Hello again, everyone! In this chapter, we get to see some more of Hiroko's point of view as well as get some world building after the PoV change. If these PoV shifts ever don't come across clearly, please let me know! As a warning, in this chapter and ones in the future we're going to see some more in the way of human experimentation and torture.
Thank you so much to everyone who comments, favorites, and follows. You are the ones who keep me writing. I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Hiroko woke up to the sound of crying. Her first thought was of Mayuri, of the way she had broken down so many times and the way she had been crying even while they drifted off to sleep. Still half-asleep, she moved to sit up, planning to find her sister and do what little she could to comfort her, but found she couldn't move.
Her heart began to pound too fast, her stomach twisting as the world narrowed down to tunnel vision. She was strapped down, again, and she wasn't sure if she would be able to survive any more time in isolation. It had almost broken her, all that time to obsess over her own thoughts and the mix of memories, visited only by medics who poked and prodded and looked at her with empty eyes as her angry screams turned to broken pleas as the days marched on, unmoved by her tears.
"Yuri?" she called, voice cracking and echoing off of the high ceilings. It was only then, as the crying quieted briefly before starting anew, louder than before, that she realized that the voices she heard were not her sister.
She was hyperventilating, vision going dark at the edges and her head spinning. She gasped and let her head fall to the side, the movement making her neck twinge painfully. The room spun around her. She had to squeeze her eyes shut to quell the surge of nausea, but in the brief glimpse she had managed to get of the room, what she had seen had chilled her to the bones.
Spread out on either side of her were rows of other cots, each one with a tiny form strapped down on it. There were medics crawling through the spaces left between cots like ants, each tending to a patient, examining the charts at the base of each cot and fiddling with the bags of liquid that hung beside each child. They left silence in their wake.
She focused on her breathing, trying to keep herself from passing out or throwing up. When she opened her eyes, she noticed the bags hung above her own head, tracing the tubes down to her arms. One looked like blood, and she didn't want to even think about where they might have gotten it from. Did they know anything about matching blood types? She didn't even know what her blood type was, for fuck's sake!
The second bag was full of a luminescent blue liquid, which seemed to glow even in the dim lighting of the room. Her eyes caught on it and she wondered what it could possibly be. In another situation, she might have thought it beautiful. As it was, it looked like it was probably radioactive, and she wanted it nowhere near her body.
The last IV that was hooked up to her seemed to lead to a simple saline solution. She was a little glad that she could at least identify this one, though it didn't make her feel any better to see that hint of familiarity. The final bag, though it had yet to be connected to her body, was what left her feeling queasiest. It was bright green, bringing to mind snot or vomit if it had been turned toxic, and she was certain that if they tried to shove that shit into her blood she'd lose her mind for real.
By the time a medic reached her, the panic attack had subsided, leaving her exhausted and lethargic. She stared up at the man, taking in the thin line of his mouth and the depths of his eyes. He seemed resigned, as though orchestrating the suffering of children was just a normal Tuesday for him. Which, maybe it was, but Hiroko certainly didn't want to think like that.
She licked her lips and asked, "Is Mayuri okay? Is she here?"
The medic didn't so much as look at Hiroko, his attention focused on the bags as he fiddled with the valves. Hiroko felt a strange burning sensation as the various drips started and bit back the whimper that wanted to escape her throat—she hadn't even realized they hadn't been running yet. Slowly, as the medic fiddled with the glowing blue liquid, the burning turned cold, unbearable and painful and filling her entire body until it was all she could feel.
As the feeling of ice flowing through her veins filled her, she couldn't hold back the horrified cry. At the sound, the medic finally spared her a glance.
"You will sleep soon, don't worry," he said, voice quiet and monotonous.
"Am I going to die?" The question was out before she could think about it, quiet and frightened and horribly lifeless already. The medic shrugged, gaze turning away from Hiroko again as he twisted another valve on the IV bags. Hiroko choked on another cry as another wash of ice was injected into her veins.
"People die every day," the medic declared, his brown eyes not turning back towards Hiroko. He seemed to be speaking to the air, eyes hard but not really focused on anything. "As you are, Orochimaru-sama has apparently found you lacking. If you survive this treatment, then perhaps you will be of some worth."
Hiroko snorted. "I don't need you to tell me I'm worthless. Even with whatever freaky powers you're trying to give me, I'm not going to start kissing the asshole's ass overnight. I don't care what he does anymore. He killed my mother! He's keeping me and my sister here against our will!"
