife approached, and she didn't know what to do.

Usagi switched to her tanto, easy as breathing, and Sansa hastened to follow, their blades clashing; Sansa met Usagi's original flurry of strikes until she overextended and received a painful cut to her wrist that severed something deep and achingly painful, causing her to drop her tanto then immediately fold herself over backwards to avoid Usagi's next strike, thanking the gods for flexibility training even as her mind spun.

Usagi hadn't even hesitated to deliver what would have been a fatal blow and that shook Sansa, right down to her bones.

With her right hand useless, Sansa threw her kunai at Usagi to buy her a brief, precious moment of time to retrieve her tanto, this time holding it in her left hand as she faced Usagi. 

In her old world, Jaime Lannister was the sort of warning tale that hung heavy over every swordsman's head– he was a reminder that decades of training could be taken in the blink of an eye, leaving them near useless. It was why Ser Brienne, the Commander of Sansa's Queensguard, had trained herself up with her off-hand until it could nearly match her sword-hand in proficiency, and had demanded that every member of Sansa's Queensguard do the same.

It was why Sansa, upon learning that this wretched world was forcing her to fight, had demanded she be taught to wield her weapons with her off-hand. She wasn't nearly as good as she was with her right hand, but she'd been training with her left just as long so she was no beginner.

That didn't change that fact, however, that she did not want to fight Usagi. And more then that, so much more then that, she did not want to kill– or be killed by– Usagi.

"Please," she begged, "please– we are partners! I don't want to hurt you!"

Usagi ignored her and moved forward to re-engage. Sansa wanted to cry. She thought she was– she could feel a wetness on her face as she brought her own blade up to meet Usagi's.

The clashing of their tantos was fast and vicious. Sansa focused on defence, unable to force herself to make a move towards the offense, but Usagi had no such constraints and Sansa was very aware of the fact that she was the one at the disadvantage.

Perhaps if she disarmed Usagi, maybe if she forced the girl to yield... could the fighting stop then? Sansa wondered, somewhat helplessly.

Focusing, she triple feinted; left, right, left, then attacked at the centre– Usagi, who had been lulled into a false sense of security by Sansa's previous strategy of defence-only, struggled to parry the invisible attacks before she stumbled back, tripping to the ground to avoid what would have been a lethal stab if Sansa had put any more speed or force behind her attack. As it was, Sansa took the opportunity to move forward and ruthlessly bring her foot down on the fingers of Usagi's sword-hand, gritting her teeth against Usagi's cries of pain as they broke.

Usagi hadn't trained with her off-hand like Sansa had, and as Sansa pulled the tanto from Usagi's now limp grip and threw it away, she knew the other girl would not be able to retrieve it and wield it with her off-hand as Sansa had done.

Usagi wasn't finished, though. While Sansa had been distracted with the tanto, Usagi kicked her legs out, tangling her feet with Sansa's and knocking Sansa off-balance, bringing her tumbling also to the ground. Usagi immediately used her superior body weight to roll on top of Sansa and Sansa wheezed as Usagi pinned her down, trapping her legs so she couldn't kick and pressing her forearm down over Sansa's neck so she couldn't breathe.

Sansa gagged and choked, struggling against the pin. Her arms were free, but her right hand was useless, her fingers unresponsive from whatever tendon or nerve Usagi had severed near the start of the fight, and the angle was wrong for her to reach around with her left hand to claw at Usagi's ears or eyes or throat– anywhere sensitive or vulnerable enough to distract her from choking the life out of Sansa.

Her vision already greying out, Sansa scrabbled about the ground around her with her one good hand and her fingertips brushed against something metal. It was the kunai she'd thrown at Usagi at the start of the match to distract her.

Wanting to hurt Usagi, to distract her, Sansa closed her fingers around the handle and swung wildly at the other girl. She meant to drive the blade of the kunai down into the meat of the Usagi's shoulder. Instead, Usagi started to make horrible gargling sounds and the pressure against Sansa's neck immediately eased. Sansa shoved the other girl off her, coughing and gasping for breath, her eyes streaming. It took her about half a minute of wheezing to look over at Usagi. When she did, her blood turned cold. 

