"Smart." Takuno silently praised him in his heart.
As expected, there was no need for additional coercion or persuasion; the hostage chip that was Yakushi Nono had already firmly locked Kabuto's actions.
For her sake, this calm and rational youth would naturally be willing to be used by him.
The road was not long, and soon, the small, lively courtyard of the orphanage appeared before their eyes.
The crisp, joyful laughter of children poured out like sunlight, and the air was filled with a peaceful and warm atmosphere.
And when Kabuto's gaze eagerly swept across the courtyard, his breath suddenly stalled; right there, that motherly figure was quietly standing in the gentle light and shadow.
She bowed her head slightly, her gaze so focused and soft, like a warm stream, gently caressing every child running and playing.
The sunlight traced her calm silhouette, coating her in a layer of holy radiance.
That scene was too beautiful, too serene, beautiful like an eternal painting frozen at the end of time, flowing with tenderness and love.
That person was none other than Yakushi Nono.
Cold sunlight pierced through the sparse clouds, dappling the muddy path leading to the orphanage.
Kabuto's footsteps came to an abrupt halt in this silence.
His gaze, as if pulled by invisible chains, was firmly locked onto that gentle and familiar figure ahead.
The gentle smile on Yakushi Nono's face was the pure warmth belonging to the "Nun" that he had longed to see for so long.
"Ugh—" A barely audible sob escaped Kabuto's throat, his body standing rigid like a statue.
In that instant, all his carefully constructed defenses and the calmness of a spy crumbled, replaced by a panic that bordered on cowardice.
Fear of returning home? After being apart for many years, meeting in such a way, burdened by unspeakable shackles, what he feared was perhaps precisely that warmth which was close at hand but could no longer be embraced without reservation.
Takuno stood a few steps behind Kabuto, the cold wind blowing his clothes. Like a patient hunter, he quietly observed the complex, intense pain Kabuto was experiencing at this moment.
The more Kabuto struggled, and the more his gaze towards Yakushi Nono was filled with undisguised cherishing and pain, the deeper the subtle satisfaction in Takuno's eyes became.
The chess piece he had carefully placed, that persistent bond, would eventually become the firmest rein; its value had already been manifested.
Time passed quietly in this oppressive standoff.
Finally, Kabuto took a deep breath, as if to inhale and smelt all his hesitation and anxiety into his lungs.
A sense of resolve rose in his eyes behind his glasses, and he looked sharply at Takuno.
It was no longer a wary assessment, but a complete submission.
He knelt heavily on one knee on the cold, damp ground, his voice sounding somewhat hoarse from extreme suppression, yet exceptionally clear: "Lord Collector—" He paused for a moment, as if ruminating on the weight of this title, "Although I do not understand what is worth your effort to scheme and utilize my insignificant strength, as long as you can ensure that Yakushi Nono can live the life she desires, no longer worrying about resources, and no longer forced into those dirty quagmires—"
Kabuto raised his head, his eyes staring directly at Takuno, filled only with a sacrificial determination, every word articulated clearly and resonantly.
"I am willing to offer you everything. My talent, my freedom, my loyalty, and even my life."
Everything was clear at this moment.
When he saw that long-lost serenity and satisfaction in Yakushi Nono's eyes, all of Kabuto's paths of retreat were abruptly cut off.
A fake surrender? Fleeing with her? These fantasies had all shattered.
She had taken Root here, finding the "Shangri-La" she had spent half her life fighting for.
To protect this fake yet precious peace, he had to pay a real price, becoming an absolutely loyal tool in the hands of the man before him; there was no other choice.
"Her peaceful remaining years depend on your loyalty." Takuno's voice was low and cold, as if stamping the final seal on this transaction, "If you never harbor disloyalty, she can naturally live out her life here in peace."
Kabuto did not answer, only lowering his head further, his forehead almost touching the cold mud.
As long as she was well, he was willing to be a servant.
"Furthermore," Takuno's voice was like a verdict, devoid of any warmth, "I have already pre-planted two seals on Yakushi Nono."
As soon as the words fell, Kabuto did not hesitate at all, as if he had long expected this shackle: "Please cast the seal, my Lord." There was not a hint of surprise or resistance in his voice.