At last, the man whirled on her, dark eyes alight with fury as he hissed, "You will not speak of our lord that way! He sought you out, troublesome little brat you are, and you owe your life, your very being to him! We all do." Just as quickly, though, his expression softened. He reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair out of Hiroko's face. She shrunk away from the touch, stomach clenching. When he spoke again, his voice was softer and more sad. "I know that you're scared right now, but when all of this is over you'll understand. For now, just sleep. It will be over soon."
And with one last turn of a valve, the medic strode away. Hiroko watched him go, black already creeping into the edges of her vision. She opened her mouth to shout, to demand that the man come back and tell her what was happening and to scream her anger to the world, but no sound came out.
She fell under with hate bubbling in her throat.
The room was quiet the next time she woke up.
It took her a moment of bleary, confused staring to realize that it was because half the cots were now vacant. Strangely enough, looking at the places where children had been, she just felt empty and numb.
She felt cold.
There was a man moving through the empty cots, examining the sheets, lifting up blankets that were covered in what looked like blood. As he held a white sheet up to the light, the blood on it seemed to glisten like ice crystals. Hiroko stared at it, mesmerized by the sight.
He moved slowly towards her, a smile on his lips and blood on his hands. Was he going to kill her, too?
She watched him come closer, empty cots left in his wake and bloodied blankets gathered in his arms. They were stiff, frozen, and the bloodied ridges looked sharp enough to cut as they glistened in the flickering lights. She hoped he sliced off every one of his murderous fingers on the blood of all those children.
Suddenly, Kabuto stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the man. She stared up at him, cold and sharp and hoping that he could feel her hatred radiating off of her. He stared back, and his eyes were empty. She wondered if he felt anything at all.
"How are you feeling, Hiroko-chan?" he asked, fingers pressed to her wrist as he took her pulse. Then, he frowned slightly and hummed, seeming concerned as he said, "It feels like your temperature might be running abnormally high.
Hiroko tried to tell him to go fuck himself, but found that the tube shoved down her throat stopped anything but a rasping groan from escaping. Kabuto seemed to get the message, though, because he withdrew his hand and that awful smile returned. He stepped back and grabbed a clipboard from the end of her cot. He flipped through it, looking for all the world like every other doctor she had ever seen.
Except of course for the fact he was probably not even 13 years old. Hiroko scowled and turned her head away so she wouldn't have to look at him, eyes watering as the tubes shifted with the movement. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the glowing green goo and realized that that was what was being forced down her throat. She moaned, angry and horrified.
"Well Hiroko-chan, it looks like you're responding very well to the treatments," Kabuto announced cheerfully, paper rustling as he scanned the contents of what she assumed was her file. She kept her face stubbornly turned away, ignoring the pressure building against the walls of her throat from the tubes pulled taut. He continued, undeterred, "Out of the entire group, you have the strongest clan bloodline. It seems that such things really do have an effect on these things. All those without links to the Yuki clan have died."
Hiroko choked on a half-formed sob, squeezing her eyes closed. She had only seen it briefly, but she remembered the face of the baby that had been asleep on the cot beside her own. The place he had been lying was empty.
"Yuri?" she managed to gurgle, the sound of her sister's name distorted and ugly as it climbed out of her throat.
"I'm sorry, Hiroko-chan. I didn't quite catch that. Would you face me and try again?" He sounded so disgustingly smug. She hated him.
Biting back her pride, she snapped her face back towards him, glaring. The movement was so harsh that the tubes tugged again, gagging her as she attempted again to force Mayuri's name past the obstruction. The taste of metal, rotting meat, and something chemical danced on her tongue as she coughed, green liquid dotting her lips. Kabuto's smile never faltered.
"Ah, you're asking about your sister? Last I knew, she was still alive, but hasn't yet taken to the treatments that have been administered. In that regard, you're the more successful of the subjects." He paused, feigning thoughtfulness and then revelation, as though a thought had only just occurred to him. "Ah, if I remember correctly, Mayuri-chan is actually the only surviving member of her group. It would seem that for that power, more than a simple bloodline connection might be required. I'm afraid we might have wasted your potential by having you as a part of the Hyoton Experiments."
He met her eye, drinking in the emotions that flashed across her features as his words sunk in. His smile was vicious and cruel, his eyes cold and empty behind his round glasses. It was infuriating, and Hiroko's emotions seemed to swirl between horror and rage. She gurgled again, managing a strangled, "Fuck...you!"
Kabuto shook his head, tutting. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to speak with your mouth full? Oh, well. I suppose it doesn't matter anymore, seeing as she's not around."
