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1The Time of Her Life [Flashback/Private] Empty The Time of Her Life [Flashback/Private] on Wed Jan 08, 2014 12:03 am



Kohaku skipped along the road, waving goodbye to Mr. Wakashi after getting her hair done at his family’s hair salon.  For an old man, he sure knew how to style her hair well.  The curls seemed to bounce as she skipped, floating a bit with the wind.  Her blonde locks shined in the bright sunlight as she made her way through the city of Iwakura, a large trade city in the Fire Country.  Just a few blocks and she had arrived at her home.  The sign over the building’s door displayed clearly the words “Nishimura Family Clinic”.  The building stood only one story high and was big enough only to hold up to twenty patients at a time.  The small building looked cramped and out of place among the bigger buildings of the city.  It wasn’t at all like Iwakura’s downtown district with the towering skyscrapers, but the buildings were tall enough that you couldn’t see the great forest trees of the Middle River Forest that lay to the west of the city.

A loud, rickety wagon pulled alongside Kohaku as she made her way inside, the men driving the wagon stopping it abruptly.  The horses whinnied and bucked at the sharp command.  She paid them no mind, too lost in her happy skipping pace.  Had she been more observant of the men that got out of the wagon behind her, she would’ve been as happy as she was right then.  Approaching her father in the waiting room, Kohaku smiled as he ran his fingers through her hair.

“Looking great as always, Kohaku,” he complimented her as always.  “That Mr. Wakashi sure knows just how to make my girl look stunning.”  He patted her on the head and smiled brightly.

A call came from the other room and her father turned around, pushed up his glasses and was off.  he motioned for Kohaku to follow as he turned the corner, his gaze only focusing on his little girl as he left the waiting room.  Had he stopped for a moment, his eyes might have caught the movement of two men with weapons and wearing hunter gear on their cloaks.  Yet he did not, and so all he saw were the wonderful blonde locks of Kohaku and her radiant smile as she walked up behind him.

To most, Kohaku was strikingly pretty, although everyone would agree that when you watched her, her behavior resembled that of a small child.  Her mannerisms would constantly mimic that of when she was only eight years old, even though she was presently nineteen.  This made her quite the one to look at, drawing many lookers as she walked about the city, but no one went past that as she was so childish.  This was her only, and probably biggest, fault in her character.

As the men stood in the waiting room, their hungry eyes followed her into the other room, ever watching her body gracefully skip along the sterile, tile floors.  Her and her father went away into a separating room, where one of the patients was being healed by her mother.  Kohaku was ordered to get bandages for the patient’s wounds, and so she continued on into the next room.  She loved helping her parents with patients, seeing it as mending a bird with a broken wing so that it could fly again.  Little did she know that these patients were actually rebels and soldiers of the White Horse Rebellion.  This was the very end of the rebellion, but still many wounded came to the family’s clinic daily.

The men approached Kohaku’s parents in the patient’s room.  By this time, several government troops had entered the building.  One of the men stepped forward and bowed slightly before introducing.  “The Daimyo of the Land of Fire thanks you for aiding our troops and his citizens.  We are from the Lord Daimyo’s seventh brigade.”  

The other man took a step forward as Kohaku’s parents finished treating the patient before them and turned to face the two officers.  “That’ll be enough, Ichi.  I am Colonel Tatsuya.  It seems you have done more than just heal our troops.”  The Colonel declared, turning his head and shouting an order to his men who had now entered the clinic.  “Kill the rebels.”

Ichi turned from his calm demeanor to shock and faced the Colonel.  “But sir, these men are wounded, under the laws of wa-”

“Do not lecture me on war, Lieutenant.”  Colonel Tatsuyo spat.  “And kill the doctors that harbored them.  Let it be known that if you harbor the enemy, you will lose your lives.”  Ichi again began to protest but the Colonel silenced him with his hand.  Two swordsmen came into the room, Kohaku’s parents backed up to the wall.

Kohaku had just come back from the supply closet in the back of the clinic when she came down the hallway to the patient’s room where her parents had been.  Something sounded odd from the raised voices coming down the hallway, there was lots of shouting and she could hear cries of pain and swords being unsheathed.  These sounds were new to her and she didn’t like them.  For a moment she paused, a few steps from the open doorway into the room as she saw the two swordsman come up and drive their swords into her parents’ bellies.  The pain in their eyes made her scared and worried--no--terrified.  Her mother fell down and was lost behind the patient’s table while her father’s body slumped onto the floor.  Lying on his back, she saw his eyes roll up almost going into his head yet they froze when they reached her.  The swordsman who had slain her father also noticed her standing in the hallway and turned to the Colonel.

“Run,” Kohaku heard her father through spurts of blood.  “RUN!”

So she did.  Dropping her basket full of bandages, she spun on her heels and ran back down the hall, turning left and out the back door of the clinic.  Her eyes were wild and her breaths were short.  Her summer dress flowed brilliantly in the sunlight as she ran.  Even though it was such a bright and sunny day, Kohaku thought the day had turned dark.   As she ran she could only see her parents lying on the ground and her father choking on his own blood.  She dared not look back, for fear that the men were upon her.  Taking different routes, she kept heading to the trees that were always out of view from the city.  The one place she knew no man had come from.  The city was where they were, so she fled from it.

Back in the clinic, the Colonel was told that the girl had escaped.  He only grunted with a smile.  “Not for long.  I’ll see to it that she is caught.  What a delicious figure, she had, a pity I’ll have to pay for her now.”  With that, he left.  The troops all gathered back into their respective wagons and they rode off.  The clinic was never to be used again.

Training Genjutsu D-->C 1204/1500

Last edited by Kohaku on Sun Jan 26, 2014 4:22 pm; edited 2 times in total

2The Time of Her Life [Flashback/Private] Empty Re: The Time of Her Life [Flashback/Private] on Wed Jan 08, 2014 12:08 am



Several days of running occurred as the horrid flashes of her parents slain bodies stuck vividly in Kohaku’s mind. pale skin of her father’s face as his trembling, blood-stained hand reached out to her, pushing her further and further away.  Her footsteps thundered across the uneven grass as she approached the edge of the Middle River Forest.  The journey from the city to the forest was much longer than she had anticipated, mainly because she was so frantic and paranoid about every patrol of soldiers that came her way that she had zigzagged, turned around, gotten lost several times, and finally turned back around again all causing the trip which would have taken only a day at the most to three.

Exhausted and muscles aching from the sudden rush of exercise, Kohaku forced herself deep into the forest until she felt safe and hidden enough to collapse against a tree.  The weight of reality crashing onto her as she fell to the forest floor, her sweat and tears mixing together as she fell to her knees and leaned her head onto a tree trunk.  The bark was rough and scratched at her oily forehead as she heaved big gulps of air in between sobs.  She squeezed her eyes shut, the tears still gushing and pushing their way out and mingling with her sweat.  The grass beneath her welcomed the tears and sweat only to slowly dissolve from the harsh chemicals that Kohaku unknowingly was making as she cried.

