"Tora the Runaway Cat"
Once the war ended Kabuto abandoned not the thought of you, but the idea of you. The illusion he had built, the belief that somehow, your recognition could have defined him.
And that realization, more than anything, had finally set him free.
So he left behind the ruins of his past and returned to the last place that had ever felt real. The orphanage.
It had changed over the years, just as he had. But the soul of the boy who had once been saved there remained.
Now, instead of manipulating lives, he devoted himself to healing the war orphans. He became their caretaker, their mentor for how to navigate a world that had already taken too much from them. He knew what it was to be lost, to be abandoned, and for once in his life, he had no ulterior motive. No strategy. No hidden agenda. Only purpose.
And, unknowingly, that same search for purpose had led you here too.
You had needed a change of scenery. Something different. Something hopeful after witnessing so much death and suffering on the battlefield. When you heard the orphanage was reopening, you applied immediately.
Children were the future, after all. What better way to rebuild than by helping the ones who would someday inherit the world?
The old head nurse had taken a liking to you right away, and soon, you found yourself as one of the new caregivers. The work was demanding, but rewarding. The children adored you, often sneaking into your office to talk, to play, to seek comfort after nightmares.
It felt right.
It felt like moving forward.
Kabuto was a hands-on leader. He believed in being present, in being part of the lives he was responsible for. That was why he personally took charge of teaching the older children how to read and write, just as Nonō once had.
One day, during a break between lessons, a little girl tripped while running with her friends, scraping her knee on the dirt path outside. She sniffled, trying to be brave, but when Kabuto knelt beside her to inspect the wound, she made a small, tearful request:“Can we go to Y/N? She makes everything better.”
Kabuto had heard of the new nurse but had yet to meet her properly. It had been on his list of things to do, but time always slipped away from him. Now, with the child’s tiny hand clutching his sleeve, he figured this was as good a time as any.
So he knocked on the door.
And then you opened it.
For a moment, the world stopped.
You stood before him, smiling warmly as you welcomed the little girl inside, your presence as effortless and radiant as he remembered. You kneeled, gently cleaning the wound, your hands working with the same tenderness he had felt years ago.
And he couldn’t breathe.
His heart pounded against his ribs, an unfamiliar, disorienting sensation that had been long buried, something he had not allowed himself to feel in years.
“There, as good as new!” you chirped, lifting the little girl into your arms. “Isn’t that right?”
Kabuto barely heard her response. He was too busy staring at you.
“Ah… yes,” he finally managed. “Thank you.”
You turned to him, smiling as if you were completely unaware of raging storm inside his chest.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you as well.”
And then, as your eyes lingered on his face, recognition flickered. Not instant, not immediate, but a slow-burning spark, a connection reaching across years.
“Kabuto?”
He swallowed. “That is right.”
You tilted your head slightly, studying him, your gaze tracing over his features. They were much different now, altered beyond what he had once been, but still, somehow the same.
“You look much different than how I remember you. From the Chūnin Exams.”
He dropped his gaze to the floor. “Yes.” He had never expected to see you again, had never dared to hope for it. And yet, here you were. “A lot has happened.”
A knowing look crossed your face. “I imagine so.”
And then silence.
A different kind than before. A silence that was not awkward, nor filled with unspoken expectations. Just the space between two people who had changed.
And maybe, for the first time, he wasn’t the only one.
You were different too. Somehow more assured, more grounded than the girl he had once met. You had grown, just as he had.
And then, you did something he hadn’t anticipated.
You smiled at him.
“I’m very glad to see you.”
And then, with quiet confidence, you said something that nearly knocked the breath from his lungs.
“Perhaps we could catch up this evening? After lights out?”
He wasn’t a man anymore. Not in that moment. He was the same young shinobi who had sat in a medic’s tent years ago, heartbeat quickening when a kind girl had looked at him like he was worth something. He felt the same warmth, the same hesitant, startled excitement. He wasn’t sure how to respond. He stood there, frozen, before catching himself and fumbling forward.
“Yes! Yes.” He cleared his throat. “That… sounds like a good idea. I will… I will come get you.”
“I’ll be looking forward to it, then.”
And just like that, the moment was sealed.
The little girl tugged on his sleeve. “I’m all better now!”
Kabuto blinked, pulling himself back to the present. “Ah. Yes. We’re learning reading.”
For some reason, he explained it to you. Maybe because he didn’t want to walk away just yet. Maybe because this still felt like a dream, and if he spoke just a little longer, it wouldn’t slip away.
You chuckled, looking between him and the child. “That’s so important! You’re going to be able to read all the stories! And then tell me about them.”
The girl brightened. “Yes! We’re reading Tora the Runaway Cat now!”
“That sounds very interesting,” you said, crouching to her level. “How about you both finish it and then tell me all about Tora’s adventures?”
Kabuto didn’t miss that you had included him in that statement.
And for some reason, that made his chest feel warm.
And this time, he would not be running.