Kabuto shuddered as if whipped.
He jerked his head up, his gaze frantically scanning Nono's face.
Those hollow, brown eyes still lacked any focus, as if the 'thank you' just now was merely an instinctual utterance from a walking corpse.
Holding the bowl, she numbly retreated into the shadows of the iron door.
"Kabuto? Why do you look so pale?" Hazuki, carrying an empty basket, walked over, sharply noticing her companion's abnormality.
She saw Kabuto's face was as white as paper under the dim light, fine beads of cold sweat seeped from his temples, and the look behind his glasses flickered violently.
He even forgetting to conceal the immense pain churning within, almost overflowing.
This was completely unlike the usual gentle, steady, always faintly smiling Kumamoto Kabuto.
"N-Nothing's wrong." Kabuto practically gritted his teeth to squeeze out these two words, his voice terribly dry.
He abruptly lowered his head, avoiding Hazuki's probing gaze, quickened his pace, and haphazardly scooped up a spoonful of the dried vegetables in his hand, dumping it into the prisoner's bowl at the next cell window.
His movements were fast and hurried, carrying a panicked loss of control. The edge of the spoon scraped against the wooden bowl, producing a harsh noise.
He needed to do something, anything, to fill the sudden, almost tearing-him-in-half void and panic.
Kabuto forced himself to focus on the food in front of him, on the next cell, but the trembling of his fingers was uncontrollable.
Nono's haggard, numb, soulless face, those hollow eyes that shattered his heart and guts, that utterly emotionless 'thank you', flashed, magnified, and roared repeatedly in his mind.
Each flash was like a heavy hammer brutally smashing against the foundation of his constructed beliefs.
Danzo's promise echoed in his ears, as clear as yesterday.
'As long as I completed the mission here, as long as I brought back sufficiently valuable intelligence, the Director could gain freedom. We could escape the shadow of Root and start anew in a place bathed in warm sunlight...'
This was the motivation that kept him enduring all the disguises, all the loneliness, all the danger. It was the only glimmer of light he could grasp while mired in darkness.
But now?
Nono was right before his eyes!
In the prison of the Land of Stars! But she didn't recognize him!
A cold, piercing thought clearly and brutally coiled around his heart: 'Did the Director... actually not care about me at all?'
'Everything I had done by joining Root, carrying out spy missions abroad, gathering intelligence, playing roles… what meaning did it ultimately have?!'
'Even… was that promise of 'freedom', from the very beginning, just a carrot dangling in front of a donkey, forever out of our reach?'
The fear and sense of betrayal brought by this thought were far more bone-chilling than the cold of the prison block.
He felt like he was standing naked on the edge of a bottomless abyss, with unfathomable darkness below, and the hand that pushed him from behind had blurred features, yet carried a scent he had once trusted implicitly.
The pillar of his belief finally issued an unbearable, clear sound of shattering.
Clang!
A sudden, sharp sound broke the oppressive gloom of the corridor.
The heavy iron bucket full of scalding miso soup in Kabuto's hand slipped without any warning from his violently trembling, completely strengthless grasp, crashing heavily onto the cold stone floor!
Thick, scalding, deep brown soup with a salty, fishy smell instantly splashed everywhere, quickly spreading across the uneven stone surface, soaking through Kabuto's trouser legs and shoes/socks, and also splashing onto the trousers of a nearby guard.
"Ah!" The guard yelled in surprise from the burn, jumping away abruptly.
"Hey! Kid! What the hell are you doing?!"
Kabuto stood blankly in place, the scalding, sticky sensation of the soup on his trousers.
He looked at the messy, still steaming stain at his feet, the broken soup ladle, the wooden bowl rolled into the corner, the guard's angrily approaching face, the worried gazes of Hazuki and Shunji who came running at the sound...
The world seemed to slow down, sounds distorted and blurred, colors faded, leaving only this filthy mess before him, reeking of failure and collapse.
This mess was exactly like the collapsed world inside him right now.
"Sorry... I... my hand slipped-"
An extremely dry, unfamiliar voice was squeezed out of Kabuto's throat, carrying a false calm that even he found nauseating.
He bent over, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he lowered his head, revealing those eyes that could no longer be perfectly concealed, now filled with confusion and pain.
He squatted down, mechanically reaching to pick up the fragments on the ground. His fingers touched the scalding soup and the sharp edges of the ceramic pieces, bringing a sting.
This trivial pain, however, oddly brought a brief moment of clarity, 'I needed to conceal it, I had to conceal it!'
'No matter how my heart collapsed, no matter how the world that supported me turned to dust, right now, I still had to be Kumamoto Kabuto!'