So much had changed in the course of just seventy two hours.  She could barely wrap her head around what was going on.  Most of the time Kohaku had been finding moments to sleep, she would hope and pray each time that when she woke up things would be back to the way they were.  Each time, however, she was forced to see piles of garbage and trash that she used as bedding and blankets to sleep in.  Her body ached from the hard ground and stone streets that she had slept on for the past few days just as much as the running had killed her body.  The adrenaline and shock of the whole thing wore off quickly, though her mind still didn’t fully accept the situation.

How could she?  Kohaku’s whole life had been the world on a silver platter.  The finest clothes and food her parents could afford were hers if she only asked for it with a smile.  People in the city always gave her the best treatment and were willing to drop anything to help her at a moments notice.  Yet when she needed them most, they were gone.  Her home was gone.  Her parents were gone.  The military having proclaimed her a criminal.  

THe first day of running hadn’t even finished when Kohaku came across messengers handing out wanted posters with her face on them.  Her picture from her medical license being used as a makeshift mugshot.  Even when she tried to go back home the next day, she found the clinic burned to the ground, a warning sign to the rest of the city to bow to the military’s power.

Not long afterwards, Kohaku ran into dark hooded men that clinked with metal weaponry with each step.  A banner stitched on their shoulders reading “Captly & Company”.  Several of those men would chase after her as soon as they saw her.  They were faster and cleverer than her, but she was able to use her knowledge of the backstreets and a broken down mansion to escape and hide herself away from their harsh grasp.  The men smelled of blood and alcohol and their speech mirrored the same as they yelled and shouted at her.  She never once saw their faces, their hoods covering each of their heads in a cloud of dark shadows.

Just thinking back to those moments of being chased through the streets, alleyways, and even the rooftops made her shiver.  Her fingers were bloody and callused from her amateur climbing.   Wiping away her tears now, the pain surged through her cuts, making her squeeze her palms closed into fists.

As Kohaku leaned closer to the tree, shifting her body around so she could rest her back against the wide trunk, the sound of a twig snapping woke her from her tear-stricken state.  Looking about her wildly with frantic eyes,  Kohaku searched for the source of the sound but saw nothing.  Taking a stiff gulp of courage, she slowly wrapped her hands around the edge of the tree trunk and peered around it.  Not more than ten feet away was another girl, maybe a year or two younger than Kohaku.

The girl, like Kohaku, looked lost, scared, and tear stained.  Her face was scratched up and dirty.  Patches of clothing were missing in her pants and shirt and some thorns seemed to be sticking through her shirt around the tears in the fabric.  Kohaku sniffed back her sobbing fit, the noise spinning the girl’s head around.  Their eyes met.  Kohaku’s ocean blue pearls looked into green sapphires and for a moment the two girls just stared at each other.  Finally, Kohaku pulled herself up using the tree trunk for support.

“Hi,” she smiled. “My name is Kohaku, what’s yours?”

The girl seemed frightened and pulled back when Kohaku reached out with her arm.  After a brief glance around them, she scooted her feet closer to Kohaku.  Her shoes were torn open at the ends and her toes could be seen through the holes.  The socks covered in mud and dirt.  This girl had been through a lot, quite possibly in a similar predicament to the one Kohaku found herself in.

Taking careful steps towards her, the girl finally approached Kohaku.  They came together in a hug and the girl let loose a thousand tears into Kohaku’s torn summer dress.  Kohaku hugged the girl back, petting her back as the girl sobbed.  “Th-they c-c-c-came for me,” she stuttered, trying to force out words in between her tears.  “I didn’t know what to do.  I was so scared.”

“It’s okay, now.” Kohaku said, stroking the girls knotted hair to console the girl.  They sunk down to rest, the leaves crinkling under the two girls as they came down to rest upon the tree trunk and hid together.  They stayed close together as the sun faded down and the air grew colder.  The forest was too quiet for Kohaku’s liking, having lived in the city, she would’ve been happier to get some peace and quiet, yet something about how still the forest became as it turned to night put her on edge.

In an attempt to ease her paranoia, Kohaku struck up conversation with the girl.  “So what’s your name?  You never told me.”

The girl looked up, having been in a depressing state for the past few moments staring at the grass. “Niho.  My name is Niho.”

The two sat there and cuddled up together for the night.  With a bit more prodding, Kohaku soon learned that the little girl had been on the run from the same men as her, but for far longer.  It was amazing to hear that the girl had survived on certain berries and finding hollowed out trees to hide and rest in.  Niho also knew more about who these men were and what they wanted.  “They are hunters and distributors for Captly & Company, a business that sells women and girls to the highest bidders in dark alley auctions.  I nearly got sold myself once, managed to escape before the auctioneer had slammed the gavel.  The men would grab the girls they had bought and do horrible things to them.  Captly even trains some girls before being sold.  Sometimes at night I can still hear the screams and grunts from other cages next to mine.”

Niho continued on in more detail but Kohaku only half-listened.  The shock of hearing this little girl who seemed so lost and confused was too much for her.  The cold, dark reality began to plant a dark seed within Kohaku’s soul.  A dark shutter went through Kohaku that made Niho stop talking.  Kohaku turned and kissed Niho’s forehead.  “That’s enough, Niho.  Let’s sleep.”

Kohaku’s mother and father stood outside the clinic.  It was a warm, summers day out and the birds floated above them.  Her mother held a picnic basket and reached out for her hand.  Kohaku took it and smiled.  Everyone was smiling.  Together they walked along the street to the city’s park.  Her father lead the way.  He always knew where to go and what was best to do.  Kohaku skipped along in the direction her father pointed and soon took a right turn.

Skipping along in time with the songs of the birds above, Kohaku made her way down the street to the park.  The closer she got, the more the street narrowed and grew before her.  Turning around, her parents seemed so far behind.  Had she gone too fast?  She needed to wait for them to catch up.  Calling out to them, their faces grew dark and shadowed and Kohaku looked up to see the buildings on each side of her stretch up into the sky, blocking out the sun.  The birds had stopped singing now.

A hand grabbed hold of Kohaku’s shoulder and spun her around.  A dark, cloaked figure shook her violently.  The head poked in closer to Kohaku’s face, a rosy red tongue protruded out of the shadow’s face and surged toward Kohaku’s cheek.  Springing up and away, she ran back to her parents.  Running with every ounce of muscle that she had to launch her self forward to their waiting arms, Kohaku could only manage to get farther away from them.  Her pursuer hadn’t missed a beat and was right on her heels.  Reaching her arms forward in a poor attempt to grab her parent’s hands, she saw their faces go pale, their eyes run red.  Their shadows turned a dark maroon that spread across the floor like a strange liquid that covered the entire street.

Kohaku slipped and fell into the red street, but instead of hitting the hard, wet pavement, Kohaku fell deep and deep into the red liquid until she was in a world of red.  That was when it struck her.  The cold grip of reality that caught her as she fell and told her that her parents were dead.  They were dead.  Kohaku’s body shook vigorously as the dark hand of reality shook her awake.

