Chapter 162: Mother And Son Reunite, Yakushi Kabuto’s Decision
Nonō Yakushi stared fixedly at the scene reflected on the water surface.
The painful and familiar gaze behind the boy’s lenses, and her own hollow, numb face like wearing a stiff mask!
An indescribable, soul-tearing sharp pain exploded from the depths of her heart!
A hundred times, a thousand times more painful than being pierced by a chakra scalpel in her dreams!
That was not the pain of the body; it was the sharp pain of the soul being brutally carved out of its most precious part!
“Kabuto… Kabuto…?”
A broken call, trembling with disbelief and despair, was arduously squeezed out from deep in her throat.
Tears surged out like a breached flood, instantly washing over her pallid, wrinkled cheeks.
She abruptly raised her withered hands, tightly covering her mouth, trying to block the heart-wrenching wail about to burst from her throat, but her body, as if all bones had been removed, could no longer support itself.
Her knees buckled, and she heavily knelt on the cold, smooth starry water surface.
In the reflection, the withered, tear-streaked prisoner figure overlapped, distorted, and shattered madly with the gentle-gazing “substitute” boy from the photo provided by Danzō in her memory, and the “Kabuto” whose heart she had personally pierced in her dream, all blurred through tear-filled eyes…
Cold tears fell onto the mirror-like water, creating circles of despairing ripples that spread silently, as if to swallow this starry absolute domain as well.
“You are very lucky.” Shura’s voice faintly appeared and gradually dissipated.
The illusionary space shattered, and Nonō Yakushi fell back into the dim cell of the Seventh Prison Sector.
The dampness of the stone walls, the stifling despair, and the soul-carving sharp pain brought by those hollow eyes gnawed at her incessantly.
The cruel truth on the starry water surface, like a red-hot brand iron, burned an unhealable hole into her chaotic memory barrier.
Danzō’s conspiracy, the substitute’s lie, and…
She had failed to recognize her own child at such close range!
Immense self-blame and the fear-mingled hope of regaining what was lost stirred terrifying waves in her depleted heart lake, making her curl up on the cold stone bed, sleepless through the night.
In the early morning, the cold air unique to the prison sector, carrying the scent of mold and disinfectant, did not arrive as expected.
The heavy iron gate was slowly opened with a creaking sound, without the guards’ rough shouts.
The light was not the dim yellow oil lamp of the corridor, but clear, natural morning light.
Uchiha Hikari stood at the door.
She was still wearing that simple blue high-necked clan robe, outlining her slender yet powerful figure.
Raven-like long hair draped down, making her skin appear even fairer.
She simply stood there quietly, yet exuding an intangible, heart-palpitating oppression, as if even the viscous despair aura of the prison sector was isolated by her.
“Come out.” Her voice was clear and cold, concise, like ice beads falling on a jade plate, without any commanding tone, yet carrying an unquestionable force.
Nonō Yakushi trembled all over, blankly lifting her head.
Traces of tears and the exhaustion of a sleepless night lingered on her withered face, but those once hollow brown eyes now surged like dead water disturbed by a stone, churning with shock, fear, and a faint expectation.
She subconsciously clutched the thin, tattered prisoner uniform on her body, her body stiff, momentarily unsure of how to react.
Uchiha Hikari did not urge her, simply waiting quietly, her obsidian-like eyes calmly gazing at her.
After a few breaths, Nonō Yakushi moved down from the bed like a marionette, her actions stiff and slow.
Her feet touched the cold ground, bringing a sense of floating.
She kept her head low, not daring to meet those black eyes.
Because she knew the one opposite was from the Uchiha Clan, but she didn’t know why someone from the Uchiha Clan was here.
Nonō Yakushi obediently followed behind Uchiha Hikari, without being shackled, just trailing her out of this prison.
No guards were seen along the way.
Uchiha Hikari led her, as if passing through an invisible barrier, directly walking along a passage leading to the surface where the light gradually brightened.
The sunlight grew increasingly blinding, carrying long-lost warmth.
Nonō Yakushi instinctively raised her hand to shield her eyes, her steps somewhat staggering as she followed behind Uchiha Hikari.
When she finally adjusted to the light and lowered her hand, she found herself in a small, quiet courtyard.
The courtyard was not large, paved with blue stone slabs, with a few clusters of lush green bamboo planted in the corner, rustling softly in the morning breeze.
