It wasn't until the energy was almost upon him that Kabuto felt the strangely familiar chakra signature just a few feet ahead. His body stiffened, eyes boring through the undergrowth, poised to attack at any moment as he scanned the trees for any sign of life. He couldn't quite place the chakra at first. It was familiar, he knew, but significant in a way that his mind refused to recognize.
Kabuto's heart skipped a beat as the heavily robed woman stepped out from a small cluster of trees. His breath hitched in his throat, eyes unblinking as he stared into her all too familiar face. Time stopped in that moment, all of his achievements, his unfathomable new power fading into insignificance as he felt his entire world crashing down around him. What he knew to be true and real and just suddenly called into question by the ghost that stood before him.
Kabuto's breathing was shallow, laboured, as he took in her features, a sheen of sweat glistening on his pale skin. Dusky blonde hair framed her face, accented by thick, oval-rimmed glasses. They were the same, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that these were the glasses he had gifted to her as a child. This woman was his mother.
With numerous enemies after his head, it should come as no surprise that one of them might be capable of such a chilling form of jutsu, a psychological threat much like his own Edo Tensei army. Yet as Kabuto stood there, staring brokenly into the face of the only person he had ever truly loved, of the devoted mother who he had killed with his own two hands, he found himself in an immobilised state of shock. This woman, whomever she claimed to be, could not possibly be his mother. He had watched her die from the very wounds he had so unwittingly inflicted, grieved, mourned her loss in a way that only Kabuto himself would ever know the true extent of. He felt his mind begin to shut down, to give in to the torturous emotions that screamed beneath his stoic shell. It took everything he had to fight against it, to will himself to believe that this couldn't be happening, for his proud mind to listen to reason.
He caught his breath, his usual cold logic gradually winning the war that had raged in his mind. Of course. This woman was just an illusion, at best a mere transformation of sorts. There was no possible way he could perceive for her to truly be his mother. Forcing his usual smug mask back to his face, he let out an amused chuckle. It was forced, unnatural, so much so that even Kabuto himself felt as though he was falling victim to his own deception. He had to commend the user's efforts, their sickening choice of jutsu technique. Why, it had almost had him fooled for a moment, more so than he would care to admit. That is, of course, until the logical part of his mind had regained some control.
Regrettably, even after overcoming the initial onslaught of emotion that had surged through him upon seeing such a familiar face, he couldn't deny the part of himself, a part growing with every passing moment, that both hoped and dreaded that this could truly be real. Since the day of her passing, that dreadful day that had altered Kabuto's life in ways beyond comprehension, he had longed to see his mother again, if only for a moment. To see her gentle, smiling face looking down at him, feel the warmth of her embrace. Of course, he had convinced himself that such feelings were pitiful, a hardening shell forming around his memories of her, and around the almost physical pain that came with them. But ever present in the far corners of Kabuto's mind that he fought so hard to ignore, was the child who had left the safety of his home, left warmth and comfort and love, for the sake of the only family he had. For the woman who he had loved more than anything else in the world, and, though he did not care to admit it, still did. Those distant corners of his mind that wanted only to return home, to be welcomed as a brother and a son in a family that no longer existed. The feelings had grown less potent as he aged, replaced by a deep bitterness towards the village who had so cruely taken everything from him. But, try as he might, the longing still lingered, an insatiable desire to find the one place he could truly belong, where he could be the man that he was yet to become. And as he stood there, confronted by this ghost from the past, Kabuto was suddenly a child again. The lost, abandoned orphan who had been found on the battlefield all those years ago, searching only for a warm hand that would pull him from the depths of despair.
He shook off the overwhelming sensation, albeit with great difficulty, focusing only on the task at hand. This woman had to be an imposter, a servant of the enemy sent to throw him off his guard, and Kabuto wasn't about to let such a heinous crime go unpunished. In spite of his steely expression, his serpentine eyes swam with a conflicted agony. Voice hoarse and choked, his gut twisted as he echoed the words this very woman had uttered to him all those years ago. "Who are you?"