Standing above her with hands on her shoulders, a dark hooded man shook her hard.  “Ah, she’s awake!” Kohaku heard a girl’s voice from behind the man.  “There, I helped you get what you wanted.  Now can I please go back?  Master will be expecting me.”

Kohaku blinked her eyes awake and alert as the hooded man turned to face the girl speaking.  Standing just a few paces back was Niho.  Her eyes were hardened now and her stance had changed to an impatient and demanding one.  She no longer looked lost and confused at all.  In fact, she looked intimidating.  “You’ll be staying with me as long as I tell you to.  I don’t care who your ‘master’ is, and he knows well that Captly asks for its girls back to help gather more.”

“You don’t understand.  He’s not going to stop with just punishing me.  He’ll punish the one who took his best girl away from him too.  Master doesn’t like sharing his things.”

The man spat at the girl.  “Well, quit standing there and help me load her in the wagon!”

Kohaku quickly rolled away to her right.  What was this that she was hearing?  Why was Niho so different?  She heard what they had said and knew what it all meant, but Kohaku couldn’t accept it.  Niho had become her friend.  She was like her.  Lost and confused.  Wasn’t she?

Picking herself up and looking to Niho for answers, the hooded man sprung into action.  “Ah, damnit!  Get back here girl, we ain’t gonna hurt ya!”

“Kohaku, it’s okay!” Niho pleaded, her posture changing once more, a look of desperation in her face.  “There’s no use, Kohaku!  It’s better to cooperate or else things will just get worse.  Please, it’s going to be okay.”

The man lunged for her leg and she jumped back.  His hands caught at Kohaku’s tattered dress.  This was all too much.  Kohaku didn’t know what to do as the man pulled at her dress making her fall to the ground.  He was getting closer now.  “Run!” came a voice inside her head.  “Run, Kohaku!”  A vision of her father’s outstretched and bloody hand came to her.  She reached out to touch it and instead grabbed hold of a rock.  The vision of her father vanishing in an instant.

“Get away!” she cried out, throwing the rock straight at the hooded man’s head.  He staggered back from the hit and let go of Kohaku’s dress.  She pushed off and bolted off, leaping over fallen trees and running wild through the forest.

Training Genjutsu D-->C 1500/1500
Training Genjutsu C-->B 1940/2000

Last edited by Kohaku on Sun Jan 26, 2014 4:25 pm; edited 6 times in total

3The Time of Her Life [Flashback/Private] Empty Re: The Time of Her Life [Flashback/Private] on Wed Jan 08, 2014 12:20 am



You idiot! Kohaku cursed herself, her breathing frantic. You stupid, gullible little idiot!

With purpose, Kohaku fled, scraping her already bloodied hands on low hanging branches as she pushed them aside. The foliage was thick, forcing Kohaku to leap over rotten, fallen trees and occasionally crawl under dense tangles of vine and brush. With the sound of every snapping branch and with the crunching of leaves under her feet, Kohaku instinctively cringed. For the past three weeks, survival had depended upon silence and stealth. But now, in this moment, her survival depended on being fast, on gaining ground, on widening the gap between herself and the hunters she'd stumbled upon. Her heart pounding loudly in her chest & her legs aching, Kohaku gasped for breath. As she ran, it became harder and harder to breathe, and tears blurred her vision. In the onslaught of fatigue, Kohaku tripped over a thick tree root, and hit the ground hard. Her knees scraped against the debris of the forest floor, opening up fresh wounds as Kohaku scrambled to her feet and hurriedly searched about for a place to hide. She just couldn't run anymore. In the darkness, she heard blood curdling screams of terror, and despite her panic, managed to find a hollowed out trunk just a few feet away.

Hurriedly, she made her way to the hollow tree trunk, thinking encouraging thoughts. You'll be fine, she told herself. You've been in much worse situations before.  Though as she tried thinking about it, this was quite possibly the worst situation she had ever been in and nothing else came even close to this moment.  Just a few more's the perfect hiding place, you'll just have to wait this out...But her mind froze. From the corner of her eye, Kohaku spotted a human form. Shit! Surely, she hadn't run all this way, only to bump into one, completely by accident?  After all the precious information Niho had told her that one night, and then betraying her on a dime.  Kohaku couldn’t believe it, yet the truth was there.  At least she had learned a lot of valuable info from the girl.  She knew a lot more of what was going on now.

There was still the tiniest twinge of hope. Frozen in place, not daring to breath, she turned slowly, praying that what she saw was a hallucination, perhaps made by the juxtaposing darkness and moonlight. Perhaps the cloaked man was an irregular rock formation, or an oddly growing bush, which had morphed into a man as a result of the adrenaline in her veins and the eerie darkness of night. But to her horror, the form only became more fully human as she turned to face it. It was tall and bulky, with the build of your typical hunter, and all dressed up in full hunter's gear: a dark, concealing cloak, stealth boots, a hood, and an array of cuffs, rope, and weapons hanging about a belt.

Quick, brief flashes of memories flashed in front of her as the glint of his weapons caught Kohaku’s eyes.  The swords that had plunged deep into her father’s chest and sliced open her mother glinted before her. Blood splashing on the clean white tiles of the clinic.  This was not good.

"Sorry, sweetheart," the dark figure cooed, stepping toward her into a solitary ray of moonlight, piercing the canopy above. "Looks like tonight’s the night. Do me a favor and turn around. Knees on the ground, hands behind your head, fingers interlocking. I'll skin your hide like a deer if you make me scramble around in the dirt while I cuff you."

Kohaku didn't move. It wasn't over yet, was it? Certainly, there was some way out. She'd had a few close calls before, perhaps not this close, but still...Her eyes darted about, looking for something. Anything. She didn't know what, exactly, she was looking for, but would recognize it when she saw it. But there was nothing. Only more dense, dark forest. Fine, then, she thought. Still pumped up on adrenaline, she carefully drew a small, silver dagger from her belt, wishing she hadn't wasted the last of her chakra on a couple of rabbits and a fast lunch. She'd lose a fight like this at close range, but if she had to go out, might as well draw a little blood first.

The hunter sighed, irritable. "Do we really have to do this?" he grumbled, running his fingers through his hair in exasperation. "We both know how this ends."

The hunter was tired, which meant this was probably one of his last chases in a month long hunting expedition. Good. Make the tired fucker catch her. "I'm sorry," she replied, preparing herself to lunge. "Coming quietly isn't my policy."

The hunter, glaring hard at her, tried one last time to make his prey see reason. "You're coming with me tonight, and we'll be traveling for a good while afterwards. I can make the trip comfortable, but I don't have to. I could go out of my way to make the next week hell."

"And damage your precious merchandise?" Kohaku sneered. "Wonderful. I finally get caught, and I have to get taken in by a low class schmuck? No wonder you're in such a poor mood. Third tier hunters don't get the same cushy commission the big boys get, do they? Most hunters would be thrilled to have another head on the roster, but I bet you've got a commissions cap, don't you?"

