The stone corridors of Orochimaru's hideout weren't designed to be hopeful; by contrast, the halls were dark and depressing, giving a sense of hopelessness.
Mira's sandals slapped against the cold tiles in rapid succession, every step splashing through puddles of stagnant water as she ran. The air was heavy with the tang of metal and disinfectant, and every time her lungs expanded, it felt like she was still in that lab; still strapped down, still listening to the slow scrape of scalpels against steel trays. Sirens wailed above her, muffled through the reinforced walls, not meant for the outside world. No, these alarms were inward-facing, meant for the handlers who would drag her back if she faltered for even a moment.
Run.
That single word repeated over and over in her head with each step. She had planned this escape for weeks, testing the guards' patrols, memorizing where the locks clicked just a fraction too slowly, gauging how long it would take before Kabuto noticed her absence.
"Kabuto…"
Her chest ached at the thought. If she were honest, part of her still expected him to appear at the end of the corridor — glasses glinting, that carefully polite smile twisting into pity. He'd tilt his head and ask her why she was being so foolish, tell her it wasn't too late to come back.
But it was too late. For him. For her. For all of them.
The thud of footsteps echoed down the hall. Mira's ears twitched instinctively, catching the rhythm. Three sets of footsteps, closing fast. Sound-nin. Loyal, obedient. Chasing the runaway cat.
Her claws scraped the wall as she pivoted around a corner, propelling herself forward with inhuman speed. Chakra flared within her legs, a burning pulse that made every muscle scream, but she kept pushing. They'd kept her like a weapon for too long; she refused to die in this… cage.
The stairwell loomed ahead — her only way up to the surface. Three shinobi descended in front of it, blocking the path. Their forehead protectors glinted under the dull fluorescent light. One smirked, twirling his kunai on his finger.
"You should've stayed in your cage, cat."
Mira's breath came out ragged, but her lips curled anyway. "And miss out on clawing your charming faces? Wouldn't dream of it."
They didn't bother with more words. The first rushed her. She ducked sideways, slashing her clawed hand across his forearm, and the wet sound of flesh tearing joined the alarms. Blood splattered across the tiles. The second swung high, his blade flashing toward her throat. Mira dropped low, sliding across the slick floor. The kunai missed her neck by inches, but sheared a lock of hair clean away. The third came from behind — faster than she anticipated. Pain bloomed across her ribs as the steel punched through skin.
Her vision flared white. She staggered, breath catching in her throat, shock holding her still for one damning second. She should have dodged. She always dodged. But exhaustion dragged her limbs like lead, and the wound gushed freely, soaking into her thin tunic.
The shinobi pulled back, ready to finish her, but Mira's hand shot out. Chakra glowed faintly along her claws as she raked across his chest. He flew backward with a howl, hitting the wall hard.
The other two hesitated. That was all she needed.
Mira bolted up the stairwell, one hand pressed to her side. Her blood smeared the railings, painted the steps with every stride. By the time she reached the top she felt dizzy, every breath shallow and broken.
The door burst open, and the storm swallowed her.
Rain hammered down, a wall of sound that drowned out the alarms and the shouts below. It soaked her instantly, plastering her hair to her face, drumming against her sensitive ears until the world was nothing but white noise and pain. The neon of the city smeared across the puddles at her feet, fractured colors bleeding into one another.
She stumbled into the alleys, weaving past dumpsters and fire escapes. Her wound burned hotter with each step, her body lagging more with every desperate push. Somewhere behind her, voices rose, but they were distant now. Maybe the Sound-nin didn't want to follow her beyond the perimeter. Maybe they thought she would bleed out before she could get too far.
Maybe, they were right.
Mira's legs gave out, and she caught herself against the rough brick of a building. She slid down until she was sitting in a shallow puddle, rain mixing with the blood that seeped through her fingers. The world tilted at an angle, the neon overhead flickering in and out.
Her reflection trembled in the water below her — pale face, green eyes, silvery-grey cat ears flattened against her skull from the weight of the rain. She looked less like a person and more like what the experiments had always made her feel like… an animal caught in a cage.
Her throat tightened. Not from fear. Not even from pain. Just the bitter taste of exhaustion and the hollow echo of being unwanted everywhere she went.
"Is this really how it ends?" she whispered.
Not in a grand escape. Not in a fight she chose. Just bleeding out in a back alley in the uncaring city that had turned a blind eye.
Her hand slipped from her ribs. Warmth spread into the water below, crimson bleeding into black. Her breaths came slower, each one shallower than the last.
"Kabuto…" For a fleeting second, she thought of his voice, steady and quiet, even when Orochimaru raged. She thought of the way he adjusted her restraints so they didn't cut into her wrists as much. She thought of how, for one deluded moment, she believed he might free her too.
Her eyelids fluttered, too heavy to keep open. The storm roared overhead, drowning out everything but her own thoughts.
Guess I was never meant to be more than a test subject.
The darkness pressed closer, creeping in at the edges of her vision.
And then a sound reached her twitching ear… footsteps? Not the quick, practiced rhythm of shinobi — but something heavier. Civilian boots. Out of place here.
Her ears twitched as her head sagged to the side. She couldn't lift it anymore. Couldn't speak. Couldn't even reach for the knife strapped to her thigh.
The last thing she saw before slipping into unconsciousness was the silhouette of a man standing at the mouth of the alley, rain cascading off his shoulders as he stared at her slumped form.
The world went dark.