Naruto: Power in Play

Chapter 25

The dimly lit laboratory reeked of antiseptic and metal. Rows of jars containing preserved organs and unidentified fluids lined the walls, their murky contents a testament to countless experiments. Complex machinery hummed ominously, casting faint shadows that danced on the cold, sterile floor. At the room's center stood Orochimaru, his pale fingers steepled as he gazed down at Ando. The boy lay unconscious on a steel operating table, his young face pale and streaked with sweat.

Fresh wounds crisscrossed Ando's body, blood oozing sluggishly from the more recent incisions. Yet even as the injuries seeped, his Kekkei Genkai worked in quiet defiance, knitting the flesh back together. Orochimaru's golden eyes gleamed with a twisted mix of fascination and delight.

"Remarkable," he murmured, "Your natural regenerative abilities surpass anything I've encountered. Even Hashirama's fabled cells pale in comparison. But only when you're unconscious... How curious."

The Sannin selected a scalpel from a tray, its blade gleaming under the fluorescent light. He made a shallow cut across Ando's forearm. The boy remained completely unresponsive, blissfully unaware of the horrors being inflicted upon him. Within moments, the wound closed itself, the flesh knitting together as if it had never been touched.

Orochimaru pressed deeper with the next cut, slicing through muscle. Blood flowed freely, soaking the operating table, but once again, the regeneration began—slower this time but unmistakable.

As the days turned into weeks, the tests became more invasive. Broken bones, shredded muscles, ruptured organs—nothing was off-limits. Ando's body bore no scars, yet his mind would have been another story if he'd been awake. The endless cycle of injury and recovery would have frayed the resolve of even the strongest shinobi, but for now, unconsciousness shielded him from the full weight of his nightmare.

"Why does your recovery only trigger in your sleep, why?" Orochimaru mused aloud, his gaze fixed on the boy's slack face. His golden eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Perhaps it is tied to your subconscious. I'll need to test further."

Orochimaru's experiments were relentless. Most of the time, Ando was kept in a state of induced unconsciousness, his body left to recover from injuries severe enough to kill most shinobi. Yet even as his body healed, the Sannin's curiosity only deepened. By the end of the first month, Ando's regeneration showed no signs of slowing, and Orochimaru's fascination turned to obsession.

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Ando jolted awake, his breath catching in his throat. The room was dark except for the faint glow of seals etched into the walls. His body ached, his head swimming with a dull pain that never truly left him anymore.

A scream tore through the stillness, raw and filled with terror. It echoed down the corridors, chilling Ando to his core. He sat up, straining to locate the source. Which unluck soul was that? He mused silently. The scream rose again, jagged and desperate, before abruptly cutting off into silence.

Not long after, Ando caught the familiar sound of sandals striking stone echoing faintly, growing louder until a figure appeared in his vision. Orochimaru's silhouette stopped in the doorway, his golden eyes gleaming with twisted amusement. "Awake already?" he said, his tone almost conversational. "I suppose it's hard to sleep through such... vivid demonstrations."

Ando remained silent; his jaw clenched. Inside, his thoughts churned, but the fear that once paralyzed him was now muted.

Orochimaru stepped closer, his presence looming outside the bars holding Ando captive. "You're wondering about the noise, aren't you?" He tilted his head, a mockery of curiosity. "That's the work of my apprentice on a subject who didn't quite meet my expectations. A shame, really. But every failure teaches us something, wouldn't you agree?"