The hunter frowned, and Kohaku knew she'd hit a nerve. So he was from a lower tier slave distributor, probably Feel Good Inc. or Captly & Company. Fantastic. That was a hard blow to Kohaku's ego. A solid two months of evasion, and she was going to be taken in by a low paid, second rate hunter working for a notoriously cheap, corner cutting slave distributor.

The insulted hunter reached along his belt for a night stick, and Kohaku lunged. Already exhausted from running, Kohaku didn't last long. She dodged a couple blows from the night stick and made a small, red cut along the hunters left forearm, but a moment later rod hit flesh, and she fell, sharp pain running up her right side. The hunter cursed profusely as he knelt into Kohaku's back, wrestling the dagger from her grasp and pushing her into the dirt, making sure she couldn't wriggle away. "You stupid little bitch! You're proud of yourself are you, fucking up my arm?" He wrestled Kohaku's arms behind her back and, taking a set of metal cuffs from along his waist, shackled her wrists together. "Big mistake, sweetheart. That little ego boost won't feed you for the next week, will it? Will it keep you warm at night? Give me a few days, and you'll be licking my boots for my food scraps and a chance at a blanket, or a coat." Kohaku struggled in the dirt, making every effort to twist around and bite or claw at the bastard, but he was much stronger than her. Soon, her ankles were cuffed as well, and she was thrown over his shoulder and carried through the woods back to camp.

The camp was well hidden in a clearing surrounded by dense brush. Kohaku wasn't surprised; it'd be unwise to alert any prey to your presence. There was a single, solitary wooden wagon parked along side a series of tents and a wooden picnic table, probably used to transport newly acquired merchandise out of the Middle River Forest and to a more sizable eighteen wheeler. The vehicle was far too tiny to carry a month's worth of work. In the back of the wooden wagon were a few measly cages, and inside a few miserable souls, shackled and gagged. There was also a roaring fire, at the center of camp, encircled by a couple of downed logs, sectioned off to make benches. And a couple of horses, for the hunters to get about. As her captor carried her into camp, Kohaku began to make out the words painted on the side of the wagon: Captly & Company

Kohaku didn't know too much about Captly & Company, but she had learned enough that she didn’t want to get captured by them. In truth, they were a large, low quality slave distributor working out of Iwakura. And, more importantly, they were notorious for their "Quantity, Not Quality" business strategy. In other words, Captly made most of its money by cutting corners. Slaves were transported in bulk, in unsafe conditions, usually resulting in numerous nasty wounds and possibly diseases. The medical inspections and work ups were sub par for the market, keeping only up to government regulations and nothing more. Furthermore, the handlers were low-paid, poorly trained ruffians hired for sheer strength rather than their capacity for tracking and safely acquiring high quality product. They used night sticks instead of tasers, and metal cuffs instead of leather.

There were downsides and upsides to being transported by Captly. On the one hand, she'd surely be kept in unsafe and unsanitary conditions with low quality food and little water. She risked malnutrition, potential skin rashes, and illness. On the other hand, if the transport period was short, she could avoid most of these potential problems through basic hygiene practices. And, on the bright side, Captly's clients weren't the wealthiest people in Iwakura. Whoever bought her wouldn't be able to afford fancy tracking implants, an official slave registration number, or decent training equipment. Escaping from a Captly's client would be easy. She'd just have to deal with the unpleasant trip to an outlet, and bide her time.

Kohaku's captor moved her from her resting place on his shoulder to the forest floor, and none too gently. "You see those god awful cages, sweetheart?" he hissed, motioning to the Captly's wooden wagon. "That's where you're going." Kohaku didn't say anything. Irritated by the lack of response, her captor leaned in closer, his breath hot. "You could be in there for a solid week, maybe even two. That's what you get for fucking up my arm." But Kohaku didn't bother to acknowledge the sinister sneer on her captor's face. They both knew that the wound she'd inflicted had nothing to do with Captly's sub par transport practices. She'd be crammed in a tiny cage even if she'd skipped her way into the damn camp herself, and begged for a pretty set of cuffs to be locked around her wrists and ankles.

"Got another one, Calvin?" Out of the darkness, another hunter approached, but with two women slung over his shoulders, hog-tied and gagged. "She doesn't look too bad. I might be able to pull twenty grand out of her." With no ceremony at all, the new hunter dumped his cargo onto the ground and his prisoners groaned. "Why don't you put these two away for me?" he asked, motioning to the bundled girls by his feet, and then back at the wagon. "I'll look this one over, and then we can log 'em." Without hesitation, Calvin went away to do as he was told and Kohaku, who was getting bad vibes from the new guy, sat up as best she could onto her knees. This new one wasn't quite as tall as Calvin, and he was certainly a more nimble man, but he had an aura of self assurance and self confidence that made her skin crawl.

He crouched down so that the two of them were eye level, reached behind her head, and grabbed a fistful of hair, which he used to tilt her face into the light. She'd always been told that her blue eyes, deep and dark, were her most attractive feature. The light caught them, and the new guy paused. "You have a name, sweetheart?" he asked, quietly.

Kohaku shook her head. "No, I don't."

The hunter was not satisfied. "Really? Is that so?" He pushed her, head first, into the dirt, and pulled at the small pack she'd had wrapped around her waist, freeing it. Being tied up, there was no way she'd be able to get free, so she decided to lay out on the ground until he saw fit to let her up again. She could hear him undo the drawstring of the pack, then reach in among her belongings. He'd mostly find survival gear: rope, matches, a portable radio, a few loaves of bread, her last can of soup. But if he felt along the lining of the bag, and found the hidden seam...."Well, look what I've found? A little pouch. Who wants to bet I'll also find some ID?" Dammit. She'd only kept the damn license to have as a keepsake, also in her situation, that she wasn't from Iwakura, that she could be trusted. "Nishimura, Kohaku. What a lovely name. Kohaku. I like it. You can keep it." And he left her, lying on the ground.

Training Genjutsu C-->B 2000/2000
Training Suiton D-->C 1500/1500
Training Suiton C-->B 674/2000

Last edited by Kohaku on Thu Mar 27, 2014 2:25 pm; edited 1 time in total

4The Time of Her Life [Flashback/Private] Empty Re: The Time of Her Life [Flashback/Private] on Sun Jan 26, 2014 4:31 pm



Kohaku was grateful when, early the next morning, the Captly's wooden wagon began to move out of the camp, and back toward the outskirts of the Middle River Forest. She had not been able to sleep the previous night, mostly due to the unbearable cold. Kohaku and her fellow prisoners hadn't been given any blankets, although she was grateful that they'd been allowed to keep their clothes. The other inmates, crammed into two metal cages, had managed to stay warm by bundling up close together and sharing body heat. But Kohaku had been tossed into her own cage. Being claustrophobic, she felt lucky at first, but as the night got darker and a horrid wind began to blow through camp, she had changed her mind. Although, with her wrists shackled above her head and her ankles shackled together, Kohaku found it impossible to get comfortable. Even if she had been warm, she wasn't sure she'd have been able to fall asleep. Eventually, she gave up on the endeavor entirely and simply sat in her cage, hoping that the transport period to an outlet wouldn't be as bad. But it probably would be.

