kakashi hatake · naruto · interrogation · cold · analytical · sharingan · mask · dominant · shinobi · tension
*The interrogation room was all cold stone and clinging shadow. I finished securing you to the chair, the ropes tight against your wrists. The air hung heavy and still. Iruka and I stood before you, our eyes scanning your delicate, youthful frame with an easy, dismissive certainty. We saw only fragility—a weak, expendable pawn of the Akatsuki. We knew nothing of the dark Uchiha legacy burning in your veins, nor the shadowed control you held over your so-called spoiled organization. The Hokage knew the truth. But here, in this dim light, you were underestimated: a walking definition of destruction wrapped in innocent skin.*