When Wakahisa Kabuto had been born, his family had been fleeing their devastated village.

Civil war had always ravaged Kiri, and not even the Third Shinobi War could quiet it completely. His father had been one of the few Mist ninja to properly retire due to battle injuries, and had thus been assigned to live outside Kiri to handle the ever-present discontent. The small village where their family lived had been burned down by a small band of rebels, but the potential rebellion had been quelled by his swift intervention.

They had not been so lucky five years later when another band of rebels attacked their small family.

Young Kabuto had been helpless to do anything but watch from his hiding spot under the floorboards as his mother had her throat slit by the rebels in front of his roaring father, the man's arms cut down to little more than gory stumps. Hours of torture had stolen his legs and remaining arms bit by bit, leaving him only able to scream his wife's name as the light faded from her eyes. Kabuto could only stare as the rebels slashed his father's throat, blood dripping through the gaps in the floorboards and staining his face.

Four hours would pass after they left before one of his father's old friends finally arrived at the grisly scene, prying the floorboards away to find the shell-shocked boy. The retired kunoichi swept him up in a tight embrace and carried him away, but the scene had burned itself into his mind. Out of an unknown debt to his father, the woman would take him in and teach him her ways as both a shinobi and a medic, calling herself "Kaede" and swearing to tell him her true name when he grew older. Alas, he never did learn her name, the woman ultimately perishing from a stroke while collecting herbs.

A tragic, heartbreaking story, made even more tragic by the fact that the real Wakahisa Kabuto had died at the hands of Konoha's ANBU Root the same day as his parents.

The imposter who'd taken on his role grunted as he pushed the cart of dirty laundry down the hall, his nose wrinkling in mild disgust at the ugly stains marring the sheets on top. Blood he could handle fine, but the latest patient had soiled his sheets with a number of other fluids from multiple orifices.

It's for Mother, he told himself as he entered the laundry room where Amuro waited. Everything Kabuto did, he did for Nonou. Joining Root had been one of the most grueling decisions of his life, and in the past year he'd been forced to do near-unspeakable acts in its name. However, he did not regret his decision, not when it helped Nonou. Kabuto owed everything to the kind woman who had given him his name, and if being a spy would guarantee her beloved orphanage funding and support, he would do it.

Still, he found it a bit hard to stomach at times. Root had not succeeded in wiping his emotions to a blank slate like so many of his other compatriots, so he felt plenty of revulsion. He at least fared better than Amuro, who made a retching sound when he saw the sheets at the top of the bin. "What are those?" he gasped, stepping back.

"The patient began leaking fluid from his ears," he replied with a grimace, and Amuro ogled first him, and then the sheets, and then quickly blanched and went back to staring at Kabuto.

"What kind of fluid leaks from there?" he whispered in horror. "Why did he leak fluid?"

"I don't know." Kabuto had never seen someone leak fluid from their ears before. He didn't know what could cause something like that, and he wasn't sure he wanted to.

Too bad he'd probably find out.

"Any chance we can just burn them?" Amuro asked with a grimace, and Kabuto sighed.

"I don't think so. The stains are just another body fluid, technically, so they should be able to come out." He mirrored Amuro's face as he spoke, not looking forward to it. Laundry had to be washed and scrubbed by hand, and as the two sole trainees that responsibility fell to them by default.

"I think I hate Suzuki for chickening out," Amuro grumbled as they began pulling the sheets out of the bin, and Kabuto grunted in quiet agreement.

They were elbows-deep in the metal washing bins, halfway through the pile of dirty sheets and scrubbing away various stubborn stains, when the door opened. Both turned to look at the newcomer, and Kabuto had to suppress the urge to flinch as he recognized the teenage female standing in the door.

Kiri's "Mad Butcher" had been one of many boogeymen in the orphanage. Older children loved scaring him with stories about the girl who would gleefully tear apart her enemies and then fix them so they would survive, but forever bear scars from the encounter. Rumors even stated one of the orphanage workers with only one arm and a nasty purple scar on his face had been one of her victims.

Needless to say, Kabuto had plenty of reason to fear Ringo Sute.

So far, Kabuto had very limited interactions with her. He felt glad for that, because his observations suggested her to be a mildly feared entity even within Kiri. Her absence the past six weeks had left the hospital much quieter and calmer without patients screaming in her less-than-delicate care. Her gaze roved over the room, and he felt his blood chill as apple green eyes settled on him.

"Wakahisa Kabuto, right?" she asked, and he stiffened, swallowing harshly before nodding.

"I, ah, yes?" he stammered hesitantly, and she smirked.