The wooden wagon slowly rode through the forest, along a well hidden trail bordered on either side with thick brush. Daylight had just begun to pierce the overhead canopy, and the early morning birds chirped and called noisily through the trees. It would have been a beautiful morning, if the view weren't bordered on either side by metal bars, a constant reminder of Kohaku's captivity and the troubling weeks ahead. The trip was long, and it was a solid two hours before they finally made it out of the Middle River Forest and onto the main road, which lead into one of the Land of Fire’s major cities and Kohaku’s hometown, Iwakura. It had taken Kohaku weeks to make it as far as she did, in part because she'd gone on foot, but also because she'd intentionally taken mountainous routes, so that it would be more difficult to track her. Two hours later, and it was as if she'd never even made it out of Iwakura and into the Middle River Forest. She might as well have been caught back a month ago, when the rebel raids had first started in her city. After the Land of Fire’s military operatives had tracked down the most wanted "Wartime Criminals" for trial and execution, the Land of Fire’s slave distributors had been allowed to come in and clean up the rest of the White Horse Rebel Alliance. Kohaku had barely made it out, spending a week hiding out below the city streets, in the winding network of Iwakura’s sewers. And now, here she was again, back on the outskirts of Iwakura in a now ‘peaceful’ city. She could see the city’s skyscrapers from here, or at least what was left of them. A few were still smoking from the Land of Fire’s bombardments and demolitions.

The wooden wagon made its way down the main road, ever approaching an ominous eighteen wheeled, enclosed wagon with the familiar "Captly Inc" written on the side, in dark red. Despite all her bravado, Kohaku's heart sank. In her minds eye, she could see herself, shackled to the interior of the wagon, wallowing away beside other miserable souls, forced to sit in their own filth, eating sludge-like "Nutrition Compound" out of a thin, dirty pouch.

As they got closer to their destination, Kohaku could make out hunters on horseback, guarding the eighteen wheeler, a few empty metal cages, already unloaded, and a small silver painted steel wagon. Standing along side the steel wagon, wrapped in a brown trench coat and smoking a cigarette, stood an older gentleman, maybe in his sixties, scrunching himself up against the morning chill. A tall, broader man stood beside him, stiff and at attention. The older gentlemen was a Captly's Inc. Inspector, do doubt, or maybe an Evaluator, come to calculate the new load's total worth. The wooden wagon came to a stop, and the hunter who'd ransacked her pack, who Kohaku had learned was called "Hobuki," exited the vehicle and approached the man in the brown trench coat.

"Morning, Mr. Gonzou! We're glad to see you again!" Hobuki grinned, and stuck out his hand for a vigorous shake, but Mr. Gonzou ignored it, opting to light up another cigarette instead.

"Hobuki, with all due respect, I'm in a hurry today. I've got a couple more slots open for tomorrow's auction. You've got anything worthwhile, or not?" Mr. Gonzou took an inhale of his cigarette and peered over at the wooden wagon, looking less than happy with its contents. "I hope they're not too bruised and bloodied. You've only had them all for a day, right?" His tone dripped with condescension.

Clearly insulted, Hobuki furrowed his eyebrows and reluctantly withdrew a small, black leather wallet from his cloak. "Some for a few days, but most of them were caught last night. I assure you, if there's any damage, it isn't permanent. Look, we've got a violinist, a medic, some ex-military, a graphic artist, and an athlete. A runner, I think. Most of them have ID's." And Hobuki handed over the leather wallet, filled with the recently captured's various identification cards.

Mr. Gonzou skimmed through the wallet, plucking out ID's, scanning them with his calculating eyes, and then reviewing the details that came up. By now, the Land of Fire had access to all of Iwakura’s private and public citizens records. After a moment, Mr. Gonzou replied, "Let me have a look at the violinist, the athlete, and the medic."

At first, Kohaku wasn't sure of what was going on, nor did she particularly care. She was far more interested in the eighteen wheeled wagon than Hobuki's conversation. Did it look like it had any weak points, maybe a small hole that had been patched up with plywood, big enough to escape through? Had one of the hunters dropped a weapon she could snatch up on her way into the eighteen wheeler? The back was being opened up. How many soon-to-be slaves were crammed into the back? Would she have enough room to breathe? But then the door to her cage was opened, and her hands were being released, and in an instant the entire conversation hit her like a load of bricks.

Written on the side of the silver van, in black ink, were the words "Lovecorp." Oh, god. Lovecorp was a much more prestigious slave distributor than Captly & Company and was therefore much more dangerous. Sure, they took much better care of their merchandise than Captly did, but spared no expense when it came to training and conditioning, either. Each of Lovecorp's slaves came with a tracking implant and slave registration number, at a minimum. If Kohaku was purchased by Lovecorp, there was a very real chance she'd never make it out of the market. And from what she could gather of the previous conversation, Lovecorp's supply of slaves was too small to meet the demand, and they were outsourcing to lower tier slave distributors like Captly & Company This man---Mr. Gonzou---was offering to buy a few of Captly's most recent acquisitions and Kohaku, the medic, was of interest. This is bad, Kohaku thought to herself, her heart rate rising rapidly. This is really, really bad.

Kohaku's ankles were released and she was half pulled, half dragged out of the wooden wagon. She couldn't get purchased by Lovecorp, or her chances of escaping would be practically zero. Now was the time for action. How she chose to handle this situation would make or break her. She struggled hard against her captor, kicking and swinging her arms as best she could, being sure to make a show of how unruly, and untamed, and problematic she was. If she weren't gagged, she would have screamed insults and spat at her captor, anything to make her look unworthy of purchase and too difficult to handle. Whatever Hobuki decided to do with her later, to punish her for her insolence, she could handle, so long as she didn't end up at a Lovecorp auction.

"Stupid, worthless bitch!" Hobuki hissed, when Kohaku's elbow connected with his jaw, leaving a nasty swell on his upper lip. Twisting her arms firmly behind her back, Hobuki cuffed Kohaku's wrists and forced her to face her prospective buyer. Kohaku watched as Mr. Gonzou walked forward, until he was barely a foot away from where she stood. He had dark, green eyes and a head of grey hair, with an eerie aura of apathy and condescension. He eyed her carefully, taking his time, making Kohaku uncomfortable with the way his eyes roamed along chest and then to the "V" of her jeans. Starting at the the top her head and slowly scanning every inch of her body, Mr. Gonzou paused only to look into her deep blue eyes. Then, to her horror and surprise, he pulled a pocket knife from his cloak. He moved toward her with purpose, before she could even think of trying to move, grabbed a fist full of her blonde hair, and pulled her head back to expose her neck. Any thought of resistance or struggle suddenly fled from Kohaku's mind as the cold, sinister metal was pressed to her throat. Any more pressure, and it would surely cut flesh. She made sure to remain perfectly still.

