Seeing Kabuto acting like anything other than well… a creep was kind of jarring; I guess even the craziest of crazies had to be a (somewhat) normal person once. Maybe. And yes, I'm back. Though maybe not for long. The manga is infinitely more interesting when the focus isn't on Naruto; that's all I'm gonna say.
These sequences aren't necessarily in chronological order; considering how messed up Kabuto is in the head, doing it all in order didn't really seem right.
I own nothing.
He's scrounged change for months, doing all the odd jobs he can. Yes, the majority of the money he gets goes to the upkeep of the orphanage. After all, he lives here; any money he gives to the caretakers will go towards better food and clothing.
But this is different. This is something he spent hard-earned money on, just for a single person.
-0-0-0-
He's called Yakushi because Nonou's surname is Yakushi, and he has none of his own. He's called Kabuto because of the helmet he was found with, hiding in that blood-soaked pass. He supposes that his parents could have been among the dead; he supposes that the helmet he was found with could have belonged to one of them. He doesn't really care.
For Yakushi Kabuto, life begins with waking up and hearing the sounds of Nonou and Urushi's voices. One is rough and the other soft, but both are kinder than the blazing sun and the copper stench of blood dripping down from his scalp.
"Friend" and "Mother", these two become, and to be honest, only one of them sticks in his memory for long after he goes with the nin from Konoha.
"Kabuto, we need to put down a date for your birthday on these records." Nonou's patient voice brings him out of his reveries.
Reading is just a little difficult for him, even with big glasses that make the world clearer. The characters are just so small and tiny; it's like trying to study the finer physical features of an ant. Kabuto would rather be outside playing with Urushi and the others on a bright, sunny day likes this.
Having been caught at inattention, Kabuto smiles apologetically and stares down at the ground. Nonou just smiles, her pale blue eyes crinkling around the edges. "You'll get to go outside soon. I have an idea. Since we found you on February twenty-ninth, let's just make that your birthday. You can be born on leap day."
Nonou may not be the mother of his flesh, but she is Mother in every way that matters. Sister Kiyo and Brother Yoshiro do the best they can to be caring, responsible parent figures to the children of the orphanage, even with their constant worries over funding, but Kabuto doubts he'll ever be quite so attached to either of them as he is to Nonou. He doesn't think he'll ever be so attached to anyone as he is to her.
Kabuto knows he's here on charity alone, knows that he is little more than an added burden to the already straining orphanage. He knows this, can hear Kiyo and Yoshiro talking about it when they think the children aren't listening—the walls are thin as rice paper, and for all that Kabuto's eyes may be weak, there's nothing wrong with his ears.
Nonou must know it too. She is neither stupid nor inobservant; she must see how cramped the room for the orphans is getting, must see how little rice there is to go around. She must see all this, and yet, she never complains. She never gives any hint that she looks at Kabuto or anyone else here as a burden.
Instead of letting anyone see the worries in her heart, Nonou keeps a smile on her face and the same cheerful manner as would befit a woman whose life was totally untroubled. She never lets anyone get a hint of discontent out of her, especially not Kabuto.
She just continues to smile. Kabuto doesn't think he's ever heard her raise her voice. He has no idea how to repay her for her kindness, no idea how to thank her for convincing Brother Yoshiro and Sister Kiyo to let him stay here, to keep them from sending him on to Konoha, to be a ward of the state.
Not until the day the Konoha nin (it's strange; shouldn't they have the hitai-ate? I don't see the marking of the Leaf anywhere on them) arrive.
And afterwards, memory of Mother is all he can cling to.
-0-0-0-
The day Kabuto leaves is the first day he sees many things out of Nonou. It's the first time he ever bears witness to her raising her voice, all but shouting at the one-eyed man named Danzo as he makes his veiled threats against her.
He's talking… He's talking about the orphanage, about them. Threatening to cut off funding, threatening to spirit away its children in the night. All in the name of Konohagakure, and an organization of theirs named "ROOT."
Mother was a shinobi? Kabuto wonders to himself, amazed at first when that information comes out. As shocked as he is, he's careful not to make a sound, so as not to reveal his hiding place. Under normal circumstances, spying would earn him a harsh scolding from Kiyo ("Eavesdropping is very rude, Kabuto. You shouldn't snoop."), but under these circumstances, he gets the impression that something worse might happen if he's caught spying.
Kabuto never would have guessed that Nonou was a shinobi. She's always been so kind and gentle; shinobi don't really act like that, do they? Shinobi fight battles with kunai and elemental ninjutsu; they kill without mercy. Nonou is a miko, a kind parent to the children of the orphanage, to him. She doesn't act anything like a shinobi.
But in retrospect, Kabuto supposes he should have gotten some sense that Nonou wasn't always a miko. After all, medical ninjutsu isn't something civilians just pick up. It's something a shinobi learns, usually after years of training in how to control their chakra properly. A civilian wouldn't have picked that up; Kabuto should have guessed.
Once his shock goes, he finds the sensation replaced with the need to grit his teeth to keep from saying something and revealing his presence.
Listening to this man, Danzo, and what he says, Kabuto thinks he finally has a way to repay Nonou for the things she's done for him.
She's not happy. Of course she isn't.
