Mother Director, Yakushi Nono... This name was like a rusty needle buried in the tenderest flesh of Kabuto's heart, and even breathing normally felt like it might touch it.
Since entering Root and becoming a spy, he had always thought he would never be able to see her again in this lifetime.
But now, it was thanks to Makoto.
Although it was Orochimaru-sama who personally pulled him out of the Root quagmire, Kabuto understood better than anyone which carried more weight.
Without Makoto's strong recommendation, Orochimaru would never have taken him out of Root for no reason. This favor, he had to engrave into his bones.
Especially now, hearing the words 'openly and honestly' crash into his ears, Kabuto instantly felt as if mustard had been poured up his nose. He nodded vigorously.
His knuckles crumpled the wrapping paper of the carnations, his voice tight, carrying a bit of an unstoppable sob, his eyes red as if soaked in blood.
"Thank you, Makoto-sa..."
"Hmm?" Makoto's trailing tone lifted lightly, like a feather brushing against the heart, making Kabuto feel respected, he snapped back to reality and quickly lowered his head, his voice full of reverence and gravity: "Thank you, Makoto-nii, really, thank you!"
He paused, his throat bobbing, resolve solidifying in his heart. When he looked up, his eyes shone brightly: "In the future, if there is anything you can use me for, I am at your disposal!"
After speaking, Kabuto bowed respectfully, then turned and walked towards the orphanage.
The sunlight spilled over him, stretching his shadow long. At first, his steps held a bit of hesitation, but then he walked faster and faster, even breaking into a small run, like a wanderer eagerly returning home.
Makoto stood in place, watching the receding figure, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. The seed of gratitude had been planted, and it might bring him some unexpected surprises in the future.
Although Kabuto would most likely still defect with Orochimaru, it was still much better than him killing his foster mother, Yakushi Nono, with his own hands in the future.
Let him learn properly under Orochimaru. Once he, Makoto, became the Hokage's man, he could grant him a special pardon, or once he established a 'New Konoha' outside, he could bring him over.
The sun was just right, a gentle breeze brushed past, carrying a sweet warmth. Makoto stretched lazily and turned to amble slowly back towards the clan's compound.
…
The Darkness of the Shinobi World, the Blame Kage, Shimura Danzo, sat in the dark and damp Root's base.
The light in his single eye was dimmer than an oil lamp. A slightly yellowed portrait was spread on the stone table, depicting Makoto tilting his head with a smile, his eyes burning brightly, like a small sun.
Bang!
Danzo's knuckle slammed heavily onto the portrait, creasing the paper. His fingertip rubbed over the youth's face in the picture, his single eye swirling with gloom, like ice shards dipped in poison.
"Orochimaru... actually pleaded for this brat. Utterly absurd!"
His voice was hoarse and cold, echoing in the empty Root's base.
If it weren't for Hiruzen stopping him, saying they had to wait until the ceasefire agreement with Kumogakure was signed before they could move against Makoto…
He would have long since gone out personally to eliminate this inherently evil, sharp-tongued Uchiha brat. He had outright refused Orochimaru at the time.
Danzo clenched the cane in his hand, his knuckles white. Having lived most of his life, he had never been pointed at and cursed before, let alone in public!
If this brat hadn't been hiding inside the Uchiha Clan's compound for over half a year, his grave would already be overgrown with weeds by now.
"Uchiha Makoto..." Danzo squeezed the name out from between his teeth, the killing intent in his single eye almost tangible. "Once the agreement is signed, this old man will personally send you on your way!"
…
In the following days, Itachi was like a wound-up top.
Before dawn had fully broken, he would be out carrying rice balls, dragging his leaden body back only when the moon was high in the sky, sometimes even doing missions for days and nights on end.
Every time he saw Makoto, he would pull a wad of mission earnings from his tool pouch. At these times, Makoto would simply praise him a few words.
The core points were always the Will of Fire and Sasuke.
Just these simple phrases were enough to instantly pump Itachi full of motivation. The next day, he would leave even earlier, take on missions even more diligently, the very picture of a tireless nuclear-powered worker.
And, most terrifyingly, Itachi enjoyed it, no matter how exhausted he was each day, a faint smile always on his face. One could only say the Will of Fire was truly pernicious.
The days rolled by, and the time for Kumogakure's envoy to come sign the ceasefire agreement drew closer.
The numbers in the [Player Shop] jumped more and more excitedly, until this day, when Makoto just topped up the wad of money Itachi had slipped to him sometime last night.
The balance finally steadily stepped over that line.
Suddenly, dragging footsteps sounded at the courtyard entrance. Itachi and Shisui stood there, their heads hanging so low they almost touched their chests, their shoulders slumped like two sunflowers wilted by a storm.
Shisui's lips were pressed into a thin line, even his usually straight back was slightly bent. The red blood vessels in Itachi's black eyes were tangled with dismay.
The two brought Makoto to a small grove at the edge of the clan's compound.
The wind rustled through the leaves, 'whispering' as if someone was sighing.
Shisui and Itachi stood in the shadows among the trees, a light breeze swirling dried leaves past their ankles. Their shadows twisted together on the ground like tangled hemp rope. Neither spoke first.
