The first mistake people made when thinking about the Tarterian Specus is that it was some well hidden secret. It was not, Kumogakure never hid its prison. It sat within the city proper, no more ominous at a glance than any other civic structure. It had clean lines, reinforced walls, and administrative banners which hung neatly along its outer tiers. From the outside, it looked like a typical bureaucratic architecture. It was sterile, dull, and easily forgettable... but that was the point.
Spectacles created fear, but true control went unnoticed in the normalcy of everyday life.
Nozomi crouched on the edge of a slick maintenance spire three levels above street traffic, watching the prison breathe as rain fell in heavy drops all around. Below her, the city pulsed with electric life. Lines with an ancient power hummed via chakra fed currents and walkways glowed faintly beneath translucent stone. Patrols drifted around the streets like lazy insects, their eyes sweeping in predictable arcs. The Specus sat at the heart of it all, wrapped within the infrastructure, fed by the same power grid that lit hospitals and academies. It was a prison that did not need walls because the city itself was the wall. A magnificent choice.
She exhaled slowly, steadying the quiet vibration in her bones. The pain was present, as it always was now, but at least it was currently muted. A sense of pressure that served as a constant reminder of what true pain felt like, but at least she had finally reached a point of functional equilibrium. Now, Nozomi simply viewed it as the cost of remaining whole.
Patience would be key and she would not rush in this moment, rushing is how people got caught. Anticipation grew and beneath black gloves, her hands twitched. The mouths embedded along her palms flexed in nervousness as teeth grinded softly against the material. Living bone rested just beneath her skin, coiled, grinding, excited, but waiting.
She watched the patrol cycle complete thrice and counted the average time for sweeps down to the second. The prison was alive with systems designed to notice anomalies, and so she would not be an anomaly. Instead, she would be a mistake so small it passed as noise. Nozomi dropped silently from the spire, flattening herself against a narrow lip of a data conduit that ran along the prison's exterior. She slid sideways, ribs compressing as her spine reshaped itself instantaneously. The bone beneath her skin did not crack. Rather, it flowed in a malleable clay-like response. Her body reshaped itself under her will as she thinned herself to fit the space.
There was a moment where a motion camera may have snapped to attention and noticed her, but Nozomi did not freeze. A hand dug into her pouch and bit down on a pellet of clay. Her tongue shaped chakra instinctively into a small and silent bird whose wings unfurled before she spat it gently into the air. The bird darted upward, deliberately sloppy in its direction so that it would trigger the camera’s attention for half a second. In that time, Nozomi continued her grand entrance.
She slid downward, then kicked off the conduit and vanished into a shadowed gap between two structural supports. Her bones softened further, shoulders folding inward as she squeezed through a maintenance aperture no wider than a drainpipe. Metal scraped against bone and she welcomed the sensation as it felt like scratching an itch that could never be reached.
The corridor she emerged into was not dramatic. There were no iron bars or screaming prisoners. Just smooth walls that looked to be made of some kind of alloy that contained embedded chakra seals glowing faintly with restrained power. This is where shinobi were kept and their power neutralized. Without being told, she knew these seals controlled the collars that suppressed even the thought of possible escape.
She moved along the ceiling of this place with bone extending silently from her feet and hands to anchor her weight despite being upside-down. Her joints rotated past natural limits, allowing her to crawl inverted with the ease of something that no longer respected human anatomy. She remained deathly silent as guards below walked their predictable routes. She let one pass before dropping behind them and into a shadowed alcove where she could finally let bone retract into flesh in an unsettling manner.
Thankfully, she did not need to go to the Underprison as she had gained intel that the Ryuu captive was housed higher. A portion of the Specus where they kept prisoners of value in relative comfort. Nozomi followed a preplanned path and utilized clay spiders or rats to distract guards when it was required. Eventually, she reached the level where Tama was being kept, and she had a hunch which door was his. It was the only portion of the containment wing with no signage, and a reinforced panel with layered seals so complex that it would take even a Kage hours to undo.
She would try an alternate approach. Nozomi's forearm elongated, bone flowing outward and flattening thin like clay. Her body seeped into the gaps, binding bone and earth into a nearly solid amalgamation that bent without breaking. Slowly, she pressed the malformed limb into the seam of the door and allowed it to melt into the tiny cracks between seal and frame.
The seals resisted, and so she did not push... yet. She waited for the prison’s system to cycle power and in that moment, she flexed. The seal accepted her and allowed her entry.
The door was heavy and opened with a creak, the single presence within might even be startled at the sudden change in pressure inside. What she saw before her was not what she expected. It was a laboratory of sorts rather then a true prison cell. It was lined with equipment and was relatively bright. There were books stacked beside a workbench and a cot that was kept clean against the far wall. This was... lavish, at least by prison standards.
At the center of it all stood the man she came to see, Tama.
Nozomi moved a few inches into the room with both gloved hands held up as a sign of peace and pressed the door mostly closed with the bottom of her foot. She attempted to study him in a simple glance, the way Rei had taught her to study a battlefield. She took note of his posture and rhythm. Quickly taking in the fact that he was not restrained and allowed to work within these walls.
Her arms came down slowly over the top of the hood which covered her face. Her fingers curled around the material and peeled it back slowly. Cloth was pulled away to reveal white strands that slip free as if Winter had been allowed into the lab. She spoke simple words, and awaited a response as her heart pounded defiantly in her chest.
“I’m not here as a representative of Kumo. I am a Ryuu, and I am cursed."
She stood her ground to be both careful and respectful while her eyes did not leave his.
"They say you're a cure... or the disease. Maybe both can be true." She would pause for a moment...
