LICENSE TO KILL

SUMMARY: She was a surgeon. He was a trauma patient. She didn't know who he was. He knew her like the back of his hand. But she wasn't his Hinata Hyuuga. Nevertheless, he wanted her to delve back into his world – into hell, one more time. Timetravel!fic. Reincarnation!fic.

Disclaimer: My favorite part of the story.

CHAPTER 1: PROLOGUE

Code Red, Code Red; all medical interns proceed to OR 3. I repeat, this is Code Red; all medical interns proceed to OR 3.

There was blood everywhere.

Red, sticky liquid seeped through the foam and soiled the white gurney covers a dark brown color. The blood – the raven-haired stranger's blood – stained her hair, her face, her shirt, and her beloved white coat which she worked for so hard ten or so years past. She took a deeper breath and heaved against him, both hands forcefully pumping life through his chest as they rushed the gurney through the doors of the operating room.

As soon as they entered, sharp eyes immediately met the interns' terrified ones as they helped put on her gloves, scrub suit, surgical cap and mask on. Inside the operating room was a handful of people ranging from eight to ten; all of them starting to prep the patient, preparing him for surgery, and the rest on standby.

She was the last to enter the room – dead silent except for the shuffling of surgical shoes and the beat of the electrocardiogram. The anesthesiologist was inserting medications through his newly-placed intravenous line, when the patient suddenly turned tachycardic; his heartbeat exceeding the normal beating pulse by over fifty.

Her mind raced and the word defibrillation filled her thoughts like second nature. She rubbed the defibrillation pads charged with a shock that would hopefully bring back his normal cardiac rhythm, and shouted, "Clear!"

Their eyes kept still on the electrocardiogram, which was still emitting high frequency noises as if it were an alarm of life or death – which it clearly was. She shook her head, beads of sweat dotting the ends of her forehead, and steadied the pads for the second time.

'One more time. Kami-sama, help me.'

"Clear!"

The line went flat, and her eyes widened in panic. She ordered an increase in amperes, and for the third and last time, she held the pads against his chest.

"Clear!"

His heartbeat returned to normal sinus rhythm, and for a brief second, she allowed herself a sigh of relief. She began to step away, until a grip as hard as steel began crushing her wrist.

She was whipped towards the source through the force of impact, and wide, startled lilac eyes met with pools of dark, crimson pupils. She felt the world stop upon the proximity, and the curious, black pinwheels swirled once before she felt herself starting to sink into something akin to hypnosis.

She was yanked away by interns and surgeons, and her mind tried to lose the fogginess as she watched her colleagues restrain the patient by various straps and metal contraptions. The last thing she heard was the blood-curdling scream of someone in severe, unimaginable pain before she fully blacked out.

Hinata Hyuuga was gasping for breath the minute she woke up.

"Hinata, are you fine?" two hands circled around her shoulders and steadied her, as she herself steadied her breathing and pulse. The first thing her blurry mind registered was the stark white walls, and the circular black-rimmed clock situated at the far end of the room. The smell of antiseptics and ethyl alcohol filled her senses, and she relaxed upon the realization and comfort of the hospital room which she has been acquainted to for far too long than she would like to admit.

Dizzy eyes turned towards her companion, towards familiar comforting blue eyes and honey blonde hair.

"Are you fine? They told me you collapsed during surgery." Worry lined his features, and memories of what she had been doing prior to collapsing flooded her now clearing mind.

"Naruto!" frantic eyes met his, and she grasped both his shoulders, slightly shaking them, "The patient, he had… he…" the last time she had stuttered this badly was back in medical school, and she was hyperventilating by the time Naruto had gotten her a glass of cold water.

He coaxed her by gently rubbing circles through her back, and urged her to drink water in slow gulps.

"Better?" he asked, and she handed him back the glass with shaky fingers.

"Now, try to speak slowly."

She was still shaking.

"I just – I think I saw the sharingan."

