Naruto, my father's name is Uchiha Madara.

Page 455

That figure... seemed somewhat familiar... golden... warm...

Was it due to excessive blood loss, or a final burst of energy before death?

Before he could think it through, the endless darkness swallowed up all his senses.

After an unknown amount of time, a warm and dry touch slowly pulled Dou back to reality from his deep coma.

What he felt first was no longer the coldness of the river water and the hardness of the pebbles.

Instead, it was the soft bedding beneath her, and the faint smell of sun-dried fabric in the air, and... the scent of a child.

He suddenly opened his eyes!

What came into view was not the gloomy sky or the cold cave I had imagined, but a simple yet clean wooden ceiling.

A few rays of sunlight pierced through the cracks in the window, forming beams of light in the air, where tiny dust particles could be seen floating slowly.

He moved, trying to sit up, but the movement aggravated the wound on his left shoulder, and a sharp pain made him gasp.

This also brought him to his complete waking up.

He looked down and saw that the horrific cut on his left shoulder had been carefully cleaned and covered with a plaster that smelled of fresh herbs.

It was then carefully bandaged with a clean white bandage.

Although the damage caused by the internal wind-style chakra remained, the pain was unbearable.

But at least the external bleeding has stopped, and the wound has been treated very professionally.

Where is this place?

He looked around warily. It was a small room with a few simple wooden beds, resembling a dormitory.

At that moment, not far from his bed, several small figures were gathered around.

Those were several very young children, the oldest of whom looked no more than five or six years old.

They were wearing old clothes that were faded but clean, and they were looking at him timidly.

Their eyes were filled with curiosity, but also with obvious fear.

A few of the bolder ones were cautiously reaching out their little hands, seemingly wanting to touch his skin, which was exposed outside the bandages and covered with fine white scales.

But out of fear, he hesitated to start.

Looking at these children, at the innocent eyes in their eyes that were a mixture of fear and curiosity, Dou felt inexplicably irritated.

He certainly knew what they were afraid of.

I'm afraid of his current monstrous appearance, neither human nor snake.

In order to gain power and surpass Lord Orochimaru, he deliberately fused with too many snake cells.

This caused irreversible changes to his body.

This face is so dignified that even adults, let alone children, would feel fear and disgust upon seeing it.

He snorted coldly, not wanting to pay attention to these eyesores, and struggled to get up and leave.

He doesn't need sympathy, much less waste his time in a place like this.

However, just as he was trying to support his body with his arms, a voice, as if traversing a long time tunnel, rang out.

It carried with it a tenderness that had long since faded from his memory, yet was deeply ingrained in his soul, and it rang out behind him.

"you're awake?"

This voice...

Kabuto's body suddenly froze, as if struck by an invisible thunderbolt!

He remained in a half-sitting position, motionless, even his breathing stopped.

That voice... it was so familiar... so familiar that it sent shivers down his spine.

It was so familiar to him that he thought it was a hallucination caused by excessive blood loss.

So familiar with it that... it stirred up an indescribable lingering fear deep within him, a mixture of immense panic and a faint glimmer of hope.

He didn't dare to look back.

He was afraid that if he turned around, he would only see a phantom created by extreme longing.

Or, it could be an enemy wearing a mask and mimicking that voice.

He wished it were just a dream.

However, the owner of that voice seemed unaware of the turmoil in his heart, or rather, she didn't care.

The footsteps sounded softly, and the person walked around to his bedside, then squatted down so that his line of sight was level with the person lying on the bed.

A face was clearly reflected in Dou's pupils, which contracted in shock.

Golden, slightly messy yet still smooth long hair, and eyes so gentle they seemed to embrace all suffering.

A pair of familiar round glasses rested on his pert nose.

He wore a warm smile on his lips, a smile he had repeatedly recalled on countless lonely, cold nights, yet could never quite remember.

Yakushi Nono.

His former dean, the only light in his dark childhood, someone he thought he had long ago buried in the past... by his own hands.

"Oh dear, look at me,"

Nono smiled, seemingly a little embarrassed.

His tone was so natural, as if he were just greeting a lost stranger: "I was so busy asking you questions that I forgot to introduce myself."

"My name is Yakushi Nonou, and I'm the director of this orphanage. And you? What's your name?"

Her eyes were clear and sincere, without any trace of pretense.

It was as if I were really meeting him for the first time, asking the name of an injured stranger in need of help.

Dou opened his mouth, but his throat felt like it was blocked by something, and he couldn't make a sound.

He looked at the vibrant face before him, feeling the peaceful and warm chakra fluctuations that were uniquely hers, and his mind went blank.

The dean... is still alive?

How could that be?! He clearly... he clearly saw it with his own eyes...

Countless questions, shock, panic, and a faint, almost non-existent sense of relief that even he himself was unwilling to admit.

Like a flood bursting its banks, it instantly shattered his psychological defenses.

What has always sustained his paranoia, madness, and belief in revenge is...

At this moment, in front of the person he thought he had long since lost, he appeared so ridiculous and vulnerable.

He didn't know how he made the sound; it was dry and hoarse, as if it weren't his own.

"……pocket."

He used just one word, yet it seemed to have exhausted all his strength.

He looked at Nono, at those gentle eyes that gazed at him through round lenses.

An even more terrifying thought slithered into his mind like a venomous snake:

She... doesn't remember me?

Or perhaps she really... just happened to save a stranger who looked like a monster?

If that's really the case... then what does everything he was so attached to, everything he committed... even mean?

Chapter 477 Nightmare, Time to Wake Up!

A brief, suffocating silence fell over the room.

The only sounds were the occasional chirping of birds outside the window and the suppressed breathing of children.

Yakushi Kabuto stood frozen in place, his mind a complete mess.

Ecstasy, fear, guilt, bewilderment... all sorts of emotions surged and churned in his chest like boiling magma, almost tearing him apart.

He stared intently at Nono, who was squatting in front of him, her eyes looking at him through her glasses.

Clear, gentle, and filled with pure concern, yet lacking the familiarity he remembered.

She really doesn't remember.

This realization was like a cold file, repeatedly grinding away at his already fragile nerves.

He wanted to speak, to ask, "Dean, do you remember me?"

He wanted to repent for the crimes he had committed, even if it meant facing scorn and retribution.

But his throat felt like it was entangled in countless thorns, and he couldn't utter a single word.

What right does he have to ask that?

How can they possibly have the face to beg for forgiveness?

Back then, in a similar situation, he misunderstood her and no longer recognized her.

In extreme pain and anger, he abandoned her, who was severely injured.

He thought she was dead, and filled with the despair of being "betrayed" and the denial of his own existence, he plunged into complete darkness.

That was the most important turning point in his life, and also the starting point of all his obsessions and madness.

But now, she is standing right in front of him, alive and well, and she not only doesn't remember his betrayal, but she doesn't even remember him as a person.

This is the cruelest irony of all his past actions.

An intense battle raged between inner resistance and a yearning for warmth.

His first instinct was to escape from here, to flee back into the familiar darkness and hatred.

At least there was no such sharp, disorienting pain there.

Nono seemed to notice his turbulent emotions and struggling gaze.

She didn't urge him or show any fear; she simply remained in a squatting position.