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The More Things Change	By : Sushi4Brains Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 8513 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of its characters, nor is any profit made from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Fear held him in its icy grip, a dense mental fog supplanted reason.
He was like a wild rabbit with its hind leg caught in a steel trap, as two hungry eagles circle overhead. He could either gnaw off the ensnared appendage, and limp away for cover, (impossible), or remain trapped, crying out in distress (unthinkable), until the sharp talons of the hunters elevated him to a loftier height of agony or mercifully put him out of his misery.
Either way, he was dead meat.
Easy pickings for the amusement of swift, deadly predators; soon to become a tasty appetizer.
He knew from experience, any implement in Kakashi's hands would be employed firmly, purposely and yet with a measure of forbearance; his intents … addressing and correcting inappropriate behavior to ensure future compliance with his standards and rules. He’d chose his words carefully, conveying his displeasure without taking away his confidence, giving added emphasis to every stinging stroke of the paddle, or every searing lash of the tawse.
He could deal with that.
But it would not be so with Hound. Any implement in his hands, would turn into a weapon of full out devastation; Hound's intent was always to brutalize; his words of choice, demoralizing and emotionally crippling.
Yep, I gotta get the hell outta here!
A spike of adrenaline rushed through his body, actuating sweaty palms to slam against the floor, pushing his body upward, maneuvering himself away from his captain’s body.
This cloddish attempt at freedom was met with a deep throated chortle from Hound and an exasperated sigh from Kakashi, no other expression of resistance came from either man; that alone made his frantic flailing about cease.
He had to save his strength for whatever flagitious scheme they’d agreed upon.
The heavy arm loosely holding him in place, lifted from his lower back, moving slowly upward as Kakashi's fingers trailed a heated path along his hip, skimming past his waist and his side until it reached his upper back; it was there the warm hand came to rest between tense shoulder blades. Calloused fingertips inched further upward, gently kneading the top of his shoulder, while the other hand lazily drifted over the smooth rounded, flesh of his buttocks and the back of his thighs; occasionally, blunt cut nails lightly scratched at the ticklish spot behind his knees before moving down his leg.
Like molten lava, his captain’s disingenuous words of consolation cut a swath of lucidity through the tangled web of his thoughts.
“Calm yourself, Tenzou” he whispered. “Hound isn't going to hurt you."
As if he could believe those slippery words, vapid containers of perjured commiseration; this was just Kakashi doing what he did best … lulling him into a false sense of security. He’d have to be cagier, more deceptive and quicker than his mentor to gain necessary leverage.
Wriggling closer to his target, he exaggerated his simpering movements, purposely letting Kakashi feel him relax under his touch; what a surprise it was when his captain relaxed in kind.
He wasn't proud of what he was about to do next, yet he was sure Kakashi would understand and later appreciate that the means, crude as they were, would find justification in the end.
There was only one way to break a low level genjutsu like this . . . inflicting sudden and extremely sharp pain on the one casting the illusion. Kakashi's ankle was so close to his face, he could see his pulse. He'd bide his time, catch his captain off-guard for a nanosecond and launch a surprise attack. A bite, right at the junction where Achilles tendon met heel would effectively shatter the illusion, dispatch Hound to his rightful place and buy him enough time to break free and reason with an angry Kakashi.
Until he could make a decisive move, he'd content himself letting Kakashi believe he was still in control.
"As for you Hound,” he heard him say while he continued the impromptu massage, “I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't tease him. You know Tenzou takes everything you say and do quite literally."
The mild rebuke gave the other man pause, but it wasn't as if Hound was altogether silent.
Above him came the faint noise of something solid and wooden, methodically slamming against a flat surface. Naturally, it piqued his interest and he lifted his head warily.
He should’ve known better.
The heavy antique, rosewood hairbrush, it's highly polished obverse side tapped out a message in shinobi code against Hound's leather covered palm.
"Your ass … my canvas
on which to play …
With this … a mosaic of pain
will I lay."
or so went the code.
As Hound eased himself closer to eye level, his white cloak fanned out and folded behind him like an accordion's bellows. Suddenly, the red and black trimmed eye holes of the dog mask blurred together in his line of sight. His breath, moist and halting, blew back into his face when Hound pressed closer; a gruff laugh issued forth from the masked man.
"Yeah Kakashi," he said. "I know he does."
Hound drew away slowly, pleased with himself for provoking a look of absolute terror in Yamato’s eyes. "It's a damn shame," he said. "The more things change . . . the more they stay the same, eh, Kakashi?"