The air was filled with the fresh scent of soil and grass and trees, utterly different from the filthy despair of the prison sector.
Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the bamboo leaves, casting dappled, swaying light and shadows on the veranda.
A small figure was sitting on the veranda with his back to her, seemingly fiddling with something.
He had a head of black spiky hair short hair, wearing a black small shirt and dark shorts, his back bearing the childish innocence unique to children.
Nonō Yakushi’s heart skipped a beat, an indescribable sourness instantly surging to her nose tip.
This back… why so familiar…
“Menma.” Uchiha Hikari’s clear, cold voice broke the courtyard’s tranquility.
The small figure turned his head upon hearing this.
It was the true body of Uzumaki Menma.
A five-year-old child’s face, yet settled with a profundity and calm utterly mismatched to his age.
He looked at Nonō Yakushi, his gaze complex, with scrutiny, examination, and a trace of barely perceptible gentleness.
“Hikari-neesan.” Menma’s voice was crisp, carrying a child’s tenderness, but his tone was exceptionally steady.
He stood up, his gaze turning to Nonō Yakushi, those black eyes showing no surprise, as if he had long anticipated her arrival.
Nonō Yakushi’s breathing instantly stopped.
She looked at Menma, then abruptly at Uchiha Hikari, her eyes filled with incredulous shock and chaos.
Menma?
The child she worried about most, how could he be here?
And he seemed so familiar with Uchiha Hikari?
This was the heartland of the Land of Stars, surrounded by Star Ninja; this residence must belong to Star Ninja high-level officials—why was Menma…
What exactly was going on?
Uchiha Hikari apparently had no intention of explaining.
She simply nodded slightly to Nonō Yakushi, her voice still clear and cold: “The person has been brought.”
With that, she turned, her figure merging into the sunlight’s shadows like, vanishing silently from the courtyard, as if she had never appeared.
Leaving only the courtyard’s clear, cold air and that faint sense of alienation belonging to the Uchiha.
Only Nonō Yakushi and Menma remained in the courtyard.
The sunlight was warm, bamboo shadows swaying, yet unable to dispel the stormy waves in Nonō Yakushi’s heart.
She stared dazedly at the little boy before her; her memories of Menma still stopped at two years ago, before she left the orphanage to carry out a mission in the Land of Earth.
The child in her memory overlapped and clashed madly with the child before her in her mind, making it nearly impossible for her to think.
“Director, come eat something.” Menma gestured for Nonō Yakushi to come sit with him; a simple food box was placed opposite him.
He opened the lid, revealing simple rice balls, sushi, and a pot of clear tea.
Nonō Yakushi slowly walked over.
“I know you have many questions, but Kabuto will be here soon.” Menma pushed the food box toward Nonō Yakushi, his small face expressionless, yet his tone carrying a calm.
“He has agreed to join the organization. His loyalty has exchanged for the director’s safety.”
“Kabuto…?” Nonō Yakushi murmured the name repeatedly, her heart gripped tightly by an invisible hand.
The scene from last night on the starry water surface, the deep pain hidden in the boy’s eyes as he distributed food, pierced her clearly once more.
Join the organization?
Pledge loyalty to Shura?
To… exchange for her life?
Immense sourness and self-blame instantly overwhelmed her, tears uncontrollably welling up in her eyes again.
At that moment, the gate at the courtyard entrance was pushed open.
A figure rushed in hurriedly.
It was Kabuto Yakushi.
He was still wearing Hoshigakure’s deep blue genin uniform, with round-framed glasses, but his face no longer held the deliberate gentleness and calm of usual.
His hair was somewhat disheveled, breathing rapid, eyes behind the lenses bloodshot, filled with undisguisable urgency and panic.
His gaze, like a searchlight, instantly locked onto the figure sitting on the veranda in the courtyard center with Menma.
Time seemed to freeze.
Kabuto’s steps abruptly halted, as if nailed in place.
He stared fixedly at Nonō Yakushi, chest heaving violently, lips moving silently, as if wanting to call out but unable to make a sound.
That gaze was filled with the immense joy of regaining what was lost, bone-deep guilt, and a childlike fragile fear of the sight before him being merely an illusion.
Nonō Yakushi also stared dazedly at him.
Across a few steps, across Kabuto’s round-framed glasses, she saw those eyes clearly and unobstructedly for the first time.
Those eyes that always carried a gentle smile and a hint of timidity were now filled with pain and hope, yet still the same eyes from her memory, countless times under the orphanage lights as he studied diligently at his desk, lifting his head when she gently stroked his hair!