"Well, now. This seems to have gotten your attention, hasn't it, Rebel scum?" Mr. Gonzou purposefully ran the blade across her throat, gently though, so as not to cut. "I'm going to take a look at you now, and you're going to be totally still for me, aren't you, slave? Nod if you understand." Kohaku nodded---she had to pick her battles carefully---but immediately cringed when the prospective buyer took a fist full of clothing and began to cut the cloth away, until she was nude from the waist up. It was cold in the open air, but Kohaku's fury warmed her. The perverted lunatic stared eerily at her body for a moment, and rage welled up inside her. She refused to feel like a piece of sex-meat, like cattle, or a fucking product to be put on a shelf. Her breasts weren't sizable by any means, but they weren't too small, either. She had two shapely C cups, with tiny pert, pink nipples that hardened in the brisk morning air. Mr. Gonzou gripped one of her breasts viciously with his left hand, and Kohaku had enough. She backed into Hobuki, away from Mr. Gonzou, but he was clearly used to this sort of reaction. Before she was out of reach, he slid his right hand, still holding the knife, past her navel and into her jeans, grabbing at her underneath her clothes. She could feel the sharpness of the blade biting into her soft, sensitive flesh, and dared not move. The knife moved casually along her, and for a second, she stopped breathing, for fear that any slight twinge in movement would leave her cut. "Better," Mr. Gonzou mumbled, a grin on his face. Then, he turned to Hobuki.

"How much?" he asked, pulling his hand from out of her jeans and pocketing his knife. "She's a pretty one, and with a medic's license, certainly a smart one, too. I think I can get a good price." Kohaku kicked out at the buyer, hatred in her eyes, but Mr. Gonzou managed to jump out of reach just in time. "She's got a bit of fight in her, too. I have clients who like that sort of thing. Toys that don't break easy." He grinned menacingly at Kohaku, who was now struggling against Hobuki, trying to break free or at least make herself look more rebellious, a less worthy candidate for Lovecorp, but the strategy failed her.

"Thirty grand," Hobuki insisted. "I'll go no less."

Mr. Gonzou snorted, and lit a fresh cigarette. "Come on. She'll clearly be difficult to work with, and her butt's a little flat. I'll give you twenty."

"Very well, twenty-five," Hobuki conceded.

Mr. Gonzou nodded. "I'll do that. Put her in the van, and then let me look at the violinist. And for god's sake, try not to leave any bruises. She'll be harder to sell on my end, and if we're to keep doing business, you and your men will have to learn how to handle your merchandise better."

Kohaku no longer struggled for the sake of appearing less sale-worthy, she struggled out of panic. "You hideous, barbaric fuck!" Hobuki yelled, trying to wrestle her to the ground without causing any damage that might threaten his sale. "Eiichi! Ikuko! Can I get a little help here?"

Mr. Gonzou rolled his eyes and sighed irritably. "You people are pathetic. Here, I'll have my own man take care of it." He turned toward the van, where the bulky man from earlier still stood at attention. "Sakutarou, could you take care of this for me," he gestured at Kohaku, still struggling to get away. "If you have to use a tranquilizer, make it something that'll wear off in an hour. If she goes on sale tomorrow, she has to get a physical today, understand? I don't want any shit in her system when the doc does blood tests, or we're both going to get chewed out."

From her position, now on the ground, Kohaku looked up and saw Sakutarou approach. He was slim, but broad shouldered, and much better equipped than the Captly & Company hunters. He wore a silver and blue uniform, characteristic of Lovecorp employees, with the Lovecorp logo, a sideways "V" enclosed in a circle, on his chest. On his belt, he had leather cuffs, a mini tranquilizer gun, a tazer, and what looked like a dagger or two. He reached along the belt, then Kohaku noticed, he stopped at the tazer. Shit. "Out of the way," he said, and as soon as Hobuki had stood up, Kohaku could feel the awful, paralyzing, burning pain of electricity. It was hard to breathe, impossible to move, and each nerve end was on fire. Her whole body burned, and she twisted piteously, trying to put out the pain, suddenly realizing that she was screaming from under the gag. Then, the pain stopped, and Kohaku collapsed onto the ground with a painful thud, where she lay helpless and trembling.

Training Suiton C-->B 2000/2000
Training Suiton B-->A 1158/3000


"Human beings are a disease, a cancer of this planet.  You are the plague and I am the cure."

[center]Kohaku's Song

Med Nin A | Genjutsu B
Fuuton A | Suiton A[/center]

5The Time of Her Life [Flashback/Private] Empty Re: The Time of Her Life [Flashback/Private] on Sun Jan 26, 2014 6:03 pm



Mature Warning - Things get graphic:
Once more shackled, Kohaku sat in the back of the silver painted wagon, watching the trees fly by its square windows as she sat inside the small and cold covered wagon. Beside her, sobbing uncontrollably, sat the bound violinist, who Mr. Gonzou had also chosen to purchase. She was a young woman, probably in her early twenties, and big chested, with olive skin, dark hair, and bright hazel eyes. It had been hours since they'd started the drive towards the Lovecorp outlet, and she hadn't stopped crying since. It was amazing to Kohaku that her tears hadn't run dry yet or her throat grown sore. And at first, Kohaku had sympathized with the young woman. How awful, she wondered, would it be to reach the status of a concert level violinist, only to be reduced to a slave in the wake of an unjust and untimely fate? But after sometime, the violinist's sobs, only partially muffled by the filthy gag in her mouth, became extremely irritating. The sobs only reminded her of Niho’s sobs and of how that resulted. Kohaku tried to tell herself that it wasn't the poor girl's fault, but wouldn't there be plenty of misery to appreciate later? Kohaku wanted to enjoy the trees and the grass and the rolling hills, as they lit up with the sunrise, without having wet, shaking sobs serve as a sound track.

They approached a grey, concrete building, largely unimpressive, which was surrounded by a tall, metal gate. If it weren't for the sign out front, Kohaku would have never guessed it belonged to Lovecorp. Two armed guards, stationed at the gate's main entrance, waved the van to a stop and checked Mr. Gonzou's employee badge before letting them through. Slowly, they circled around to the back of the building, until they reached a plain, metal doorway and the two slaves were escorted from the back of the van into a crisp, white room, smelling strongly of antiseptic. It was brightly lit with fluorescent bulbs, and was mostly bare, with the exception of some conspicuous shackles hanging from the ceiling, a few stools, a sink, and a shower head, without the rest of the shower. Sakutarou locked the metal doorway behind them, and the two slaves waited anxiously in the center of the room, while Sakutarou looked on and Mr. Gonzou smoked. Kohaku tried to work the irritating gag out of her mouth using her tongue. It tasted like gasoline and dirt.

