Chapter 9
The first week of their flight was a blur of unrelenting hardship, etched into Ryuu's memory not as distinct days, but as a continuous cycle of aching muscles, gnawing hunger, damp chill, and suffocating vigilance.
Kasumi pushed them relentlessly, moving primarily during the twilight hours of dawn and dusk, utilizing the deep shadows and shifting mists for cover. Daytime was spent hidden, resting fitfully in hastily secured shelters – dense thickets, shallow caves, hollows beneath ancient tree roots – while Kasumi maintained an almost sleepless watch, her senses perpetually stretched taut.
She spent the resting time teaching him how to sense and fight.
Their path led them steadily south-southeast, deeper into the Land of Water's rugged interior, deliberately avoiding the coast and any known settlements marked on Kasumi's meticulously updated mental map.
The terrain was unforgiving. They navigated treacherous ravines choked with thorny vines, crossed swift, frigid streams that numbed Ryuu's small feet even through his worn sandals, and traversed vast stretches of misty marshland where solid ground was a treacherous illusion.
Leeches became a constant nuisance in the wetter areas, necessitating frequent, unpleasant checks and Kasumi's practiced, swift removal with a heated twig or a precise flick of her knife.
Food was scarce and monotonous. The small supply of dried fish and seaweed ran out within three days. After that, they relied entirely on Kasumi's foraging skills. Edible roots, dug laboriously from the damp earth with her knife or sharpened stones, were often fibrous and bitter.
Tough, leafy greens provided minimal sustenance. Occasionally, she managed to trap small game – a marsh bird, a large rodent – using intricate snares fashioned from vines and twigs. These rare windfalls were cooked quickly over tiny, smokeless fires built in deep crevices or shielded by rock formations, the meagre meat shared carefully, every scrap devoured.
Ryuu learned the sharp, constant ache of true hunger, a hollow feeling that gnawed at his stomach and made concentration difficult. His already small frame grew leaner, the bones beneath his pale skin becoming more prominent.
This wasn't the life a child should be going through. It was far too absurd to expect a sheltered kid to go through this hell. But Ryuu endured. He knew that this would only help him in the long term.
Water, thankfully, was relatively abundant in the damp climate, but rarely safe to drink directly. Streams were often murky, pooling water stagnant. Kasumi's purification methods were time-consuming – boiling water whenever a fire was feasible and safe, or painstakingly filtering it through layers of sand, charcoal salvaged from old fire pits, and tightly woven cloth. Every mouthful felt precious, hard-earned.
Ryuu's body, pushed far beyond anything it had ever experienced, began to adapt in small, almost imperceptible ways.
The initial overwhelming exhaustion lessened slightly, replaced by a persistent, deep weariness. His muscles, though still underdeveloped, gained a wiry toughness. His balance improved marginally on the uneven terrain. His tolerance for the damp cold increased out of sheer necessity.
But the fundamental limitations remained. He was still a child, physically outmatched by the environment and the demands of their flight. He relied utterly on Kasumi's strength to pull him through the toughest sections, on her knowledge to keep them fed and hydrated, on her vigilance to keep them alive.
His internal world, however, was a whirlwind of activity. The constant sensory input, the need for unwavering focus, the sheer volume of new information – it was overwhelming, yet strangely stimulating for his adult mind.
He absorbed Kasumi's lessons like a sponge: identifying animal tracks, understanding weather patterns from cloud formations and wind direction, recognizing the subtle differences between harmless plants and deadly poisons.
He practiced the chakra sensing exercises constantly, trying to differentiate the background hum of nature from potential threats, his range and sensitivity improving fractionally with each passing day.
The chakra control drills continued whenever they found a secure resting spot. The leaf concentration exercise, once Kasumi deemed his basic pooling ability sufficient, became his primary focus.
It was maddeningly difficult. Making the leaf twitch was achievable after days of effort, but keeping it stuck fast required a level of sustained, delicate control that felt miles beyond his current grasp. The leaf would cling for a second, maybe two, before fluttering away, leaving him shaky and drained, the small success overshadowed by the magnitude of the remaining challenge.
He saw Kasumi watching his struggles, her expression unreadable. She offered minimal guidance now, focusing solely on the absolute basics of control and suppression. "Feel the flow," she'd murmur occasionally. "Steady. Consistent. No surges." There was no mention of using chakra for techniques, no hint of teaching him Ice Release.
The accidental manifestation had clearly terrified her into locking that potential down completely, prioritizing concealment above all else. Ryuu understood her fear, but a part of him chafed at the restriction, knowing the power that lay dormant within him, power they might desperately need.