No longer the cheerful-smiling boy from the substitute photo, no longer the numb, hollow “stranger” from the starry water surface reflection.
It was her Kabuto!
“Di… Director…” Kabuto’s voice finally squeezed from his throat, dry and hoarse, carrying an irrepressible tremble, like a traveler who had traversed a millennium desert finally sighting an oasis.
This call utterly shattered the last line of defense in Nonō Yakushi’s heart.
“Kabuto—!”
A cry laced with sobs, heart-wrenching, burst from Nonō Yakushi’s mouth.
She no longer cared for any restraint or doubts, staggering forward!
Her steps unsteady, body swaying on the verge of collapse.
Kabuto also rushed forward, arms open wide.
In the courtyard center, under the warm sunlight and swaying bamboo shadows, they collided fiercely!
Nonō Yakushi’s withered arms hugged Kabuto’s waist and back with all her strength, as if to merge herself into his flesh and blood.
Kabuto tightly hugged her back, arms clamped deathly tight, as if afraid that loosening would make the person in his embrace vanish again.
Both their bodies trembled violently, tears suppressed for too long surging like a breached flood, instantly soaking each other’s shoulders.
Kabuto Yakushi buried his face deeply in Nonō Yakushi’s chest, emitting muffled whimpers like an injured cub.
Nonō Yakushi tilted her head back, eyes tightly shut, tears silently sliding down her cheeks, throat bobbing violently, bearing the immense impact of regaining what was lost and the tumultuous self-blame and regret in her heart.
Sunlight quietly bathed them, this mother and son finally reunited after fate’s cruel manipulations, enveloped in a warm glow.
The courtyard held only their uncontrollable sobs, the wails and catharsis of souls torn apart yet finding each other’s anchors amid the ruins once more.
After a long while, their emotions slightly calmed, but they still held each other tightly, as if to make up for the lost, long years.
Menma, who had been quietly sitting on the veranda, watched this scene, a faint ripple, almost a sigh, passing deep in his black eyes.
“Konoha Root’s way of doing things, you know better than anyone.” He softly broke the warmth of survival after calamity.
Menma’s voice was calm, carrying insight beyond his years.
“Danzō won’t easily abandon any pawn, but the director can fake death to escape, live incognito in the Star Capital. Here is the only place that can isolate Root’s tentacles.”
Kabuto Yakushi stiffened slightly upon hearing this, lifting his head from Nonō Yakushi’s embrace, eyes tearful as he looked at Menma, then at the director, filled with worry for the future.
Nonō Yakushi gently patted Kabuto’s back, wiping the tears from his face.
Kabuto Yakushi took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.
The gaze behind his lenses, though still red and moist, refocused with the sharpness and resolve of a ninja.
“Faking death requires time to arrange, needs to be foolproof, and before that… I can’t disappear for too long.” Kabuto Yakushi looked at Menma, voice still slightly hoarse but exceptionally clear.
He paused, his gaze turning complex yet firm: “Danzō is naturally suspicious; if the ‘Kumamoto Kabuto’ identity goes silent for too long, or rashly ‘dies,’ it will inevitably alert him and prompt a thorough investigation.”
“If I and the director disappear or die together in a short time, he will surely suspect and mobilize all forces to search, even possibly… affecting the other children at the orphanage.”
His gaze fell on Nonō Yakushi’s haggard face, the meaning self-evident.
Nonō Yakushi opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but ultimately did not speak.
“More importantly…” Kabuto’s gaze refocused on Menma’s small face, steady beyond his years.
His voice lowered, carrying a resolute tone.
“I can’t let you walk alone in Konoha’s shadows.”
The courtyard fell into brief silence.
The rustling of bamboo leaves sounded exceptionally clear.
Sunlight filtered through the gaps, illuminating the firm, even faintly pleading eyes behind Kabuto’s lenses.
He was not doing this for the mission, not for Danzō, not even for the so-called organization.
He simply could not let this “brother,” who had pulled him back from the abyss’s edge and given him and his mother a lifeline, face Konoha’s bottomless darkness alone.
Menma quietly met Kabuto’s gaze, his face still expressionless.
Those black eyes were like a windless lake, reflecting the determination burning in Kabuto’s eyes.
Moments later, he nodded slightly, the motion subtle yet carrying a silent acknowledgment.
