Hey everyone! A bit of an early (short) chapter as an apology for my late update, as well as an apology for future late chapters. Since the holidays are coming up I'll be off visiting family and there's a good chance I won't be able to update/write for a little while then.
I'm not 100% confident with this chapter, but at this point I've read and reread it so much I can't tell anymore if it's any good or not. I figure I might as well throw it out there and if need be I can edit later. Oops. Never be afraid to let me know if something isn't reading clearly or if it's confusing or lacking. I live for constructive criticism. Also, if there is something you'd like to know about Otogakure, its occupants, the twins, or even just interactions/situations that Mayuri and Hiroko might get up to, now is the time to say something! I've got some space in upcoming chapters to flesh out the village and characters before moving on to the next arc, and while I've already got a lot of plans, I'm still definitely up for taking prompts, requests, questions, etc.
Also, here's a friendly reminder that if anyone ever wants to beta, just let me know! Having an extra set of eyes for plot/characterization/grammar/whatever else would be very welcome.
Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Hiroko had spent the first three days with medics poking her and the so-called seal master experimenting with her seal, removing and reapplying it and then tweaking it until it reached whatever standards he was trying to meet. She sat mostly quietly throughout it all, and was really rather proud of herself for only screaming at the various tormentors a handful of times. It was something of a personal record for her, after all, since it felt like she'd spent most of her waking hours yelling since she had woken up in this hellhole.
If Orochimaru came to see her at any point in time, she never knew it. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. After all, she had pretty much just signed a deal with the devil only for him to disappear immediately afterwards before they could discuss any terms or conditions. Every hour that passed without him coming to outline exactly what his plans for her were was just another hour of growing anxiety as she imagined every awful thing he might have in mind for her.
Kabuto, on the other hand, seemed to be there every time she turned around. It had scared her at first, the way he would just suddenly be in her room without any warning, watching her sleep or waiting patiently for her to get out of the bathroom. She'd thrown whatever was on hand the first few times, which generally meant that the boy sidestepped a flat pillow or watched, unimpressed, as a blanket fluttered lacklusterly to land on the stone floor a few inches short of his feet. On one occasion, he had appeared as she was changing clothes. She had screeched and thrown her shirt at him on reflex. Much to her surprise, it actually landed where she'd intended it to, squarely over his face.
"You can't just walk in here!" she yelled, crossing her arms across her chest and scowling angrily. Kabuto pulled the shirt from his head and sighed.
"You and your sister have such odd reactions. Most children your age don't particularly pay attention to their state of dress." She wasn't sure if he was trying to imply something or not. After all, it wouldn't exactly be anyone's first leap in logic to assume that the two children they had brought back from the dead actually had the minds of adults, but she also figured that neither she nor Mayuri always acted like most children should. What would Orochimaru and Kabuto do, if they somehow found out? Quickly, she quashed her suspicions and worries before they could take root further inside her mind. She didn't need that particular thought eating away at her, along with everything else. It was unlikely that they'd ever really know unless she or Mayuri told them. She watched with narrowed eyes as he took his glasses off and held them up to the light, squinting at the lenses. He turned his focus back to her as he cleaned them on the hem of his shirt. Somehow, without the glasses obscuring his features just-so, it was much easier to see just how horribly young he was. "I'll tell you what I told her; I'm a medic. You have nothing that I haven't seen countless times before."
Hiroko didn't respond right away. She held her hand out for the shirt, which he handed over without a fight. She turned away and pulled it over her head, then turned back to survey him with a critical eye. Though he was probably a good foot taller than her, she did her very best to give the impression that she was looking down her nose at him. After a second, she smiled, sugary sweet and sharp as any knife.
"You seem a little young to be a real medic, Kabuto-chan."
His returning smile was cold and empty as he readjusted his glasses. "Oddly enough, you're not the first person to think that. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I'll need to take some samples. After we're done here, I'll be off to see to your sister."
