An Inch of Gold

Interlude I

Mitsuki is awake but cannot move.

He can feel a dull pain in his abdomen from the knife wound, but decides that's a good sign. It means the paralysis must be wearing off.

But not before the man with the mottled skin returns, holding an unconscious Boruto by the scruff of his neck. Not before he drags them all over to Konohamaru and wraps his arms around them all. Not before the world spins in a kaleidoscope of colour and rushing air, and then they are suddenly inside somewhere.

It is dark and damp and smells of unwashed bodies and animals and a particularly unpleasant burning, metallic odour.

"I have brought the door stoppers, as the goddess requested," the man says with puzzling good cheer, the curse-mark fading beneath its seal as he drops Mitsuki and his teammates unceremoniously to the hard stone floor. "Is it enough?"

"Bring them closer," a female voice rasps in the darkness. "Let me look upon them."

And that's when Mitsuki realises for the first time they are not alone.

He wishes he hadn't.

As a child of Orochimaru, his upbringing was not as sheltered as his friends. He has seen limbs transplanted and bodies cobbled together as if from spare parts and bodies incubating in vats of water.

Somehow, none of it prepared him for the grotesque creature before him.

Lidless eyes blaze down at him, spinning in the red and black he recognises as a Sharingan. Dried blood crusts on her cheeks like ancient tear tracks, only they are black and cracked from time. Her lips are dry and cut in places, rotting teeth gritting together in what he thinks must be constant pain. Her body is that of a living skeleton, paper-thin skin over jutting bone, and entirely bare except for the thick cables keeping her affixed to the stone walls surrounding them. Sigils trace up the sides of her flesh, twisting around old suture scars that trail up her neck and to a shaved scalp. Cords and wires bave been drilled into the base of her skull and temples.

Its every nightmare he has had for himself since waking in Orochimaru's lair with no memory of how he got there.

The man brings Konohamaru and Boruto before her, holding the limp forms closer for her to see. The tomoe in her Sharingan spin in calculation as she studies them, gazing at something Mitsuki cannot see.

"Not a big enough impact," she dismisses, and the ghost-like man shifts to push Boruto in front of her. She puzzles for several long moments, and then says. "There is something...a mark upon him. Find it."

The man promptly drops Konohamaru to the ground and begins to manhandle Boruto, making Mitsuki's teeth clench. He tries to move, but can only make his fingers twitch a little.

The man makes a sound of discovery and holds up Boruto's right hand.

The woman's teeth skin back. "Kāma. Not worth the potential temporal collapse."

"Is that not what the goddess wishes?" her minion asks.

"I require a paradox—a hole in time, not its total destruction. Bring the other." He hesitates. "What is it?"

"The boy...wishes to keep this one. Too much like the Snake Man. He requires death. It would be...unwise—"

"It is unwise to disobey me," the woman retorts coldly, and the man rushes to carry out her orders. Boruto also ends up crumpled on the floor without an afterthought.

Mitsuki's toes can move now, but it's useless to him as he is dragged over and held upright by his abductor. Several feet from the woman's terrible face, he gags as her breath overwhelms him.

"Your eyes," she murmurs, slow and thoughtful, the Sharingan spinning within the lidless sockets. "What will they tell me?"

Without warning, the Sharingan pupils widen and then, the world falls away, and all Mitsuki knows is pain.

つづく

_____

Comments and constructive criticism are much appreciated, and very motivating! For more information about supporting my original, non-fandom related works, you're welcome to check out my tumblr (Typewriter Ninjutsu)

栗