It's getting late outside, and there are storm clouds starting to gather. Everyone here should go where they're going and get inside before the rains come. Certainly, it's too late to be outside. The clock says so; it's past bedtime.
Kabuto doesn't really want to look at them staring sadly at him anymore.
He doesn't know when he'll see any of them, Mother, Urushi, Brother Yoshiro, Sister Kiyo or any of them again. He's going with the menacing men in their black cloaks. He's going, outwardly of his own will, but in his mind, he knows that he's going so someone else won't be ripped away in his place. If he hadn't heard what he had, he would probably stay here, blissfully unaware of the danger faced by his fellow orphans.
But knowledge is fatal, and he knows he can't stay.
Sorry, Mother. But at least this way, I can pay you back for everything you've done for me. At least you don't have to worry about these guys coming and stealing one of us away in the night.
They're getting ready to leave. Danzo nods tersely to Nonou, who glowers back. "Come along," Danzo says to his men and, by extension, to Kabuto as well, preparing to vanish into the dense forest.
Goodbye, everyone. I hope I'll see you again sometime.
Then, there's a rustle of long, thick skirts.
The next thing Kabuto knows, Nonou has come over, dropping to her knees and hugging him tightly. Out from under her loose coif, her blonde hair tickles his cheeks, and something hot and wet hits the top of his head.
She's crying. Nonou's crying.
Kabuto doesn't think he's ever seen Nonou cry before. She once said "Adults shouldn't cry in front of children; if I cried in front of them, they'd lose heart"; what happened to that?
He doesn't look at her face. He doesn't want to see the emotions gathered there like a buzzing cloud. He thinks that, if he was to look at her face now, he would lose all of his resolve. Lose his resolve, and stay here, even knowing that ROOT would be back, coming to claim one of his "siblings."
Please… Please don't cry. I just want to pay you back.
Nonou cries and hugs him, and kisses the top of his head. Danzo mutters something about not being able to waste any more time. "Of course," Nonou answers, in a voice made thick and cracking with the repressed urge to sob. "Goodbye, Kabuto."
Just as she's unlatching her arms from his back, Kabuto feels Nonou slip something into his pocket. It's a small object, small but heavy. What? What's that? As she's pulling away and withdrawing, Nonou mouths out the words "Don't say anything. Don't look at it until later."
And then, they're gone.
That night, when Kabuto is sitting a little away from the campfire that's been set, he looks at the thing Nonou put in his pocket.
It's a small, old, silver pocket watch with no chain, the casing badly scratched.
10:53. Definitely time to go to bed.
-0-0-0-
"I must admit," Danzo remarks, "that I've known few civilian children with the initiative necessary to eavesdrop on a conversation between shinobi." He's propped his chin on one curled fist and seems to look straight through Kabuto. The man's hard, scarred, half-covered face is impenetrable, but the tone of his voice is dry, even slightly amused.
Kabuto just stares at him, not sure of what to say. Well, that, and his tongue still hurts like it's been set on fire.
They passed through the gates of Konoha yesterday; on that same day, Kabuto was branded with the cursed seal that, as he has learned, all members of ROOT are made to bear.
He had hoped to get a better look at Konoha. From what little he'd seen of the great village, he'd liked it—plenty of trees and brightly colored houses, and smiling, friendly faces. There's life here, hustle and bustle, and a thrum of excitement, something that the orphanage, though a kind and welcome haven, was never able to possess. Kabuto would have liked to get to know this village better.
That is not to be, apparently, at least not for now.
From his place, sitting across the table from the head of ROOT, Kabuto keeps his silence. His tongue aches so badly, feels swollen in his mouth—he's not sure that he could talk at all without the words coming out as garbled as a radio with a bad connection; that would be horribly embarrassing.
And even though he has yet to be immersed in the black mire of espionage, Kabuto has some sense of knowing that he needs to be silent in front of people he isn't sure of, until he can improve his capacity for deception.
Danzo shifts his head slightly. "Well? Have you nothing to say?" When he is met with silence, he goes on. "If you were curious enough to spy on my meeting with Nonou, then I have no doubt you have questions now." His tone is remarkably mild, and Kabuto can almost believe that he's being mild for no reason other than because he feels that way. "You will not be punished for wishing to know more about your circumstances."
Might as well…
With as much clarity as he can manage, Kabuto asks "What is this?" pointing to the inside of his mouth for emphasis.
"That is the cursed seal worn by all members of ROOT—though I have no doubt that you were told this when you received it. Understand its purpose," Danzo says more sternly, and his whole demeanor seems to change to something infinitely darker, like the sudden fall of night. "It will live dormant so long as you keep your silence among outsiders as to the existence of ROOT. So long as you do not divulge information concerning ROOT, it will be as though the seal is not there.
"However, if you were ever to break your silence, the cursed seal will activate. If you are ever so foolhardy as to attempt to tell outsiders about us, the seal will ensure that you never speak of us again."
The deep gray walls, totally unadorned, seem close and stifling. The light spilling from the narrow window near the junction of wall and ceiling seems to burn the back of Kabuto's neck. He keeps his eyes fixed on Danzo's face, not knowing what else to do.