She wondered if that was a threat, or if he was just saying it because he liked reminding her that her sister was out of her reach. No matter how many times she asked after Mayuri, none of the medics she met would tell her anything. Most would turn away, lips pursed or their faces carefully blank. Some would apologize, saying they didn't know or couldn't say. Kabuto was the worst, though. He would smile at her, unnerving and empty, and tell her that she should spend more time worrying about herself. He would deflect her every question as he did his tests and drew his blood and spinal fluid, return every jibe and insult with an infuriating calm, and then pat her head like she was some stupid child before he left. Somehow, whenever he collected samples, she was always left more sore afterwards than when anyone else did it. It was infuriating, because she knew he was doing it on purpose. Yet somehow, it also thrilled her; if he was being petty, that meant she was getting under his skin despite the cool act he put on.
During the few odd hours when the medics and the seal master weren't tormenting her, she was left to her own devices in the tiny room. The silence was overbearing, nothing but the beating of her own heart and the crackle of the torches to distract her from her thoughts. She found herself sleeping more often than not, woken only when it was time for another exam, when food was brought to her, or when nature called. She didn't see the point in being awake otherwise. If not for the sharp eyes on her when her meals were brought in, she doubted she would even bother eating.
When the weariness weighed heavily on her but she couldn't bring herself to shut her eyes for fear that they might never open again, Hiroko sang. It was loud, off key, and angry. Sometimes, she stumbled over her words, the English not quite fitting in her mouth or rolling off her tongue as easily as it should have. Still, it was a language that no one here knew or recognized, and somehow, that gave her a lot of satisfaction. It was good to know that, no matter what they did to her and what they could take away, her first language was something that they couldn't touch.
She was in the middle of a fast, upbeat song when one of the medics walked in. As the door swung open, Hiroko cut herself off. Yumi, one of the medics that had been attending her, cocked her head to the side as she considered her. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark glasses despite the relatively dim lighting of the room.
"Were you having fun, Hiroko-chan?" she asked, voice like a whisper. Hiroko looked away, lips pressed tightly together. Yumi did not bother to reproach her for her silence or her refusal to look at her. She just accepted it silently and went about her work.
Hiroko grimaced as Yumi pulled yet another needle out of seemingly nowhere, and did her best not to tense as blood was drawn. She hated needles.
So. Fucking. Much.
She wished that Mayuri were there to hold her hand and pet her hair, even if she was laughing at her for being such a baby the whole time.
She was scared.
She missed her sister.
On the fourth day she was led out of the room and to a cafeteria. The loud sounds and the crush of people were all overwhelming. They stirred the anxiety inside her, grinding on her already frayed nerves and making her chest feel tight and her stomach queasy. She hated it and she told Kabuto as much, arms crossed and a pout on her face. He just told her that she would get used to it, and she was again reminded of how much she hated that small, self-satisfied smile of his. When she couldn't reach the food, instead of bringing herself low enough to ask Kabuto for help, she decided she'd rather not eat at all and proceeded to storm away from the line and plop herself down at a table as far away from anyone else as she could manage.
It was actually a relief, for a little while. Kabuto had disappeared and she was finally being left alone for the first time in days, able to take a moment to gather herself. That was, until someone sat themselves down across from her, their small body moving stiffly. They were covered in bandages, and there was blood leaking through in a few places. She eyed them warily, arms crossed tightly across her chest as though that could keep her safe from whatever this stranger had in mind.
"Hey, kid. I see you didn't die after all," they said, voice eager and rough in a strange, unnatural way that set her on edge. She didn't say anything in return, and she could swear she saw something in their eyes darken slightly. She shifted back a little, eyeing them warily. The kid let out a quiet, almost bitter laugh. Still, they didn't stop trying to start the conversation. "I guess you don't recognize me. It's been a few months and a lot's changed, so I can't really blame you. I was that boy who—"
"Wait!" Hiroko snapped, her heart sinking. The kid obliged, but she could see his brow wrinkle beneath his bandages at the interruption. "Did you just say a couple months?" she demanded, voice tight and her chest filling with horror. Had that much time really passed? How could she have not realized that? Why didn't anyone tell her?
"Your voice is different," he murmured, looking perplexed, as though the fact that he might have been talking to the wrong person was more worrisome than the fact that Hiroko was missing months of her fucking life.
"Yeah, my voice is different because you didn't talk to me. You probably met my sister," she explained hastily, waving her hand dismissively. "Now what the hell did you just say? What do you mean, months?"