He forced himself to look up, his face struggling to conjure an expression mixing panic, self-reproach, and clumsiness… one belonging to 'Kumamoto Kabuto'.
He then looked towards the furious guard and the quickly approaching Natsuhi.
"Natsuhi-sensei, I'm sorry! I was too careless!" His voice carried just the right amount of trembling and remorse.
Natsuhi frowned, her sharp gaze sweeping back and forth between Kabuto's pale face, trembling hands, and the mess on the ground several times.
She didn't say anything, just nodded to the guard: "We'll take responsibility for cleaning this up. Kabuto, Hazuki, clean this area. Shunji, go to the logistics squad and get another portion of soup."
Her voice remained steady, not betraying much emotion, but the speed of her orders was a fraction faster than usual.
"Yes!" Hazuki and Shunji promptly acknowledged, glancing worriedly at Kabuto, who was still squatting on the ground, soul-crushed, and quickly moved into action.
Kabuto squatted on the cold stone floor, holding a piece of ceramic covered in soup. The stinging sensation in his fingertips came through clearly.
He lowered his head, looking at his own blurred and distorted face reflected in the filthy soup… that face wearing the 'Kumamoto Kabuto' mask.
Nono's hollow, unfamiliar eyes were branded onto his retina, impossible to shake off. Each flash brought a soul-tearing agony.
His heart at this moment was like this prison block, filled with an aura of despair, tightly wrapping around him, trapping him firmly atop this collapsed ruin.
The belief he had meticulously built and that had always supported him had, under the gaze of those empty eyes, completely collapsed, turning into part of the filthy mess beneath his feet.
Natsuhi stood a few steps away, her gaze heavily falling on Kabuto's slightly trembling back.
She didn't urge him, just watched quietly, watching this usually most steady, most reliable student who now seemed drained of all strength.
From deep within the prison block came the heavy impact of an iron door opening and closing, drawn-out and hollow, like the chaotic state of Kabuto's heart at this moment.
Kabuto squatted on the cold stone floor, his fingers mechanically picking at the bean grains stuck in the crevices of the ceramic pieces.
Nono's dry-well-like hollow eyes burned repeatedly deep within his mind, each flash bringing soul-rending pain.
The bright future promised by Danzo, the deeply ingrained pillar of his belief, had collapsed soundlessly amidst that 'thank you', the fragments falling profusely, burying him deeply.
He was like a shell emptied of its soul, only maintained in a squatting posture by the last vestiges of inertia of the 'Kumamoto Kabuto' role, waiting for the possibly harsher reprimand Natsuhi might deliver.
At that moment, an indescribable feeling of weightlessness, as if emanating from the depths of his soul, abruptly seized him.
The solid, cold stone floor beneath his feet vanished. The furious glare of the guard, the worried gazes of his teammates, the messy stains on the ground… all the scenes twisted, shattered, and dissipated like reflections in water disturbed by a thrown stone.
The cold, despairing atmosphere of the prison block was replaced by an unimaginably vast and desolate emptiness.
Kabuto found himself standing on an endless expanse of water.
The water's surface was smooth as a mirror, reflecting the equally boundless, profoundly deep night sky above.
Countless stars burned, rotated, and flowed across this curtain of night, converging into a brilliant Milky Way. Their light was cold and pure, illuminating the entire space like a dreamscape.
The water beneath his feet wasn't solid, stepping on it produced only the faintest ripples, yet it clearly reflected his current pale, disheartened figure.
Absolute silence enveloped him. There was no wind, no sound, only the silent flow of the stars and the reverberation of his own heart pounding wildly within his chest.
A heartbeat so loud it was deafening, filled with panic and confusion.
'Where… is this?'
The immense shock temporarily overwhelmed the feeling of his inner world collapsing.
Kabuto jerked his head up, his pupils behind his glasses contracting sharply.
'This was definitely not reality!'
'Is it a Genjutsu?'
'What terrifying Genjutsu could instantly drag me from the reality of his prison cell into such an unimaginable illusory world?'
'And when was this Genjutsu cast?'
"Kabuto."
A clear, calm voice, carrying a hint of strange childlike innocence, suddenly rang out through the silence of this starry water surface, piercing clearly through the deafening heartbeat.
Kabuto's entire body shuddered violently, as if struck by an invisible electric current.
He whipped his head around towards the source of the sound.
About ten steps away on the water's surface stood a small figure quietly.
It was a boy around five years old.
He had spiky black hair, handsome face, and was wearing a set of black casual clothes. His toe-less ninja boots rested on the water's surface that reflected the stars, giving him a maturity incongruous with his peers.
The boy's eyes were jet black like deep pools, currently gazing at Kabuto with a calm, utterly unruffled expression.
