The Jashin Cult's underground prison.
It had originally been built to hold sacrificial offerings, but as the Jashin Cult changed, it had been repurposed to hold prisoners.
Dan Katō's consciousness slowly surfaced from the darkness, gradually regaining clarity.
As awareness returned, a bone-deep chill seized his heart before anything else.
So cold.
His body was stiff and cold, numbness alternating with stabbing pain. The mingled smell of damp and mold invaded his nostrils, telling him how dreadful the conditions were without his even opening his eyes.
It isn't safe here.
Dan Katō kept his breathing and heartbeat steady, discreetly pretending he had yet to wake.
This was clearly no safe place. He could not act rashly; he needed to gather information before deciding what to do.
Control over his body gradually returned, and his senses slowly sharpened.
Dan Katō tried to stir the chakra within him, but failed. He realized he must be lying on his back, on something that felt like wooden planks.
It was unusually quiet-or rather, utterly silent. No birdsong, no rustle of wind through leaves or grass. All he could hear was his own breathing...
Sinister, oppressive, isolated. It was like a forgotten corner cut off from the world. Far too quiet. That was not normal.
Most likely, a barrier had been placed around wherever he was, separating it from the outside world.
His memories from before he lost consciousness returned, and Dan Katō could not suppress his worry.
Where am I? Where did Black Zetsu take me? Are the children all right? Did they get back safely?
He had gathered everything he could at this stage. Pretending to remain unconscious would yield no more information, so Dan Katō opened his eyes, "slowly coming around."
Everything before him was pitch-black. As his eyes gradually adjusted, a