Kentarō
With guidance of a multitude of surgeons of dubious origins, occasional corrections from Orochimaru after he had performed horrendous mistakes that cost lives; it took him a little over four months to finally save a person at the operating table.
The sense of compassion towards human tragedy, be it stranger or someone close, one that should be deeply embedded in every human being; felt now like a single decaying leaf slowly sinking into the ever stretching black sea that was his apathy.
Contrary to his prior belief, performing such a miracle did not lessen the indifference he felt towards someone's death.
He confirmed as much, by purposefully killing his next patient.
Perhaps he was an utter fool to believe that saving just one life will somehow overwrite the 146 deaths and 39 people left in a state of vegetation after severe brain injury at his hands.
'Ah, what a shame.'
He kept staring at his hands as they shook, the reddish hue of blood never really faded away.
Kentarō clenched them into fist. They felt callous inside, probably from the constant scrubbing he did. A soft shudder escaped his lips. 'Shinobi no mono.'
"Your mind seems to wander at the least appropriate moments, Kentarō-kun." Said bemused voice at his side. "Watch."
Ah, yes. His reward.
Kentarō focused his gaze on the scene beyond the one way window.
The operating chamber was sealed behind three containment barriers, with multiple shiki of "supress" etched diligently upon the walls for additional security. The patient lay secured to the table, his limbs restrained, while chest rose in the slow, artificial rhythm. They induced him with anesthetics and put layers of chakra suppression seals upon the tenketsu points.
He spotted a few familiar faces inside, experienced med-nin that gave him most useful pointers at times.
It piqued his curiosity, at the very least.
They seemed to probe around the person lying at the table, murmuring constantly under their noses, that he could read from the way surgical masks slightly folded as they worked.
"Subject: Senju Kozu, civilian. Twenty six years old, no prior experience with chakra." Said one of the assistants.
A nod of head. "No cortical response." Said the leading med-nin in a plain voice. "Proceed."
It was a simple procedure that was an injection of cells into the target area, in this particular session it was an injured joint. Nothing he was unfamiliar with. Still Orochimaru deemed it important as the sole reason for what was being injected into the patient.
Cells of the first Hokage, Senju Hashirama.
A syringe filled with white liquid was handed to the head surgeon. He examined the 18 gauge needle for a brief moment, before nodding once to himself and lowering it above the target area.
Throughout the process, Orochimaru didn't blink even once.
"Injecting Hashirama cells… now." The med-nin hesitated briefly before piercing the skin and muscle. In a moment the syringe was emptied. The needle was pulled out in gentle but swift motion, and hemostatic gauze was pressed against the wound. Kentarō quickly realized that use of iryōjutsu was rejected, as foreign chakra could probably destabilize the cells.
For three heartbeats nothing happened.
Then the chakra sensors went wild.
Flow readings spiked violently, chakra surged with powerful waves through the pathways uncontrolled and forceful, destroying them in a blink of an eye. The tissue around the puncture darkened, then lightened, flushing an unnatural green beneath skin as it spread throughout the whole body.
"Rejection response!" Shouted other med-nin, his face already glistening with sweat. "But this isn't necro-".
The flesh twitched, a sharp sound of snapping branches from within cut off his words.
Veins stood out sharply, branching and splitting. Fine root-like filaments erupted from the puncture site, widening it, while pale tendrils pushed outward the orifices. Under Kentarō's bewildered gaze, they sliced through the containment shiki with their sharp ends, as if they had mind on their own.
"More containment seals, NOW!"
He managed to slam a suppression tag onto the chest, when the patient's body arched against the restraints, before lifting entirely as thick, bark-textured growth engulfed the torso along with the seal.
The med-nin stumbled and gurgled as the floor was already overgrown by the wooden tendrils, one of them going straight through his throat.
Roots punched straight through stone tiles, crawling across the chamber and puncturing first of the barriers set inside. Surgical instruments were swallowed whole along with most of the personnel, while their bodies were used as nourishment for the veins that pushed through the second barrier.
They wrapped around the rest of the med-nins trying to deactivate the last sealing barrier in hopes of escaping. Pushing into their body through eyes, lips and ears while they fed.
Within seconds, the operating chamber no longer existed. In its place stood a vast, tangled structure of roots, thick wood and leaves cavorting upon long branches, while veins pressed with their whole might against the last barrier.
Kentarō let out a shuddering breath when the growth finally stilled, only for him to hold it yet again when at the highest point, just below the ceiling; a single stem pushed upward.
The tip hunched and gently unfolded, branding its beauty before the remaining audience.
Large petals slipped free one by one in theatresque fashion, deep blue and luminous, with hues of green and red within. Whitish glittering particles were spread chaotically upon all petals, conjuring an image of a northern starry sky, with colorful auroras painted upon.
