So, this is my first Kabuto fic. Feel free to R&R!
Naruto and it's characters do not belong to me, of course.
Kabuto's earliest memory was of his mother, crying and sobbing his father's name, while Kabuto looked on from his doorframe, face blank and a confused look in his eyes. His mother's friend, Tari, came over and put an arm around his shoulder.
"Come on Kabuto-kun, it's time for bed." And he'd obeyed, of course. Kabuto always listened to what people said, not matter how curious he was.
His father had been gone fighting somewhere far away, that's what his mother had told him that morning when he'd asked. Had something happened to upset her so much like this?
"Is mommy okay?" Kabuto asked softly as Tari tucked the sheets around him and took his glasses off.
"She'll be fine. Just go to sleep and you'll see her in the morning."
Kabuto nodded. To him, no one ever lied. Tari was his mother's best friend, why would she lie? Tari left a dim light on and said goodnight before shutting his door. His mother didn't stop crying all night long, her wailing shrieks piercing the little boy through and through.
In April, 7 month's after his father's funeral, Kabuto and his mother went to pick daisies. Kabuto liked the way the little white petals almost seemed to bow when he walked through them. Grabbing a fistful, he pulled them up and held them out.
"Mommy!"
"Thank you, Kabuto." She said, accepting the flowers and kissing him lightly on the cheek. He grinned.
"You're smiling again?" He asked, pulling her skirt with his chubby hand. She sat down in the field and pulled him onto her lap.
"Yes, I'm smiling again." She put her chin on his grey head and held him tight, her dark hair blowing in his face. Kabuto liked when she loved him.
In November, 2 years after his father had been killed, Kabuto held a surprise birthday party for his mother with the help of Tari and Grandpa Choko, Tari's father. Mommy liked chocolate, so they made a cake with 27 candles on it.
Kabuto sat on the chair, waiting for her to come home from work so they could surprise her, his hands constantly fiddling with the glasses that were too big for him. Mommy would be proud of it, and most of all, she'd smile. Kabuto loved to see her smile.
She did smile, and she laughed. The first time in a year. Kabuto laughed too, handing her his present, and grinning as Tari ruffled his hair and told him what a rascal he was for using up all his money to get the gift.
After Grandpa Choko and Tari had given their presents and had cake, they left. Kabuto climbed into his mother's lap and listened while she read aloud from the book he'd gotten her. Right before he fell asleep, he saw her lips move and heard her beautiful laugh as something funny occurred. Kabuto wondered if there was anything more comforting.
In December, Kabuto walked home from Grandpa Choko's house with a box of cookies under his arm.
It was cold, and it urged him onwards. Mommy said she'd make something warm tonight, and then they'd start a different book about snowflakes. The first thing he heard was a scream coming from his right, and then the sound of fighting. Kabuto started running as more angry sounds rose up in the air. He made it to his house just as they began to set fire to it.
Someone dragged his mother out of the burning building and began beating her. The man had a white deer mask on. Kabuto heard her crys and it almost reminded him of the day his father had died, but this time it held fear.
"Mommy!" He shrieked, dropping the box of cookies and starting to run towards her.
"Kabuto, stop!" She yelled back, kicking the man in his knee to distract him. He was completely unphased and just turned his head towards the little boy, a knife in his hand.
Kabuto stopped, because he always obeyed, tears running down his cheeks.
"Mommy, mommy," he whispered over and over again, watching as the man cut her throat and then threw her carelessly to the ground. All other noise was blocked out as the man advanced on him and Kabuto turned and ran off the other way, dodging in between buildings.
He heard more screams, saw fire being lit to buildings, and even saw some struggling with weapons. None had a chance. Most ninjas were away fighting. They never expected the enemy to come here.
Kabuto's breaths came out in short gasps as he stopped at the top of the hill that overlooked the village, shivering and sobbing as he kept replaying the vision of his mother dying to the hands of the man in the white deer mask.
It was an hour later before he went down back into the village, the smoke rising black against the rising sun. Tears had ceased falling. His face was a cold mask. He'd seen them all die to the people in the ivory masks.
There was Tari with her blonde hair splattered with blood, her green eyes staring up at the sky and red spilling out of her chest.
Grandpa Choko with several kunai in his back, his face pressed in the snow.
Rabosu, the little girl he played with sometimes, crumpled in a bloody heap.
And then…The façade fell and Kabuto began to cry again, sinking to his knees beside his mother's limp body.
He placed his head on her chest, sobs wracking his body as he mumbled her name and tried to will her back to life. She had to smile. Why could he only think of the pain on her face as she was murdered? She had to smile, she had to…
"Hey look, there's one alive!"
Kabuto leaped to his feet and backed up, watching the men approach. They didn't have masks and they looked friendly enough. He wiped his tears away hurriedly and balled his hands into fists.
"We're not gonna hurt you," one of them said, stopping and bending down to Kabuto's size. He had kind brown eyes and dark hair.
"You're one of them." Kabuto whimpered back, trying not to let fear leak into his voice.
"No, I'm not. I'm a medic. Ninja. I promise no one's going to hurt you."
Kabuto let his hands drop and let the man put a hand on his shoulder.
"Common, I'll get you some food and a blanket."
Kabuto let himself be led along. He didn't even look back once. It hurt to see her dead body lying on the ground, no smile on her soft lips.
He wished he'd made her smile more often.