家路 (The Path Home)

Disclaimer: I do not own, and will never own, the Naruto Series. But Tomoe does belong to me.

CHAPTER 4

I was five when I got a private tutor. It all started, as the story did, in Konoha's General Hospital where I, your narrator, had been born:

Fugaku was wearing a serious look, face pinched into a disapproving frown as he stared down at me: it was an expression he often leveled at his youngest son since said son was his hugest disappointment ever. "So this was what happened: you fell into the Nakano River, suffered from concussion and the best explanation you can give is … sleepwalking?"

It sounded completely ludicrous when he phrased it that way.

"I wasn't lying!" I burst out, rubbing the spot where it was supposed to hurt. After I'd been found, I'd been rushed to the hospital (I was a pretty frequent visitor there) and I'd had it treated. A bandage wrapped around my head, plastering my bangs to my forehead. "I just woke up in the hospital!"

Tou-san sighed. "Your concussion has scrambled your memory," he stated, as if this was a defining sentence that meant it had really happened to me. I seriously had no idea how that happened. The last thing I remembered, through spotty memories, was walking to the main house to welcome Itachi back. He was supposed to come back today.

"Your blood was clogged. A harder blow to your head could've killed you."

I frowned at the white sheet covering my lap. Tou-san was the only one present since Itachi was absent, Sasuke was in school and Kaa-san didn't know about this yet. I really, really hated worrying people and this was the one time I didn't actually do anything to make them worry themselves bald. "Sorry," I settled for saying, swallowing the lump of reluctance at this unjust turn of events.

If I'd been attacked, why hadn't I been kidnapped? In fact, I'd been found pretty quickly by my fellow Uchiha clansmen and they couldn't find clues about what had happened. I was the authentic Uchiha Tomoe though, they could tell from my chakra color so they weren't suspicious of me or anything. Besides, I felt no internal or external changes.

Fear stabbed my chest. At least, I hoped not.

Tou-san sat beside me, on the stool. "That was not a lasting damage. You can be discharged this evening."

"Why not now?" I asked.

"Because I thought you would like to be acquainted with your new instructor," Tou-san replied. I blinked, confused, at him, as I played with the linen sheet. My fingers skimmed over the fabric, marveling slightly at the quality of the linen beneath my fingers. "I've decided that being able to heal yourself is an essential skill you need. Not only that, Yakushi-san would be the ideal person to teach you what is danger and what you should avoid as neither your mother nor I have the time or skills adequate to teach you that."

The familiar named tickled the back of my memory. As if on cue, there were three sharp raps on the door. Tou-san straightened, standing to appear dignified (weird guy), and said, "Enter."

My memory of the woman wasn't clear but it sharpened with refine when she entered: wheat-colored hair and kind aqua eyes behind her round glasses, it was Yakushi Nonō in the flesh.

"Hello, Uchiha-sama, Tomoe-kun." She smiled at me; the mother of a psycho-to-be still alive and unaware her son would turn up to be one of the biggest screw-ups in this universe.

As expected of adults, they exchanged polite pleasantries. Tou-san left after Yakushi-san assured him she would bring me back to the Uchiha district after we were done talking. It was nearly evening.

"Why were you assigned to me?" I asked, unable to hold my curiosity down.

Nonō unwrapped the bandages around my head, pressing her fingers gently on my scalp—I could feel the pressure—then her gentle, warm chakra was injected into me. I relaxed immediately, sighing contentedly. The feel of her chakra was very satisfying; I liked it.

"I run an orphanage in the outskirts of Konoha," Nonō explained, "and having more than fifty children taxes on my life's savings. Your father requested a medic who would have time and patience to be your instructor so I immediately sign up for it. I hope it wouldn't be too much of a trouble to come every day from Tuesday to Saturday?"

"It's okay," I said, still slightly surprised to have met this woman out of every canon character there was to meet. "But I don't know the way."

"My son—Kabuto—will pick you up. He has silver hair and black eyes, he wears the same glasses as I do." Nonō patted my shoulder. "There, all patched up." She helped me off the bed and handed me a yukata that Tou-san had brought in. "Come now, let's get you home."

"Okay," I said obediently, instinctively reaching up to take her hand when she reached out for mine.

I couldn't imagine that warm, maternal smile on a dead woman's face.

~{IV}~

"Are you Kabuto?"

