That one-eyed man used the safety of the orphanage children and Konoha's aid funds as leverage, forcing Kabuto to join Root and serve him. To protect the orphanage, to protect Nono...
Kabuto simply couldn't refuse Danzo. He could only grit his teeth, force a stiff smile, and nod, 'voluntarily' joining Root.
Step by step, he walked into the sunless Root. From then on, the smiling Yakushi Kabuto from the orphanage died. The one who survived was only the Root's spy.
The desire to stay by Nono's side was locked away, along with his name, in an iron box in the Root's archives, sealed with a heavy stamp.
Kabuto took one last look at the bouquet, the reluctance in his eyes thick as undissolvable ink, then turned and left. His steps were fast, as if fleeing, as if invisible chains were dragging him from behind.
Now, even secretly catching a glimpse of Nono had become a luxury. He could only warm himself with memories in the depths of every night, chewing up loneliness and danger and swallowing them down.
But thinking that the younger brothers and sisters at the orphanage could wear thick cotton clothes, drink hot miso soup, and Nono wouldn't have to worry about money until she couldn't sleep, he felt that the 'little' suffering he endured...
Was worth it. Very worth it.
The snow continued to fall, landing on the flower shop's glass window, blurring into a hazy white, making the outside world look like a watercolor painting that had been smudged, gentle to the point of cruelty.
Makoto watched Kabuto's back disappear around the street corner, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing the snowflakes on his shoulder.
The ice crystals melted on his fingertips, a cool sensation creeping up his fingers.
The Naruto World was built upon countless big and small tragedies... Kabuto had clearly already joined Root. His tragic path had begun.
As the Dream Fulfillment Master in the later part of the original work, during the Fourth Shinobi World War, Kabuto fulfilled countless people's dreams, yet never fulfilled his own.
From an amnesiac, injured orphan, to being adopted by Yakushi Nono, receiving her selfless care, to finally killing her with his own hands... Just thinking about it was suffocating.
The one who devised this plan was none other than the inherently evil Danzo.
Thinking this, Makoto exhaled a puff of white air, watching the mist dissipate in the cold air, musing inwardly:
'If Kabuto had Uchiha bloodline, the pain from this would probably be enough for him to directly awaken the Mangekyo Sharingan.'
The wind, carrying snow powder, hit Makoto's face. He turned and walked towards the flower shop, the soles of his shoes crunching on the accumulated snow with a crunching sound, like keeping rhythm for this silent afternoon.
'Kabuto was clearly excellent material for a top scientist's assistant, yet he was tricked by Danzo into becoming a spy. It was such a waste of talent.'
'When it came to developing talent, that guy Orochimaru really had a system. Compared to that old geezer Danzo, he was practically the conscience of the Shinobi World.' Thinking this, Makoto pondered inwardly:
'I need to send Kabuto to Orochimaru as soon as possible. I can't waste his talent.'
'These two together would be the top scientists in the Shinobi World so far, and they wouldn't become obsolete with version updates. They might be useful in the future.'
It would also avoid his tragedy with Nono. After doing such a great good deed, having Kabuto work for him for a lifetime would absolutely be a sure-profit deal for him. A true win-win in every sense.
Having roughly figured things out in his mind, Makoto reached out and opened the flower shop door.
The copper bell rang with a crisp ding-a-ling, like a thin needle puncturing the heaviness of the snowy day. The fragrance of flowers filled the room, the sweetness of roses, the freshness of carnations, mixed with a bit of earthy smell.
It dispersed most of the cold air clinging to Makoto.
Behind the counter crouched a little girl with short blonde hair, a red string tied in her hair, swaying gently with her movements.
Her floral apron was stained with fresh soil, likely from just moving flowers in from the backyard. She was standing on her tiptoes, arranging carnations on the shelf.
Her chubby little hands held the flower stems, turning them halfway, straightening crooked petals neatly, even plucking the slightly wilted ones from the outermost layer and throwing them into a bamboo basket beside her… quite a meticulous little one.
"Welcome!"
The little girl looked up abruptly at the sound of the bell. Her eyes were as bright as dew-soaked asters, her eyelashes still dotted with tiny snowflakes that shook off before she even spoke.
The moment her gaze landed on Makoto's face, those eyes widened slightly, and her cheeks flushed instantly, like clouds tinted by the setting sun.
She quickly lowered her head, her fingers subconsciously twisting the apron strings, her knuckles turning white, 'How can there be such a handsome big brother?'
Makoto was wearing a pure white outfit today, setting off his skin like peeled lychee. Even with the same black hair and black eyes as other Uchiha boys, he uniquely exuded an indescribable liveliness, especially when he smiled.
The corners of his eyes tilted up slightly, his black pupils seeming to hold shattered stars, so bright it was hard to look away.
"I'd like to buy flowers."
Makoto looked at Yamanaka Ino, who was somewhat boy-crazy in the original work. His voice was clear, like snowmelt flowing over bluestone, making the bell at the door sway lightly again.
Ino let out a soft 'Ah', stood up straight in a fluster. The dirt on her apron smudged onto her cheek, but she didn't notice, only knew to clench her fists, 'I had to appear capable!