The psychological toll of the journey was immense. Fear was a constant companion, sometimes a low hum beneath the surface, sometimes a sharp spike of adrenaline triggered by a snapping twig or a distant, unidentifiable sound. The isolation was profound.
Days passed without seeing another human soul, reinforcing the feeling of being utterly alone in a vast, hostile world. Ryuu's modern sensibilities warred constantly with the brutal realities surrounding him. The casual disregard for life, the constant threat of violence, the sheer struggle for basic survival – it wore away at his previous worldview, leaving behind a harder, more pragmatic core.
He found himself thinking less about his past life – the breakup, architecture school, the comfortable ennui of modern existence felt like scenes from a half-forgotten dream, irrelevant now.
His focus narrowed entirely onto the present: the next step, the next meal, the next potential threat.
And the future: Konoha, power, survival against the Akatsuki and later, the Ōtsutsuki.
He used analysis as a shield, dissecting their situation, Kasumi's skills, his own weaknesses, potential enemy tactics, turning fear into data points and strategic calculations.
Kasumi remained an enigma. Her skills were undeniable – Jonin-level survival, stealth, tracking, sensory awareness, and likely combat prowess he hadn't yet witnessed.
She moved through the wilderness with an expertise born of long, hard experience. Where had she learned it all? Her official Kiri training, assuming she'd had any before fleeing? Or skills honed during years spent hiding before Shiosai? She never spoke of her past, never mentioned family or friends, never betrayed any personal history beyond her overwhelming drive to protect him and remain hidden.
Yet, small clues sometimes slipped through her guard. The way she instinctively checked for Genjutsu triggers around potential campsites. The specific, efficient way she dispatched trapped animals, minimizing suffering but utterly unsentimental.
A fleeting look of recognition, quickly masked, when they passed a certain type of ancient-looking trail marker almost swallowed by the forest. A muttered curse in a dialect slightly different from the coastal speech when she stubbed her toe hard on a hidden root. Each tiny detail was filed away in Ryuu's mental dossier, pieces of a puzzle he couldn't yet assemble.
He suspected her story was far more complex and dangerous than simply being a Yuki survivor who fled the purges.
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Weeks bled into a month, maybe more. Time lost meaning beyond the cycles of sun, moon, and gnawing hunger. They pushed steadily south, the terrain gradually shifting from dense, misty forests to vast, treacherous marshlands interspersed with rocky outcrops and sluggish, brown rivers.
It was during this time that Ryuu turned four. Of course his birthday was something momentous, but his mother did try to make it special in her own way.
The air grew heavier, thick with the buzz of insects and the smell of decay. Travel became slower, more dangerous. Solid ground often gave way to sucking mud, and navigating the maze of waterways required Kasumi to construct crude rafts from fallen logs and vines, poling them carefully through murky channels teeming with unseen life.
Ryuu learned the unique miseries of the marsh. Swarms of biting flies that seemed impervious to smoke or conventional repellents, leaving itchy, inflamed welts on any exposed skin (his pale skin reacting particularly badly).
The constant dampness that seeped into everything, making starting fires nearly impossible some days, chilling them to the bone despite their layers. The eerie silence, broken only by the croaking of unseen amphibians and the sudden splash of something large moving beneath the water's surface.
It was in the marshlands that they had their second close encounter. They were resting on a small, relatively dry hummock of land crowned by skeletal, waterlogged trees, Kasumi having just managed to coax a tiny fire to life to boil water. Ryuu was practicing the leaf exercise, frustration mounting as the damp leaf refused to even twitch properly today, his chakra feeling sluggish and unresponsive in the heavy air.
Kasumi suddenly went utterly still, her head cocked, her eyes fixed on the sluggish river bordering their temporary camp. Ryuu immediately dropped the leaf, straining his own senses. He felt it this time, clearly – multiple chakra signatures, moving steadily along the waterway, hidden by the reeds and mist on the far bank. They were shinobi, their signatures tightly controlled, disciplined. Kiri?
Kasumi silently doused the pathetic fire with a handful of mud, scattering the remaining embers. She pulled Ryuu behind the thickest tree trunk, pressing them flat against the damp bark. Her hand hovered near her knife, her body radiating absolute readiness.
The group on the river passed by their hiding spot, visible only in brief glimpses through gaps in the reeds. There were four of them, moving single file on a narrow, almost invisible path along the bank.
They wore the standard Kiri flak jackets and head protectors, but not the elaborate ones of Jūzō's unit. These looked like standard Chunin or low-ranking Jonin – a regular patrol, perhaps, or maybe hunters specifically searching the marshlands.