He doesn't really like this man. Well, maybe it would be more accurate to say that he hates this man. Kabuto was never going to like someone who stooped to bullying Mother to get what he wanted, but the knowledge that he's here solely to make things easier for Nonou makes it all the harder. His dislike of Danzo wars with the manners instilled in him by Nonou, Yoshiro and Kiyo, and the latter keeps the former from moving him to say anything rude. That and common sense; if he has to work for this man, it would probably be better not to get on his bad side the very first day he's officially working for him.
Taking his silence as indication that Kabuto has no further questions, Danzo gives the boy his marching orders. "You will go with Aya—" he nods towards the door, where a pale-faced woman waits, standing straight and still "—to await further instructions. You will do everything she tells you without question, and without complaint. Do you understand?"
Kabuto nods. "Yes, sir." He knows better than to say anything else, or speak otherwise; this tone of Danzo's can't be mistaken for anything but final.
"Very well. You are dismissed."
-0-0-0-
Where could she be? he wonders, frowning as he looks around. He sees some of the other kids, Brother Yoshiro and Sister Kiyo, but no Mother. Urushi tries to wave him over to where he's sitting with Emi and Hideyoshi, but he just shakes his head.
Where is she? It's nearly bedtime. I don't want to have to wait until tomorrow.
Then, he hears a familiar voice from just outside.
-0-0-0-
In Kumogakure, his name is Naoto. Rather ironic, all things considered, but Kabuto knows better than to draw any attention to that fact. If he starts saying that it's ironic that he's got a name like Naoto, people will start to wonder…
It's the middle of winter and bitterly cold, to the extent that Kabuto has to breathe on his hands every few seconds to keep them warm, and still, his fingers are cold. He has gloves, yes—ROOT wouldn't send him up here without proper provision; a Kumo nin without proper winter clothes would look suspicious. But he can't write properly wearing gloves, and he needs his handwriting to be clear, given what he's jotting down in that tiny notebook.
Objectives:
1. Learn when the shifts change for guard duty on the outer walls.
2. Attempt to gauge the magnitude of Kumogakure no Sato's military force.
3. Learn as much as possible about the jinchuuriki currently in Kumogakure no Sato's possession.
There are more objectives, but they are not as imperative for Kabuto's mission. The objectives not stressed as important to him have likely been given to more experienced nin; they're just on his list for him to catch in case he picks up on something.
Is that man looking at me funny? No, he isn't; look, he's going to meet someone, a woman. He wasn't looking at me, he was looking at her.
I've still got an hour before I check in with Teru. Remember what he told you; "listen to them when they talk, over food and drink. Listen to the when they're drunk, when they gossip. Listen to them when they're completely relaxed. That's when they reveal the most."
Every sudden noise, the sound of a bottle being opened or someone shouting from far off, is enough to make his heart jolt and beat out of tune in his chest for at least a minute, before he realizes that there's no threat to him and he forces his heart back to a more equitable beat. It's not someone coming for you. It's not someone coming to carry you off. Calm down. You've got a job to do. Nothing is as important as this; remember that.
Still, there is in his blood the constant warning of danger-danger.
When assigning this mission, Danzo made it quite clear what Kabuto would face if he was to be discovered and captured.
"Yes, you are a child, but they will not care about that. They won't see a child. They will see you for what you are, an enemy operative sent to discover their secrets and discover their weak spots. They will not show mercy to you because you are so young, so small. You will be dealt with as they would deal with any spy discovered within their borders. Understand that."
Death. That's all he'll get if he's caught by one of Kumo's shinobi. Kabuto has a fake name, a fake history (war orphan, ward of the state, new chunin, inexperienced, clumsy, please excuse him), even a fake voice, all of this to make it easier for him to slip through the cracks, to make it seem as though he was always here.
(It took a month but after that the speech coach finally seemed to think his Kumo accent was up to snuff. "Good," he had muttered. "You're finally drawing out the "a's" properly. I think you're ready."
Kabuto sincerely hopes that he wasn't mistaken.)
He's currently sleeping in a musty little room in a not-so-abandoned building, where he and the other ROOT members who have infiltrated Kumo make their base. The base is supposed to be moved tomorrow night though, isn't it? The adult infiltrators have bought ramshackle apartments or rented out rooms at halfway houses, but Kabuto, too small to really be on his own, stays with Teru at the base through the night.
Remember, the older ROOT member constantly drills him, remember how to behave around them.
Always be polite, but not so polite as to be considered fawning. Don't be rude, either. Being either too polite or not polite at all will make you stick out in their minds.
Don't be overly friendly or unfriendly. Look your equals and your inferiors in the eye, but keep your head bowed to the ones who would be your seniors. Don't shout, but don't whisper; keep your voice level. Don't pick up a catch phrase like half of these Kumo nin seem to have. Don't show yourself to be too talented in any one area.
Don't be too interesting, Naoto. They have to forget about you the moment you're out of their sight.
He understands. For the success of his mission, he must seem at all times bland—a nice person, but still bland and completely forgettable.
Be a chameleon, Naoto. Fade into the background.
He understands. That's what he'll do, even struggling with the dark specter hanging over him, the reality of what will happen if he's caught.
He'll be a chameleon.
-0-0-0-
The room is dark, lit only by rows of sterile fluorescent lights; the walls, painted a deep, ash gray, fade away into shadow.
And the floor is hard enough that when Kabuto hits it, his head is spinning for an eternity before he can even think to start gathering the scattered pieces of his consciousness.
