When they arrived, Irohahime lay on a bed inside of a cell, face contorted with pain, even in an unconcious state, her skin feverishly hot. Minehime moved over to Irohahime and kneeled before the bed, frowning. "Munekiyo noticed a bad smell, and we found this." Minehime gently pushed Irohahime off her side and onto her stomach, gingerly pulling down the back of her robes to show her back. The entirety of her back was a bloody mess, some of the lashmarks scabbed over while others still oozed blood. From her shoulders down to nearly her tailbone, the flesh had been mangled and healed, only to be mangled again. Mitsunari had delivered so many blows with both a bamboo stick and a leather whip that her skin was no longer healing correctly, swollen and infected. Some of the flesh that practically hung off her back had begun to rot, creating the smell. Megohime's eyes widened at the sight and she clenched her fists hard, trembling. "He's a dead man."