'I couldn't embarrass herself in front of such a handsome big brother.'
"My mom... went out to deliver goods. Buying from me is fine too!"
As the words fell, Ino puffed out her chest, trying hard to appear experienced, but her eyes seemed magnetically drawn, couldn't help glancing towards Makoto's face.
She would glance, then quickly lower her head, the roots of her ears as red as ripe cherries. Even her speech carried a slight tremble. Inwardly, she couldn't help but repeat emphatically:
'How can there be such a good-looking big brother? He's even more handsome than the handsome guys in the Uchiha Clan from the Military Police Force!'
She secretly bit her lip, tasting a faint metallic tang on her tongue, barely suppressing the excitement in her heart.
Makoto wandered around the flower shop for two and a half circles, his fingertips occasionally brushing against the dewdrops on the petals, the cool sensation creeping up his fingertips.
The white roses on the left shelf were dotted with melted snow droplets, the petal tips tinged with a faint pink, like a little girl who had just cried. The sunflowers in the basket on the right bloomed flamboyantly, their golden discs turning circles chasing the faint light outside the window.
The camellia buds in the corner were plump, wrapped in deep green sepals, looking very pleasing, as if hiding a bellyful of words waiting to be spoken…
He picked out quite a few flowers. Since he was here anyway, and it was all charged to Fugaku's account, costing him nothing, he might as well take more home.
Mikoto had always liked these lively things. Last time, he saw the spider plant on her windowsill looking wilted. Bringing some back to replace it would surely make her smile.
She had always been good to him, so this small gesture was necessary.
A soft gasp came from behind. Ino was standing on a small stool, reaching for the carnations on the top shelf. The wooden stool creaked creakily, like a tickled cat purring.
The hem of her skirt brushed over the packaging paper piled on the floor, revealing the little daisies embroidered on her socks. The stitches were crooked, clearly sewn by herself, radiating a childlike seriousness.
When Ino turned around holding a large bunch of carnations, the stool leg suddenly slipped. She staggered, lurching half an inch towards Makoto's embrace, scared, she quickly reached out to steady herself on the counter.
The bouquet swayed, a few golden petals fluttering to the ground, like scattered gold dust, landing beside her soil-stained little leather shoes.
"S-sorry!"
Her voice was as fine as a mosquito's buzz. Her head was buried so low it almost touched her chest, her long eyelashes drooping, hiding her eyes. But her fingers nervously picked at the edge of the counter.
Makoto waved his hand, indicating it was nothing to worry about.
Seeing this, Ino showed a delighted expression: "Buying so many flowers... can you carry them all back by yourself?"
Makoto looked down at the large pile of flowers at his feet. It truly was a bit more than expected. Moreover, he had other things to do later and no time to specifically deliver the flowers home.
He raised an eyebrow, an idea forming in his mind: "Could you pack all these flowers for me? When you have time, could you deliver them to my home?"
Hearing this, Ino jerked her head up. Her eyes lit up like lanterns being ignited, her pupils clearly reflecting Makoto's figure: "Okay!"
Her voice was as crisp as crushed rock sugar, the tail end unable to resist trembling slightly. Home delivery was standard practice for the flower shop, especially for a big customer like Makoto.
And home delivery was simply a heaven-sent great opportunity!
This way, she could justifiably find out where this big brother lived.
Ino quickly suppressed these emerging thoughts, rubbing her fingers on her apron over and over, rubbing the clinging soil into the fabric, afraid she might laugh out loud and be seen as an immature little girl.
Makoto looked at the barely concealed excitement in Ino's eyes, her ears as red as ripe cherries… the corner of his mouth couldn't help but lift slightly, revealing an extremely genial smile.
But inwardly, he muttered: 'Truly the Shinobi World, everyone matures so early. How old is she, and she's already a little fangirl.'
Makoto leaned against the doorframe, watching Ino stand on her tiptoes to put dust covers on the flowers.
Her chubby little hands pinched the ribbons to tie bows, tying and untying, untying and tying, never feeling they were pretty enough. Finally, she simply adorned the knot with a freshly fallen sunflower petal before being satisfied.
The snow continued to fall, large flakes pouncing on the eaves, accumulating a thin layer, like putting a white, fluffy hat on this flower shop.
The copper bell inside was swayed by the draft wind, ringing with a crisp ding-a-ling, mixing with the sweet scent of roses drifting out, spreading gentle ripples in the snow, soon covered by new falling snow.
After watching for a while, Makoto handed the slip of paper with his address to Ino.
"When my mom comes back, I'll deliver them personally!" She lifted her little face in assurance, a petal still clinging to her blonde hair.
Makoto gave an 'Mhm', turned, lifted the curtain, and stepped out. The cold wind instantly poured into his collar, snowflakes hitting his face, cool and refreshing.
He still had things to do.
Based on the various pieces of information gathered today, Orochimaru hadn't defected yet. In the original work, his defection happened just before the signing of the ceasefire agreement with Kumogakure.
Calculating the time, this Orochimaru was about to explode/be exposed and slip out of Konoha.
Whether Orochimaru left or not didn't have much to do with him at the moment. But since he was about to leave, before he went, as a fan from his previous life, asking him for a few things shouldn't be too much, right?