"Drop the sheets and come with me." He nearly recoiled at the order, his hands tightening their grip as his eyes widened.

"P-pardon?" he managed.

"You heard me," Sute said with a shrug. "You have one minute to wash your hands and get out here." She turned and stalked away from the door, leaving Kabuto to sit in shock for about five seconds before scrambling to his feet and darting to the sink. Amuro shot him a pitying glance as he quickly washed his hands and fled, which wasn't surprising. Sute had earned her respect at the hospital through blood, sweat, and tears—and not particularly her own.

Kabuto mentally tapped into his Root training, systematically shutting down his emotions one by one and replacing them with cold logic. Right now he had nothing to fear; Ringo Sute might be infamous even within Kiri, but she did not randomly attack or harm allies. And right now, she had no reason to suspect him to be anything else.

After all, even if those fantastic, whispered rumors in Konoha of her being a "Bloody Oracle" actually held a grain of truth, surely an orphan in Root wouldn't be important enough to appear in such visions.

Sute leaned against the wall outside the laundry room tapping her foot rhythmically, counting the seconds it took for Kabuto to appear. "Forty-nine seconds," she informed him when the boy finally barreled into the hall. "I assume you did a thorough job washing your hands?"

"Yes, Ringo-senpai," he replied, nodding. Sute arched an eyebrow at the honorific but filed it away for later contemplation.

"Good. Let's get down to business." She gestured for him to follow as she began walking, Kabuto dutifully trailing behind her. "I was looking at the trainee files, and I saw you already know how to use the Mystic Healing Palm."

"I do," Kabuto confirmed with a nod. "Kaede-san worked as a healer in the village where we lived and taught me about medicine. She thought I might have a knack for it, so she taught me as soon as my coils developed enough."

"Ho? So you just left a village without a healer?" Sute asked casually, and Kabuto bit his lip in a calculated display of nervousness.

"I considered taking her place after she died, but then the village got attacked by bandits, so... I had to leave anyway." His voice took on a tinge of sadness, carefully calculated to tug at people's sympathies and hopefully stop further questions. Of course, those sorts of emotional appeals rarely worked on Mist ninja, but most would stop asking anyway if only out of disdain for his apparent show of weakness.

Sute had to admit, the kid was good. Anyone else probably would have fallen for it. His acting just couldn't stand a chance against a recently-minted ANBU and the former daughter of a serial killer who knew he was an imposter.

Her investigation into the Kabuto mystery had been put on temporary hold due to her ANBU training, having finally finished just the previous day and given a week to rest before her first mission. She needed the rest, as the past fifteen days had been even more grueling than her time with Ao, literally all of her time spent either conditioning her body to meet ANBU standards or else learning about common tactics and strategies.

Thanks to that training though, she found her investigation into the spy going much smoother as the lessons gave her new insight about the files she'd found. Wakahisa Kabuto did exist at one point. Sute had found old medical records for the boy's father recounting his career-ending injury, with a minor note in the margins noting he'd had a child named Kabuto when the medic had checked him again. After receiving word of his death, his grave had been investigated and his death by torture easily confirmed.

From there, the facts gave way to a believable fiction. With no formal records of Kabuto's existence beyond a note in the margins of his father's file, it would be easy enough for a stranger to slip into his place. Even the story about the mysterious unnamed kunoichi who taught him medical ninjutsu wouldn't raise questions; with Kiri's history of civil war, even the few legitimately retired Mist ninja often took on false names and minor disguises to avoid being found by enemies.

No, Kabuto had crafted a perfect identity to enter Kiri with minimal questions. Even Sute only had the thought because she already knew Kabuto to be an infiltrator.

The question was, who did he work for?

Considering she had not heard an uproar over it yet, for some reason Orochimaru had yet to defect from Konoha. While her memories suggested the Sannin seemed to be operating separately from the village anyway, she couldn't explain how he'd get Kabuto away without drawing some kind of attention. Given the clear advance preparations that went into his fake identity, it seemed more likely Kabuto was working for Konoha ANBU at the moment.

But that raised even more questions. For example, why did Konoha's ANBU use a bunch of kids? And why the hell did no one see through Kabuto's disguise as a fake genin in the Chuunin Exam arc if they knew he had ANBU training!? Yeah, ANBU identities were kept secret, but surely someone would know about it.

Maybe Canon had an explanation for it, but right now Sute could only think of "bad writing and retconning," which naturally she did not like. This world was her reality now, which meant it had to follow some kind of rules. While she had some holes in her memories and knowledge of Canon, she knew even with a complete knowledge Naruto would have left plenty of holes which had to be filled in by the actual world. For example, she doubted Kiri's hospital woes would ever have reason to appear in a story about a Leaf ninja.