Hiroko snarled, eye glinting with anger and something more. Kabuto shivered as the temperature around them began to rapidly drop. His eyes gleamed. "Oh my, it seems as though you're making even more progress than I thought. Now is not the time, though. I think you would do well to get some more rest, Hiroko-chan."
She let out a strangled scream, thrashing angrily against the restraints as he reached for the IV bags that would surely put her under once more. Frost began to creep along the bedsheets and the bare skin of her arms. Kabuto paused, head tilted curiously to the side as his breaths became visible and frost appeared on his gloved hands. He raised a hand to the light, twisting it this way and that to examine the ice crystals that glistened there. Then, he really looked at her, eyes thoughtful and assessing.
"Orochimaru-sama will be quite pleased to hear of this new development. Good work, Hiroko-chan. Now, sleep."
He fiddled with the IV bags, and ice rushed to fill her veins once again, burning worse than any flame. The green goo rushed down her throat, overflowing from her mouth and trickling down the sides of her face like vomit. She felt herself choking on it, felt the thick liquid seep into her hair and escape through her nose, suffocating her. All the while, Kabuto didn't tear his eyes away as he smiled down at her and pulled on a new pair of gloves.
Hiroko lost consciousness, wondering if this would be how she died yet again.
Emi had joined Orochimaru because he was the first person to ever want her. She had grown up an orphan who followed the only path she could; the path of the shinobi. She had learned medical ninjutsu there, and had found that she was good at it. She had excelled, even, climbing ranks in her tiny village on the border of Waterfall country.
But even her talent couldn't change the fact that she was born a nobody and would die the same way. She had no bloodline, no clan, not even a family name. Those above her looked at her, and even as she saved their lives and their blood coated her hands, they still saw nothing more than garbage.
Orochimaru had seen her, though. He had smiled and asked her if she would join him in creating a new home. He had painted a beautiful scene in her mind, a home where everyone was equal regardless of status or lineage. If they were willing to work hard, to listen and learn, they would become strong and capable people, accepted by all. They would become family, comrades, and everything that a village was meant to be.
Of course she had gone with him, barely sparing a glance for the place she was leaving behind. The sweet tale he spun for her was everything she had ever longed for, everything she had dreamed of as a lonely child in an overcrowded orphanage.
The village he was working hard to create was nestled in the Land of Rice Paddies, and it was colder than anywhere she had ever lived before. The tunnels that comprised the village were dark and dank, sucking all the warmth from her bones. The smiles that the scant handful of people living there had given her made it worth it, though.
The man who had been assigned to show her around her new home had talked cheerfully the whole while, explaining the tunnel system and how chores and missions were distributed. He had introduced her to so many people it made her head spin. They all had the same hungry look in their eyes, the same longing for acceptance she had seen when she looked in the mirror for as long as she could remember. But there was also a spark of life in their eyes that she had never seen in her own.
She longed, more than anything, for that same spark.
For the first time in her life, she had been accepted. The people of Orochimaru's little village saw her abilities and her personality and they welcomed her and treated her like she was just as important as anyone else. She was one of the first medics to be invited into the village, and she was respected for it. They didn't question her blood or judge her based only on her heritage or even ask her for a family name. It was nice.
There were people there from clans, too, but if they saw the people around them as lesser because of their blood, she never heard anything about it. Of course, most of the clan members that Orochimaru took in were from clans that had been destroyed. Their members had been hunted to extinction or scattered to the wind by war or fear or disease or whatever else it was that could bring ancient and powerful bloodlines to their knees. They had no reason to brag or look down upon their fellow villagers, who were there on Orochimaru's good graces, the same as them.
Emi knew that this place could be a home, and those living there the family she had always longed for. She was happier than she had ever been before, overjoyed to help her new village to grow and flourish with her medical skills, just as she had dreamed of doing when she was a child.
That is, until the experiments started.
When the first batch of children were brought in, sobbing and begging to leave, she had been confused. Orochimaru had invited children into the village before, but never in droves, and never against their will. She had looked to the head medic, a child prodigy named Kabuto, for answers, but he had simply instructed her to create medical charts for each of the children and then leave.
She had done as she was ordered and tried to push the thoughts of terrified faces to the back of her mind. She never saw any of those children again and just hoped that they had been sent back to wherever they had come from. It was easier to pretend that things were still okay when she didn't think too hard about it.
