WARNING:
This scene contains themes of forced disrobing, dehumanization, psychological distress, and emotional trauma. While there is no explicit sexual content, the scenario may be distressing or triggering to some readers due to the invasive and coercive nature of the events described.
Reader discretion is strongly advised.
------
The corridor was long and silent.
Mei Terumī followed behind a maid, the 'clack-clack' sound of her wooden clogs echoing against the polished floor.
The maid kept a distance of three steps from her at all times.
She spoke little and looked even less.
Like a walking doll, every movement was precise and rigid.
This extreme adherence to rules created an invisible pressure of its own.
Finally, the maid stopped in front of a door with no markings.
She didn't push it open; instead, she turned sideways and made a 'please enter' gesture.
"Please come in, someone is waiting for you."
Mei Terumī's heart suddenly tightened.
Was she going to meet that man so soon?
She adjusted her breathing, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart.
More than a dozen plans flashed through her mind in an instant—verbal probes, sudden attacks, even the desperate resolve to die together.
But when her hand touched the cold door knocker, these thoughts were extinguished one by one, banished by herself.
It was useless.
She had seen the Shadow Guards during the enthronement ceremony.
Here, in the Fire Capital, in this man's palace, any resistance would be nothing but a joke.
She pushed the door open.
Inside, there was none of the luxury she had expected.
It was... empty.
The walls were dull grey, and the air was thick with a strange smell of herbs mixed with stale wood.
In the center of the room stood three elderly women dressed in dark kimonos.
Their hair was white, their faces lined with wrinkles, and their expressions solemn.
As Mei Terumī stepped inside, the heavy wooden door slowly closed behind her.
Click.
The soft sound of the lock falling made her heart pound faster.
Her emerald eyes constricted in an instant, and her hand instinctively reached for her lower back.
It was empty there.
Only then did she remember that all her weapons had been removed when she entered.
"No need to be nervous."
The lead old woman finally spoke, her voice dry, like two withered leaves rubbing together.
"We are simply following orders."
Another woman stepped forward, holding a wooden tray.
On the tray was a ruler, a tape measure, and a thick booklet.
"There are rules for selecting a concubine."
"There is a system for entering the palace."
"Before meeting the Great Lord, you must first undergo a thorough examination."
The color drained from Mei Terumī's face.
She was no innocent maiden and, of course, understood what a thorough examination meant.
"Take off your clothes. All of them."
The old woman's voice was flat, an understatement.
This sentence, however, struck Mei Terumī's heart like a bolt of lightning.
Humiliation mixed with rage surged instantly in her mind.
She was the leader of the Hidden Mist resistance.
She was an elite Jonin who mastered two Bloodline Limits!
She had witnessed mountains of corpses and seas of blood, personally snapping the necks of countless enemies.
Now, she had to stand here like an object to be inspected?
"What if I say no?"
Her voice was cold, trembling without her realizing it.
In the eyes of the lead old woman, a ripple finally appeared.
It wasn't surprise, nor anger.
It was pity.
"Girl, you need to think carefully."
"Once the door closes, there's no turning back."
"If you refuse now, we won't make things difficult for you; we'll simply escort you out."
"But from then on, everything you desire will vanish with it."
The old woman's voice was slow, but it made Mei Terumī almost unable to breathe.
She clenched her fists, her sharp nails biting into her palms, the pain helping to keep her focused.
She thought of her comrades, struggling in the blood mist.
She thought of her devastated homeland.
She was their hope.
If she backed down here, what would all those sacrifices and trust mean?
Mei Terumī slowly unclenched her fists.
That pathetic pride in her heart was crumbling, turning to dust before the weight of the future of her village.
She closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, the anger and resistance had disappeared.
This was acceptance of fate.
And it was a sacrifice.
She raised her hands, her fingertips trembling, and untied the sash at her waist.
The blue long dress slid down, pooling at her feet.
Then came the undergarments.
One.
Then another.
Every curve of her body was flawless; an ounce more would make her plump, an ounce less would make her thin.
The gazes of the three old women scraped over her body, inch by inch.
There was no admiration in their eyes.
Only scrutiny.
It was as though they were examining an object, purely and without any emotion.
"Turn around."
The hoarse voice came again.
Mei Terumī's body stiffened for a moment, then she obediently turned.
A cold sensation came from behind her.
It was the wooden ruler.
The old woman used the ruler to probe downward, section by section.
Her movements were professional and meticulous.
"Bones are straight, no old injuries."
Then the tape measure pressed against her.
The chill made fine goosebumps rise all over her body.
"Shoulder width…"
"Arm length…"
"Waist circumference…"
"Hips…"
"Leg length…"
One old woman was responsible for measuring, while another held a pen and quickly recorded the numbers in the booklet.
Mei Terumī felt she was no longer a person.
But livestock, clearly priced.
This body of hers, capable of unleashing terrifying power and performing powerful Ninjutsu, at this moment became nothing but a string of cold numbers.
The measurement lasted a long time.
From height and weight to finger length, even the thickness of her hair was accounted for.
She forced herself to detach, to empty her mind.
She began recalling her clumsiness when she first refined Chakra.
She remembered the joy of completing her first mission.
She remembered the exhilaration of drinking with her comrades under the setting sun.
Those beautiful memories were her only weapon against the present.
"Alright."
"Lie face down on that couch."
The old woman's voice pulled her back to reality.
Mei Terumī followed her gaze and realized there was a narrow couch in the corner, covered with a white cloth.
Her heart plummeted.
Her deepest fear had finally arrived.
She didn't move.
Her feet were as if rooted to the ground.
"Girl."
A trace of impatience entered the old woman's voice.
"Don't waste everyone's time."
Mei Terumī's lips were bitten, and the taste of blood filled her mouth.
She knew she had no choice.
Step by step, she shuffled over.
Her movements were stiff, as if she had lost her soul.
The moment she leaned down and lay prone, hot tears finally rolled uncontrollably from the corners of her eyes.
Nausea and humiliation surged within her!
Her instincts screamed for her to curl up, to resist!
But another hand, like an iron clamp, pressed down heavily on her.
She wanted to lash out but dared not.
Time stretched out endlessly.
Every second was agony.
Mei Terumī's mind was blank.
All her pride, all her strength, at this moment, turned to dust.
She was no longer the elite Jonin, Mei Terumī.
She was nothing.
Just an object with no dignity.
She didn't know how long it had been.
The hand finally left.
"Intact."
"No body odor."
"Good quality, very clean."
The old woman wiped her hands with a white cloth and stated her final conclusion in a flat tone.
"Get up."
"Put your clothes on."
"Someone will take you to see Lord Takeshi."
With that, the three old women tidied their things and turned to walk toward a hidden door on the other side.
From beginning to end, they did not spare her another glance.
In the room, only Mei Terumī remained.
She lay on the couch, motionless.
Her empty gaze stared straight at the ground.
There were her tears.
And her utterly crushed dignity.