He looked suddenly nervous as he said, "I dunno. Maybe I just got it all wrong, alright? Just last time I saw your sister or whatever was right before the creepy medic kid took her away. That was a couple months ago. But that was the first time I saw her anyway, so's not like we were friends or somethin'. I could've just missed her the next time she came through."
"Months," Hiroko whispered, feeling sick. She let her head fall to thump against the dirty tabletop and made a soft, wounded noise. She repeated the word a few times, just trying to wrap her mind around the idea. After a moment, she felt a bandaged hand hesitantly brush against the back of her hand. She pulled it back immediately, raising her head just enough to bark out, "Don't touch me!" before she let her head fall back to the table, hiding her red face and glassy eyes behind a curtain of dark hair. There was a part of her that wanted to strike out, to yell and hurt the boy and the medics and Orochimaru and Kabuto and even wished that their mother was here again just so she could scream at her, because she was the one who gave them to Orochimaru and who left them here to suffer. She wanted to scream, to rage, to lash out, but...she was just too tired.
Over the muted roar of the cafeteria she could hear the boy shift, his seat squeaking softly, and clear his throat awkwardly. "Um, if it makes you feel any better, I was sedated for a few weeks, too."
Slowly, she lifted her head to look at him with the most unimpressed expression she could manage. He shifted uncomfortably under her dull gaze, the tiny bits of his face that she could see turning red. He seemed to take her silence as encouragement to continue, though, because after a second he barreled on ahead.
"There was an accident in one of the labs," he explained, raising a bandaged arm in jolting movements to motion at his own face. "Something exploded. They couldn't put out the flames and the chemicals apparently make it harder to heal the burns so they figured it would be better if I just slept it off for a while."
He sounded surprisingly okay with his circumstances. The excuse the medics had given him for not healing his wounds sounded like bullshit, too. Hiroko stared at him incredulously, wondering if everyone around here was as blase about mutilation as he was. So far, the evidence pointed to the answer to that question being a resounding yes. Maybe they were all brainwashed or something.
"I'm...sorry that happened to you," she finally managed, watching the way his bandages bunched as he smiled at her. Even if he was a little twisted, he didn't seem like a bad kid or anything. She sighed, then offered him what she could of a smile as she said, "I'm Hiroko."
His smile widened further, eyes scrunching up. She watched a red blotch of fresh blood well beneath the bandages on his cheek, right where a dimple might be. Even though she couldn't fully see his face, he seemed awfully young, smiling like that. Despite the careful way he moved, he didn't seem bothered by the pain of his facial wounds reopening. She couldn't look away from the dot of red as he said, "It's nice to meet'cha! I'm Dosu."
"Nice you meet you, too, Dosu. How old are you?"
"I'm six. I moved here with my mom a little while ago, so I haven't met many other kids yet." His bandages twisted again as his mouth turned down into a frown. "Well, I've actually met a couple, but they never live long enough to make friends with. I'm starting my shinobi training soon, though, so maybe I can make some friends there."
Hiroko felt her stomach twist again. He didn't sound upset about the other kids dying, just disappointed he didn't get to make any friends. Kids really could be horribly cruel, couldn't they? She looked down towards the table, crossing her arms more tightly across her chest as she withdrew further into herself.
As though able to sense her distress, Dosu quickly spoke up again, his rough voice cracking as he almost shouted, "'I'm glad you didn't die, though! Is your sister okay, too?"
Slowly, Hiroko raised her gaze to look at him again. He was leaning across the table, eyes wide. She could see the scabs around them, not quite hidden by the bandages. She nodded and watched those scabs crinkle with another smile. She resisted the urge to shudder.
"Do you wanna be friends?" he asked, sincere and sweet. She watched the blood as it continued to stain the whites of his bandages. She spoke without thinking.
"Okay. Sure." She paused, fists clenching and unclenching as the little boy lit up. She sighed. "Why not? Let's go get those bandages changed. It can't be healthy to be walking around covered in blood, right?"
Dosu rolled his eyes, saying something about how little girls weren't allowed to give him orders. Regardless of his grumpy declaration, he cheerfully followed suit when she stood and told him to show her where the nearest infirmary was.