The older boy leaning against the wall that bordered the Uchiha district raised his head to look at me. There was no doubt about it: he adjusted his glasses so that his black eyes were in clear view. He rolled up the scroll he'd been reading before I had interrupted him.

"Yes, I am. Tomoe, I presume?"

"Yep."

Without another word, Kabuto turned and walked away. I hurried after him, my hands empty. I hadn't brought anything since Nonō assured me I would be back home before it was lunchtime and Kabuto would also walk be back—because I was too young.

"How old are you?" I asked, quite interested. He seemed to be in his early teens … a preteen at most.

"I'm thirteen," he answered. I couldn't read the expression on Kabuto's face. He did not have the polite smile or the conniving smirk he'd been portrayed with in the series. This could be easily explained away with Nonō's existence. His mother's death had broken him in a way that no one could repair until Itachi made him see sense. There was a slight pause as we left the Uchiha district further and further behind us. "What about you?" he finally asked, continuing this farce of a conversation.

I suspected a few things about his attitude towards me. Kabuto—and the rest of the kids at the orphanage—had to play it nice and polite with me because I was the son of the man currently funding their livelihood. If they put one toe out of line around me, I might report to my dad, and they'd lose their money and only chance of survival.

I counted myself as a rich kid and damn was I happy about that. I could understand being a kid living at the orphanage, counting on the charity of others to survive—sometimes you have to ditch pride and scrape and grovel for your own sake. But this wasn't a government establishment like the orphanage I'd lived in, it was established by Nonō and she was expected to fund the expense by herself. I could empathize with Kabuto: he disliked me for having such a huge sway over him, his life, and his home.

I knew what that felt like.

So, taking a deep breath, I jogged until I was standing in front of him. He stopped walking, glancing down at me expectantly. "What?" he asked, unable to keep the rudeness out of his voice.

"You sound fake. You're afraid I'm going to get my father to shut the orphanage down, aren't you?"

Kabuto's eyes narrowed the slightest bit. Almost imperceptibly. But I had spent way too much time with Itachi so I knew how to read people pretty well by now. I felt a sudden rush of defensiveness to match the same emotion creeping into Kabuto's eyes. "Do I look that evil to you? Do I?" I challenged.

Kabuto looked doubtful. "It's hard to tell. You are still but a child, you may be innocent now, but who is to say evil won't taint you? Regardless, I've been taught not to judge a book by its cover." He was avoiding my question.

I rolled my eyes. "So, was I right?"

"If I say yes, would that offend you?"

"'Course not!" I said, surprised by that assumption. "I'd be even more offended if you try to lie and act. I prefer honesty."

Kabuto snorted cynically. "In the life of a shinobi, you can't live counting on people's honesty."

"Are you a shinobi?"

"Yes." He didn't sound happy about that.

"Then I must defer to you as a senior. It's nice to meet you, Kabuto-senpai!" It was kinda nice, to see a big bad before he went down that road. I'd look back and wonder what went wrong with this sweet kid—except the obvious.

This time, Kabuto's voice was closer to genuine: "Same to you, Tomoe-kun."

~{IV}~

I was a bit nervous to see so many kids of all ages and appearance at first but since I was pretty tiny, they ignored me and went on with their games while Nonō started our lesson. We didn't do anything practical or anything close to iryō-ninjutsu. She spent the whole session telling me what would hurt me and quizzed me verbally about cause and effects of some dangerous substance.

Kabuto came to pick me up every time and we spoke during our journey to the orphanage—which was a good forty minutes. Sometimes, he would pitch in to help as a demonstration. He looked hilarious, playing dead and the victim of a Fireball Jutsu. It was a pretty fun exercise. I was glad to have something to share with Anija in return for his day at the Academy.

It was my second week that we finally started on something medical. It was about learning the human anatomy though. Briefly, if I wanted to stay any longer there, I would either be roped into a game with other children, or Kabuto will take me to the backyard and teach me how to throw kunai.

I was growing fonder of the quiet, thoughtful and knowledgeable teen. It was quite obvious that his mother meant the world to him from his actions. He obeyed her readily and without a word of complain. There was a tenderness rarely seen in his eyes when he was around her and the other kids at the orphanage. Orochimaru twisted what Danzō had melted; by the time they were done playing, this boy—their toy—had been beyond repair, something a child would toss into the wastebasket.

"Are you listening to me, Tomoe-kun?"