Over time, she was asked to help with more and more experiments. Each time, she was ordered to do just a little more than she had done the time before. She knew exactly what was going on, of course. She had experienced the same thing in her time at the academy, getting the blood of rabbits and deer on her hands, numbing her to the act of killing, working her way up to it until even human blood beneath her fingernails didn't faze her.
It didn't mean that she wasn't disgusted with herself when she realized that it was working. The thought of pumping unknown, usually deadly chemicals into sleeping infants and slicing open the bellies of still screaming children had become a part of her daily routine. Without even noticing it, the horror of her actions had slipped past her conscience, seeming normal, if a bit sad.
She didn't even take note of the names of the children anymore. If Orochimaru had ordered this to be done, then she was confident that it was for the best. If it would help her village, then she was more than willing to get her hands dirty. The crying children barely phased her anymore and it had become easy to pretend that the way their sad eyes followed her into her nightmares didn't bother her.
It was different this time, though.
Emi stared down at Mayuri as she slept, the sedatives pumped into her bloodstream keeping her unaware of the pain of broken bones and the places where they had pushed through her skin. It was difficult to ignore the urge to either heal her or kill her, years of medic training telling her that it wasn't right to leave someone to suffer like this.
Unlike the children before, Emi had gotten the chance to get to know Mayuri. She had spoken with her, comforted her, walked her to the bathroom and held her hand. Before, she had only performed the experiments and walked away when it was finished. She had never spoken with the subjects or tried to get them to laugh or wiped away their tears when they cried.
She trusted Orochimaru to have the best interests of his people in mind. She knew that if Mayuri survived she would become a great asset to the village as well as a wielder of a power that others could only dream of, and would have opportunities gifted to her because of it. Things would be better for her in the long run. That didn't make the suffering she had to inflict upon the little girl she had come to know any easier to stomach, though.
Emi knew that it was foolish to allow herself to grow attached, but she couldn't seem to numb herself to what she was doing this time around.
With a sigh, she stopped the flow of sedatives and upped the amount of the experimental chemicals being used for the Shikotsumyaku Experiments. She watched as they surged into the girl's veins, the delicate skin of her forearm glowing a faint green before the potent chemicals dispensed through her bloodstream. While she was still asleep, Emi removed the feeding tube. The girl didn't need any unnecessary discomfort, after all.
Emi braced herself as Mayuri moaned, twitching as consciousness began to come back to her. With it, the pain of thirteen broken bones left untreated. She waited for the screaming to begin yet again.
Instead, she found herself looking into a pair of glazed green eyes as an eerie silence settled over the room. Over the last few days, she had watched those eyes become darker and more distant. The gaze that had once met her own head on, sharp and full of life, had become nothing more than a haunted, empty stare.
Mayuri mumbled something, her words barely intelligible. Emi leaned closer, close enough that when the little girl spoke, her breath ghosted across her cheek.
"Why can't you just kill me already?"
"I'm sorry. It's for the best, Mayuri-chan. I know it hurts now, but things will be okay." She smoothed her hand across the girl's sweaty forehead, pushing away the black strands that clung there. The girl was burning with fever and likely half delirious with pain, but Emi couldn't help but feel her heart clench at the broken words. She forced a smile and said, "After all, if you died, how would your sister feel?"
Bringing up Hiroko always seemed to bring some level of comfort to the little girl. Though her eyes did not clear, a tiny smile twitched at the corners of her lips. She stared somewhere beyond Emi, caught in her own thoughts.
"She's still alive?"
"Yeah, and she's doing really well. Your sister is going to pull through this and become strong, so you have to, too. Do you understand?"
Mayuri still did not look at her, but Emi couldn't blame her for it. The little girl did not cry, but her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. Her breath hitched, her muscles spasming in pain as the sedatives continued to be filtered out of her bloodstream, allowing the pain to rush back in. Her broken fingers were trembling and blood oozed slowly from her leg where her tibia had pierced through her skin. Her shaking had reopened the wound, it seemed.
Emi let her hands smooth soothingly over the smooth skin of the child's cheek, trailing gently past her neck and down to rest on her ribcage. She could feel the girl's heart fluttering weakly in her chest, and could feel as it picked up speed.
"You'll pull through, Mayuri-chan," she promised. "Just keep holding on, just for a little while longer." As she spoke, voice soft and soothing, she applied pressure to the little girl's ribs. She listened to her whimper and shushed her gently, trying to push down the guilt that rose in her chest. She carefully applied just the right amount of chakra to crack three ribs, and didn't wince when Mayuri screamed.