At the center of the flower, barred a jewel so pure it could rival the full moon itself in its beauty. A pure pearl of light, that seemed to entrance every single flower, vein and root in the chamber and demanded to bask in its pomp and brilliance.
Kentarō stared at the scene with wide eyes. Neither he nor Orochimaru muttered a word.
Even with so much gore splattered upon the leaves, he could not help but admire, even if artificial; the equivalent of hauntingly brutal yet enchanting poetry performed by nature he had just witnessed with the connivance of Orochimaru.
It was Sannin that chose to break the silence.
"A semi failure. While the host rejected the cells, Kozu-kun was generous enough to leave us with enough material to work upon for the foreseeable future." Chuckling, he tucked hands behind his back and made his way into the overgrown chamber.
"Follow me, Kentarō-kun. We have some samples to acquire~."
Orochimaru
Failure exists not in the act, but in the unwillingness to understand that ought to follow.
Ever since he was a child, he observed people fill their hearts with regret instead of insight, trade the chance to grow for the comfort of self-punishment, and in doing so, repeat the very misstep they mourned.
Orochimaru held nothing but contempt for such people.
So now, having utterly failed in creating a successor of Hashirama's Wood release under his control, the Sannin felt nothing but quietude as he calmly analyzed what went wrong.
Application of cells was too direct, as a matter of fact, though that was within expectations. He would need to sustain the specimen over a longer period of time.
And so, his genius mind began to work.
'Preferable solution would be a stasis chamber filled with oxygenated perfluorocarbons to provide high oxygen diffusion directly to cells…'
'That however, doesn't provide nutrients to the specimen. Circulatory or perfusion system for glucose, amino acids, lipids…'
'Neuromuscular electrical stimulation for muscle growth, also filtration and recycling system for removal of lactate as byproduct, include carbon dioxide and dead cells into the prototype of waste removal managment…'
He glanced at Kentarō acquiring the samples. 'Enough material for sixty specimens, preferably from Konoha grounds, contact Danzo…'
'External bioreactor could differentiate the cells before delivery, increased survival rate, gradual infusion via microvascular ports…'
'Acquire additional funding from Danzo at the promise of providing a favor related to the cells…'
'Analogue chakra-regulation on nanoscopic level, suppression of runaway cell division, guiding integration into tissue, preventing chakra pathway system from solidifying into roots and veins…'
'So… a gene-expression regulator?'
'Immune dampening… Unneeded. Hashirama cells will suppress the immunity system…'
'The critical issue is the uncontrolled tissue expansion and body takeover that resemble chakra pathways cancer proliferations occurring among civilians exposed to large amounts of chakra. Organ replacement by foreign tissue, solution; growth-rate throttling. Periodic pruning acting as cell apoptosis triggers.'
Orochimaru clasped his hands, satisfied for the moment.
That made the boy turn his gaze towards himself. Orochimaru's eyes gained a mischievous glint.
"Kentarō-kun, would you like a brother?"
The boy just stared at him as is he had grown second head.
"Nuh uh."
An involuntary chuckle escaped his lips. What a truly wonderful specimen his Kentarō-kun had shown himself to be. His soul, through the loss during the summoning; seemed to constantly try to fill the gaps by acceleration of his spiritual growth. Such was an explanation for the rapid changes in his mindset.
That was why, Orochimaru made sure to put him under circumstances that would further break, and reforge his spirit anew.
Even now, through a simple probe, a suggestion that would result in change of his current situation; the Sannin could see Kentarō-kun question his own existence in this world yet again. Mind working through the anxiety attack that challenged his reality. The frown of his eyes, the slight curvature of his lips pressed against each other. Could I be copied? Will I be disposed of after he finds a replacement for me? Orochimaru could read his thoughts like a book.
"What's wrong child, wouldn't you want a fellow companions at heart? Someone to understand your plights and woes?"
He kept leading the boy astray, seeing the doubts and dread settle behind his skull. "It must be quite lonely in that head of yours. Surrounded by children as a grown man in a body of a boy. If kindres spirit is what you desire…'
A moment of silence passed between them.
Kentarō gaze turned blank for that brief period, before his eyes lit up in understanding, then, turning into gaze of pure murder that reminded Orochimaru of a cat that was refused its five hours afternoon nap.
And just like that, Kentarō's perception of the world changed in but a few sentences left from his mouth.
Oh such a delight.
The boy let out an overdramatic groan, fingers dragging through his hair as if he could pull the irritation out by the roots. 'Ara… did he figure me out?'
"I fucking hate you, Orochimaru. Stop messing with my head!"
'...And I do treasure you, Kentarō-kun~'
Orochimaru's lips thinned in amusement.
'The way one keeps blade polished after it has drawn blood. The way one keeps giving treats to the puppy for performing tricks. The way a gardener tends to his flowers, getting rid of the weeds that tarnish their beauty.'
