Hey there guys. Just as a heads up, I changed a little of Kabuto's history. Few of you would have noticed on your own, I'm sure, but I decided to warn you anyway. Oh, and spoilers from well… let's just say the latest issue with Kabuto in it.
Kabuto hated the color red. It was never associated with anything good, in his opinion.
It probably had something to do with the first time he was exposed to true red. He had been sitting in the middle of that battle field for hours when that Konoha medic found him there. It was the first real red he'd ever seen: the blood of fallen men. But the kind Konoha doctor pulled him from the carnage and wiped the blood from his face. He was young enough to feign the inability to speak, so he never had to utter his alliances or true name. To this day he's never said either nor even thought them in fear that he would remember the cold gray eyes of someone he knew almost entirely in utero (in more fear that he'd forgotten without ever realizing it).
He saw flashes of red several more times throughout his youth – raised as a ninja by a medic, it was inevitable really – but nothing quite like when his vision went red for the first time.
Kabuto was a smart boy – smarter than most – so he didn't ever have to deal with head wounds in academy (he learned to duck). So one day on a mission in Rain Country, he had no idea what was going on when red covered everything he looked at. A moment later, when the searing pain in his temple caught up to him, he knew what had happened.
That was his first day as a puppet of Sasori.
The next time he came in close contact with the color is filed in Kabuto's mind as the greatest (the biggest, most wonderful, best) coincidence ever.
He was on another mission, this one more independent from his squad; they weren't meant to rendezvous for another week. He was deeply worried that he would be commissioned by Sasori again (he wasn't meant to know about being a puppet of the man, but it was a well hidden fact how much of a genius Kabuto was and genjutsus never worked to well on him anyway) when another threat approached.
It was a man Kabuto would associate forever with nothing but a pure, un-adultered drive for knowledge, a man that for some reason he respected above all others – basically, the man that would make him somebody.
Orochimaru wandered right into his hidden campsite, obviously exhausted and near to unconsciousness. His irises contracting momentarily was the only sign of surprise before he snarled at Kabuto (something about fixing him or suffering worse) before he shoved a bloody parcel into his lap. Kabuto could only guess that Orochimaru recognized him as Sasori's little medic-puppet – a fact that probably had just saved his life.
Upon unfolding the rags, Kabuto came face to, well, palm with a severed hand. Looking up, he finally noticed the bandaged stump the older nin now had as a forearm.
"It's been too long," Kabuto said, putting down the long cold hand. "Had I been there within the hour, maybe two, something could have been done."
Orochimaru looked like he was about to cut off his own arms (the something worse, most likely), so Kabuto continued.
"I can fix your arm, if you'd like not to bleed to death. Your hand can't be saved, but you can."
He was still idealistic at this point.
Orochimaru allowed it, glaring poison at him the entire time. Kabuto worked in silent efficiency and tried desperately to ignore who he was working on.
By morning, Orochimaru walked off with a new resolve and left Kabuto feeling a little like a traitor.
Sundown had him running into the legendary ninja again.
"I can use you," was Orochimaru's unexpected greeting.
"I'd rather you not," Kabuto had replied, more out of instinct than anything.
That night, Kabuto was painted red as Orochimaru convinced him that he'd really rather follow what the older nin said.
On a lighter note, he was never Sasori's puppet again – just Orochimaru's bitch.
The next few years were filled with increasing amounts of that distasteful red. Whether he was inflicting the wounds the blood poured from or healing them (sometimes both in quick succession), his hatred for the color and substance only grew. He never thought he could hate something more than the color of freshly spilt blood. That is, until he met one Sasuke Uchiha.
Ah, Sasuke Uchiha, know as the very bane of Kabuto's existence to the melodramatic, teenage part of the medic nin's brain. And it was all because he had those stupid, red eyes.
It wasn't a new red, just red in a new way and that made him hate it more. Kabuto had never wanted to shove a kunai into someone's eye before, but he thought it might be worth a go.
Now, Kabuto knew it wasn't Sasuke's fault that he was born with the Sharingan, so he could forgive him for that. He could, but he wouldn't.
Before Sasuke, Kabuto had been Orochimaru's right hand, sometimes literally. He remained as such once the boy came into the picture, but it was different. Once the legendary nin took notice of the youngest (and almost final) Sharingan wielder, everything changed.
He was still the legendary nin's prized spy, personal medic, and pretty much second in command, but it all seemed less in comparison to that damned Uchiha being the next container – no, the perfect container. Kabuto wouldn't even be considered now (not that he would have been, but with Kimimaro out of the picture, it was possible). Sasuke just had a way of ruining everything.
At first, it wasn't so bad. Being trained by Orochimaru was equivalent to agreeing to be the stuffing in a punching bag at first. More often than not, the only time Kabuto saw the boy was when he would patch him up. The Uchiha would stare forward and completely ignore the medic which was fine with Kabuto.
That didn't last long.
Within a year, the boy improved enough that Kabuto was commissioned as his official sparring partner (half of him completely unwilling to help improve the blasted wretch, the other half eager and rearing to beat the hell out of him without Orochimaru demanding a reason). This was the beginning of the end for the medic.
Eventually, Sasuke was seen as an equal to Orochimaru, someone that could speak freely and not be dealt a quick and/or fatal blow. Kabuto had been the only one ever to reach that level before, and he didn't like having to share it with the Uchiha.
And then Sasuke did the unthinkable with those damned Sharingans. He destroyed Orochimaru as completely as Orochimaru had destroyed all of his containers.
As Kabuto left the Sound Village for what he was sure would be the last time – he could feel what was left of Orochimaru, what he had taken into his own body, begin to move, to spread farther down his face and leak into his neck – he hated those abominal red eyes above all else.