Aya isn't quite so patient.
"Get up." He's known her for either hours, days, or eons now, and not once has Kabuto ever heard Aya break from monotone. Her voice has remained flat, dull, uninterested, something so dry and emotionless as to be totally sexless; he needs his eyes to identify her as a woman. It's the same for all the members of ROOT Kabuto has met. They can speak of the weather, what they ate for breakfast and the latest massacre with the same detached, matter-of-fact inflection—Wait, no. There's no inflection in their voices. None at all.
Kabuto wonders how such an organization could have produced Mother. Mother, who is neither callous nor in possession of the eyes or personality of a dead fish. These people are so like puppets, wooden and unfeeling, that Kabuto expects to see strings burst from their heads and shoulders at any moment.
But then again…
"You were never really cut out for ROOT. You could never kill your emotions."
That had been Danzo's assertion, his assessment of Nonou. And, perhaps in his eyes, even the slightest display of emotion counted as "failure." In hindsight, however, Kabuto realizes that the blunting effects of ROOT were visible on her with every word she spoke.
Nonou's voice was always level, always clear, and any fluctuations were a rare thing indeed. So rarely did emotions slip through her kind, cheerful veneers that Kabuto can't help but think that Danzo was only about half-right. Nonou couldn't kill all of her emotions, but she did kill some of them. And a smile can be a mask in itself.
Smiles as masks… Interesting.
I never knew her at all, did I? If I couldn't suspect something like this, than I must not have known Mother as well as I thought I did. What were those three years, then? What do I know, at all?
Groaning, Kabuto clambers to his feet, and looks Aya square in the eye. She is, as ever, unmoved.
"I expect you to rise more quickly, next time. Even when disoriented you must be quick to get back on your feet and either attack your adversary or retreat." After a few moments, allowing all that to sink in, Aya goes off on a different line. "You learned medical ninjutsu from Nonou, correct?"
Kabuto nods, frowning, as ever, when he hears someone refer to Mother by a name that she herself renounced.
"In time, you will learn how medical ninjutsu can be weaponized in battle. For now, we will focus on taijutsu and improving your skill with the kunai. Impaired vision is no excuse. Let us continue."
They take up their stances, and continue.
Kabuto thinks he's gotten something figured out.
Part of ROOT's training is to strip its members of their emotions, of their self. This, by Danzo, will make each member into the perfect soldier, loyal and efficient, unwavering in the execution of their duties, for they have no moral qualms.
Frankly, Kabuto doesn't like that idea very much. The idea of losing his emotions, when he has so little else left, is galling; after everything else he's had to leave behind, losing his tenuous sense of self is the final insult.
He thinks that if he can learn to hide things well enough, people will think that he really has had all of his emotions stripped away. If he can keep emotion from welling up in his eyes or flavoring his voice, maybe they'll leave him alone on this score, and let him keep that, at least.
Mother's omnipresent smiles point the way.
-0-0-0-
He's surprised when he starts thinking of that man.
Kabuto will admit that he likes to receive compliments. He doesn't know anyone who doesn't, not even among ROOT (though in their case, only in the most detached way), who doesn't like to be complimented on something they take pride in. Everyone here is a perfectionist, strives towards being the best and receiving praise for being the best, and that, at least, makes Kabuto fit in.
"Why don't you become a shinobi? You'd be a great one. I'm sure of it."
The odd-looking man, boasting only a broken arm when the other nin were nearly all, to a man, more seriously injured than he, had said that. There was a keenly interested gleam in his eyes as he looked over the boy healing his arm, something Kabuto had instantly noticed as different from the other dull-eyed nin.
He had probed but gently, that odd man, and when Kabuto made it clear that he had no interest in becoming a shinobi, he had only lamented "What wasted potential" in the sort of whimsical voice that Kabuto has learned not to expect from members of ROOT.
It was just a small moment of praise, but it was that moment that spurred him to go sit in a hidden place and listen when Danzo went to talk to Nonou.
I was curious… He made me curious about the shinobi world. Just one moment of praise, and I was that curious.
How curious would I get if someone was to talk to me more?
…I wonder where he is.
Kabuto knows the man has to be a member of ROOT; he was standing at Danzo's shoulder as one of his guards. He knows this man is a member of ROOT, yet he did not seem to have the same flat affect as the rest of them. He knows this man is of ROOT, but he hasn't seen him anywhere since he joined.
I think I'd know if I saw him. After all, he was very odd-looking. He was indeed, with skin literally as white as chalk and piercing golden eyes. Kabuto doesn't think he'd have a hard time picking this man out in a crowd, and yet, there's been no sign of him.
Maybe he's on a long-term mission. That has to be it.
Too bad. I wanted to talk to him again. He seems to be the only normal person here.
-0-0-0-
The high, close wool collar of the clothing favored by so many Kiri nin makes Kabuto's neck itch, but he says nothing and doesn't lift his hand to scratch. Everyone else here has no problem with it; he must give the impression that he is the same. He doesn't like the way the constant humidity fogs up his glasses either, but for the same reason, he keeps his mouth shut.
In Kirigakure, Kabuto is known to all as Kosuke. It's what he answers to when the jonin who thinks he's his new subordinate calls to him. He has the accent of belonging to one of the northern islands of Mizu no Kuni, an island conveniently remote from Kiri itself—no one thinks to visit his family to find out if he really is the chunin sent to replace the last one.
