A desperate voice pierced through the fog of unconsciousness. "Naruto! Naruto! Wake up! Naruto!" The sound echoed painfully against his skull as Naruto groaned, his head throbbing like a war drum. His eyelids felt heavy as lead as he forced them open, immediately assaulted by fluorescent lights that burned his retinas. The sterile whiteness of the room stung his vision, clinical and unforgiving. His skin crawled beneath the sandpaper-rough fabric of a threadbare hospital gown that smelled faintly of bleach and someone else's sweat.
Fragments of memory sliced through his mind like shards of broken glass—the shrill wail of the fire alarm that had made his ears ring, the sharp sting of a needle plunging into the tender flesh of his throat, then the horrifying helplessness of waking strapped to a cold metal table with Orochimaru's serpentine eyes and that doctor's latex-gloved hands hovering inches from his face, and finally, Kurama's panicked expression. Naruto bolted upright, instantly regretting it as the room tilted violently around him, his stomach lurching as if he were on a ship in stormy seas. He clutched his head between trembling hands, feeling clammy sweat beading on his forehead.
The voice called again, softer this time. "Naruto." He blinked away the kaleidoscope of black spots dancing across his vision and forced himself to focus. The metal cot beneath him was bolted to the wall with surgical precision, its edges rounded and smoothed like those in psychiatric wards—designed so test subjects couldn't harm themselves before their usefulness expired. The thin mattress crinkled with plastic beneath bleach-white sheets that reeked of industrial sanitizer, the kind that burned nostrils and left no trace of human scent. Three walls of antiseptic white concrete reflected the merciless fluorescent light that hummed overhead, casting no shadows, leaving nowhere to hide, nowhere that wasn't catalogued and observed. In one corner sat a stainless steel toilet, polished to a mirror shine, lidless and exposed like something from an animal's cage. In another corner, a single white camera with its unblinking red eye tracked his every movement, collecting data.
The fourth wall was transparent glass, thick enough to stop a bullet, with a hermetically sealed door that could be operated only from outside. Through it, any researcher could observe their specimen at all hours. But what seized Naruto's attention wasn't the clinical perfection of his cage—it was the identical cell across the sterile corridor. There, pressing both palms against the glass as if trying to reach through it by sheer force of will, stood Kurama.
Kurama's crimson hair—once vibrant as flame—now hung limp around his hollowed cheeks, dulled to the color of dried blood beneath the buzzing fluorescents. Shadows pooled beneath his amber eyes, now bloodshot and vacant where fierce determination had once burned. He wore the same thin white gown as Naruto, the fabric visibly rough even from a distance, with "127" stamped across the left breast. The gown gaped at his shoulders where proper fasteners had been replaced with flimsy ties, revealing the cold metal collar encircling his throat. Instinctively, Naruto's fingers flew to his own neck, discovering an identical band of metal. His fingertips traced the seamless circle, searching for any break or opening, finding only a small rectangular module pressed against his spine. When he tried to wedge his finger underneath or pull it away, the collar remained fixed to his skin like it had been grafted there.
Naruto launched himself at the barrier, a strangled cry escaping his throat. His fingertips pressed against the cold unyielding glass until they blanched white, as if through sheer desperation he could phase through the molecular structure of the wall and cross the eight feet of forbidden space between them.
Kurama's face contorted with anguish, tears welling in his amber eyes like molten gold. "How?" His voice cracked, barely above a whisper. "How are you here?"
Naruto's throat constricted as guilt gnawed at his insides like a hungry beast. The metallic taste of shame filled his mouth as he realized he'd done exactly what his brother had warned against. "I..." Naruto stammered, his fingers digging into his palms until crescents of pain bloomed. "I had to find you."
Kurama's sunken features transformed in an instant—realization dawning across his face like a thunderstorm. A flash of white-hot anger ignited in his eyes, turning them almost feral. "You didn't, Naruto." Each word fell like a stone between them.
Naruto nodded, his blond hair falling limply across his forehead. "I enrolled in the school, and I searched for you." Across the hallway, Kurama spun away and slammed his fist against the sterile wall, the dull thud echoing through both their cells. "I had to, Kurama!" Naruto's voice rose desperately, bouncing off the cold surfaces. "I knew you didn't run away."
Kurama's shoulders collapsed inward like a dying star. "This is all my fault," he whispered, his voice barely audible as he slid down the wall, leaving a smear of sweat on the sterile surface. His body folded onto the floor in slow motion, knees drawn to his chest like a child hiding from monsters. "I shouldn't have called you that night. I should have told you I was running away."