Once more, the sound of wood tapping against leather ricocheted off the room’s walls.
Tap . . . Tap . . . Tap.
"You just take care of your end, Kakashi."
Tap . . . Tap . . . Tap.
"And I'll take care of mine."
I gotta do this now, he thought, before things get out of hand!
The noise of the hairbrush ceased and before he could blink twice, that gloved hand moved toward his face - he flinched away, but it was too late. Hound held him by the chin, pulling him closer; a solitary, steel grey eye shimmering with gleeful and malicious intent.
"Well . . . Yamato," he hissed, "since you'd like me and Kakashi to believe you're incapable of maintaining focus - what say we play a little game?"
A game? What fresh hell is this?
Ignoring the confrontation unfolding mere inches away, Kakashi's hand merrily skipped along the lower half of his body, creating a vastly different sort of tension than the one he sought to alleviate.
Meanwhile, Hound's manhandling, his not so subtle threats and nonverbal taunts were inciting anxiety even as they rekindled the embers of arousal.
How the devil do these insufferable pricks expect me to concentrate on anything apart from their actions?
When a bony elbow lazily pressed into a nerve cluster in the middle of his back, he paid it no mind. Acupressure was Kakashi's small concession for his physical comfort and a telling indicator of how long a session across his knee would last.
All of a sudden, he couldn't feel a thing from the middle of his back to the top of his shoulders. His captain’s other hand still meandering, still stroking its way over his body. He couldn’t sense the tactile experience of Kakashi's arm falling across his left shoulder, he could only look on in stunned silence as that pale hand stretched out to take possession of the hairbrush.
Sweet Kami!
He's not gonna start with that thing, is he?
You rat bastard!
What the fuc-?
"Tenzou, chill out," Kakashi said with a chuckle. A playful slap to his right buttock startled him and elicited another chuckle. “I'm just gonna lay the hairbrush right here, in the middle of your back while I explain the rules of our game." Another playful slap on the bottom and another to the back of his thigh; neither was intended to cause pain, only to capture his attention.
The teasing lilt in Kakashi's voice was more terrifying than Hound's closeness.
This isn't going to end well, he thought, inching away from the masked man.
"It's a fairly simple game, Tenzou. While I 'take care of my end,' Hound is gonna ask you a series of questions, which you'll answer truthfully and in a timely manner. And since I'm doing much of the heavy lifting here, all you have to do is keep the hairbrush from falling to the floor."
So that's why . . .
“How the hell am I supposed to do that? You know I can’t feel the damn thing! And if I can’t feel it, I can't balance it and I damn sure can't stop it from slipping. That's not fair Kaka--"
"Now, now, you're a smart kid, I'm confident … you'll figure something out."
"Humph . . . now do you see," Hound snapped, "now do you understand what years of leniency spawn, Kakashi? A loud-mouthed brat who still hasn't learned how to address his superiors properly, one who takes liberties and - -"
"Settle down Hound-san . . . I got this."
Unintentional as it might have been, a wry smirk flashed across his lips; sure, one or both of them would make him pay for it later, but what the hell, he'd savor the moment Kakashi brought Hound to heel for as long as he could.
Turns out the enjoyment factor had a three second lifespan.
Jerking his chin upward, Hound said, "You oughta be glad I'm letting Kakashi deal with you, boy. I would’ve had you screechin’ like a banshee long before now."
All right … time to regroup, he told himself.
Casting an awkward glance over his shoulder, he whispered, "Kakashi . . . sir … I'm sorry. Lost my head for a minute. Forgive my insubordination.” Turning back, he addressed Hound likewise, dipping his head in submission. " Hound-san … I'm sorry … please forgive me."
The movement of his head, which Hound so readily allowed and thoroughly enjoyed, brought him parallel with Kakashi's ankle once more.
I have to do this . . . for his own good as well as mine.
Can't believe this idiot is willing to burn through his chakra reserves
just to get a point across!
A black hand stood between him and his intended target. "Don't even think about it boy," said the wily Hound. "Never forget, we'll always be three steps ahead of you."
By this time, Hound was comfortably seated on the floor beside the open box of implements, his arms hugging his knees, his body language exuding excitement like a child pumped full of sugar and primed to watch his favorite cartoon shows on a homework-free Saturday morning.
"Let’s get down to business," he said, "before my patience runs out or before he tries something stupider." Raising Tenzou’s head again, this time with both hands cradling his jaws, Hound's elbows were propped up on his knees, all the better to look him square in the eyes.
