Blind Sight

Prologue

The twilight sky was empty, save solely for the moon that glowed with the light of all the missing stars. A figure darted from roof to roof, no sound from him disturbing the carrying silence of the night. With every step, his pursuers loomed closer, but the silhouette showed no fear. He knew there would be no danger here for him. Still, he thought, it couldn't hurt to train.

His expression unchanging, the figure stopped abruptly before the mass of shinobi on his tail who wasted no time surrounding him. Estimating about a dozen and a half in numbers, he began.

With incalculable speed, he started for the closest group. The blade slashed quickly and precisely, knowing where to strike and how deep. It mirrored a surgical tool, never lingering for long. Groups of shinobi, armed to the teeth, fell down like dominoes. The blade caught the light of the moon, shimmering like a bolt of lightning as it pierced flesh. The sword cut its final target and the victim fell down by his feet, softly thudding. A look of disgust flashed on his pale face. They were too weak.

This was hardly challenging and he knew it - couldn't help but relish on it. He made to leap for the nearest branch. He needed to be somewhere and couldn't afford to stick around any longer. Only, he found he couldn't move, because something cold constricted around his ankle.

Whipping round, he saw a twitching, blood stained hand gripping his foot. Stunned, it registered to him that those crusted fingers were holding a black, leather cuff, which was now firmly wrapped around his bare ankle. Realisation and anger swiftly followed and he didn't even have time to think before the muscles in his legs weakened. It was only a matter of seconds before his knees buckled and he would fall to the floor.

If only he hadn't been so careless.

Then he wouldn't have let his guard down and prevented this. As the seconds passed, so did the fleeting strength from his body. First his ankles; then the knees, gradually making its way up his body. He cursed himself. The anger coursing through him was the only power that kept him upright - anger at himself, at his ego. It occurred to him he'd never thought about what would happen if he died.

He dropped to his knees, then a second later, his whole body slumped to the floor, against the slate panels of the roof. It seemed like the chakra from every crevice of his being had been stolen from him. The figure was desperate. Despite his pathetic existence, there was still something he needed to do.

He dug for the final ounces left of his strength and pulled on the cuff that was greedily stealing his chakra, but it was like it had merged with his skin. As his fingernails dug deeply into flesh, trickling blood, his consciousness began to slip further away. His eyes narrowed. The only way now was to cut of his foot, the blasted cuff with it. Only it was too late. The blade lay heavy in his palm, limp, like his limbs, and the black spots flashed across his vision. Butchering himself was no more an option as sitting up.

He was angry because it was all for nothing, and because everything hurt. Pushing people he didn't want to push away, training with a psychotic monster, being forced to kill his own family. It didn't matter.

His eyelids closed one last time and he lay unconscious under the moon.

Three people cautiously approached him. No-one came closer than a few feet.

The first, a taller, burly man with eyes that looked black in the starched darkness, tentatively kicked the lying figure's blood coated fingertips.

"You're gonna have to get a lot closer than that if you want to make sure he's out properly. You never know with rogues." the second man spoke in a hoarse, croaky voice that suggested more than a few decades of incessant smoking. He was the slightest of the three, and the shortest, held by a position of constant hunching.

"I don't see you volunteering," The first man scowled as he shot the second guy a seething glare.

"Who'd thought they could do it," the third chimed, her voice silky and smooth. She pulled out a kunai from her sleeve and unhesitatingly stabbed the fallen body in the arm. The other two flinched as blood sprayed.

"I have to say" the first man said, unsure, "If what they say is true, securing him shouldn't have been so easy. Supposedly he was trained by a genius psychopath" picking up the pale, limo body.

"You're quite right. The fool got reckless," the second man croaked, smiling; showing a row of missing teeth.

"Doesn't matter as long as Boss is satisfied," The first guy announced, any suspicion long gone.

"Oh he most definitely will. Sasuke Uchiha is high on his wanted list,". The woman said before all four disappeared, leaving behind nothing, save a pile of bleeding bodies.

RECONSTRUCTED: 09/08/23