Not forward. That was death. Sideways, towards a narrow gap between shed and fence. Everything in me, adrenaline, desperation, rage, poured into the sprint. I ran without feeling my feet, seeing nothing but that slit of escape.
And the ground vanished under me.
Not instantly. First it softened. The hard soil under my bare feet turned into a sucking mire with monstrous strength. I yelped, trying to wrench free, but my second leg sank to the knee. Another second and the cold sludge closed over my chest, dragging me down, merciless as death itself.
"N-no! Let go!" I screamed, thrashing, only sinking deeper.
Hayashi stood on solid ground two steps away. He watched the way you watch a beetle flailing in a puddle.
"Earth Release: Mud Swamp," he said calmly, as if explaining a lesson. "A basic jutsu, Max-kun. And even that is enough to catch an annoying bug like you."
The earth tightened, hardened with a harsh scrape, like cement setting. I was sealed up to my neck. My arms were pinned to my sides, and only the kunai in my hand pressed against my belly, a pathetic last defence. Rain hammered my face, mixing with tears of helplessness. The pressure of the packed ground squeezed my ribs, my breathing turning hoarse and broken.
Hayashi approached slowly.
His shadow swallowed me.
He crouched, level with my eyes. His ruined face was close enough now. In those blood-slit eyes, something inhuman shone: curiosity… and pleasure.
"That's better," he whispered. His breath smelled of iron and rot. "No pointless movement. We can talk. Heart to heart."
He reached out, unhurried, and dragged a cold, rough finger along my cheek. I flinched, fighting down the urge to gag.
"So where did you find the courage, filthy pup? How did you decide to run? Who helped you? That old rat-catcher in the white coat? He worked so hard to pretend he hated you…"
Act, a voice screamed inside my panic. Talk him. Buy time.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, forced my voice to shake harder, filled my eyes with pleading.
"N-nobody! I… I did it myself! I just… I couldn't any more! It hurts! It always hurts!" I burst into tears, real ones, from despair and the pain crushing my chest. "And the old man… he… he hit me when you weren't looking! Said I'm a mistake of nature! Said he needs to… to cut my shameful gift out and throw it in the rubbish!"
Hayashi watched closely, like he was weighing a reaction. His finger stopped at the corner of my eye, catching a tear.
"Believable," he nodded, without surprise. "But not enough. You got far, Max-kun. Very far."
I fell silent and glanced towards the mouth of the alley. He noticed and smirked.
"Thinking someone will come? I see you still hope. But nothing changes for you. Sooner or later I'll find you."
I looked at him again.
A mark? The suspicion flashed.
"You wonder how I found you," he continued. "You think I was just wandering through Amegakure? No. I've always known where you are."
His gaze dipped for a heartbeat to where my heart was, then slid away as if he were still looking at my face.
But I caught it. And in that same instant, like lightning, one of my sharpest lab memories slammed back into place.
Iron chains on wrists and ankles. A thick black sack of rough burlap over my head, stealing sight and almost air. And then… hellish pain.
Something sharp cut into my chest. Burning agony speared straight through to my heart, like a red-hot poker shoved in. Back then I'd thought it was just another sadistic experiment. Now it clicked.
They weren't just cutting me.
They'd implanted something.
In my heart.
With these fanatics, it fit perfectly. In a shinobi world, tracking techniques, cursed marks, and every kind of filth like that weren't rare at all.
"It's my heart, isn't it?" I asked quietly, staring into the shadow of his hood. My eyes held no naivety now, only cold rage. "You put something in it. A mark. A curse. A leash. Even dead, I'd still belong to you."
"Max-kun…" Cruel interest sparked in Hayashi's eyes, a predatory smile settling on his lips. "You're sharper than I expected in some… unexpected ways."
I coughed, pretending to choke on sobs, and pressed the kunai tighter against my stomach, right under my breastbone.
"B-but w-why?!" I choked out. "I'm… I'm yours! Your immortal… tool! I could… I could be a weapon! Your best weapon!" I stared at him with a burning look full of pretend fanaticism. "Imagine it, Messenger-sama! Me, invulnerable, in the heart of Konoha! I could walk in as a beggar… as a refugee! They'd pity a pathetic kid! And then, bam!" I jerked my head like an explosion. "I could blow up right beside their Kage! Or… or poison their wells! I won't die from poison! I could be your dagger in the back of the whole world!"
Hayashi's eyes narrowed. Greed, real and honest, flickered in those blood-slit eyes. My words landed right on his own recent thoughts about my 'potential'. He went still, picturing it: an immortal suicide infiltrator slipping into the heart of an enemy village. Elegant. Brutal. Worthy of Jashin.
"A weapon…" he murmured, thoughtful now, his finger touching my face again, less a taunt than the way you stroke a valuable but stubborn animal. "Yes, Max-kun. Perhaps you're right. Perhaps we… I… underestimated your potential. This savage rebellion of yours… perhaps it only proved your… resolve."
While he spoke, slow and self-satisfied, sinking into visions of conquest, my hands did their work beneath mud and rags, pinned against my stomach. The kunai's point angled inward and up towards my sternum. A deep breath. Then a sharp, monstrous shove forward and upward. Skin. Muscle. A crunch.
I couldn't hold the scream. I howled, wild, animal, but I twisted it into despair, into pleading.
"Aah! It hurts! Please, Messenger-sama! Don't! Pull it out! Pull me out! I'll be good! I'll serve! I'll be your weapon! Just don't leave me here!" I sobbed and writhed inside the earthen trap, acting utterly broken.
Hayashi watched my convulsions, my face mangled by pain and fear, tears mixing with rain and grime. A wide, blissful smile spread across his ruined mouth. Pleasure. Pure, undiluted pleasure in my helplessness, in my begging. He loved watching his 'gift' suffer and crawl.
"Good boy," he hissed with icy tenderness. "At last you understand your place. But words are wind. Let's test your sincerity."
He formed seals fast. Demon of Illusions: Submission.
A foreign pressure pushed into my mind, like a dull needle. A technique of mental domination. It was useless against my cursed mind, but I rolled my eyes back and went limp anyway, putting on the empty, obedient stare of a slave.
"Yes… master…" I mumbled, monotone.
Hayashi gave a satisfied grunt. His fingers shifted into seals again, this time for an earth jutsu, to liquefy the ground around me and pull his 'catch' free. His movements were unhurried, full of certainty.
"Time to go home, Max-kun. You've got… a long job ahead."
The earth around my neck trembled, ready to turn to sludge.
This was it. The moment. The only chance.
My right hand, hidden in the mud at my belly, closed on something warm and slick, my own heart, freshly torn free. With my left, I frantically groped under my shirt for the seals I'd stolen from that genin.