Shinobi World No. 1.
Autumn, Year 43 of Konoha.
Sunagakure, Sandcastle Base.
When Tsunade woke, everything before her was dark.
It was not the darkness of night-it was absolute darkness, without any sense of light, as though she were buried deep underground. The Apostle of Despair had gouged her eyes blind. Her eyeballs were still there, but her retinas, lenses, and optic nerves had all been destroyed by those two fingers.
She remembered the pain. It had not been an ordinary stinging pain, but bone-deep agony, like red-hot iron rods driven into her eye sockets. She remembered screaming, remembered collapsing, remembered being picked up, remembered someone whispering in her ear, "You won't die. At least, not yet."
Then she had lost consciousness.
Now she was awake.
She tried to move a finger. She could not. It was not because she was tied down-she could feel ropes around her wrists and ankles, but they had some give; if she still had her strength, she should have been able to break free. But she had no strength. Her body was as limp as a wad of cotton, and she could not even lift an arm. The muscle relaxant-the drug the Apostle of Despair had injected into her-was still working.
"Is anyone there?"
Tsunade spoke, her voice hoarse and weak.
No one answered.
She listened closely. Wind? No, it was not wind. It was-the hum of some machine, low and steady, like a heartbeat. And-footsteps. Very light, very steady, coming from far away, drawing closer and closer.
"You're awake."
A man's voice. Low and calm, carrying an unquestionable sense of power, of control over everything.
Tsunade's body tensed slightly.
"Who are you?"
"You don't need to know."
The man walked to the bedside and stopped.
"All you need to know is-you're in my