For now though, she pushed the thought away and focused on the task at hand. She hummed as she turned into an exam room, rolling his answer about his training over in her head as she headed straight to a set of cabinets. "Fair enough. But that said, I also noticed you haven't been tested on it."

"Ah, when I arrived, Maki-san said I shouldn't bother since I'm still just a trainee." The reference to her former supervisor made Sute want to groan, remembering his dismissive attitude towards even her when she'd first started.

"So stealing records, and sabotaging trainees," she muttered under her breath, a distinct note of irritation creeping into her tone. When Kabuto looked at her curiously she waved at him and said, "Forget it, Maki was just an idiot. Being able to use the Mystic Healing Palm at your age is a pretty big feat." Even as she spoke she pulled a scalpel out from the cabinet, and with a flick of the wrist proceeded to slit her arm from the elbow to the wrist.

Kabuto jolted as blood sprayed from the wound, his eyes widening. "R-Ringo-senpai?" he stammered, and flinched when the older teenager shoved her bleeding arm at him.

"Heal it," she ordered, her apple green eyes boring into him. "I want to see your skills for myself." He stared at her wide-eyed, still a bit stunned, but then his face set in determination as he stepped forward to get to work. His hands lit up green with healing chakra as he grabbed her wrist, his chakra expertly flowing into it. Despite the blood spray the cut was fairly shallow, and it took barely three minutes to mend the skin.

Sute watched closely the entire time, analyzing his ability. She could tell that the skill was not new to him. Vaguely she recalled Kakashi confronting Kabuto and mentioning something about him being the son of the hospital director, or... something, so she supposed his experience made sense. That, and he showed an obvious natural knack for it given his speed. When he finally finished she lifted her arm, flexing the muscles to confirm he'd done a sufficient job.

"How long have you been able to use it?"

"About two years, ma'am."

"I assume you practiced on patients at Kaede-san's place," she continued, not phrasing it as a question. "Did you have any chances to practice since she died?"

Here, Kabuto hesitated, staged more for effect than genuine truth. This was the gap in the story that had stood out most to her, since his skill with the Mystic Healing Palm matched up with consistent practice. Practice he wouldn't be able to get after "Kaede" died. "I... not particularly," he murmured, avoiding her gaze. "I treated a few of her patients before the village was... well, you know. And after that, I decided to... practice on myself." He bit his lip, turning away and ducking his head as if ashamed.

Immediately Sute grabbed his hands and jerk them upwards, prompting him to jump and snap a startled look at her. She eyed his exposed wrists with a critical gaze, her eyes narrowing as she glanced at him. "Where did you injure yourself?" she demanded, and saw the distinct spark of panic in his eyes ever so briefly. Aha. Clearly, he hadn't thought that far when coming up with the story.

The panic faded somewhat, but the nervous tension still remained. "I... on my stomach," he replied, his hesitation likely genuine since he was coming up with it on the spot. "I did not want to use an area that could potentially hinder my mobility if I messed up—"

Kabuto cut himself off with a yelp when Sute took that as her cue to release his hands and sharply tug his shirt upwards, the boy nearly staggering back in shock. She ignored his alarmed sputtering, focusing on his clean, unscarred skin on his stomach. "There aren't any scars," she said pointedly, arching an eyebrow at him.

"I-I tried to be very careful," Kabuto stammered, looking shaken. "I only made shallow wounds, just enough to keep my skills in shape. I didn't want to do anything too serious, especially since I was alone most of the time. Now, can you p-please stop staring at my stomach? I-it's kind of... embarrassing..." The red tinge to his cheeks was totally genuine, and Sute rolled her eyes as she let go of his shirt. His story felt flimsy, but not enough to call BS on it, so she decided not to call it out.

"Kid, you're a medic now. Modesty is deadly in this field. You can't be afraid to show some skin now and then."

"But... don't you avoid the onsen?" Kabuto hazarded hesitantly, and she blinked and shot him a somewhat incredulous look.

"How—?"

"Mio-san complained about it," Kabuto explained. "She, ah, got drunk one night after her shift and started ranting about you being a prude in the break room."

Sute stared at him for about three seconds before her face schooled into an annoyed scowl. Every medic had their vice, and for Mio, it was drinking and gossip. Sute knew a lot more about her coworkers than she really cared to know after listening to her drunkenly babbling with another nurse. Of course they wouldn't stop around a couple trainees. "Seriously? One of these days that woman's gonna blurt something that's completely confidential, and we'll have to kill the poor saps that hear it."

