Day 1:
It was part of the duty, of the Main Branch, to uphold order and justice within the Obsidian Palace. However, 'justice' might not always be presented by some of the more uncaring guards; whom find pleasure in tormenting some weaker prisoners. Albeit, rare, it still existed and happened when the eyes weren't open. Yamazaki Ikkadan, whom by this point was quite distracted and becoming somewhat disturbed by his growing nightmares, was stationed in one level of the Obsidian Palace. And perhaps you could say that these feelings, at the moment, were only a byproduct of the Genjutsu that layered itself into the deeper layers. Which would be a smart assumption if he was any lower than the 27th floor...
Ikka would shake his head, elbows pressed against the crooked wooden table in the staff room and groan slightly at the silence. He felt mentally afflicted and it was something growing too big, too quickly. Regardless of how he felt, another member of the patrol would enter the staff room and head over to the small kitchen unit towards the back of the room. He would give some small chit-chat, but nothing that would lead into a deep-meaningful conversation between two workers. And, more to the point, the man entering the room would mean that it was now Ikkadan's turn to do his rounds. Ikkadan would leave the staff room with that voice drumming away into his head, driving him to the point of complete frustration; which was only signaled by the tight grasp his canine held against his lower lip.
"Lad, are you alright?" A clearly frail voice, withered by time, would call out from an empty cell. The back of that dingy cell was far too dark to see into, so one can only presume that the voice came from there. Ikkadan would stop and turn his head; peering forward until his nose past the threshold between those visibly-deceiving bars. And quite eerily, out from the shadows walked an old man, whom seemed gentle and forgiving with a white bearded smile. "Sorry?" Ikkadan would reply softly, pulling away from the threshold as the figure of a semi-naked pensioner came into dim-light. "I asked you if you were alright, lad." He would give off a crooked chuckle and run his fingers against his thick white beard. "I'm fine." Ikka would add dismissively before readying his feet to take him away, to continue his rounds. "I can hear your aggravation... Age hasn't made me weak to perception." The old man would add sparingly as his voice seemed quite cracked, and even, painful to continue on with speaking so casually.
The Yamazaki would turn, quite shocked at that man's statement, and give him a half-formed expression of, well, shock. He would turn around and walk back to the cell door slowly, his face clearly suspicious and eyes narrowed with hesitation. "I can hear that voice, lad. It's a bit nifty that you have so much life within you... I wish the same could be said for me." The man would state, limping over to his slab of concrete that was layered with a blanket, "Tell me: have you always been in denial about him?"
Ikkadan's face would give the game away, he would frown and wear a wide-eyed expression. He shook his head and replaced his latter expression with a smile. "You should get some sleep, sir." Ikkadan would bow his head and make a slow exit from the scene, leaving the old man to sit with his back against the cold wall wearing not but a grin.
However, what he wouldn't notice, through the corner of his vision, was one of the many metal bars had gone missing. It created a small gap for a hand to fit through; what was that all about?
[This'll be my primary topic for my Kinjutsu posts.]