"I made a promise to get the truth out of you one way or another and you know I always keep my promises don'tcha, boy?"
That sinister laugh rising deep within Hound's chest like an exploding tag, sizzled as it whipped past his ears; it was the satisfied laugh of a man who reveled in extracting information in the most painful ways imaginable.
It cut him to the quick.
Kakashi would never permit physical torture
especially when mental anguish would suffice … would he?
"You haven't forgotten the most important aspect of the game, have you, Kakashi? We don’t want to keep him in suspense, so go on then, tell him about the penalty phases."
Kakashi took his sweet time, as he was want to do, readjusting his kohai’s limbs into optimal position, tapping at his calves as a subtle reminder to straighten his legs and point his toes in preparation for punishment. When he was finally ready, the full weight of his forearm pressed into the small of Yamato's back, and his hand aligned itself along the side of his right thigh; the atmosphere in the room shifted, the very air itself thickened, making it harder to breathe.
Without warning, his captain's lackadaisical posture and that easy going demeanor peeled away, revealing his captain as the imposing, austere, and exacting disciplinarian.
"Listen up," he snapped, his voice distant and flat. "There are two penalty phases of the game. In the first one, should the hairbrush fall to the floor, you 'll pick it up and put it in my hand. Twenty . . . that's the minimum number of penalty strokes you'll receive each time the brush falls. You'll count off each stroke for me, nice and loud, I’ll return the hairbrush to its former place, and your punishment will continue. Each time the hairbrush falls thereafter, the tally of strokes increases by ten."
The voice of his team leader, issuing commands to be carried out without question; his judgment keen, his edict absolute. There would be no turning back, no possible way of breaking through the citadel of his strident resolution.
“Do you understand what the first phase of your punishment entails, Tenzou?”
Swallowing down the gigantic lump of anxiety in his throat, he nodded. "Yes sir."
"If you refuse to answer a question or if you answer a question falsely, phase two of your punishment kicks in. In this phase, Hound selects an implement from the box to reward your disobedience; he’ll decide the number and severity of the strokes you receive. If you still refuse to cooperate after that point, he’ll select another implement and we'll keep things going until you're ready to respond correctly."
A deep, cleansing breath, another defeated nod of the head. "Yes, I understand sir."
"Hmm . . . you know," said Hound, "I’d take it as a personal affront and it should be considered a breach of the rules if your boy were to close his eyes at any time during his punishment. Ah yes,” he said, lifting Tenzou’s chin, “these expressive eyes of his gave away his plan to injure you Kakashi; we certainly don’t want to repeat that mistake, do we? Besides, I don’t want to miss a single flicker of fear or pain that’s gonna cloud up those pretty brown eyes.”
"Noted," Kakashi said after a beat. “I'm disappointed he tried such a thing."
"Don't you think that little escapade is worthy of its own penalty, Kakashi? I mean, here we are trying to help him concentrate on one thing at a time and that’s how he shows appreciation for our efforts … I’m embarrassed for him."
"Excellent point, Hound-san. But I wonder, what sort of penalty should we assign for such a grievous assault on your aesthetics, not to mention the attempted assault on my person?"
One of Hound's hands retained its grip on Yamato’s jaw, while the other burrowed under his cloak.
A regulation ANBU utility pouch, one used to carry small scrolls, extra shuriken, medicine or a whetstone, he thought. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to fear.
"Are you crazy," his mind interjected, "don't you know nothing about Hound is ordinary?"
Having located the item, he slowly raised it to Yamato's eye level that he might examine it for himself. "As luck would have it," Hound said, "I brought along a few items sure to make things more . . . interesting. With your permission Kakashi, I reserve the right to bring these 'items' into play at my discretion." Leaning closer, he whispered in the captive man’s ear, "Whether I use them for your punishment or as an incentive for continued good behavior solely depends on you."
"Very well, you have my permission. Tenzou, do you have any questions for me or Hound-san?"
"No sir ... no further questions."
There was a bone chilling pause, time to reflect, to prepare himself for the inevitable and painful first contact of a firm palm against his flesh.
"If you're ready Hound,” he heard Kakashi say, “let’s begin."
Laying the utility pouch atop the open box of implements with one hand and lifting Yamato’s head higher with the other, he asked:
"Now then, boy. . . what shall we talk about?"

Notes:
Flagitious: shamefully wicked.
- 5
- 6
- 7
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The More Things Change