One of them carried a tightly bound scroll case, suggesting a mission beyond simple patrol.
Ryuu held his breath until his lungs burned, focusing every ounce of his concentration on suppressing his chakra, mimicking Kasumi's near-perfect stillness. The shinobi passed without pause, their gaze fixed ahead, seemingly unaware of the two figures hidden less than fifty meters away.
Their controlled chakra signatures faded slowly downriver.
Kasumi waited a long time after they were gone, maybe fifteen minutes, before allowing herself or Ryuu to move. The relief was immense, but tinged with renewed fear. Kiri patrols were active this far inland, this deep into the wilderness. Their isolation wasn't safety, it was just luck, and luck inevitably ran out.
"Too close," Kasumi whispered, her voice tight. "They are searching more widely now. We cannot linger."
They abandoned the campsite immediately, pushing deeper into the marsh, taking an even more circuitous, difficult route. The encounter spurred Ryuu's training.
The leaf exercise became less about achieving the goal, more about the process – the feel of the chakra, the delicate act of guiding it, the absolute focus required.
He started experimenting subtly, trying to replicate the feeling of Kasumi's Ice Release, not the manifestation, but the intrinsic coldness he had sensed within the energy. Could he alter the nature of his chakra, even slightly? He focused on drawing the warmth from the leaf, pulling coolness towards it instead.
It yielded no visible results, only leaving him more drained, but the mental exercise itself felt important.
It made sense though, nature transformation at this stage would have been absurd and he himself knew it.
Their food situation grew more precarious. Game was scarce in the marsh, edible plants harder to find amongst the reeds and stagnant pools.
Hunger became a constant, dull ache, fraying their nerves. Ryuu started losing weight more noticeably, his movements becoming weaker despite his body's adaptation. Kasumi pushed herself harder, taking more risks in her foraging, her own exhaustion becoming increasingly apparent.
One evening, driven by desperation, Kasumi set traps near a stagnant pool known to attract large marsh rats – unpleasant, but potentially filling. While checking the traps near dawn, Ryuu, hiding nearby as instructed, saw her freeze again. This time, it wasn't shinobi.
From the reeds emerged not one, but three large, reptilian creatures resembling oversized salamanders, their skin a mottled green-brown, their eyes cold and black. They moved with surprising speed towards the trapped, squealing rat. Kasumi reacted instantly, drawing her knife and moving to intercept, clearly intending to salvage their potential meal.
But as she engaged the first creature, dodging its snapping jaws and trying to find an opening, the other two flanked her with unnerving coordination.
Ryuu saw the glint of chakra enhancing the claws of one, the faint shimmer of water nature energy around the jaws of another. These weren't just animals, they were dangerous chakra beasts, common hazards in the wilder parts of this world.
Kasumi was skilled, fast, her movements precise. She wounded the first creature, forcing it back, then spun to block a lunge from the second. But she was outnumbered, weary, and hampered by the treacherous footing. The third creature circled behind her.
Ryuu watched, frozen in helpless terror. Kasumi was going to be overwhelmed. He had no combat skills, negligible chakra reserves, no way to help. His mind screamed, uselessly analyzing angles, predicting attack patterns. The third chakra beast lunged, its claws extended, aiming for Kasumi's exposed back.
Suddenly, just as the situation looked grim, Kasumi's movements shifted. The desperate defense vanished, replaced by something colder, faster, far more dangerous. Her hands, a blur even to Ryuu's intently focused gaze, flew through a sequence of seals.
Dog, Tiger, Boar, Ox, Dog.
The sequence was short, economical, executed with blinding speed despite the treacherous footing.
"Hyōton: Hissatsu Hyōsō!" (Ice Release: Certain-Kill Ice Spears)
Kasumi's voice was low, sharp, devoid of the maternal softness Ryuu was accustomed to.
In the instant the words left her lips, the very air around her seemed to crackle with cold energy. The temperature plummeted noticeably. Moisture hanging heavy in the marsh air condensed, flash-freezing into dozens of impossibly sharp, needle-like spears of ice that hovered menacingly around her for a fraction of a second.
Then, with a silent, directed surge of her will, the ice spears shot outwards with lethal velocity.
They didn't target the creature lunging at her back. That one, Ryuu realized with dawning horror and admiration, was already doomed by its predictable trajectory. Instead, the majority of the spears converged instantly on the first two salamanders – the ones pressuring her from the front.
The ice lances struck with vicious precision, bypassing tough scales to punch through softer underbellies, pierce eyes, sever tendons. There were no dramatic explosions, just sickening, wet thunks as the spears found their marks. The two creatures convulsed violently, guttural shrieks cut short as vital organs were shredded, their coordinated assault instantly dissolving into twitching death throes.