'What?' Naruto blinked at her, before letting out a nervous laugh, "Hinata, the stress of your workload must have gotten to you. The sharingan hasn't been around for –"

"For a hundred years, yes, I know that." She snapped, which she rarely did, and he watched her take a deep breath, closing her eyes, before seriously facing him with the clearness and sharpness of a surgeon who has undergone and survived countless nights of sleeplessness and stress.

"Naruto, I know what I saw. I need to see the patient."

There was no more arguing with her when she got like this. He nodded once, reminding himself that the woman in front of him was no longer the shy, meek nobody he ignored back in junior high; she was Hinata Hyuuga, the genius neurosurgeon from a family of world-renowned doctors, future Chief of Surgery and heiress of the Konoha Leaf Hospital.

"Okay."

She was staring at the body of a boy not past twenty-five years of age. His eyes were closed, his breathing silent, and his chest silently heaving up and down in accordance with the ECG.

"Leave us." She ordered through her mask, and her escorts, new, meek little sweetlings they were in the field of medicine, looked at each other and murmured incoherently under their white and blue masks.

"Are you deaf? I said leave." She accentuated each word harshly, until one of the medical interns spoke up, terrified.

"Uhm, Hyuuga-sama, t-the chief s-said –"

"I will have your bodies autopsied myself if you don't get out of my sight in three seconds." She glared at them with the eyes of a someone well-acquainted with the grim reaper himself, and within the timeframe she had given, they scurried away, leaving her alone with the strange patient.

She walked towards the unconscious boy, and took note that his restraints were still in place. She took off her mask, and pocketed the fabric within the confines of her white coat.

History dictated that once upon a time, in their world, existed people who exceeded normal capabilities of the human body. Ninjas; they were called – and of these ninjas, there were still some who were far more superior than others. They possessed bloodline limits – students studied this back in high school, and while it was a complete mystery what exactly happened that stopped the advent of humans with enhanced potentials, the Ninja era was done and over. It has been so for more than a century.

And now, coming up face to face with something she had drawn over and over again just so she could pass her exams in high school, was just plainly ridiculous, enchanting, and… terrifying.

She recognized the markings of the sharingan; her least favorite bloodline limit to study, since it had tons and tons of add-ons, powers, and considerations to memorize.

'Who are you?'

Her hard gaze flipped from him to his chart, and she read through the history of what had happened to him prior to admission.

History of head trauma secondary to vehicular accident. Bullet lesions found in left hypochondriac region, right arm, and right thigh. Bullet fragments found around place of incidence. Metal rod implanted in arm. Patient crashed through the front glass because of force of impact with another car, glass shards causing numerous lesions around face and overall skin.

She didn't hear the slight shift of movement while she was reading through his chart.

Place of Incidence: Otogakure District, 7th road, in the middle of a bazaar.

Time of Incidence: 2:00 AM

She didn't hear him snap out of the various restraints and contraptions.

Exam requested: x-ray of ribs, skull AP-L, bilateral humerus, bilateral femur.

Rule out: Fracture

She didn't notice when his eyes started glowing red.

Signs and symptoms: Glasgow Coma Scale: 11, pupils equally round, reactive to light and accommodation.

The next moments happened in a flash. There was a loud crash as the chart met the cold, tiled floor. There was the intense sound of something slicing through the air. There was a dull thump as her back collided against the white, cemented wall; she gasped when something stung her skin, and she realized she was staring at glinting red, swirling pupils.

"Don't. Move."

His warning was accentuated with the force of something sharp – a sword he procured out of nowhere – and she didn't dare gulp. He watched as a thin slice marked her delicate neck, a trail of blood pooling at the base of her right clavicle.

She was staring at the eyes of someone who was most likely to murder her in the next ten seconds or so, but all her brain was registering was the triad of black dots adorning crimson eyes. So she had been right.

"The sharingan." She breathlessly whispered, and the sharp metal only dug deeper onto her skin. His eyes turned to slits, and the grip around the hilt of his sword tightened.

His next words continuously rang through her ears; and she was left confused, because what he had just said, did not make sense in the slightest bit.

"You traitor."

A/N: Sooooo... I started another multi-chapter fic. I don't even .-.