I looked up from the target post to Kabuto who crouched beside me. "Um … something about, er, this plus that makes a deadly poison?" Nonō had just started me on medicines and their functions—it was an encyclopedia. Behind her back, Kabuto had given me a book on poisonous substance. He did have a rebellious bone though he was pretty subtle about it. Mama Nonō can be quite scary given the right incentive.

Kabuto rolled his eyes. "I was saying I will be leaving on a mission. It's going to take a long while," he told me.

"I'll miss you," I said. It was true: he'd always acted as a buffer to the rest of the kids who made several jibes at my Uchiha heritage, shooing the bullies away before they tried something funny. "It's going to be awkward around here."

"You've been here frequently, you should be able to find your way to and fro."

I sighed. "Yeah, but that's not all. I miss, y'know, your presence. If I wanted a GPS, I would've signed a contract with dog summons."

"What's a GPS?" asked Kabuto, mispronouncing the word. Oh, right. Technology wasn't so advanced here, I should cut him some slack.

"It's something I made up," I lied glibly, "about people who guide others."

"Then they're called guides," said Kabuto somewhat scornfully. Had I mentioned how high and mighty this guy could get? He's high and mighty when he wants to show he knows something I don't.

"I told you, I made it up."

"Hmph."

~{IV}~

I turned six and Itachi started acting weirdly: it signified the downfall of our clan.

I didn't call him on it—it wasn't like I had anything productive to say. I stared at the clear pool water lapping at my ankles. Seated safely on the dock where the fathers would teach their sons the trademark, initial right jutsu of our clans, I was applying chakra to the soles of my feet, practicing my chakra control even though my feet kept sinking.

So the gruff voice startled me so badly I nearly fell into the water. I turned around, my knuckles turning white as my grip tightened on the edge of the dock. "Tou-san," I said, heartbeat calming. I was mildly surprised to see him. Aside from meals which were usually conducted between Anija and Kaa-san—Tou-san and Aniue were fighting a cold war of hn's and hair-flipping—I hadn't seen him much, much less spoken to him. "Um, good afternoon."

"What're you doing sitting here, Tomoe?" Fugaku asked, arching a brow. "Don't you have productive things to do?"

"I'm too young to have grey hair," I replied, "It's best not to stress myself."

Fugaku's eyes narrowed. I was probably the only son who dared to openly sass him. Aniue wasn't rebellious until now, when Fugaku wanted to jeopardize the shaky peace of our world. Me, eh, I was a different matter entirely. I never understood why Anija wanted and needed Tou-san's acknowledgement so much. I was pretty content with my status in his eyes. Then again, I was used to not being paid any attention—an orphan had to share the attention of the patron or matron with three to five dozens more of kids.

"Not pushing yourself to your fullest means your growth will forever be stunted here."

"I do train," I insisted, "with Kaa-san, who, by the way, in case you've forgotten—was a jōnin. Can't you see that I'm covered in sheen of sweat?"

"You were lazing around here two hours ago beneath the sun, of course you would be sweating; do not bother lying to me, Tomoe." Tou-san's frown was terminal. He crossed his arms and advanced, his shadow looming over me. "I did not raise my sons to be lazy—"

I thought of Sasuke, eyes dark and hopeful, directed at Fugaku but Tou-san never saw it at all. Kaa-san's assurances were empty. I snorted before I could rethink my impudence. "Might want to try that again when you actually did the raising part. It was mostly Kaa-san's work so far and I'm damn fine." Back turned, I didn't see the blow coming.

But my father had hit me hard enough for me to slip off the dock and into the water. I flailed slightly, panicking and my chakra automatically surged to my fingertips—for the lack of anything to hold onto—I snagged the surface of the water and pulled.

The water was … well, slippery. It was like holding onto soap. My head broke surface before I could suffocate. I spluttered and spat filthy pond water out of my mouth. I didn't know how to swim and I definitely wasn't tall enough to reach for the dock.

"Tomoe," said Fugaku, trying to garner my attention and he extended a hand. I refused to answer as I trembled with ill-suppressed fury and humiliation; eyes burning, I steadied my grip, clawing my way up and stumbled, ankle-deep and sinking into the water to the shore.

I was soaking wet but I ignored it and ran, leaving my sandals at the dock, as I sped back to the main house. I was certainly no stranger to punishment—the teachers in school and matrons at the orphanage had not held back when I acted out—but that didn't mean I could be completely blasé to how my father had smacked me. As far as I could recall, Fugaku had never punished Anija and Aniue this way before—ever.

