Danzo had promised that once he completed his mission here, he would free Nono from Root's restraints and grant her freedom. They could then start a new life together in a safe place.
This belief was like a lighthouse in the darkness, sustaining him through each masked day, allowing him to swallow the bitterness of loneliness and deception.
The ox-drawn cart passed through the final heavy stone gate of the inner wall, and the noise outside was instantly cut off.
The air in the Seventh Prison Block suddenly turned cold and stagnant, mixed with the dampness of the stone walls, the scent of disinfectant, and a faint, suffocating odor of despair.
The towering gray stone walls seemed to block out the sunlight, casting icy shadows.
The guarding Hoshinin wore a dark uniform, had an expressionless face, and eyes as sharp as an eagle. His sword and armor gleamed coldly in the darkness.
The heavy iron door creaked open with a grating metallic sound, revealing an even darker passageway inside.
The logistics team began unloading the supplies, carrying the heavy cargo into the warehouse.
Natsuhi spoke quietly with the detention block's guard captain, checking the inventory list.
Kabuto, Shunji, and Hazuki, following instructions, were tasked with carrying the divided food baskets into the detention block, where specialized guards would distribute them to the prisoners in each cell.
"Ugh, this damn place is so depressing." Shunji muttered under his breath, wrinkling his nose as if trying to dispel the lingering cold, foul smell in the air. His voice echoed faintly in the empty stone corridor.
"Stay focused, Shunji." Hazuki whispered, her heightened sensory abilities making her particularly sensitive to the negative emotions and chaotic Chakra in such a place. Her face was slightly pale.
Kabuto said nothing, silently pushing a small cart loaded with food baskets. He kept his head slightly lowered, the lenses of his glasses reflecting the dim light, concealing the emotions deep in his eyes.
He acted like an ordinary Genin, nervous and uncomfortable in such a stern environment for the first time.
The cart's wheels made a monotonous rolling sound against the uneven stone floor.
The distribution point was deep inside the detention block, in a long, dimly lit corridor.
On either side of the corridor were rows of heavy iron doors, each with only a palm-sized observation window.
They had to approach each door one by one, passing the prisoners their allotted portions of food through the windows.
The air was thick with the stench of sweat, mold, and the bland odor of the food.
Kabuto was responsible for the windows on the right side of the corridor.
He mechanically placed black bread, a small handful of dried vegetables, and a spoonful of watery bean soup into the chipped wooden bowls or tin plates extended through the windows.
His movements were automatic, his gaze lowered, avoiding direct eye contact with the numb or hate-filled eyes staring back at him.
"Move faster." The guard's hoarse voice sounded.
Kabuto picked up a piece of black bread, habitually preparing to place it into the bowl at the window.
His eyes inadvertently swept over the face peering out from the shadows behind the iron bars.
Time seemed to freeze in that moment.
The sound of the cart's wheels rolling, the guard's shouts, the distant coughing of prisoners, Shunji's grunts as he moved boxes… all these sounds receded like a tide, leaving only the frantic pounding of Kabuto's own heart in his chest, so loud it felt like it might burst.
Those were eyes he knew all too well.
Those warm brown eyes, once as gentle as spring sunlight, had comforted and embraced all the orphans' fears and sorrows.
Now, they were covered in a thick, unshakeable layer of dust.
Empty, unfocused, devoid of any light or recognition.
They stared blankly in Kabuto's direction, yet seemed to look right through him, fixed on some distant, invisible point.
No recognition, no confusion, not even the slightest numb wariness one would expect when facing a stranger handing out food.
Only a dead, hollow void, like two dried-up wells.
It was the orphanage's director.
Yakushi Nono!
His…mother!
Kabuto's mind went blank.
All the blood in his body seemed to rush to his head in an instant, only to freeze and plummet back to his feet the next second.
The black bread in his fingertips was nearly crushed by the unconscious force of his grip.
Kabuto Yakushi stared fixedly at that face… the one carved deepest into his soul, the one that had sustained him through countless dark days.
There was no way he could mistake his own mother!
Even if those eyes had lost all the light he remembered… that was her!
The woman who had picked him up from the ruins of war, wiped the dirt from his face with warm hands, given him her own glasses when his vision failed,
the orphanage director who had hummed soft lullabies to help him sleep!
Kabuto's throat felt as if an invisible hand were strangling it, rendering him unable to make a sound.
He wanted to scream, to shout out that name without restraint.
But the last remnants of his rationality, like a tightly drawn bowstring, reminded him of his current identity and situation.
He is the orphan from the Land of Stars, 'Kumamoto Kabuto'. Since he's a Genin from the Land of Stars, it is impossible for him to know 'Wandering Miko', the spy from Konoha's Root.
Overwhelming shock, followed by a tsunami of panic, drowned him.
'Why? Why was the Director here?'
'Why was she in a prison in the Land of Stars?! She should have been on a mission in another country, or at the Konoha Orphanage?'
'And… she didn't recognize me?'
'How could she not recognize me?!'
'How long has it been since I left the orphanage?'
But this was the real orphanage's director!
The woman who had loved him like her own son!
His mother!
'How could she look at me with those hollow, unfamiliar eyes?'
Kabuto forced himself to lower his head, hiding the storm of anguish and heartbreak threatening to burst from his gaze.
With every ounce of strength, he controlled his trembling fingers and gently placed the slightly deformed black bread into the cracked bowl held by those skeletal hands.
His movements were stiff, like rusted machinery.
"Th-thank you."
A voice so dry and hoarse it barely sounded human.
Faint, indistinct, carrying the unfamiliarity of long silence.
That 'thank you' was like a red-hot knife, stabbing straight into Kabuto's heart and twisting mercilessly.
Not a trace of warmth, not a flicker of recognition… just a numb, instinctive response.
This wasn't the voice he remembered!
Not the voice that had once called his name so tenderly!
A chill shot up his spine, colder than the deepest stone walls of the Seventh Prison Block.
The carefully constructed world he had relied on for survival began to crack apart under the weight of that hollow 'thank you'.
The pillar of his faith trembled violently, on the verge of total collapse.
'Danzo-sama's promise… the director's freedom… our chance to start a new life together…'
'Could it all have been-'
"Kabuto! What are you daydreaming about? Hurry up!" His teammate's voice exploded in his ears like thunder, jolting Kabuto back to reality.