Spying on an island nation has given Kabuto an unexpected taste for mackerel. Whenever he eats it, he thinks of Urushi. Urushi always wanted to see the ocean, would chatter endlessly about it on the warmest of summer days, when the sun beat down on their backs.
"Come on, Kabuto, don't you want to see the ocean, just once? I bet it'd feel great on a day like this!"
He pauses, tin cup halfway to his lips, as he thinks that if he wasn't here, Urushi might be. Given the circumstances, that thought doesn't make him happy (But at the same time, it doesn't sting as keenly hard as it used to).
From Kiri, his superiors want to know how many shinobi the village currently calls its own. Have their forces recovered sufficiently since the days of the Bloody Mist? Do they still carry out some of the practices of that blood-soaked regime, any at all? Or have they grown soft since the Godaime Mizukage took office, soft and weak?
This time, Kabuto is better-prepared to blend in to the colors and the contours of this village. Infiltrating Kumo gave him invaluable experience that has translated well to blending in to other places.
Be brutal when training with your "comrades"—Kiri expects no less of its nin—but be careful not to win too often. If you show yourself to be too talented, they'll start to wonder why you were put in such a low-ranking area. Be careful about that, Kosuke. They'll start to wonder.
He's starting to enjoy this on some level, even if he does still tense up whenever something unexpected happens around him (Have they found out? Do they know? Will I be arrested, executed, sent back to ROOT in a box?).
Back at the orphanage, there wasn't a television set or anything like that, but there was a small cache of books. They were meant primarily for the education of the children, but more often they were fiction, novels, rather than text books or anything like that. There were a couple of spy novels there that everyone had loved, Kabuto especially.
Well, not quite everyone.
"It's not like that in real life," Mother would say, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose and frowning. "It's nothing like that. Being a spy isn't fun; it's just dangerous. It eats away at your soul."
Nonou hadn't approved, but Kabuto thinks he's getting used to this life. I'd still like to go back home, and see them. But he is getting used to it.
Life's more like a book than it is real life, anyway. He expects to turn the page on his own tale any time now.
-0-0-0-
The first time he gets blood on his hands, Kabuto is terrified. Terrified doesn't even do his state of mind justice. He can barely think, can barely think to run away from where he is. His mind's a jumble—
Oh God, blood, blood, there's so much blood. I-I, I didn't know there could be so much. There were others coming, he said.
A child's jumbled thoughts:
OhGodOhGodOhGod, Oh God, I didn't mean to. I wasn't aiming for his chest. I wasn't, I swear I wasn't.
He runs away, and arrives at base with his front all down in blood.
It was a Kumo nin who caught him in a place he shouldn't have been, not all by himself. He hadn't even begun to raise the alarm before Kabuto struck, and he'd barely been able to get out a cold warning—"This place'll be crawling with my comrades, boy"—before he gurgled on his blood and died.
When Kabuto arrives back at base, he expects to be chastised for having had his cover blown, even for a second. He expects admonishment for having been forced to kill. Instead, what he's met with is stoic praise.
"Good. You've proven that you're willing to kill to uphold the secrecy of your mission. You must continue to be willing to do so. Understand that."
He's killed, and he kills again, before too long. And again. And again.
Kabuto discovers the orderliness of lists, when it comes to killing. When he puts it all away in a list, it becomes less like the ordeal of getting blood on your hands and sweat in your clothes, less the struggle of watching the light go out of someone's eyes.
Two Kiri nin.
One Kumo.
Three from Suna. The same from Iwa.
Ran away from two encounters. Avoided another five by stealth.
Two victims have blue eyes; they were both from Iwa. All the others, brown. One was a woman; all the other men. Three were children. Six genin, two chunin, one jonin, dead at his hands.
And they all bled, bled so much.
He kills, and kills again, and you know, the kills keep getting easier. With each one, his heart beats a little more slowly, calmer and calmer. It doesn't mean as much to him. As the years go down, these things don't mean as much to Kabuto anymore.
Eventually, he kills someone, and he feels absolutely nothing at all.
-0-0-0-
About the time when they start to get the occasional influx of wounded from Konohagakure is when Nonou asks around the children in the orphanage, trying to discover if any of them want to learn medical ninjutsu from her.
"It'll help us all to be able to earn extra money, and medical ninjutsu will be a useful skill to have later on in life."
Though she looks around at all of them, smiling equally upon all of them, only Kabuto and Emi take her up on her offer. The former glances hopefully over at Urushi ("Come on. It'll be fun."), but he just shakes his head.
"Ah-ah. No thanks. If you ask me, all this "ninjutsu" stuff is hocus-pocus—no offense, Mother," he adds hastily. "Look, when you're healing people, I'll get you bandages, salve, water, whatever you like, but I'll leave the ninja stuff to you."
Emi tries her hardest, tries desperately to learn. Anyone can see that she wants to learn. However, her chakra reserves just aren't deep enough for the exercise of any ninjutsu, let alone medical ninjutsu. She is taught the names of all the herbs that can be found, but in the end, it's only Kabuto who learns medical ninjutsu directly from Nonou.