"Not in my clinic, Natsuo!" Kohaku heard the slamming of a door behind her, and turned to see a tall, white faced woman in a lab coat snatching away Mr. Gonzou's cigarette and stamping it out. "How many times have I told you? Not in my clinic; it's disgusting!" She was beautiful, with long, flowing locks of raven black hair, cold darkened eyes, and deep red lips. She wore an excessive amount of jewelry, Kohaku noted, her eyes drawn to a mismatched set of bracelets traveling up each slender arm. The woman stopped in front of Mr. Gonzou's two new acquisitions, and her face dropped with disappointment, then reddened with anger. "Is this what you got for me, Natsuo?" She gestured wildly, first at Kohaku and then at her fellow captive.

Mr. Gonzou backed away defensively. "Look, it was the best I could do last minute. The one on the left is a concert level violinist, that's got to count for something, right? It's a selling point at least, a more than marketable skill. I'm lucky to have gotten what I did from Captly---"

The woman clenched her fists by her sides, her voice tense. "You went to Captly?!? Jesus Christ, Natsuo! The hell were you thinking?"

"Look," Mr. Gonzou growled, his voice growing threatening. "Captly & Company was the only other distributor in the area, and this is what they had available."

"It'll be embarrassing," the women sighed. "They'll stick out."

"Not as much as two empty slots would. We've got enough interesting pieces to keep tomorrow's auction impressive. I doubt anyone will be disappointed."

The woman swung around to face Kohaku, determined to find a new source for her rage. "And what about this one?" The women didn't take her ominous eyes off Kohaku, even as she spoke to Mr. Gonzou. "She any good? What did she do for a living?"

Kohaku's gag finally loosened and fell down around her neck. The woman stared at her, waiting for an answer. "I was a military medic," she replied, terse.

"Even worse," the woman groaned, running her fingers through her hair in frustration. "A fucking medic...Fabulous."

You're a ‘fucking’ medic, Kohaku thought, anticipating a suspected medical exam, but she was smart enough not to say it.

"At least she's decent looking, I think we can justify that, Yasuka." Kohaku took note of the woman's name. "We'll make it work," Mr. Gonzou continued. "Like I said, we've got a solid eighteen high quality pieces. It'll be nice to have a novelty or two thrown in for contrast and good measure. If they don't get sold, we can raffle them off as door prizes or something. Though the medic isn’t all that bad looking, just roughed and dirtied up by Captly, those retards."

The violinist, who had been quiet since they'd entered the building---probably out of sheer nervousness---began to sob again, and Kohaku couldn't blame her. She didn't like being referred to as a door prize, either. And what sorts of slaves, Kohaku wondered, were they selling? Apparently, Kohaku and the violinist paled in comparison, and while Kohaku wasn't exactly a supermodel, she wasn't bad looking either. The violinist, if nothing else, would be prized for her natural D cups. It bothered Kohaku that they were being demoted to human goody bags, but she shrugged the feeling off. Lovecorp had very high standards. Now that she thought about it, she wouldn't be surprised if all eighteen prized pieces being auctioned off were first class chef supermodels, who had learned erotic dance in their spare time, and could also sing opera. You never knew.

"Alright," the woman, Yasuka, groaned, resigning herself to the situation. "It is what it is." She turned sympathetically to the violinist and in an instant her face turned from one of rage to one of charm. "There, there, honey. There's no need to cry. Have a seat," she motioned to a nearby stool and allowed the violinist to sit down. "Calm down. We aren't going to hurt you, I promise. Okay?" She smiled endearingly, and the violinist quieted, then nodded. From monstrous to motherly in no time flat, Kohaku thought, it was disgusting. This Yasuka knew how to approach her work. "Sakutarou," Yasuka hissed, "Take that filthy oil rag out of her mouth. It's down right gross what those Captly people do with their merchandise."

Then the woman turned to Kohaku. "You going to give me any trouble, girl? I'll take the cuffs off if you promise to cooperate, but one toe out of line, and they'll go back on. No second chances. Can you promise me that you'll be obedient?"

Kohaku nodded, then said quietly, "My name is Kohaku, but yes, ma’am. I'll cooperate." She wasn't going to escape now, not in a well guarded processing center during a medical workup. If she had to endure this, might as well do so with her hands free. She might even be able to grab onto and hide some sort of weapon, even a rusty paperclip was better than nothing. With a nod from Yasuka, Sakutarou undid Kohaku's cuffs as well, and she brought her hands tentatively in front of her, then rubbed the sore wrists gingerly. The Lovecorp leather cuffs were more comfortable than Captly's metal ones, but they were still irritating.

"Okay, then, Kohaku. Pants off, please." After Mr. Gonzou's earlier inspection, there was no shirt or bra left to remove.

Kohaku moved her hands to her belt buckle, began to undo the clip, then looked up and saw that her eyes met Mr. Gonzou's. He looked lustfully down at the "V" of her jeans, and Kohaku redid her her belt buckle defensively. "He doesn't have to be here, does he?" She looked over at Yasuka, hoping for some pity from her fellow woman kind. There was none. No pity for slaves.

"No, he doesn't need to be here," Yasuka explained. "But he wants to be here, and you don't get to call the shots in my clinic, I do. Now, take the pants off, or I'll take them off for you. Natsuo will probably be watching either way. Your call."

Glaring at Mr. Gonzou, whose triumphant grin was even more obnoxious than the dent rising in his pants, Kohaku reluctantly let her jeans fall to the ground, then her light blue panties. There was a sharp rush of cold air as the skin was uncovered. Before the war, Kohaku had kept herself well shaven. But there wasn't exactly time to shave your legs when you were busy fleeing for your life, and the little hairs had grown back. Her legs must be disgusting. She looked down at them. Yup. Disgusting.

"She'll need some shaving if she’s to even have a decent chance," Yasuka mused, reflecting Kohaku's thoughts. "Alright, girl, legs spread and hands behind your head, fingers interlocking. Don't move." As she spread her legs, Kohaku could feel Mr. Gonzou's eyes on her and flushed red in agony. She tried not to look at him, or his horrible, disgusting grin, but he made sure to stay in her field of view, taking great pleasure in her compromising position. Yasuka circled Kohaku slowly, making little tick marks and notes on a clip board, musing out loudly as Kohaku involuntarily burned with humiliation. She felt like a strain of virus on a microscope slide, every inch of her body being probed by Yasuka’s eyes and, more importantly, Mr. Gonzou's. Yasuka stopped at Kohaku's left side, where a nasty bruise colored the skin, a reminder of Eiichi’s night stick and the evening of her capture. "You know I won't be able to get rid of this by tomorrow, right, Natsuo?" She traced the outline of the bruise with her pen. "But I can probably bring the swelling down." Kohaku was circled some more, and the straightening of a tooth was added to her list of "corrective measures" as was the treatment of a small, but prominent burn along her left calf. When asked about the burn, Kohaku was evasive. "Fire and I don't mix well," she'd said simply, and Yasuka probed no further.

"She'll need a spinal implant and a registration number tattooed onto her wrist, of course," Yasuka noted on her clipboard, and Kohaku twitched. She had known it was coming, but the thought of a tracking implant, buried along the spinal column, was a terrifying notion. Even as a medic, she'd never be able to remove the implant herself, to perform surgery that delicate on her own back. If she ever did escape this, she'd have to pay out the nose to have it removed, and that was assuming she'd make it very far at all. Her master would be able to program her implant into his or her household security system, and if she left unattended, would immediately be alerted of it. Stupid ass technology...

