Chapter Text
His fingers lay numb in his hold; dipped in something thick and not.
There was nothing here. Nothing but darkness that swallows him whole and holds him there.
He would think, but he finds that he just, can’t.
He blinks. At least, he thinks he did.
He stares back. The darkness returned the favor.
His fingers can move a little bit now. He counts each movement; each twitch a new addition to the hill of victories. However small they may be.
It’s small, but it means something. They have to.
His feet are numb still. Unmoving to his will, stagnant.
He hates it.
He hates that he’s stuck in this place, hates that his limbs are close to non-existent, and most of all, hates the dark that feels too big for him.
He remains high up in an atmosphere that doesn’t exist, and his legs remain unresponsive.
Sometimes, in the few rare occasions of luck, the darkness shifts. It happens now—a brilliant blue spreading out until it is all he sees. Other times, large, looming clouds would appear, moving ever so slightly. Uneven roundness clumping together in groups. It was a change that he prefers more over the nothingness lingering on every inch of his body. Forcing him still, a weird heaviness seeping inside of him and weighing him down.
The sky steals his focus, and for once, he lets himself relax.
The routine goes on for who knows how long.
He floats. His limbs remain stagnant as limp noodles. His legs are still not working. The darkness appears again. The sky appears and disappears.
Each time, he feels something of him slipping.
He floats again, and he shudders out a breath.
The darkness coils.
He stares at nothing. His fingers and toes are dipped in stagnant, heavy water.
That is new, he thinks.
Then, his toes moved. And so did his fingers.
He looks down, alarmed, and maybe a little too giddy. They never move at the same time. He’d tried moving them both once, only for the upper limbs to follow suit and vice versa.
Never once did both limbs move at the same time.
Another twitch, and a wobbly smile breaks his face in half.
Too caught up in the realization of holy shit they moved. At the same time, a noticeable ripple-like feel transverses over his entire body. He looks up, sees the darkness shifts, and instead of the sky he was expecting, he sees a stark white, slowly splintering across the empty space.
Yep. Definitely new.
Then, it spreads out in a terrifying velocity, consuming every tether of darkness until it reaches him and everything burns.
His mouth opens, only to choke. Something cold was in the side of his mouth, making him panic.
Something wet stains his face. Sliding down his face like a damning thing. It feels like tears.
“Good,” a voice cuts through, a hiss-like quality lying underneath. “You’re awake.”
A beeping noise echoes from his right. He turns around, only for a lightning-hot pain flashing through his bones and echoing through raw nerves.
He finds that he doesn’t like it.
He opens his eyes. He sees a gray ceiling on his left and a damning darkness on his right which shouldn’t happen and why does his body hurt so much－
His right, his right, his right, why can’t he see on his right ?
“Breathe, boy,” the voice says, almost amused, “you don’t want to become crippled now, do we?”
He stills. Forcibly pushing himself back on the lumpy bed. The machine beeps, showing his heartbeat is steady. A green line going up and down and temporary stillness. Back and forth, back and forth, and back and forth.
He turns and stops. A man stood not far from him. Everything about the man screamed ‘snake’. From the eerie golden eyes to the purple markings wrapping around the eyes and down the bridge of his nose in an elegant arch. He was wearing earrings, he realized, its edges sharp at the ends.
Sharp enough to stab him, his mind supplies for him.
The man stares at him. Calculating. Cold.
His mind slurs on him; sluggish and a little too clear. His body is heavy as a sack of rice. His skin smothered by a blanket too odd on his skin, pressing him down. Bandages too, he realizes a moment later.
A creak breaks the silence, footsteps approaching them with the speed and grace of a child.
He looks at the newest arrival. He still sees nothing on his right.
“He’s awake?” The boy asks, eyeing him through thick lenses. Round eyes narrowed. Small hands holding something he couldn’t see well just yet.
“As you can see, yes,” the man says, and makes his way to the door, “tell me of your assessment later, I have other things to attend.”
“Of course, Orochimaru-sama,” the boy murmurs as the door clicks shut.
The name tingles at something of him. Insistent and suspiciously sounding like a warning.
Where had he heard that name before?