All in all, he likes it, even better than he thought he would. Training under Mother means that Kabuto spends more time with her, even if it does leave him with less time to go outside and play than the others. A lot of the times Urushi, out of some sense of loyalty, sticks around inside too some days, watching them learn.
It's not easy work.
"Keep the chakra flow steady, Kabuto. If you don't keep your chakra flow steady when you apply it to a wound, it won't work right. That's a good way to really hurt your patient."
But it is fulfilling work.
The first time Kabuto heals someone, properly heals someone instead of test subjects, his heart swells, swells so much that he feels as though it will burst any second now.
This is the best feeling, alleviating someone else's pain, watching the cuts recede into unmarked skin. This is the best feeling, to take back what Fate tried to steal.
-0-0-0-
From Suna, ROOT wants the locations of the nation's wells and oases, valuable information if they ever decide to invade. They want to know more about the young jinchuuriki as well. "Observe him as best you can, but be careful not to get close. He's reputed to be highly unstable; anyone whom he even thinks has provoked him will end up dead."
Kabuto can understand what they meant by that.
The jinchuuriki of the Shukaku, Gaara. According to reports, he's just six years old. Six years old, and he has a body count exponentially larger than Kabuto, or nin twice his age. Gaara is an ungovernable child. He stands at the edge of the shadows, glaring at all who pass, and those who come too close, end up dead.
Kabuto watches the latest corpse slump against the wall, a sentient cloud of sand shifting all around it, and his eyes narrow.
My, such disorder.
It is in Sunagakure that Kabuto, for one moment, entertains defecting. Life here is so hard, hard even by the standards of the desert, but if you're worthy of respect, the people are kind. Nin put the mission above their comrades if push comes to shove, but up until that point, they will defend you with their lives. The sense of comradeship is palpable in every pair of smiles.
But that's not why Kabuto gives weight to the thought of defecting to Sunagakure.
It's the smallest thing that makes his loyalties wander instead.
He and some other chunin are on patrol at Kaze no Kuni's remote western border. It's well past dark and they are sitting around a campfire, waiting for their shift to start. Kabuto reaches for his canteen to take a long draught of water, but accidentally knocks it over, sending all of that precious water spilling out into the sand.
Kabuto pulls a hideous grimace. Though he will occasionally indulge in displays of clumsiness, just to make sure people don't think he's too competent, this was not any purposeful thing, just a genuine accident.
He'll be chastised for this. A Suna shinobi is supposed to be careful of water, supposed to value it as much as he values the air he breathes. The waste of water is taboo; he'll only alienate his "comrades" with this, and they'll start to wonder—
"That's alright, Tatsuya."
Kabuto looks up, shocked, despite himself (truly shocked for the first time in a while), to see the gentle, forgiving smile on Kimiko's face. The other two chunin wear similar expressions, though a thin veil of exasperation clouds their faces. "These things happen sometimes. There's a well nearby; we'll go draw some water for your canteen."
This is the moment when he thinks could live here, for the rest of his life.
It passes quickly. He's bound to ROOT. The seal on his tongue brands him as one of their own. Kabuto knows he's being watched; no ROOT operative can ever really call their privacy "private." Danzo will know if he's tried to leave the organization and betray Konoha. They'll kill him. And even if they don't, someone else will just be taken to—
I want to go home.
Kabuto surprises himself with that thought, the moment he and Kimiko sit back down after getting back from the well. Well, maybe not the thought itself. The tone that goes with it.
Regretful.
He wishes he could go home. Just wishes he could see Mother and Urushi and all the others again. Wishes that none of this had to happen. He wishes so hard that he feels as though his heart might explode, explode in his chest as though someone's tacked on a paper bomb. Maybe that would be a good thing.
That thought is suppressed too.
It's not conducive to the success of his mission.
-0-0-0-
It starts out as a thin wailing that could easily be mistaken for the calls of a desert bird. A golden eagle, perhaps, or some sort of vulture crooning over a fresh kill. It's only as Kabuto mounts the hill and can see the road before him that he realizes that it's not a bird he's been hearing.
There's a young girl sitting on the side of the road, clutching her ankle and crying. Kabuto frowns deeply as he nears her.
Aside from two port cities on the coast, Sunagakure is the only major population center in Kaze no Kuni. However, there is an oasis about two miles from here, over the hills, and where there are oases, there tend to be human settlements as well. That's probably where she came from.
When the girl sees Kabuto, her tear-stained face brightens. He can just imagine the sort of thoughts going through her mind: A Sand nin, I'm saved. I won't die out here, so close to home. She looks up at him, her dark eyes full of hope, and Kabuto fights the urge to grimace, torn.
He's supposed to report back to base by nightfall, and the sun is already starting to sink in the sky. If he interacts with this girl, there's the chance, however small, that she'll spot something false about his voice or bearing, and raise the alarm before he can get safely back to base. It's already highly unusual—and thus highly suspicious as well—for a Sand nin to be out anywhere alone in the desert; he doesn't need to risk her remembering that.
But she's hurt. She's a civilian, a young child, who has played no part in the private wars of shinobi. She's done nothing to him in her short life, and she's hurt. The unforgiving sun beats on their backs for now, weakening her, and the night will bring jackals to devour.
Kabuto sighs, and drops to one knee before her. If he's late because of this, he'll just tell the truth. He might get in trouble, but it won't be much.
