He shouted.
She stared at him in mocking indifference, her mask lying broken on the floor.
She should have been screaming, begging, crying, confessing, admitting her sins. Yet she was simply smiling, her gaze piercing but unwavering.
Red veiled her vision, pain bloomed all over her members while the insufferable heat rose. But still, she remained, taunting him, staring him down with a pride he yearned to shatter.
Finally, his fists stopped. Blood dripped slowly down his gloved fists, but that didn't seem to bother the man. He was staring at the criminal before him with renewed calmness.
"Still don't want to talk?" He asked rhetorically, starting to take off his gloves.
She tilted her head, ignoring the pain the sudden movement caused. "What if I'm willing?" She trailed off in a matter-of-fact tone, "It doesn't seem like you're stopping anytime soon."
Akainu stared silently at her, his fists heating up before melting into magma. He didn't seem to care about her remarks, in his eyes, maybe she wasn't even human.
Ko knew that gaze, he wasn't looking at her. He was only seeing an enemy from which he had to extract information. It wasn't an unfamiliar feeling to her. The only difference was the pleasure she could see in him. He was enjoying the process while she was averse to it.
Before she could really delve into the subject, the torture started again.
It was slow, excruciatingly slow. Akainu contrary to his appearance, was very thorough in his methods, and very patient. He knew he had only one day to do as he wished before Ko would be handed to the government to deal with as they pleased. And she knew that as well.
She coughed up blood. "I really liked this color, you know," she mumbled, referring to her previously pastel pink hair.
Maybe a lifetime ago, she would have cared about the pain, she would have cried, wept. However, a lifetime of warring and fighting was enough to harden her heart. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
She could see in Akainu all the madness of a man blinded by his ambition. How many such men had she seen before? How many had she seen fall to their demise?... Enough for pity to emerge in her eyes as she looked at him. He was trapped in a cage he had created himself, one of insatiable greed and unimaginable pride. Hybris seldom ended well for men who sought to achieve the unreachable. In his quest, he had discarded his humanity.
He could feel the pity in her gaze and that bothered him to no end, he didn't understand, he couldn't. It scratched his conscience and furthered his fury. He was frustrated in her lack of reaction, in the superiority she displayed, in the false kindness that emanated from her. That was unthinkable to him, it directly clashed with his idea of evil, and he refused to see that. His lack of understanding turned into an obsession to see her break the facade she put on.
If he wasn't so obsessed with the idea he had of her, maybe he would have noticed that for once she was sincere. However, his vision was clouded and distorted. She opposed him; thus, she deserved no second thoughts on his part.
It would have continued, if a marine officer didn't come to fetch him, for seemingly "important matters".
It would be a lie to say she didn't sigh in relief when she saw him leave. Though she had suffered her fair share of torture, that didn't mean she was totally immune to it, even more so in her younger body. Her relief was short-lived as soon enough, another powerful presence approached her cell.
She looked up from where she sat, brushing back her bloody hair to better see the person looming over her cell.
"Oh, I really am popular today, aren't I? Dracule Mihawk." There was mild respect in her voice, along with a pinch of curiosity.
Nothing in her voice hinted at any possible misery from being shackled and, from the visible blood, being tortured.
Mihawk's eyes narrowed in her open wounds, before going back to her smiling face. She was still sitting on the floor, fingers fiddling with the chains around her wrists. Nothing but curiosity and respect brought him to cash in a favor to see her. He wanted to see for himself who was the one to successfully bring the World Government into a frenzy.
To see such a legend reduced to a little girl covered in blood, dampened his mood.
Though the news hadn't been released yet, he had no doubt it would cause waves in the world. And if they managed to prove she was the one in charge of Masked Truth... he didn't dare imagine.
"I don't suppose you're here to help me flee?" Ko asked sarcastically, squirming slightly under his unnerving gaze.
"Unfortunately, no." He might have felt pity for her but not enough to turn the whole World Government against him. Though he felt some regret for the promising girl, he didn't want to take on the burden of her life.
She groaned as she got up, the chains clinking with her movements. "What do you want to know?" No one came to Ko simply to visit.
Mihawk stayed silent, observing the approaching girl, she seemed overwhelmingly small compared to the cell she was put in, heavy seasoned handcuffs hid a big part of her skin while blood covered the rest.
"Let's see, Mihawk, widely considered the strongest swordsman in the world," she glanced at his back where his trademark sword usually rested, "no demon fruits, yet quite the reputation you've got amongst pirates and marines alike." She paused, wincing as the cold air hit her fresh wounds. "What else? Haki perfectly mastered..." She looked up, seemingly searching through her memories, "no family known." She tilted her head, her smile showcasing her perfect canines before she dropped the next information. "Interestingly enough, in a friendly relationship with-"
His hand twitched dangerously, as the aura dropped to a frigid zero.
"Red-haired Shanks!"
"You're courting death," he warned coldly. No one knew about that and he preferred to keep it that way.
She twirled lightly, humming to the clinking sounds of her chains, "But isn't death such a lovely partner? And isn't life so dreadfully boring without the thrill of it?"
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Random thought : sometimes I feel like this fanfic is on the brink of turning into a horror story when I write it, so I often have to take a break to turn it back into something warmer lmao