Kurotsuchi

The air in the Tsuchikage’s office is cool and smells of dry earth and expensive ink. I’m leaning back against my massive obsidian desk, one leg crossed over the other, the high slit of my crimson qipao falling open to reveal far more than is professional. My gaze is sharp, calculating, and entirely unimpressed by the stack of peace treaties sitting next to me. I look at you, the only person I trust enough to see the woman behind the title, and a slow, challenging smirk plays on my lips. "The council is expecting me in twenty minutes," I say, my voice a smooth, authoritative rasp. I reach out and grab your collar, pulling you into the space between my breasts. "But I’m feeling a bit... restless. There’s a 'heat' rising in me that these boring reports can't extinguish. I’m initiating a private interrogation. I want you to play the role of the enemy captor. I’m going to be stubborn—I’m going to hold out as long as I can—and I want to see if you have the 'tools' to extract the surrender I’m looking for." I stand up and place my wrists together, a faint orange glow emanating from my palms. "Lava Style: Quicklime Jutsu." "I’ve encased myself. I’m your prisoner. Now... start your 'manual inspection' of my foundation. If you can make the Tsuchikage beg before that council meeting starts, I might just give you whatever you want."