Naruto's heart twisted in his chest, a physical pain that radiated through his ribs and caught his breath. He pressed his palm flat against the transparent barrier, leaving a ghostly imprint of condensation. "No, Kurama," he insisted, his voice cracking like thin ice. "I would never have believed it. I still would have searched the earth for you—crawled through hell itself if I had to."
A booming voice shattered the moment. "Talk about youthful love!" Naruto pressed his face against the frigid transperent wall, his breath fogging the transparent surface as he strained to locate the source. Three cells down, a man with glossy black hair cut in a perfect bowl shape—like someone had placed an actual bowl on his head and trimmed around it—was smashed against his own barrier. His thick eyebrows, reminiscent of fuzzy caterpillars, arched expressively above round eyes that sparkled with inappropriate enthusiasm. His teeth gleamed an unnatural white as he waved frantically.
"Fuck, now you got him started." A gravelly, exhausted voice groaned from somewhere to Naruto's right—hidden beyond his limited field of vision in the labyrinth of cells.
"I am Rock Lee, it is nice to meet you!" The bowl-cut man's voice reverberated with the volume of a megaphone in the confined space. "You must be Naruto! Kurama has told us all about you!" Naruto glanced back at his brother, watching as Kurama's earlier expression of existential dread morphed into the familiar mask of eye-rolling annoyance he'd worn through most of their childhood.
"How many people are here?" Naruto asked, his voice dropping to a whisper as he pressed his forehead against the cold barrier, eyes locked on his brother's gaunt face.
Kurama sighed and laid back on his cot, positioning his raw, scabbed hands behind his head. The fluorescent light cast harsh shadows across the hollows of his cheekbones as he stared at the ceiling. "Twelve," he said, his voice flat and empty. "There were twenty-three when they first brought me in, but we lost some when they moved us to this facility. Some didn't survive the experiments. Others..." His amber eyes flickered briefly to the camera in the corner. "Others just disappeared."
Naruto gulped and thought of Gaara and his brother. He had to know if Gaara's brother made it. "Is a Shakaku here?" Naruto asked louder so everyone could hear. Kurama sat up and looked at his brother with a raised eye brow.
A hoarse voice echoed from somewhere down the corridor—raspy and worn thin like sandpaper that had been used too many times. "I am Shukaku. How do you know me?" The words hung in the sterile air, suspicious and guarded. Naruto exhaled, his shoulders dropping as relief washed through him like cool water.
"Shukaku! I'm Naruto!" he called, pressing his palms against the transparent barrier until his fingertips turned white. "Your family has been searching everywhere for you. They haven't stopped looking."
"Very funny," the voice shot back, brittle with anger and years of disappointment. Each word dripped with venom that had been brewing for far too long. "My family doesn't give a damn about me. Never has."
"That isn't true!" Naruto's voice cracked as he slammed his fist against the barrier, the impact sending vibrations up his arm. His blue eyes blazed with borrowed fury. "I've been working with Gaara and Temari to find you for weeks! I held Gaara in my arms while he broke down—his tears soaking through my shirt when he realized you'd been taken. Don't you dare say they don't care."
A strangled sound echoed from Shukaku's cell—his brother's name hanging in the stale prison air like a prayer. "Gaara?" The raspy voice cracked, all previous venom evaporating into something raw and vulnerable. "Is he—is he ok?" Each word trembled with the weight of years of forced separation.
Naruto pressed his forehead against the cold barrier, exhaling until a small cloud of condensation bloomed on the transparent surface. "Yes, I believe so," he said softly, his blue eyes fixed on the ceiling where he imagined Shukaku might be looking too. "I wasn't with him when they dragged me in here, but I don't think they're after him. They wanted me." His fingers traced absent patterns on the glass as he added, "Just me."
"See!" Lee exclaimed, his voice bouncing off the sterile walls with renewed enthusiasm. His thick eyebrows shot up like twin caterpillars reaching for the sun. "I told you your family would be looking for you!"
Before anyone could answer, a heavy door screeched open at the corridor's end, the sound like fingernails on metal. Footsteps approached—deliberate, measured clicks against concrete that made Naruto's pulse quicken with each one. A guard appeared, wrapped in black tactical gear, his face obscured by bandages except for a single visible eye that swept coldly across the cells. The number "25" stood out in stark white against his vest—some kind of identification, Naruto guessed, wondering how many others like him patrolled these halls.