This was the confinement for a traitor; he understood, and he did not resent it, because the other end of this shackle was locked to the life of the only person he cherished.
"Hmm." Takuno nodded imperceptibly.
Being sensible is a virtue, but not a reason for exemption. This layer of insurance was indispensable; it was better to keep it sealed forever than to have none at all.
Takuno stepped forward and placed his palm on Kabuto's shoulder blade.
In an instant, massive and cold Chakra poured in like a torrent!
Jet-black curse marks crawled out from Takuno's palm like living creatures, carrying bone-chilling cold and sharp stinging pain, instantly spreading across Kabuto's skin and deeply branding into his flesh and bone marrow!
The excruciating pain was like countless ice picks piercing through his body, yet Kabuto's spine was held straight, without even the slightest tremble, his body stiff as a withered tree or stone, as if the one enduring this potentially fatal restriction was nothing more than an insignificant vessel.
The curse marks faded, and the branding was complete. The pain remained, but Kabuto had already quickly composed himself, raised his head, and the gaze behind his glasses had completely turned into the clarity and resolve of a subordinate: "Master, what task do I need to execute next?"
He was prepared to step once again into that dark and cold abyss of espionage.
This was the field he was proficient in, the only "value" to his master he could think of.
"Oh?" Takuno let out an ambiguous scoff, scrutinizing Kabuto with a hint of playfulness, "You think I would send you to be an undercover agent?"
"Yes, Master." Kabuto answered clearly, "You reside deep in this remote place, yet you interfere in the conflict between Konoha and Kumogakure, so your ambitions are not small. With the Five Great Shinobi Villages standing tall, a deeply buried dark piece is of irreplaceable value."
"Ha," Takuno's scoff sounded exceptionally clear and sharp in the quiet night, "A dark piece? Who cannot be one? And on what basis do you conclude that it must be you?"
It was like a heavy hammer striking his heart! Kabuto's body stiffened instantly.
The air stagnated to the point of suffocation; this was the deepest confusion and doubt in his heart. He had wagered his freedom and even his life, yet he still does not understand what the chip the other party was truly coveting was?
Takuno seemed to see through his churning doubts and gave the answer that completely exceeded everything he had prepared for in his life: "I have no interest in your undercover career. Your duty is only in the laboratory."
"—Laboratory?" The air seemed to freeze.
Kabuto blinked in disbelief, a huge sense of absurdity and a misalignment of self-perception violently impacting him.
He stared at Takuno, the lenses of his glasses reflecting the other's cold mask, his voice dry, "But Master, I have never stepped into research—"
"I trust my judgment." Takuno's tone was unquestionable, resolute and decisive.
His gaze seemed to pierce through Kabuto's current confusion, seeing the potential of a "mad scientist" hidden beneath the "spy" identity, one that would be enough to shake the true Shinobi World in the future.
Kabuto fell silent. The master's confidence was like a rock, leaving him no need to struggle and nowhere to ask further.
However, he suddenly realized that if that were the case, he would no longer need to leave the Village, and thus, the last trace of humble yearning in his heart erupted.
He spoke cautiously, with trepidation, his voice carrying a plea he hadn't even noticed himself: "Then when you are at leisure, Master, can I—can I come to visit..." He held his breath, like a prisoner waiting for the final verdict.
This was his only remaining, tiny bit of greed.
Takuno's gaze lingered briefly on the anticipation that had flared up and was then suppressed in his eyes; those yearning eyes were a bit comical. He nodded slightly: "You may."
The answer was concise and clear.
"I have no intention of binding human relationships and common sense. But you must always keep your boundaries in mind. What can be said, and what must be kept silent, concerns your survival." His voice was cold and ruthless, carrying a final warning.
As if a heavy iron stone had been moved away from his heart, Kabuto took a heavy, almost greedy breath of the cold air with the night dew; the intense relief made his fingertips slightly numb.
He nodded with almost all his strength, with the determination of burning his bridges: "I swear to you! I will definitely be cautious in my words and actions, and I will absolutely not let you down! All research tasks—I will surely go all out!"
At this moment, he was no longer that chess piece confused about why he had been chosen.
He was the vessel, filled with the only mission.
To protect the warmth in that lamp, for this, he would ignite all his wisdom, sacrificing it to the unknown laboratory, with no further complaints.