Simultaneously, as the third creature's claws were mere inches from her back, Kasumi didn't turn. Instead, she dropped low, spinning on the ball of one foot with impossible grace, letting the lunge sail harmlessly over her head.
As she spun, her free hand flicked towards her thigh pouch. The utility knife was gone, replaced in her grip by three sleek, black kunai held expertly between her fingers.
Before the flanking salamander could even comprehend its miss, Kasumi lashed out from her low crouch. One kunai embedded itself deep in the creature's exposed throat. Another slammed into the joint of its foreleg, eliciting a pained screech. The third she didn't throw, instead, she used the momentum of her spin to drive upwards, ramming the kunai hilt-deep into the beast's softer underside as it flew over her.
It landed heavily beyond her, thrashing, mortally wounded but not yet dead.
Kasumi rose smoothly, landing lightly on the marshy ground, her breathing only slightly accelerated. The transformation was terrifying. The cautious, weary mother had vanished utterly, replaced by a cold, efficient killing machine. Her dark violet eyes scanned the area, assessing residual threats, her posture radiating lethal competence.
She spared a brief glance at the still-twitching third salamander, then drew another kunai. With two quick, precise throws, she silenced its pained struggles, striking vulnerable points behind its skull. Efficiency. Minimal wasted energy. Minimum noise.
The entire encounter, from the moment she began the hand seals to the death of the third beast, had taken less than ten seconds.
She retrieved her kunai methodically, wiping them clean on clumps of marsh grass before securing them back in their pouch. She picked up the squealing marsh rat from the now-broken snare, silencing it with a single, swift twist of the neck. Food secured. Threat neutralized.
Only then did she turn fully towards Ryuu, who was still pressed against the tree roots, staring with wide, shocked eyes. The cold, predatory intensity in her gaze softened slightly, replaced by a flicker of… something complex. Regret? Resignation? Or just the necessary compartmentalization of a shinobi forced to reveal their true nature?
She walked towards him, her movements fluid, reclaiming her usual quiet grace, though the aura of deadly capability lingered around her like a phantom chill. She knelt beside him, her expression carefully neutral once more, but her eyes searched his face, gauging his reaction.
"Ryuu," she said, her voice low, calm again, though perhaps a shade deeper than usual. "You saw." It wasn't a question.
He could only nod, swallowing hard. The image of the ice spears, the blur of kunai, the cold efficiency – it was burned into his mind.
This wasn't just standard shinobi survival skills. This was high-level combat proficiency. This was the power of a Kekkei Genkai wielded with deadly intent.
"What I did," Kasumi continued, her voice barely above a whisper, "is dangerous. Not just the technique itself, but the fact that I can do it. The fact that you might one day do it."
She glanced back towards the dead salamanders, then locked eyes with him again. "This power… it invites fear. It invites hunters. Like those Kiri shinobi we sensed. Like Jūzō Biwa. They hunt what they fear, Ryuu. They eliminate it."
She reached out, gently touching his cheek, her calloused fingers surprisingly soft against his cold skin. "I showed you because… because you needed to see the reality. The danger."
Her gaze was intense, pleading almost. "Promise me Ryuu. Promise me that you will never lose yourself. Hatred breeds hatred and that is not a philosophy I stand by. Rotting fruit will fall on it's own."
He nodded again, more solemnly this time. Seeing the power unleashed, seeing the cold killer beneath the gentle mother, had fundamentally shifted his understanding. Kasumi wasn't just hiding, she was a dormant weapon, terrified of being drawn. And he carried the same potential, the same target on his back.
"I promise, Kaa-san," he whispered, the words feeling heavier now.
Kasumi seemed to accept this, though the worry never truly left her eyes. She helped him up. "Come. We butcher the rat quickly. We cannot stay here. The blood will draw scavengers… or worse."
As they worked together in the grim silence – Kasumi expertly skinning and gutting the marsh rat, Ryuu gathering damp wood for another tiny, cautious fire – Ryuu's mind raced.
His mother was far stronger, far more dangerous, than he had ever imagined. Her past was clearly steeped in the brutal realities of Kiri's shinobi world, likely involving combat, perhaps even assassination, given her efficiency and the title he now suspected she held. Why had she fled? Was it just the purges? Or something more specific? Something that might still be hunting her beyond Kiri's general policy?
And what did this mean for him? If Kasumi was this strong, her training, even focused on suppression, reconnaissance and chakra control, was likely far more advanced than he realized.