"Drink some of this." Kabuto takes his canteen off of his belt and hands it to the girl. "Only some of it, mind; I still need that after you're done. And stop crying," he adds absently. "It's just a waste of water."
He sets about to examining her leg. Her ankle isn't broken, just twisted—a good thing, actually; torn ligaments are far easier for a medic to heal than broken bones. Okay, I know what I need to do. "Listen up," Kabuto says softly. The girl looks up, the tear tracks on her face glittering in the afternoon sun.
"I've got somewhere I need to be, so I'm not going to be able to take you back home." The girl opens her mouth to protest, but Kabuto cuts her off. "I'm going to heal your ankle. When I'm done, your leg will still hurt, but you'll be able to walk on it again. You should be able to make it home. Do you understand?"
She nods. "Yes. …Thank you," the girl adds shyly, looking down.
A twitching smile comes over Kabuto's face. "That's alright. Now let's get started."
-0-0-0-
They demand more from him when he goes to Iwagakure, but that's alright. He's older now, more experienced—he can handle a heavier workload. Yukio suspects he'd be rather insulted if they didn't trust his abilities enough by now to give him more to do in enemy villages.
Yukio has noticed some things about Iwa nin. He wonders if all of the highest-ranking nin here only have one sleeve on their tunics, or if that's the signature of a particular clan. Aside from that, he's virtually memorized the times of the shift changes on al the guard posts on the wall, and can recite the names of all the guards. He knows their ranks, ages, their battle experience ad the techniques they can use. He knows where they live, what they fear, the names of their friends, even their blood types.
What he has discovered from this village, the village that boastfully claims to have never been invaded, represents the pinnacle of his abilities as a spy. He has so thoroughly infiltrated Iwa that, for all he knows about this place, he may as well have been born here.
It's hard for Yukio to hold back a nasty smirk as he thinks of how thoroughly the people of Iwa have been taken in by his deception.
The jonin who serves as his supervisor at the office has no idea who. The same goes for his coworkers and the little kids who play around outside in the streets. Yukio has fooled them all.
Yukio—
No, wait.
Kabuto. He grips the sides of his head. My name is Kabuto. Not Yukio.
Vicious satisfaction caves away beneath a fresh wave of regret.
-0-0-0-
When he lies awake at night in the barracks, listening to his bunkmate snore, Kabuto wonders what it would be like, if he'd never left. He wonders about that more and more now, ever since he came to Iwagakure. Wonders about it more and more since the day when, for just a moment, he forgot his name.
If Danzo had never come… That's probably the only way it could have happened. If Danzo had never come to the orphanage, never tried to threaten Nonou into coming back to ROOT, never threatened to take one of her children away, that's the only way this could have been avoided.
Kabuto suspects that he would have stayed there. Not just until he was an adult, but for the rest of his life. He suspects he would have been content to stay there for the rest of his life, helping Mother run the orphanage. That would have been a nice life.
I'd grow up there, grow old there. I don't think I'd ever leave. Just stay with Mother and help her, repay her for her kindness. That's what I would have done.
And I think I would have been happy.
It's a happy dream, to live with the realities of war only on the periphery of anything. It's a happy dream, where the most he knows of violence is the wounds he would heal.
And it is just a dream.
The reality of all of this, is that the happy dream never happened, and won't, no matter how much he wants it to. Danzo came, Danzo took, and Kabuto went, smiling to hide his intentions, his feelings, as he always does now.
Dreams are just silly thought up by the brain in its boredom, trying to pass the long hours until the sleeper wakes again.
-0-0-0-
'Shift change on Thursday: 4:00 P.M. Normal. Chokichi and Goro have come. Normal.'
There are a few more lines jotted down with a careful, neutral hand, and from his hiding place, Kabuto sighs.
He's waiting to be recalled. Kabuto has accomplished what he came to Iwagakure to do, and more. He ought to be recalled any day now—no, in all honesty, he should have been recalled a week ago, or even earlier. Yukio—no, no, no, not Yukio; why do I keep thinking my name is Yukio? Kabuto can only wonder why, and wait.
Maybe they're waiting for something, and want me to be able to remember it so I can tell them. Maybe there's something happening, and it's not safe for me to break cover and leave yet. Maybe…
Maybe, maybe, maybe. There's enough "maybes" in his memory to fill a lifetime with their dust.
And it gets hard, sometimes, to remember the little things, the things that he so desperately clung to when he first entered ROOT.
He has to fight to remember that his name is "Yakushi Kabuto" sometimes, and not Yukio, Naoto, Tatsuya, Kosuke, or any of the myriad other names he's had over the years. It's hard not to look up when someone calls for a "Naoto" across a room or an open space, but if he heard someone calling for "Kabuto", he wouldn't even look up.
And if it's a struggle to remember his name, he's given up on ever remembering what his voice sounded like. It's easier for Kabuto to recall foreign accents than it is to dredge up the inflections of his birth; when he tries to speak something different from the accents of Suna, Kiri, Iwa and Kumo, he comes up only with a flat, hard voice that sounds more like the failing noises of a dying animal. If he was to run into any of his old friends, they wouldn't recognize his voice at all.
The memories of his place there, at the orphanage, seem like little more than a dream now, hazy, his memory failing him in places and filling the holes with fog.