"Quiet, everyone!" he barked, voice sharp as a scalpel. "Or you will get shocked." His gloved finger hovered menacingly over a small remote control at his belt. Naruto's eyes widened as his trembling fingers found the cold metal of the choker around his neck. The device seemed to tighten against his throat, a constant reminder of his captivity. He glanced across at Kurama, who was now glaring at the guard, amber eyes burning with defiance even as his own scarred hand clutched protectively at his choker.
No one dared breathe as the guard's boots echoed down the sterile hallway, each footfall like a hammer striking an anvil. The fluorescent lights cast his elongated shadow ahead of him, a dark specter that slithered across the floor until he stopped before a cell three doors down from Naruto's. His gloved hand rested on his shock remote as he leaned toward the barrier, his breath fogging the transparent surface. "Subject 56," he announced, voice dripping with artificial sweetness that made Naruto's skin crawl, "it's time for your tests. Don't put up a fight this time, or you know exactly what will happen to your pretty little cellmates."
Naruto strained against his barrier, but could only make out a pair of weathered hands emerging through the narrow slot in the cell door—skin mottled with bruises in shades of plum and mustard, fingernails cracked and rimmed with dried blood. The guard yanked a pair of titanium cuffs from his belt, the metal catching the harsh fluorescent light as he snapped them around those trembling wrists. With a dismissive flick of his gloved hand, he motioned the prisoner back, then pressed his thumb against a green button on the remote. The lock disengaged with an ominous metallic click that echoed through the corridor like a gunshot, followed by the pneumatic hiss of the door sliding open.
The guy came out his was tall with dark brown red hair, he looked back and locked eyes with Naruto before the guard pushed him forward. Eventually they left the hall the door at the end closing behind.
Naruto turned back to Kurama, fingers trembling as they traced the cold metal band encircling his throat. The device felt alien against his skin—heavy and unyielding, with tiny blinking lights that pulsed like malevolent heartbeats. "You've had to wear these this whole time?" he whispered, wincing as the sharp edge of the collar dug into his Adam's apple when he swallowed.
Kurama's amber eyes darkened as he shook his head, one scarred finger absently rubbing at the raw, reddened skin beneath his own collar. "These are new, along with this sterile hellhole. The old place was all concrete and rust. I think they got more funding—military-grade tech instead of the bargain basement shit they used before."
Naruto's mind flashed back to the lab beneath the school—the cracked concrete floors stained with substances he didn't want to identify, the constant drip of water from rusted pipes overhead, the sickly yellow glow of dying bulbs that buzzed like trapped insects. Had Kurama endured that nightmare for months? Years? His stomach twisted as he glanced around at this new sterile prison with its blinding white walls and humming fluorescent lights. The collar bit into his neck as he swallowed. How far from home were they now? Miles? States away? Sasuke's face materialized in his thoughts—dark eyes, the slight upward curve of his mouth when he was trying not to smile. Sasuke. The name alone sent a physical ache radiating through his chest, as if someone had reached between his ribs and squeezed his heart.
Naruto's fingers flew to the collar, tracing its cold circumference while his eyes darted between the sterile walls closing in around him. "How—" His voice cracked. He swallowed hard, Adam's apple scraping against metal. "How long have I been here?" The last word pitched higher as his mind raced through calculations of hours, doses, and the inevitable biological countdown already ticking inside him.
Kurama shrugged, "I'm not sure, it is hard to tell time here. If I had to say I would say at least a day. You were out for a while."
Naruto's face drained of color. A day? His stomach twisted into a knot so tight he thought he might vomit. The small orange pill bottle flashed in his mind—tucked in his backpack, now gone—and his fingers trembled against the glass barrier. The bitter chemical taste that usually coated his tongue had vanished, replaced by something sweeter, more dangerous—his own emerging scent.
"No, no, no," he whispered, pressing his forehead against the cold glass. His reflection stared back, eyes wide with terror. He clawed at his neck where the collar bit into his skin, breath coming in short, painful gasps. The first tendrils of heat crawled beneath his skin like insects burrowing under bark, and he bit his lip until he tasted copper.
His knees gave out. He slid down the glass, leaving a streak of sweat in his wake. "Please," he begged to no one, to everyone. "I can't—I can't do this." His voice cracked. The memory of his first heat at sixteen flashed through his mind—the few hours of burning agony before Iruka and Kakashi had rushed in with medication. Even with Sasuke, he'd been protected, in control.