The air carried the astringent scent of pine needles, pressing down on one's chest, making it feel stuffy.
After a long while, Shisui finally moved his mouth, his voice like sandpaper rubbing against wood: "Makoto, Orochimaru-sama has taken that youth and... defected."
As soon as the words fell, his clenched fist trembled slightly at his side, knuckles white as if about to crack, the veins on the back of his hand throbbing.
He lowered his gaze, his eyelashes casting a small shadow under his eyes, and added, so softly it was like a sigh.
"Our plan to help Orochimaru-sama become the Godaime Hokage... ended almost as soon as it began."
Sunlight filtered down through the gaps in the leaves, casting shifting patches of light and shadow on Shisui's face.
One could see the disappointment in his eyes, like cotton soaked in water, heavy and about to fall. Even his usually straight shoulders had quietly slumped by half.
Itachi beside him didn't speak, just kept his head down, his nails unconsciously digging into his palms, leaving several deep crescent marks.
He stole a glance at Makoto, his heart in turmoil.
'Makoto, after putting his heart into this plan for over half a year... for it to come to nothing like this... He must be suffering more than either of us right now.'
The more he thought about it, the worse he felt. Itachi's nails dug deeper, unaware of the beads of blood seeping into his palm.
Makoto was perfectly clear about Orochimaru's defection internally, but his face looked as if struck by lightning, his eyes wide and round, his brows furrowed enough to wring out water, his voice trembling:
"How is that possible!? He was fine when we saw him a few days ago, how could he suddenly defect!"
He even involuntarily took half a step back, nearly falling, his hand clutching his clothes, the very image of a youth whose expectations had been shattered.
Itachi and Shisui, seeing him like this, their hearts almost overflowed with heartache. Both sighed inwardly.
'What a good child, for the sake of Konoha and the clan, he's been striving since he was two and a half... only to be betrayed by Orochimaru like this.'
One could only say Makoto was truly a veteran actor.
After putting on a bit of a show with them, Makoto opened the pale golden [Naruto World Online] panel. It spread out, the dark patterns along its edges flowing like living snakes.
The words [Player Shop] glowed faintly, right in front of Shisui's face, yet he remained completely unaware.
Makoto looked at the item he had long since picked out, ready to purchase, 'The timing was just right.'
It was the Two Tomoe Sharingan.
Right now, he had to spend his limited funds on what mattered most, directly buying the Two Tomoe Sharingan to stack stats.
As long as the stats were high enough, anything could be broken through by force.
It would also add to his perceived talent, making him more valued.
He focused his will to confirm the purchase of [Two Tomoe Sharingan] on the pale golden virtual panel.
Buying the Two Tomoe Sharingan directly from the Player Shop cost fifteen million Ryo, but since he had previously bought the One Tomoe Sharingan for two and a half million Ryo, the Player Shop, quite conscientious, reduced the price of the Two Tomoe by two and a half million Ryo. It only cost twelve and a half million Ryo.
The moment he purchased it, Makoto suddenly roared: "I want to smash this damn world!"
As the words fell, Makoto's eyeballs grew slightly warm. A gentle stream of Chakra drilled along his blood vessels towards his eyes, a tingling, numbing sensation that was extremely comfortable.
A bloody hue rose in his pupils. The original single tomoe Sharingan 'cracked' open, becoming two blood-red tomoe that spun rapidly within his pupils. The world before Makoto's eyes became even more marvelous.
The chakra within his body surged like a burst dam, 'humming' as it violently increased. Feeling the thrill of his rapidly rising power, every cell in his body felt as if it had drunk honey water, permeated with uninhibited and thorough pleasure.
At first, Makoto could barely suppress his laughter, but the corners of his mouth couldn't help but twitch upwards. In the end, he simply threw his head back and let out the classic Uchiha manic laugh: "Hahaha—"
Itachi and Shisui, watching the two rapidly spinning tomoe in Makoto's eyes, felt their hearts tighten.
They had both awakened the Sharingan, so they naturally knew how heartbroken Makoto must be feeling to awaken the Two Tomoe Sharingan at such a young age.
Itachi's nails dug even deeper, the blood in his palm spreading into a small stain.
Feeling the pleasure brought by the rapid increase in strength, after his manic laughter, Makoto simply closed his eyes and fell backwards on the spot.
It wasn't that he fainted, it was just too comfortable...
'You really get what you pay for. Twelve and a half million Ryo for a painless eye awakening was really not bad.'
Itachi and Shisui were startled, quickly catching him. They exchanged a look full of worry and carefully carried him back towards the clan.
The journey was bumpy, and Makoto simply fell asleep.
After gently placing Makoto on his bed, the two tiptoed out, even closing the door softly, afraid of waking him.
Time passed quickly. The moon rose, its silver light spreading across the bed through the window lattice like scattered crushed silver.
Makoto stretched and woke up. He looked around the room for a while but couldn't find Itachi, not knowing what he was off doing.
In a rather cheerful mood, Makoto ran to Fugaku's room, intending to ask him how the matter of his arranged marriage was coming along.