The attack came at dawn, silent and swift as striking serpents. I woke to the sound of breaking glass and the acrid scent of smoke, my body moving on instinct even before my mind fully processed the threat. Through the clinic's window, I could see dark figures surrounding the building, their movements coordinated and professional.
Hunters. But not the usual bounty seekers or revenge-driven survivors. These moved with the fluid grace of elite operatives, and something about their technique sent ice through my veins with terrible recognition.
"Yuki," I called softly, sliding out of bed and gathering my weapons. "We need to leave. Now."
She appeared in the doorway, already dressed and carrying a medical kit. Three days of living with a former criminal had apparently taught her to sleep lightly and be ready for sudden departures.
"Who are they?" she whispered, staying low as shadows moved past the windows.
"Trouble," I said grimly, checking the edge of my sword. "Stay behind me and do exactly what I say."
The front door exploded inward with a blast of chakra, and our attackers poured through the opening like water through a broken dam. I counted six figures, all wearing masks that concealed their features, all moving with the inhuman fluidity that spoke of extensive body modification.
"Sasuke-kun," one of them hissed, his voice carrying sibilant overtones that made my skin crawl. "Our former brother. How lovely to see you again."
Recognition hit me like a physical blow. These weren't random assassins—they were former test subjects of Orochimaru, ninja who'd undergone the same horrific experiments that had once been inflicted on me. I could see it in their unnatural movements, in the way their chakra felt wrong and twisted, in the casual cruelty that radiated from their presence.
"What do you want?" I demanded, placing myself firmly between them and Yuki.
"Want?" The speaker laughed, a sound like breaking glass. "We want what was promised to us, what Orochimaru-sama's death denied us. Power. Immortality. The strength to reshape this pathetic world."
"Orochimaru is dead," I said flatly. "His experiments are over."
"His body is dead," another figure corrected, her voice carrying an odd echo that suggested vocal modifications. "But his work continues. And you, dear Sasuke, are the key to completing it."
I felt Yuki tense behind me and heard her sharp intake of breath. She might not understand the full implications of what she was hearing, but she was intelligent enough to recognize a threat when she saw one.
"I'm not going anywhere with you," I said, drawing my sword in a single fluid motion.
"Oh, but you are," the first speaker said with obvious amusement. "You see, we've done our research. We know about your new... attachments. Your sentimental journey toward redemption. Your touching concern for innocent life."
One of the masked figures stepped aside, revealing Dr. Hayashi bound and gagged in their grasp. The old man's eyes were wide with fear, but he was unharmed—for now.
"Grandfather!" Yuki started forward instinctively, but I caught her arm.
"Stay back," I whispered urgently. "This is exactly what they want."
"Such a sweet reunion," the leader mocked. "But we're not unreasonable people, Sasuke-kun. Come with us willingly, and the old man and his granddaughter remain unharmed. Continue to resist, and... well, medical experiments require test subjects."
The threat was clear, and the cruel intelligence behind it was vintage Orochimaru. These weren't simple murderers or torturers—they were scientists who viewed human suffering as data to be collected and analyzed. The lives of Yuki and her grandfather meant nothing to them except as leverage against me.
"Let them go," I said, my voice carrying all the cold authority I could muster. "Your quarrel is with me."
"Indeed it is," the leader agreed. "But surely you understand the necessity of insurance. Orochimaru-sama taught us well about the value of proper motivation."
Think. Six opponents, all enhanced beyond normal human capabilities, holding hostages in an enclosed space. Fighting them here would endanger the very people I was trying to protect, and they knew it. But surrendering would guarantee that Yuki and her grandfather would eventually become experimental subjects once my usefulness ended.
"What kind of experiments?" I asked, buying time while I assessed our options.
"The same ones that made you so special," the female speaker said with evident pleasure. "Chakra enhancement, cellular manipulation, consciousness transfer. Orochimaru-sama's final notes contained such fascinating theories about the Uchiha bloodline."
"You want to recreate the curse mark experiments."
"Among other things. Your unique physiology, your Sharingan, your resistance to previous modifications—all valuable data for our continued research."
I could feel Yuki trembling behind me, whether from fear or anger I couldn't tell. But when she spoke, her voice was steady and determined.
"I won't let you take him."
"Yuki, no," I said quickly, but she was already moving.
Medical chakra flared around her hands, but instead of the gentle healing energy I'd grown accustomed to, this was something else—precise, aggressive, targeted. She struck at pressure points with surgical accuracy, her knowledge of anatomy turned into a weapon.
Two of the masked figures went down immediately, their nervous systems disrupted by her pinpoint strikes. The others recoiled in surprise, clearly not having expected resistance from what they'd assumed was a helpless civilian.
"Impressive," the leader said, his voice carrying new interest. "Medical combat techniques. How delightfully unexpected."
"Run!" Yuki shouted to me, continuing her assault on the remaining attackers. "Get grandfather and run!"
But I couldn't. Not again. I'd spent too many years running from fights, abandoning allies, choosing my own survival over the welfare of others. The pattern had to stop somewhere, and if it was going to stop here, in this clinic where a girl who'd lost everything had chosen to save my life anyway.