"Tomoe?" My name was called again, this time by the softer voice of my mother—a parent I was more receptive to. Mikoto peered at me, her gaze wry and concerned. "Why are you soaking wet?"

I contemplated complaining. "Fell into the dock," I answered speedily. "I'm going to go change," I added as I headed for the kitchen. Kaa-san waylaid me by enveloping me in a towel, working on drying my hair and exposed skin for now.

Up close, I saw it in her eyes that she didn't believe me—she knew it wasn't quite as simple as I had made it sound. "Whatever happens, you know you can talk to me," she cajoled as she draped the pink towel around my small torso. With all that genuine kindness and maternal love, I sometimes forgot she was a jōnin who had once whirled through the enemy ranks, armed with only a ninja wire that severed the heads of a platoon of enemy.

I wrinkled my nose. "It's no big deal," I assured her. It wasn't like I could feel the pain, I was just shocked that he'd actually done that—which was actually within his rights so I couldn't complain too much. Besides, I knew I had it coming.

Kaa-san eyed me doubtfully. "If you're sure," she finally relented with a small sigh, allowing me to dry my feet before leaving for my shed.

I didn't look back, sure that I would see her face crumpling in sadness and disappointment when her sons didn't trust her with anything that had happened to him recently. The woman had given up her five-star career as a shinobi to mother us instead of remaining in active duty like some other women in the clan would, just so she wouldn't neglect us.

And here we were, her sons, neglecting her.

I promised myself to make a better effort to spend time with her. I finally had a mother. I didn't want to waste that.

~{IV}~

Things were tense between me and Fugaku. I ate quickly to diminish the time we had to spend together and avoided him whenever he was in the room, automatically falling into a foul mood when I saw him. My brothers and mother probably picked up on that but they tactfully didn't try to get us to make up. Some days, he could criticized me and even though Itachi tried to intervene, it always resulted in me getting kicked out of the house (fine, my shed was out of his house anyway). Well, fine, Shisui's house was always open to me.

I could've gone on and ignored Fugaku forever. Really. I mean it.

Then Shisui didn't come back for a long, long time. I didn't learn why until weeks after his suicide.

Three weeks after Kabuto left on his mission, I had adapted to his absence though I still half-expected him to be there, leaning against the wall and reading a scroll or staring up at the sky, waiting for me. He wasn't there, not on the day I needed his pragmatic remarks. I found myself at the Memorial Stone instead, seeking comfort no one seemed capable of giving.

"You shouldn't do that, kid."

I tried not to look to guilty or startled as I dropped the sharp kunai I was holding, whirling around to see who had spoken. He was garbed in Anbu attire Aniue wore everyday now. His mask was situated at the side of his face, revealing annoyed black eyes that glared wearily, halfheartedly down at me.

"Do what?" I asked dourly, trying not to let this silver-haired scarecrow scare me.

"Desecrating a grave," he replied, kneeling beside me to pick up the kunai. He did not return it to me. I eyed his gravity-defying hair, recognizing him immediately, if his mask hadn't done so already. His headband covered one eye. On any other day, I would've been excited to see an important canon character.

But … not today. Just not now.

"This is a grievous offence. If you were not a child, I would've handed you over to the Military Police Force—"

"You could," I sniped, crossing my arms defensively, glaring at the name of Uchiha Obito, feeling like lauding all the blame onto him. Him and the Konoha Elders and my father and the stupid Uchiha Elders. I squeezed my eyes shut against the burning sensation, tears fighting against my will to escape. "Just another reason for my father to scream at me."

"Father … so you're Fugaku's son." There was no question behind it. I nodded. "What're you doing here?" asked the Anbu.

"Kaa-san told me to not talk to strangers. Hmph!"

"Kakashi." He blinked down at me. "What's your name?"

"… Tomoe."

"Well, Tomoe-chan," he failed to inject much sympathy and kindness into his voice as he stared down at me, sternly, disapprovingly. "Didn't your parents teach you to not scratch names off the Memorial Stone? Do you know what this is? Shinobi who'd died for the village have their names carved here. This is—"

"I know what it is." My shoulders sagged. "I just … I wanted to add another name there, not desecrate it. He deserves to be on here."

"Who?" Kakashi asked, eyeing me curiously. His anger had ebbed when he found out I wasn't there to spit on his fellow shinobi's sacrifices.