The kunai wasn't sticking out of Usagi's shoulder, like she'd planned.

It was sticking out of the side of Usagi's neck.

And Usagi... Usagi was laying limp on the ground where Sansa had shoved her, motionless in a rapidly expanding pool of blood.

She was dead. She was dead. There was no surviving a wound like that– Usagi was dead, little seven or eight name-day old Usagi was dead, and Sansa had killed her.

Sansa wanted to turn and run, the blank-masks having finally stepped aside from the door to the training room, but instead she moved towards Usagi, dropping to her knees beside the little girl and tearing the rabbit-mask from her face.

Usagi was a pretty little thing. Her skin was deathly pale, understandable considering they never saw any sunlight, but she had lovely pale blonde hair and light blue eyes and her eyelashes were long and feathery. Her face wet with tears, Sansa bowed her head over the little girl. "Shinigami-sama, watch over her," she choked, "guide her to the Heavens. Let her rest, let her find peace and joy, let her be loved."

Sansa slid Usagi's eyelids shut over empty, glassy eyes with trembling fingers before stumbling to her feet and fleeing.

The blank-masks did not try to stop her.

~

Following Usagi's death Sansa was moved from the bunk-room she had shared with Usagi, Shin and Koi. Not that she referred to the girl who had been her partner by 'Usagi' any longer; Sansa refused to use the dehumanising label given by those that had raised the little girl to kill or be killed. No, she had named her 'Serena' for the sister of the historical Sansa Stark. Sansa refused to forget Serena or what she had done to the girl. It may not have been intentional, but she had still taken Serena's life and she regretted it bitterly.

After Serena's death, when the blank-masks found her in the showers frantically scrubbing Serena's blood from her skin, she had been taken to the 'infirmary' where her hand, already halfway healed by Kurama, had been fully healed by the medic-nins. She had then been strapped to that gods-damned steel table and a seal had been inked onto her tongue and a second on the skin on the back of her neck.

Mito couldn't identify what the seal on her neck was, other than that it contained components of a linking seal– she had posited that it was some sort of leash, perhaps, in the event that Danzo would let her out on missions– but the seal on her tongue was easily identifiable to Mito as a cursed seal that would stop the wearer from speaking about anything incriminating relating to, in this case, Danzo or Root. It would, Mito assured her, disappear after Danzo's death. Sansa's passionate yearning for that day only continued to grow.

The day following Serena's death, Sansa almost couldn't believe it when she was summoned to Danzo's office for their weekly tea. Sitting there, across from him, all she could do was ask, "why?"

"You know why," Danzo said calmly, sipping at his fragrant tea. "I told you that I train the humanity out of my operatives, removing emotions from them such as love, empathy and grief. Killing partners is one of the final steps of the process."

Sansa forced herself to breathe, to keep still, to hold onto her thin veneer of calm when all she wanted to do was rage. This was made infinitely harder when satisfaction flickered across Danzo's face.

"Perfect," he murmured, and he sounded so proud. "You are much younger than the recruits usually are, when they face the final test, but I had operatives observing your training with Usagi, Kuma and Koi, and their observations along with my own had me confident in my decision to accelerate the date of your final test. I wasn't at all surprised to hear of your success."

"It was pure chance that I won," Sansa said icily and Danzo smiled, his scars stretching and twisting.

"Was it?" he asked, amused, and Sansa immediately wanted to protest that yes, it was, but she suddenly found herself hesitating in the face of Danzo's confidence. Had it been chance? Could Serena really have died, for chance alone? "Don't be ashamed, child," Danzo said, almost comfortingly. "You followed orders, and there's no shame in following orders. You did your duty."

Sansa felt numb, sitting there as her tea turned cold in her hands. She didn't even know what to believe anymore. Didn't know who to believe, if she couldn't even believe herself.

"Congratulations, Megitsune," Danzo said, and he actually sounded proud. "You have graduated from the first stage of training, excelling beyond what even I had expected. It is now time for the next stage of your training to begin."

~

A/N: Sansa has officially graduated from the Root version of the "Academy". It won't be long now...

Notes:

Chapter Warning: violence against children, non-explicit torture and non-explicit child-death. Basically, Root fuckery.