Unlike the gloomy darkness of the Interrogation Department, the torture chamber was as bright as day. Several chains forged from chakra metal suspended the weakened prisoner high in the air. Harsh, uncomfortable light shone directly into his face, preventing him from sleeping. On top of that, Anbu came in at regular intervals to make sure he stayed awake.
The samurai of the Land of Iron had been tortured within an inch of his life, but more than the physical pain, it was the exhaustion of going several days without sleep that threatened to break him. Beneath his outward composure, his nerves were already stretched like a bowstring drawn to its limit. Perhaps just a little more pressure would snap them in two.
He wanted to die.
The humiliation of not only failing his assassination but being captured and tortured by shinobi filled the samurai with hatred, pain, and anguish. For his convictions, and even more to atone for his failure, he had to die here!
But the Anbu shinobi would hardly let him die so easily. His limbs were tightly bound, his mouth gagged, and his body injected with a muscle relaxant. The samurai could only hang in the air like a dead fish. His hazy consciousness and unfocused eyes failed even to notice Senju Toka approaching, step by step.
She opened the sealing scroll she carried, took out an unremarkable wooden box, selected three doses of medicine, and expertly injected them into the samurai's veins.
The first replenished the energy necessary to sustain his life, keeping him from dying of exhaustion. The second forced his ruined body to wring out its last reserves of vitality, making him stay alert for the interrogation to come. The third was the most important: a truth serum that impaired judgment and cognition, forcing