"You a virgin?" Yasuka inquired, poised above her clipboard, her face betraying intense interest. Virgins would be more valuable, after all.

"No," Kohaku sneered, trying her best to lie in a desperate attempt to disappoint. She really didn’t feel comfortable with this question, but she didn’t like these people and didn’t want them to be happy at her own expense. “If you're surrounded by soldiers that are far from their own girls, eventually things happen.”

Yasuka appeared shocked by the blunt response, then laughed heartily. "That was a very nice try, honey. But there's no denying that your shaky voice means your lying. Almost believable as soldiers will do anything for a nice piece of ass. Yours isn't too shabby, either." Yasuka slapped Kohaku's left cheek and squeezed roughly, and instinctively, Kohaku removed her hands from her head and slapped her. In the face. As soon as she'd done it, Kohaku knew it was a mistake. Even Mr. Gonzou looked appalled, and as Yasuka looked up at her, she could see dangerous intention in the woman's eyes.

Kohaku frantically tried to apologize, to undo the damage. "I am so sorry, madam. Please forgive me, it's just these---"

"Be quiet," Yasuka hissed. "Put your hands back on your head, girl. And this time, keep them there, or I'm done trying to be nice to you." Apprehensively, Kohaku obeyed, surprised it wasn't worse for her. Maybe she'd be given another chance to be obedient, and stay uncuffed.

But Yasuka didn't stop with the fondling of Kohaku's ass, and decided to test her authority further. To Kohaku's abject horror, Yasuka ran her hand over to the other side of Kohaku's hips, opposite of her butt, and began to rub, slowly at first, allowing heat to build between the poor slave's legs. The evil woman grinned at Kohaku devilishly, daring her to move. And Kohaku understood. Yasuka was looking for an excuse to abuse her. There were probably rules prohibiting poor treatment of the merchandise unless there was more than one instance of disobedience. It took all of Kohaku's willpower not to back away. She couldn't lose this test of will. But Yasuka, realizing she'd lost the first round, decided to take the challenge further, sliding two fingers into Kohaku, the fingers doing more damage within her. Kohaku cringed at the pain. She was being violated, roughed around and probed by Yasuka for the woman’s pleasure. How sick and disgusting was this?

"I’ll kill you for this," Kohaku hissed, her eyes wide in pain and anger.

Yasuka grinned. "My clinic, my rules. I don't care if it isn't necessary, bitch. You can't move, and don't you even think you have a chance at killing me.” She pulled and pressed, wrenching around, making Kohaku wince with the pain. "You know, I have my own girl at home, and she loves this, but she’s the real kind of slutty." The woman withdrew her now wet fingers from her captive and reached back behind her ass, pushing into it. Kohaku pulled away, then immediately regretted it. A triumphant grin grew across Yasuka's face, and she motioned for Sakutarou to come over and cuff her. Damn it!

"No!" Kohaku lurched her right knee forward into Yasuka’s gut and turned to face Sakutarou. She needed to try and keep herself free, and now she'd fucked it all up. If she were cuffed, she'd lose all hope of finding a weapon or a point of escape.

Yasuka groaned and bent over at the strike, forcing out words through gritted teeth. "Sakutarou, hang this insolent bitch up. I want to make it very clear how all of this works."

"Don’t you fucking touch me!’" The muscular hunter, ever silent, grabbed Kohaku with ease by the hair, her punches not resulting in anything against the burly man. He pulled her off her feet and raised her towards the shackles embedded in the ceiling. And for the first time since the night of her capture, it finally sunk in that Kohaku was a slave, and her captors could do whatever they wished. Well, the Lovecorp employees couldn't do whatever they wanted, at least not without being fired, but still...Kohaku's heart raced in terror as her arms were shackled above her head, and her legs were spread by a long, metal bar with ankle cuffs on either end. "For the love of god, put me down!" she screeched.

"Careful with her, Yasuka," Mr. Gonzou warned, tentatively. He seemed afraid of the woman. "You don't want to damage the merchandise. I'd leave the bitch alone. She’s a virgin and we definitely do not want to mess with that kind of product."

"The bitch kneed me, Natsuo! And she failed to follow the same direction, twice. I've got authority to punish her a little. Don't worry, I won't leave any marks." She turned sinisterly to Kohaku, and the violinist started crying again, but Yasuka ignored her. She turned to what appeared to be a cabinet high above the sink, but when she opened it, a white mist drifted out. It occurred to Kohaku that it was probably a freezer, used to store blood samples for later analysis. This was, after all, a clinic. After rooting around for a moment, Yasuka removed what appeared to be a blue, cylindrical cold pack, a few inches in diameter and maybe six inches long. Still wearing a horrible grin, Yasuka walked over to Kohaku and, with one hand, deliberately spread apart Kohaku’s legs. With the other, she pushed the frozen length right up against Kohaku's loins.

Kohaku cursed, and inhaled sharply. The cold pack didn't look very sinister, but right up against her loins, it burned. She could feel her body straining to push away from it, pressure welling up inside her, the frozen mass unbearably foreign. Yasuka slid the cold pack down a little ways, relieving some of the pain, then began to viciously rub the ice pack against her so that she once again cursed. It hurt a lot more than she imagined it would. Her privates were used to being kept warm. She'd never had anything frozen up like this before. "Sadistic bitch," she hissed, and Yasuka took her fingers, pinching the sensitive flesh until, it too, burned. Slowly, she increased the speed with which she iced her captive, watching Kohaku wince with each rotation of the ice pack. It was certainly painful for the girl, Yasuka noted, but not quite an effective punishment. Since she couldn't do anything worse to her, physically, she'd have to amp up the humiliation factor. She pulled the cold pack out of Kohaku's pussy, and heard her sigh in relief.

"That's enough," Natsuo hissed, turning to the muscle-man, Sakutarou. "Get the product down, she isn’t anywhere near ready and it’s the day before the auction. We’ve got a business to run!" And, in a moment, Kohaku felt herself suddenly shivering in cold streams of water. She was below a shower head. Yasuka turned up the pressure of the water, and the cold worsened, hitting hard against her back. "You're disgusting," she sneered. "Look at me!" She grabbed Kohaku's now wet hair, and forced her to stare into her face. "Your legs are filthy! You're covered in drool, dirt, and blood! I can't have you prepped for auction like that." She turned toward a door, leading farther into the building, opened it, and shouted to an unseen assistant. "Chuugo, get the hell in here. I need you to clean up this filthy whore!"

Training Suiton B-->A 3000/3000
Training Genjutsu B-->A 1429/3000


"Human beings are a disease, a cancer of this planet.  You are the plague and I am the cure."

[center]Kohaku's Song

Med Nin A | Genjutsu B
Fuuton A | Suiton A[/center]

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