He clings to faces. Mother. Urushi. Emi. Hideyoshi. Brother Yoshiro. Sister Kiyo. Everyone. He clings to the half-memories of skin and hair and eyes. The feel of a hand on his, arms around his back. The soft sound of laughter, the contours of a sweet smile. That's what Kabuto clings to, because he can't remember them in whole anymore.
The only other thing that stands out in his mind anymore, is the clock.
The clock that signaled bedtime, that signaled when to get up, when to eat, when to work and when to play. The clock that would break down about twice a year, enabling one of the older boys to show off his technological skills and fix it (Personally, Kabuto had to wonder how good he was if the clock would just break down again six months later, but didn't say anything).
And he wishes…
He does wish that he could see it all again.
Kabuto wishes he could go home.
But he's not sure where it is anymore, and he doesn't think he could find it on a map.
-0-0-0-
It's just after nine when he is attacked and the world starts to break along the seams.
Kabuto doesn't stop to think as his attacker descends on him. He doesn't stop to look at the face, doesn't stop to try to figure out just who is bent on killing him. Training in ROOT has taught him to make the killing blow before anyone else can do the same. His chakra scalpel slams squarely into the middle of his adversary's chest.
He hits the ground panting, gasping, barely able to catch his breath or rein in his wildly pounding heart. Was I discovered? I can't have been; no one's suspected anything strange about me. Surely no one's figure out who I am.
Well, at any rate, he's going to have to leave soon—very soon. Kabuto has little doubt that someone heard the commotion raised by the short fight. He starts to get up to flee, but as the dust clears, Kabuto catches a glimpse of long blonde hair, and broken glasses.
"Mother?"
What happens next is a rush of blood through the ears and the heart pounding out of control yet again. Kabuto forces chakra through his fingers the try to close the wound, and all the time bleak horror and anguish seep through his bones.
Mother? What are you doing here? Why are you here? You can't still be on that mission; surely that must have ended long ago. You should have been at home. Why are you here?
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. There's blood seeping from the wound. I-I didn't know it was you; I didn't mean to hurt you. The blood is like a dark sea, or maybe just a trickle; either way, it deafens him. Please don't worry Mother; I'll heal that wound, right away. She struggles to make her eyes focus. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please, I didn't mean to hurt you. There's no comprehension there. Pl-please don't be angry. This must be some sort of mistake. Please forgive me.
She doesn't recognize him. She keeps asking who that is, her pale blue eyes starting to darken and close. It's just because her glasses are broken and gone from her face; that must be it. That has to be it. Surely Mother will recognize him if her eyes are clear. Kabuto slides his glasses down off his nose and puts them back on the face they originally belonged to. Surely she'll recognize him now.
"It's Kabuto!" Healing chakra flares again. Kabuto can feel his heart in his throat, threatening to cut off air for the rest of time. I wanted to see you again, but not like this. But I promise, everything will be fine. "Don't worry! I'll save you, I promise!" His voice cracks, and cracks again, with a single promise, the weight of it pressing down on his shoulders like the hands of death.
For a long moment, there is only silence and the reality of Kabuto continuing to pour healing chakra into the wound. It won't close. Why won't it close? I can't have done that much damage. Why won't it close?
Nonou squints up at him again. Through a thin skim of blood, she opens her mouth and gives voice to just two words—"Who's… there," whispered in the weakest voice anyone's ever heard—but these two words are enough to bring the curtain crashing down on two lives at once.
All sound stops—or maybe it's his heart ceasing to beat, lying dead in his chest, now and forevermore. Nonou says no more, those blue eyes falling shut; the smear of blood on her pale cheek seems darker now.
She doesn't remember me?
The chakra at his fingertips starts to sputter.
She doesn't know who I am?
—and grow smaller.
Why?
—and finally disappear entirely.
The last, shuddering breath goes from Nonou's lips, and she is still. Kabuto can feel her heart go silent beneath his fingers.
She doesn't know him.
Mother… Mother didn't recognize me. She didn't know who I was. She thought I was a stranger. She thought there was a stranger kneeling over her in her dying moments.
But I'm not a stranger. I'm Kabuto. I'm one of her children. I'm not a stranger to her. I should be. I'm Kabuto.
Aren't I?
She didn't know who I was. Did I ever know her? Did she ever know me? I remember living with her for three years. Was that the truth? Was it real? Or was it all just a lie, an illusion? Was any of it real? Any of it at all?
If it was… If it was just a lie, what does that make me?
Who am I? Am I Kabuto, or am I something else? Am I just some sort of nameless thing? Why do I remember her? Why am I here, with the name she gave me, if I'm not her son?
The identity that had been slipping is gone—Kabuto can no longer tell if anything in his life, anything at all, was the truth. This is the one thing, the only thing he has, stolen from him as Nonou dies. The cracked, fragile picture of the world he still had shatters as she denies him and dies.
Everything in his life has been utterly meaningless.
He doesn't know who he is.
-0-0-0-
"Mother?"
A boy steps back inside as he comes outside, holding something wrapped in cloth. Mother smiles at him, squinting slightly.
"What is it?"
"I got you something," he says shyly, holding the bundle out to her.
Still sitting on the steps, Mother unwraps the package with thin, deft fingers. When she sees what's inside, she smiles.
A pair of glasses.
"Thank you, Kabuto."