He looked at the boy before him as though he were a treasured possession, something meant for him alone.
'Yes… justlikethat.'
Kentarō
One can only last so long shackled in confines, before their mind starts to wander and conjure an image of the world outside.
And recently his mind has started to wander a lot, thanks to the small glimpses of just how such a world might look like.
One of such wormholes, and his most favorite by far was poetry. It gave insight not only into the scarce places mentioned in the lines, but it delved straight into the hearts of people, in their culture and customs. Their sorrows and moments of joy, legends and history that loved to shift the imagery in his mind, scraps of fuel for the incessant contraption that was his mind.
Such was the overall beauty of poetry and literature. For a single line of prose, there could be a hundred ways for a text to morph into an image.
One of the poems that lingered the most on his mind was the one about Sage of Six Paths, where he was shown as a flower in a metamorphic journey to bloom into something greater.
A moon, to be exact.
And now, lying on the mattress in his cell, twirling the beautiful petal he stole from Senju Tree; Kentarō imagined himself lazing on a soft bed of grass and branches, below a single maple tree set on a low hill. A sky painted with stars beyond horizon and a full moon high above his head. The constant buzz of the lamp, replaced by a pleasant orchestra of the nightlife. Crickets creaking in the high grass, frogs croaking in the lake below, along with occasional hoos from the owl in the nearby forest. Soon he too joined this midnight song, as lines from the oldest of poems in this world, slowly crept its way on his tongue.
Oh the wondrous things of world,
Green the mountains old and tall their shadows,
A lone flower in the valley amongst the ancient trees below,
Dancing under the shades, seeking the warmth of the sun,
Caged this wistful in spirit sparrow,
Oh bright the scattered stars above,
Like a myriad kisses of gloss upon dark a
canvas,
It cut its roots and flew away, withering yet bright with hope,
"Ah the world is full of love," said this little starlight,
Oh deep the seas, borrowing heavens face,
But how could painting convey purity of the light,
"I too want to have that shine!" shouted the raging waves,
And so they grasp and stretch their envious hands,
To keep the bloom from ever turning star,
Oh the miserable things of world,
Whine grey clouds that net the sky in sorrow,
Like teardrops upon the cheek, shedding tears of thunder,
"Ah the world is full of pain," cried the little starbloom,
Its petals withering away with sadness,
Oh the roaring fire, passionate and starving
It swept with tongues of flame; valleys, trees and flowers to satiate the hunger,
That glowing single petal that survived, even as spring turned summer,
Like a snowflake in the sea of ash;
Still remained brighter,
Oh the fickle winds, singing the tunes of change,
A whistle of a thousand bamboo flutes, they lulled the weeping sky,
Like flock of broken hearts, chasing after beauty,
For all it took was flowery song, to change the course of breeze,
"Ah the world is full of hope!" whistled petal, "I am master of the wind!"
Oh the dazzling petal of will indomitable,
Lightning that kneeled low, like pale steps of luster,
The sea bowed its silver waves as mountains shrunk at his whim,
Like a phoenix of fire that rose from the ashes,
Bloom reborn anew, and the wind to carry His Brightness,
It settled among the black that devoured the ambition,
"For how could I ever match an orb of celestial light?"
Slowly circling the world below, absorbing the starlight as nutrition,
Reflecting the shine like a mirror;
Enlightening flowers below with the wisdom of the stars…
In a way, it was a fitting ending, being a metaphor for Sage spreading chakra amongst the people. A warning to find a balance between pursuing ambition and knowing when to settle.
It was also why Kentarō, despite loving the poem, despised the ending itself. He hated how it could be him, yet again letting go of his dream because it was too far away, too hard to reach.
He could be gone by next morning, replaced by a more obedient version, all without yet trying his best and achieving the very first goal he set upon himself.
He wanted to go out of this hellhole, to escape and shine through his own greatness. Through the deeds and achievements that were his own to make.
Settling here, living as nothing but a mindless, docile puppy to the end of his days; set aflame a rage that burned hot in his heart.
So much so that he came up with his own conclusion to the poem in but a few calming breaths.
Closing his eyes again, he imagined the changing of scenery and using the fires deep in his heart to brighten the night. The soundscape dominated by insects was replaced by a singing of birds returning in spring. The bees buzzed, diligently working on flower covered fields. The chilling wind of the night gave way to the pleasant breeze that rustled against grass. The moon settled rapidly, as the sun rose from the other side, shining golden, warm rays upon his face.
He basked in the feeling for a moment, before giving the poem an ending it deserved.
The deepest of sorrows that festered,
A symphony of thousand tears that were shed;
Through throes and love he hath undone,
Veiled not in darkness but radiance, wading through the vastness of the sky,
Far from the stars settled the Sun, a heart of perseverance that fire entwined.