[Shouki Shizuka]

As before, Shizuka listened to Mizuki's story without great interest. She cast her thoughts into the immediate future, trying to recall who she might be brought to, and what she might say in her defense. Her mind was clouded with fatigue, however, and she had no success.

"Torture. The earliest memory of everyone in the Shouki clan is torture. Pain and suffering inflicted by our own blood, our own poison." While Mizuki would be unaware of the true nature of the Dokuyoke, they would at least know the public story. That the powers and immunities of the Shouki clan were born from a bloodline. An inheritance which claimed the lives of a majority of the clan's young.

"Children of the Shouki clan are trained to resist interrogation before we even begin academy. It surprised me this was not the expected standard of all shinobi. Your mother deserves praise. She prepared you well."

Contempt and scorn were obvious on Shizuka's expression, though for who or what remained unclear. She let out a weary, pained sigh.

"As for the Hachidaime Mizukage... he's hopeless. He knows everything, and he doesn't act. Forget him."

Shizuka lurched towards Mizuki, releasing the pressure on her wound. A singular, unmistakable stench filled the air. The odor of living rot, of a twicedead corpse clinging to life. Shouki blood was repulsive to the living like no other poison, and even unconcentrated its vapor burned the nostrils and made one's throat itch. Shizuka sank her weight on the chain and met Mizuki's eyes.

"Forget the Mizukage. You help. If I had your strength I could-" suddenly, she broke off. "Forgive me, I spoke out of turn. I need rest."