"Shisui … Uchiha Shisui."

Kakashi was silent for a moment as he tried to recall the person who was named as such. I sniffled, rubbing my eyes but the pitiful-kid act didn't work much against him. Fucker. "This memorial is for shinobi who've been killed on missions. Not for shinobi who committed suicide." His voice was slightly steely.

My temper was stretched taut by the unjust of this all. I whirled onto him, electricity sparking the air in agitation. Kakashi eyed me warily though he could kill me with just a snap of his wrist. He, after all, had the weapon. "It's not fair!" I shrilled, clenching my fists. Shisui had died for the village.

Shisui. Shisui. My eyes burned. He killed himself to ensure peace, to give Itachi the power to protect the village he loved so much. I'd just realized his grave had already been erected; I can't believe my mother and Itachi let me wallowed in imaginary pranks to laud on someone who'd never come back. His grave was a lonely, grey, cold thing at the edge of Konoha Graveyard, as if people wanted to forget the strongest Uchiha of this generation as quickly as possible. His eyes were gone, believed to have been scavenged by the aquatic creatures residing in the Nakano River. In response to the news, Mikoto had plucked a completely innocent crab out of the river and squashed it ruthlessly.

"So? Does dying glorify everything? Does that mean you'd served this village worse than them? Shisui gave as much—if not, more—than these people!" I wanted to sound angry. I wanted to march up to the Hokage Tower and kill the Elders and Hokage, but I couldn't. I sobbed into my arms. "Something went wrong! Someone forced him to … someone killed … someone …"

Long, lean, hesitant arms awkwardly wrapped around me, pulling me closer to his body—this killing machine—but he did not hug me. His remaining eye was soft, like molasses, his kindness and sympathy pooling slowly and hesitantly, as if unsure about showing so much emotion. "Look, kid, I understand how you feel and …" Kakashi looked down, at the grass, for an answer to placate me.

I hissed an angry, teary breath. Kakashi raised the kunai he was holding. "Watch," he whispered softly. And below the last name where a space of metallic grey was, he inscribed the name Uchiha, followed by Shisui's name.

"You're right, even though the pigheaded Elders wouldn't permit other names to stay on here." Kakashi's eye curved into his version of a smile as he gently patted my head. "I think this is the only name I can write here without being fined half my life's bank savings."

I hiccupped, placated by the gesture. It still wasn't enough to erase the searing pain Shisui's death had left in its wake but the anger had been pushed down; his kunai chipped rock to inscribe a name, and with it, my hatred was chipped quite a bit.

"Don't cry anymore, okay? You better go home, your parents will worry."

I didn't see any other reason to stay. I'd come here with the intention to carve Shisui's name there, since he undoubtedly deserve the honor and I'd achieved what I came for. I pinched my arm, scratching at my pale skin listlessly, trying to inflict physical pain to detract from what was bulldozing in my chest. It wasn't working and now I was bleeding. I frowned deeply, trying not to be too disturbed by it.

I had returned to the village instead of its outskirts when I felt my eldest brother's chakra flaring in greeting. I looked up. Itachi lifted his hand to catch my attention. He was speaking to another Anbu and it didn't take him long for him to join me. His smile did not entirely mask the grief.

"I was worrying about you and Kaa-san's about to mobilize the entire Police Force to find you. Where were you?"

I grunted, "Memorial stone," and quickened my pace. Itachi effortlessly kept us, gently maneuvering me through the streets to reach the compound. I wasn't big about directions or memorizing routes for the matter.

"Why?"

"To carve Shisui's name—" Itachi opened his mouth to tell me what I already knew and I quickly cut in, "And I already did. Well, someone helped, but never mind. Shisui's name will forever be embedded there."

Itachi frowned briefly. "How did you manage that?"

"Shinobi Rule 22: never tell the secret of your trade."

Itachi's lips creased faintly. "You made that up." But he didn't push for details. I walked closer to him, brows furrowed. He couldn't have missed my red-rimmed eyes. Crying for consecutive hours, unsurprisingly, didn't make me feel any ache.

I took Itachi's hand and let him guide me home, letting myself drift into the embrace of memories instead. It was like looking through a kaleidoscope—this memory surfaced, shifted and was tossed to the wind to be replaced by another before I could properly relished it: Shisui cracking his knuckles about something I'd said; Shisui laughing as he startled me so badly I fell off the tree; Shisui flickering out of sight and reappearing behind me, pulling my hair; playing hide-and-seek again; leaning over and saying something my memory couldn't provide.