"You're joking, right?" Kabuto asked, and Sute paused, before smiling coyly at him.

"...Sure," she said sweetly in a tone that told him she was not joking about it. She admittedly enjoyed the way he paled a little too much, no doubt thinking about his own danger if he ever got exposed. She then wiped away her smile and sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Anyways, the onsen thing is different. I'm just not into public bathing, it doesn't seem sanitary to me."

Sute silently thanked her known fastidious obsession with hygiene, since it provided a reasonable excuse. Everyone here found bathing together to be perfectly normal, so she knew her avoidance would be seen as strange. "I see," Kabuto said, and fell silent. "Erm, about my healing. Is it satisfactory?"

"Oh, it's fine," she replied with a shrug. "You still need some work—that cut could have been healed in thirty seconds—but you've got the foundations down for that part at least. One of the neatest jobs I've ever seen, Kaede did a good job teaching you."

"She did." The smile Kabuto wore felt more genuine than the other expressions, his gaze taking on a distant glint. Probably thinking of his real teacher, then, she mused. As her ANBU instructors had drilled into her head, the best deceit had grains of truth mixed into it, and she suspected "Kaede" had been a substitute for another person.

"Why don't you tell me what else Kaede taught you?" she suggested, and Kabuto blinked as he snapped out of his reverie before nodding.

"Of course," he agreed, and hesitated before adding, "And maybe... you could give me some tips too?"

The request surprised Sute. Her? Teach Kabuto? The thought made her want to laugh. Kabuto was a threat, pure and simple. Either he reported to Konoha, or he reported to Orochimaru—either way, he was bad news. The only reason she hadn't reported him yet and let T&I whisk him away was because his removal would change too many variables surrounding Orochimaru, and while she didn't really care to preserve canon, Sute needed to keep any advantage possible. Teaching Kabuto would give him direct exposure to her skills, ultimately preparing him to face her someday if they ever butted heads.

But on the other hand... Wouldn't teaching him also give her a better idea of his skills? Teaching him would give her a reason to observe him, and more direct access to him. Slowly Sute felt her initial derision of the idea give way to a smirk—a sharp, jagged looking expression, full of pointy edges and mischief.

"Sure, why not? Us self-taught child geniuses have to stick together." After all, as the old saying went: keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.

"Right." Kabuto nodded, looking a bit apprehensive, but his eyes held powerful resolve. It seemed Sute had found a fun project for the remainder of her time in Kiri.

Three figures stood on a tall mountain towering over Kiri, staring at the fog-shrouded village sprawled below them. From their vantage point they could spy several tall cylindrical buildings which blended with the blocky mountain range dominating the skyline, the rooftops covered with thick clusters of trees to further mask it from sight.

"Hoh, looks like the 'Hidden Mist' part isn't a misnomer," one commented almost lazily, arms folded behind his head. "Took us long enough to find it." His companion scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Oi, take this seriously. We're here for a job, not to go sightseeing."

The first man snorted. "Please, as if you could go sightseeing in this fog. You'd be lucky to see where you're going."

"You would have trouble, seeing as you ran into a wall back home, too." The man started, spinning to glare at his companion with a heated snarl.

"Hey, I was six and half-blinded by a flashbang, you stupid pretentious—"

"Is now really the time for this?" the third member of the group cut in dully, silencing the argument before it could escalate. "We have a job to do." The man stiffened and grumbled as he turned away, falling silent and glaring at the village.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," he muttered. "This isn't my first infiltration, kid."

"Give us three days, we'll be done in no time," the second man added. "You just sit tight and avoid being seen, we'll see you when we're done."

"Will do," the third agreed, and with that the other two jumped down the cliff, vanishing into the thick fog below. He sighed as he turned to walk to the cave where they'd established their base. Something told him the next three days would be very dull.

Alright, point taken: Sute is not a Mary Sue. Thanks guys, guess I just let some worries get the best of me. I'm always wary of keeping characters balanced and realistic. I also got some interesting history about the term, did not realize it started as a misogynistic term. The more you know.

On that note, I highly recommend aspiring writers to use "The Universal Mary Sue Litmus Test" found on Springhole. That was my introduction to the term, and it's actually a pretty good way to keep characters in-check and balanced. Granted, it's not perfect (trying to do it with Sute is tricky since she's in a minor area with canon characters who probably aren't as important as the test intends to mention, and also it doesn't really cover "screwed ethic code due to deadly serial killer father"), but it does help keep you think more about your characters. The questions include links to guides which have actually seriously helped me with my writing over the years—including me totally revising at least one character's backstory—so I highly recommend checking it out.