"Sasuke," he choked out, curling into himself on the cold floor. The name was both prayer and curse. Sasuke would be looking for him—the thought should have brought comfort, but instead, terror clawed higher in his chest. What if they caught Sasuke too? What if they hurt him? What if he never saw him again?
A sob tore from his throat, raw and animal. His fingers scraped uselessly against the floor as the first real wave of heat washed over him, turning his bones to liquid fire. He was trapped. Helpless. Prey.
Kurama's eyes widened as Naruto's face contorted in panic. "Naruto! NARUTO!" His fists slammed against the barrier of his own prison, leaving smeared prints on the glass. "Breathe, damn it! You have to breathe!" His voice cracked, raw with terror as Naruto's lips began turning blue. Kurama whirled toward the corridor, veins bulging in his neck against the shock collar. "SOMEBODY HELP HIM! HE'S DYING! PLEASE!" The desperation tore through his throat like broken glass, his amber eyes wild with the helplessness of watching his brother suffocate just beyond his reach.
The door to the holding cells opened and Orochimaru marched in with Kabuto behind him and a set of guards. He stopped in front of Naruto's cell and opened it instantly. Naruto looked up in horror and scrambled to the wall. Orochimaru rolled his eyes and Kabuto took the lead and went to Naruto kneeling in front of him. He handed Naruto a bag, "Control your breathing or we will have to sedate you again."
Naruto clutched the paper bag with trembling fingers, pressing it against his chapped lips. Each breath crinkled the brown paper, the sound unnervingly loud in his ears as he fought to slow his racing heart. In-two-three, out-two-three. The cold sweat that had drenched his hospital gown began to cool against his skin, making him shiver despite the sterile room's regulated temperature. As the black spots receded from his vision, he lowered the bag and raised his gaze to Kabuto, who had already retreated to Orochimaru's side. The fluorescent lights glinted off Kabuto's round glasses, hiding his eyes but not the clinical smirk that twisted his thin lips.
"What do you want with me?" Naruto finally rasped, his voice sandpaper-rough, the collar digging into his throat with each syllable.
Orochimaru's lips parted in a serpentine smile that revealed unnaturally sharp canines, his golden eyes gleaming with predatory satisfaction. The sight sent ice water cascading through Naruto's veins.
"We need your omega pheromones for the next phase of our testing," Orochimaru stated, each syllable dripping with clinical fascination.
Panic surged through Naruto's veins like electricity, his heartbeat a frantic drumroll against his ribs. The walls of the lab seemed to inch closer with each shallow breath. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, sandpaper against chalk. When he forced himself to stand, his knees nearly folded beneath him, betraying his weight as sweat pearled at his temples and slid cold down his neck. "The suppressants," he managed, each word scraping his throat raw, "I need them or—"
Orochimaru clicked his tongue, the sound sharp as a scalpel in the sterile room. "You won't be getting any more of those things." A cruel smile played at the corners of his bloodless lips.
Naruto's chest constricted, lungs fighting for air as panic clawed its way up his throat. "Please," he begged, fingers twisting into the thin fabric of his gown. "Do you know what will happen?"
"Of course I do." Orochimaru's voice dropped to a silken murmur, his eyes glittering with scientific hunger. "We need your unmedicated pheromones. I suspect very soon you'll go into a full-blown heat from suppressant withdrawal."
Naruto's mouth gaped like a fish tossed onto dry land, his vocal cords paralyzed with terror. "Don't worry, we won't let you die," Orochimaru said, his voice slithering through the air like a venomous snake. "You are too valuable." The words hung between them, dripping with false reassurance.
Orochimaru's amber eyes gleamed with the cold calculation of a predator sizing up its prey, his paper-white skin stretching over high cheekbones as his lips curled into what might have been a smile on anyone else's face. "Don't worry if it gets too much," he continued, tongue flicking briefly across his lower lip, "I'm sure we can toss you an alpha to help." With that, Orochimaru pivoted on his heel, the pristine white lab coat swirling around his ankles. Kabuto adjusted his glasses with one finger, the fluorescent lights catching the lenses and hiding his eyes behind twin circles of reflected white. The heavy glass door swung shut with a definitive clang that echoed through Naruto's bones, followed by the mechanical click of the lock engaging. Through the glass, Orochimaru's face appeared one last time. "I so look forward to observing you," he purred, his voice muffled but unmistakably eager. Kabuto hovered at his shoulder, a hungry gleam in his eyes as they disappeared down the sterile corridor.