I started bawling—mostly to let loose my frustration—and didn't stop until Itachi shoved a stick of dango into my mouth.

To spite Itachi—who had benefitted from Shisui's death and had done practically nothing—I caused a scene by electrocuting him and anyone within a three-meter radius.

(He had to wrestle me home, looking mortified all the way, when someone pointed and muttered, "Child abuse," for all to hear.)

~{IV}~

Subconsciously, I think I knew Shisui would die. I finally admitted this a week later. I'd been religiously ignoring the possibility of me being able to do anything about his death because, let's face it, there was nothing I could do about it. The night of Shisui's death, I had the worst attack yet and Shisui wasn't there.

Of the Eight Gates, my First Gate cracked and opened, unleashing a hail of chakra that threatened to flow around my body superfast and hard to slam into the Second Gate and opening that too, creating a domino effect until the Eighth Gate cracked.

I'd been rushed to the Hyūga Compound by mother and the medic there had hit this tenketsu and that tenketsu to stop the flow of chakra. I was admitted into the hospital for a couple of hours but I insisted to be discharged after hearing about Shisui's death, just to see his grave. Now that Shisui wouldn't be there to watch out for any attacks, I was roomed with Itachi because he was more equipped to handle anymore attacks. I could tell Sasuke was really jealous about this development but he understood that my healthy problems made this mandatory. Usually, I hung around Shisui and practically slept under his roof, which meant I was not that close to either of my real brothers.

I let out a miserable groan as I rolled around in my new bed. I didn't like this. Being super tiny for my age, the bed felt too large and lonely for my liking, especially when I'd grown used to sharing it with Shisui. I didn't need my chakra sensing skills to know that Itachi was wide awake, alert of the commotion I was making. I did not care about him and opted to make even more of a ruckus, kicking the headboard rhythmically.

Suffer, Itachi, suffer!

Finally, he cracked. "What's wrong, Tomoe?" he asked, his tone calm, not portraying any of the insufferableness he was feeling. I tended to make even saints crack and whale at me. I cartwheeled on the bed, tiny enough to actually pull it off.

"I … miss Shisui." I paused, flopping onto and frowning into my pillow, determined to not let tears leak out. Man, this summer was sure hot … even my eyes were sweating. "I usually bother him for an hour before sleeping—there."

"We realize, since your shed's covered in dust."

"I'd like to keep it that way," I said quietly. "It has sentimental value to me."

"Why?" asked Itachi. Either he was curious or he wanted to distract me from the painful topic that was Shisui's death.

"I used to be alone there … I guess it's a reminder I can always leave the loneliness and look back with fondness." I blinked at the ceiling, sweating bullets. Particularly, the area around my eyes. "It's psychobabble, don't pay it any attenti—"

Itachi's shadow loomed over me. He smiled sadly, sitting down on my bed. "That's a nice way of thinking things. When you rationalize your fears away, nothing really bothers you anymore." He ruffled my hair. "Go to bed, Tomoe."

Discomfort twisted my chest into knots. I squirmed, accidentally kicking Itachi and sparking electricity. "Gates," I mumbled, "they're acting up."

Itachi pressed his hand over my accelerating heart. "It will be okay," he promised. His eyes flashed a bloody vermillion. Before I could call him on it, drowsiness settled in, weighing my eyelids down. "Good night, Tomoe."

My grip on his shirt slipped and the slippery darkness spinning in his eyes dragged me into its depths.

~{IV}~

In case it wasn't clear, there was a time-skip at the beginning. And thanks to all guest reviewers; to answer Tayura's question, yes there will be pairings (or crushes as Tomoe's still technically a kid/prepubescent teen with no real experience with love) but not so soon.

About Kabuto being in Konoha; he was taken away at a young age and from the manga, he hadn't seen his foster family in years due to the need to make money. But after Fugaku hired Nonou with generous wages, she cut off her contract with Root and after threatening to report to the Hokage, Danzo relinquished Kabuto of active duty though he is still a member of Root. Also, did anyone notice how the timeline given in the Naruto franchise is sketchy and contradicts one another sometime?

P.S: This chapter's drabble will reveal the minutes before Shisui's death and why/how Tomoe was injured at the beginning.

Question: Would you prefer reading SI's in 3rd person pov or 1st person pov?

R&R