Orochimaru's voice carried an icy challenge. "You should know better than anyone that for people like us, once we have something we truly care about—a weakness—a fatal opening and death are never far behind."
Kabuto Yakushi fell silent for a moment. The laboratory's blue lights cast a cold reflection on his glasses, obscuring the emotions in his eyes.
Only the low hum of machinery and the soft sound of dripping liquid filled the corridor.
After a long while, Kabuto Yakushi finally raised his head. "She is my daughter. We may not be related by blood, but in her eyes, I am her father. The way she looks at me, so full of trust and dependence, is exactly how I used to look at the director."
Orochimaru's smile widened, as though he had witnessed a particularly fascinating experimental result. "A daughter... heh. What a touching word."
"You once regarded countless ninja as expendable tools to be modified. And now even you are bound by such mundane emotions. Kabuto, you have changed enough to surprise even me."
"Perhaps," Kabuto Yakushi said with a soft sigh. "Lord Orochimaru, I hear you also have a child named Mitsuki now. I think you might understand this feeling, at least a little."
"Just as you personally travel to Konoha to attend Mitsuki's parent-teacher meetings. That behavior has long since gone far beyond how one treats a tool, hasn't it?"
Orochimaru's golden pupils abruptly contracted, and he applauded. "As expected of the legendary spy. Even in distant Kumogakure, you remain fully informed about what happens in Konoha—and even around me."
The mockery on his face faded slightly, replaced by an almost wistful expression. "You're right. Perhaps time has changed us both to some extent."
"Time is such a wondrous and terrifying thing. Even if I exhaust every