That gaze was far too profound for a five-year-old child, as if it contained millennia of time and endless secrets.
'Menma!'
Kabuto's breath caught in his throat, his mind going blank.
'How could he be here?'
"You-" Kabuto's voice was as dry as sandpaper, trembling with disbelief. "You… How could you-"
Countless questions crowded and collided in his throat, ultimately turning into a chaotic blankness.
"Is this still a Genjutsu?"
He stared fixedly at the small figure, his body instinctively tensing into a defensive stance, even though he knew any form of defense seemed utterly pale and ridiculous in this bizarre space.
Menma did not answer his question about the space. Those jet-black eyes remained calm, as if they had already seen through all the struggle and pretense deep within his soul.
"Long time no see." The small lips parted, the voice clear and steady, each word like a cold stone dropped into the turbulent lake of Kabuto's heart, stirring up even greater waves of shock.
"It's been almost two years since we last parted. It seems you haven't been doing well in Konoha's Root, and you haven't become a Medical-Nin like you once said you would."
Kabuto's body swayed violently, as if struck hard by an invisible hammer.
"How… how do you know these things?" Kabuto's voice was hoarse, filled with the struggle of a cornered animal, "The Director… why is the Director in the Land of Stars?"
Kabuto knew that the Menma before him must know exactly what had happened!
"Do you want to know the truth?" Deep within Menma's jet-black eyes, a faint, almost imperceptible glimmer of something akin to pity seemed to pass.
He slowly raised his small right hand.
The movement carried a steadiness and sense of control completely at odds with his childlike appearance.
A few light pieces of paper slipped soundlessly from his tender palm.
The papers spiraled down, drifting slowly in the silence above the starry water surface, finally, as if guided by an invisible force, landing precisely on the water at Kabuto's feet, which reflected the brilliant galaxy.
The water rippled slightly, but did not soak the papers at all.
They were several color photographs.
Kabuto's gaze was magnetically fixed on the photos.
The first photo showed a boy with round glasses, a gentle smile, and clear, bright eyes.
His features, the curve of his smile… they were seventy to eighty percent similar to Kabuto's own! The boy wore a Konoha's Ninja Academy's uniform, the background seemingly one of Konoha's streets.
The second photo showed the same boy, now wearing Konoha's Medical-Nin's attire, giving a tired yet still cheerful smile to the camera.
The third photo was taken in a dimly lit room. The boy sat at a desk covered with open books, writing something intently.
Each photo bore some resemblance to Kabuto, constructing a trajectory of a young boy's growth.
In just two years, 'Yakushi Kabuto' had become a completely different person.
"This... this isn't me..."
"This isn't me!!!"
Kabuto's eyes were wide open, staring vacantly at the photos on the ground, his face full of shock and unbearable pain.
He staggered back a step, causing violent ripples to spread across the calm water surface.
He stared fixedly at the face of the unfamiliar youth in those photos, a cold, cruel, venomous truth, like the sharpest ice pick, brutally chiseled its way into his chaotic mind.
'Danzo... that man who controlled Root...'
'Not only had he used Director's safety as a chain to drive me, he had employed such a despicable, such vicious method!'
'He had found a substitute!'
'A boy similar to me, replacing my position in the Director's heart!'
'The Director's gentle gaze was drawn to that substitute!'
"The Director and you were both naive." Menma's voice sounded slowly, cold and pitying, "Naive enough to believe that man Danzo would keep his promises. Little did you know he was already planning how to make you kill each other, to erase the last remnants of goodness deep within the spy, completely remolding you into a tool in his hands."
This cruel truth nearly made Kabuto suffocate.
"Guh... Ah..."
A suppressed, ultimate roar, like that of a wounded beast, burst forth from the depths of Kabuto's throat.
He bent over sharply, his hands gripping his own hair tightly, his knuckles white from the force, his nails almost digging into his scalp.
Immense pain, the fury of being manipulated, gnawing regret, overwhelming hatred...
Countless emotions powerful enough to tear a person apart collided and raged like a tsunami inside him.
He understood!
He understood everything now!
Why Nono didn't recognize him!
Why her eyes were so empty!
Because in her 'memory', 'Yakushi Kabuto' was already someone else!
'If, as Menma said, this plan proceeded without my knowledge, and Danzo sent the Director to eliminate me...'
"It's me... It's my fault... I hurt her... It's me..." Kabuto's voice was broken, filled with self-destructive despair and guilt.
'If I hadn't taken the initiative to go with Danzo back then, perhaps the Director wouldn't have been so passively threatened by Danzo.'
Tears streamed uncontrollably from Kabuto's eyes, mixed with snot, messily flowing down his twisted face, dripping onto the water reflecting the stars, creating small, expanding ripples.