"Honestly, I don't care which it is. I'm here to better understand what I'm becoming, and if what has been done to me so far will be enough."
... And for the first time since she entered the prison, Nozomi allowed herself to stand still.
Spectacles created fear, but true control went unnoticed in the normalcy of everyday life.
Nozomi crouched on the edge of a slick maintenance spire three levels above street traffic, watching the prison breathe as rain fell in heavy drops all around. Below her, the city pulsed with electric life. Lines with an ancient power hummed via chakra fed currents and walkways glowed faintly beneath translucent stone. Patrols drifted around the streets like lazy insects, their eyes sweeping in predictable arcs. The Specus sat at the heart of it all, wrapped within the infrastructure, fed by the same power grid that lit hospitals and academies. It was a prison that did not need walls because the city itself was the wall. A magnificent choice.
She exhaled slowly, steadying the quiet vibration in her bones. The pain was present, as it always was now, but at least it was currently muted. A sense of pressure that served as a constant reminder of what true pain felt like, but at least she had finally reached a point of functional equilibrium. Now, Nozomi simply viewed it as the cost of remaining whole.
Patience would be key and she would not rush in this moment, rushing is how people got caught. Anticipation grew and beneath black gloves, her hands twitched. The mouths embedded along her palms flexed in nervousness as teeth grinded softly against the material. Living bone rested just beneath her skin, coiled, grinding, excited, but waiting.
She watched the patrol cycle complete thrice and counted the average time for sweeps down to the second. The prison was alive with systems designed to notice anomalies, and so she would not be an anomaly. Instead, she would be a mistake so small it passed as noise. Nozomi dropped silently from the spire, flattening herself against a narrow lip of a data conduit that ran along the prison's exterior. She slid sideways, ribs compressing as her spine reshaped itself instantaneously. The bone beneath her skin did not crack. Rather, it flowed in a malleable clay-like response. Her body reshaped itself under her will as she thinned herself to fit the space.
There was a moment where a motion camera may have snapped to attention and noticed her, but Nozomi did not freeze. A hand dug into her pouch and bit down on a pellet of clay. Her tongue shaped chakra instinctively into a small and silent bird whose wings unfurled before she spat it gently into the air. The bird darted upward, deliberately sloppy in its direction so that it would trigger the camera’s attention for half a second. In that time, Nozomi continued her grand entrance.
She slid downward, then kicked off the conduit and vanished into a shadowed gap between two structural supports. Her bones softened further, shoulders folding inward as she squeezed through a maintenance aperture no wider than a drainpipe. Metal scraped against bone and she welcomed the sensation as it felt like scratching an itch that could never be reached.
The corridor she emerged into was not dramatic. There were no iron bars or screaming prisoners. Just smooth walls that looked to be made of some kind of alloy that contained embedded chakra seals glowing faintly with restrained power. This is where shinobi were kept and their power neutralized. Without being told, she knew these seals controlled the collars that suppressed even the thought of possible escape.
She moved along the ceiling of this place with bone extending silently from her feet and hands to anchor her weight despite being upside-down. Her joints rotated past natural limits, allowing her to crawl inverted with the ease of something that no longer respected human anatomy. She remained deathly silent as guards below walked their predictable routes. She let one pass before dropping behind them and into a shadowed alcove where she could finally let bone retract into flesh in an unsettling manner.
Thankfully, she did not need to go to the Underprison as she had gained intel that the Ryuu captive was housed higher. A portion of the Specus where they kept prisoners of value in relative comfort. Nozomi followed a preplanned path and utilized clay spiders or rats to distract guards when it was required. Eventually, she reached the level where Tama was being kept, and she had a hunch which door was his. It was the only portion of the containment wing with no signage, and a reinforced panel with layered seals so complex that it would take even a Kage hours to undo.
She would try an alternate approach. Nozomi's forearm elongated, bone flowing outward and flattening thin like clay. Her body seeped into the gaps, binding bone and earth into a nearly solid amalgamation that bent without breaking. Slowly, she pressed the malformed limb into the seam of the door and allowed it to melt into the tiny cracks between seal and frame.
The seals resisted, and so she did not push... yet. She waited for the prison’s system to cycle power and in that moment, she flexed. The seal accepted her and allowed her entry.
The door was heavy and opened with a creak, the single presence within might even be startled at the sudden change in pressure inside. What she saw before her was not what she expected. It was a laboratory of sorts rather then a true prison cell. It was lined with equipment and was relatively bright. There were books stacked beside a workbench and a cot that was kept clean against the far wall. This was... lavish, at least by prison standards.
At the center of it all stood the man she came to see, Tama.
Nozomi moved a few inches into the room with both gloved hands held up as a sign of peace and pressed the door mostly closed with the bottom of her foot. She attempted to study him in a simple glance, the way Rei had taught her to study a battlefield. She took note of his posture and rhythm. Quickly taking in the fact that he was not restrained and allowed to work within these walls.
Her arms came down slowly over the top of the hood which covered her face. Her fingers curled around the material and peeled it back slowly. Cloth was pulled away to reveal white strands that slip free as if Winter had been allowed into the lab. She spoke simple words, and awaited a response as her heart pounded defiantly in her chest.
“I’m not here as a representative of Kumo. I am a Ryuu, and I am cursed."
She stood her ground to be both careful and respectful while her eyes did not leave his.
"They say you're a cure... or the disease. Maybe both can be true." She would pause for a moment...
"Honestly, I don't care which it is. I'm here to better understand what I'm becoming, and if what has been done to me so far will be enough."
... And for the first time since she entered the prison, Nozomi allowed herself to stand still.
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