"Go in and take a look." After everything was over, Takuno said.
Kabuto nodded submissively, complex emotions flashing through his clear eyes behind his glasses, mixed with the trepidation of returning home and long-suppressed longing.
He lifted his feet slightly, his movements carrying a deliberate gentleness, as if afraid of disturbing the peace in the courtyard.
The air in the courtyard seemed to stagnate for a moment; Yakushi Nono, who was wiping old tables and chairs, seemed to sense something and looked up suddenly.
When her gaze captured that familiar silhouette at the door, which seemed to be separated by thousands of mountains and rivers, the gears of time seemed to suddenly rust and stop.
The rag in her hand slipped silently, her pupils instantly dilating in shock.
A trace of irrepressible trembling spread from the voice she used to call out; almost relying on the deepest intuition of her heart, she asked with unbelievable tentative: "Are you—Kabuto?"
"It's me, Miss Nono." This long-lost call was like a sharp needle, precisely piercing through all the hard shells that Kabuto had carefully built.
The moment the word "Kabuto," containing the deepest tenderness and marking, was called out from Yakushi Nono's mouth, all his defenses and strength instantly disintegrated.
An uncontrollable layer of moisture immediately blurred his vision through his glasses, hot tears teetering on the edge of his eyes; he held back the surging emotions, his voice choked but exceptionally clear.
Tears finally slid from Yakushi Nono's eyes, hitting the ground hotly.
"Thank goodness you're okay!" She didn't even have time to wipe the wetness on her cheeks, stumbling as she rushed over, opening her arms and pulling Kabuto tightly, tightly into her embrace.
Although before this, Takuno had already told her that Kabuto had been sent out on a mission before the upheaval in Konoha's Root, temporarily avoiding the core of the vortex.
But this rational comfort could never suppress the worries in a mother's heart.
Even if he wasn't in Root, that identity as a spy, walking on thin ice, meant in itself that every step could lead to an abyss, and every moment could lead to an accident.
Until this moment, when her hands truly and concretely felt the existence of the youth in her arms, that worry finally fell to the bottom of her heart, like a boulder being lifted.
Kabuto almost greedily and deeply absorbed this long-overdue warmth.
The familiar scent in Yakushi Nono's embrace, mixed with the faint smell of soap and clothes dried in the sun, instantly enveloped him.
At this moment, those cold dogmas about survival, killing, conspiracy, and lies that had been repeatedly instilled in him in the cold Root;
Those dangerous undercover careers in foreign lands where he had endured humiliation and lived in fear countless times;
And the loyalty and life he had just branded.
All the heavy sacrifices and efforts seemed to have found their ultimate meaning and value.
It was all worth it; everything was worth it.
A humble yet incredibly strong wish took Root and sprouted in his heart, and it was rapidly expanding, occupying all his thoughts.
As long as he could forever possess this sheltered harbor, living in peace and companionship with Yakushi Nono who was like the lighthouse of his life, he could pay anything for it!
Takuno's gaze fell on the "mother and son" tightly embracing inside the orphanage, a playful smile flitting across the corners of his mouth.
The heartwarming scene before his eyes formed a sharp contrast with the heartbreaking tragedy in the original work.
Here, the fatal moment where Yakushi Nono failed to recognize Kabuto—the moment that had once given Kabuto "the deepest despair"—was successfully avoided.
In the original work, Kabuto gave his all, but in the end, what he got in return was the complete strangeness and killing intent from his foster mother and mentor, Yakushi Nono.
This pain stemmed from the fact that all his efforts lost their meaning in the other's eyes, even becoming an enemy whose name she did not even know.
However, this tragedy of tearing apart kinship was not accidental.
Its Root lay in the precise calculations and malicious interference of Danzo.
In the original work, even if the passage of time would blur specific features, when Kabuto called out that "Nun" with anticipation and deep affection, Yakushi Nono should have immediately recognized the child she loved, "Kabuto," by this emotional bond and voice.
This should have been the opportunity for their reunion.
But the cleverness of Danzo lay precisely here.
He did not provide false information all at once; instead, like the most patient weaver, he chose to "batch" the forged photos of "Kabuto," accompanied by carefully arranged lies, and continuously passed them to Yakushi Nono, who was on a spy mission.