Chapter 10
Their journey continued south, leaving the treacherous marshlands behind as the terrain slowly climbed again, transitioning into rolling hills covered in wind-swept grasses and sparse, resilient pines.
The air grew clearer, carrying the distinct, sharp tang of the nearby sea more strongly with each passing day. The constant, low roar of waves breaking against unseen shores became the new backdrop to their existence.
Kasumi's tension increased proportionally to their proximity to the coast. Nagi Port, their desperate goal, lay somewhere ahead, hidden within the coves and inlets of this rugged shoreline. She pushed the pace relentlessly, utilizing the darkest hours of the night for movement, her senses stretched to their absolute limit.
Ryuu, now four years old according to the internal calendar he maintained, struggled to keep up, his small body pushed past exhaustion, fueled only by Kasumi's iron will and the dwindling supply of scavenged food.
The leaf exercise became his primary focus during their brief, hidden rests. He could now keep the leaf plastered to his forehead for extended periods, the flow of chakra becoming steadier, more intuitive.
He continued his secret experiments with temperature manipulation, achieving fleeting moments where a pebble felt noticeably cooler to the touch, or a drop of water seemed resistant to freezing in the chill night air for an extra second. Progress was glacial, but it was his progress, achieved through focused will and analysis, a tiny assertion of control in a chaotic world.
Kasumi, perhaps resigned to the inevitability of his awakening potential, began incorporating more demanding elements into his training.
She taught him rudimentary escape techniques – how to break grips, how to use an opponent's momentum against them, how to disappear into shadows or mist with sudden bursts of chakra-enhanced speed (though his bursts were pitifully short).
She also started the ice-forming basics she had promised, focusing initially on utter silence and minimal chakra expenditure.
"Think small," she instructed, demonstrating how to draw moisture from the air to form a single, tiny senbon of ice between her fingers, barely visible, before letting it melt silently away. "Think sharp. Concealable. A last resort. Something unexpected."
Ryuu tried, concentrating fiercely, pulling at the cool energy within him, trying to shape it, condense it.
Most attempts resulted in nothing but wasted chakra and a faint headache. Occasionally, a tiny shard of frost would appear fleetingly on his fingertip before vanishing. It was frustrating, demanding a level of control far beyond simply sticking a leaf, but the potential, the idea of wielding ice as a hidden weapon, spurred him on.
They skirted the edges of Nagi Port for two full days, hidden in the rocky hills overlooking the sprawling, chaotic settlement. From their vantage points, Ryuu got his first proper look at the infamous port.
It wasn't a village like Shiosai, it was a sprawling, ramshackle collection of weathered docks, warehouses of dubious origin, gambling dens spilling drunken patrons into muddy streets, and teahouses thick with smoke and secrets.
Boats of all shapes and sizes crowded the harbour – fishing skiffs, sturdy merchant vessels, sleek smuggling cutters, and occasionally, unmarked patrol boats slipping in and out like grey sharks. The place thrummed with a nervous, dangerous energy, a melting pot of desperation, greed, and violence.
Kasumi spent hours observing, motionless as a statue, her eyes tracking movements, identifying patterns, assessing potential threats. She noted which docks seemed busiest, which were guarded by rough-looking mercenaries, which sections seemed favored by shinobi – ronin or perhaps Kiri spies in disguise.
Ryuu watched alongside her, his own analytical mind absorbing the data. He saw deals being struck in shadowed alleyways, fights breaking out over perceived slights, goods being loaded and unloaded with suspicious haste under the cover of night.
This was the underbelly of the Land of Water, a place where rules were suggestions and survival depended on strength, cunning, or anonymity.
"Too many eyes," Kasumi murmured after their first day of observation. "Too many potential hunters. Kiri shinobi could be anywhere, watching, listening." The memory of the shinobi on the trail was clearly fresh. "And the smugglers... they trust no one. They'd sell us out for a handful of ryo if they suspected we were valuable fugitives."
Her assessment aligned with Ryuu's own. A direct approach was suicide. They needed information, leverage, or an opportunity created by chaos.
The opportunity came, as it often did in this world, cloaked in violence. On their second night of observation, shortly after moonrise, a commotion erupted near the main docks.
Shouts, the clash of steel, flares of chakra lighting up the night – a fierce skirmish had broken out. From their distant vantage point, it was impossible to tell who was fighting whom, but it involved multiple parties, including several skilled shinobi whose chakra signatures flared brightly before being abruptly extinguished.
Kasumi watched intently, her expression grim. "Faction fight," she assessed quietly. "Smuggler gangs settling scores, perhaps. Or maybe... someone resisting Kiri interference."
The fight was brief, brutal, and ended as quickly as it began, leaving behind an uneasy silence and the smell of blood drifting on the sea breeze. Figures melted back into the shadows, leaving behind casualties likely to be stripped bare and dumped into the harbour before dawn.
"This chaos... it might be our chance," Kasumi whispered, a calculated light entering her eyes. "Security will be disrupted. Eyes will be looking inward, settling scores, covering tracks. If we move now, carefully..."
She looked at Ryuu. "Stay hidden here. No matter what you hear, do not move, do not make a sound, until I return or give the signal." The signal was a specific, low whistle mimicking a local nightjar, practiced relentlessly during their journey.
Ryuu nodded, his heart pounding. He understood. Kasumi was going down there, into that nest of vipers, alone, to find passage.
She would use the aftermath of the fight as cover, perhaps using her skills to gather information, bribe the right person, or even... secure a vessel through less savory means.
"Be careful, Kaa-san," he whispered, the plea genuine.
Kasumi gave him a rare, fleeting smile, though it didn't reach her haunted eyes. "Survival is about calculated risks, Ryuu." Then, she melted into the shadows, moving down the slope towards the chaotic port with the silence and grace of a predator.
Ryuu waited, hidden in the cold rocks, utterly alone. Hours passed. The sounds from the port below were muted – occasional shouts, the creak of timbers, the distant lap of waves.
Every shadow seemed to hold a Kiri shinobi, every gust of wind sounded like approaching footsteps. His imagination conjured horrific scenarios: Kasumi captured, Kasumi betrayed, Kasumi forced to fight her way out. He clutched a smooth, cold stone in his hand, focusing on the sensation, trying to channel his fear into the chakra control exercises, forcing his mind away from the terrifying possibilities.
He must have drifted into an exhausted sleep, because he was jolted awake by the sound, faint but clear on the pre-dawn wind: the low, trilling whistle of a nightjar. The signal.
Relief washed over him, so potent it made him weak. He scrambled from his hiding place, scanning the darkness below. He saw her then, a fleeting shadow detaching itself from the deeper gloom near the base of the hills, waving him down cautiously.
He moved as quickly and silently as his tired legs could manage, scrambling down the rocky path. Kasumi met him halfway, pulling him into the shadows of a cluster of wind-stunted pines. She looked exhausted, her clothes slightly disheveled, smudged with grime that wasn't just dirt, but her eyes held a spark of grim success.
"I found passage," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "A smuggler. Old, greedy, asks few questions if the price is right. He sails for the Fire Country coast on the morning tide, carrying 'spices'."
She produced a small, surprisingly heavy pouch from within her tunic. "Most of our emergency funds. Enough to secure passage for two small 'orphans' heading to distant relatives."
Ryuu looked at the pouch, then back at her. Where had she hidden that? How much did they even have?
"He is wary," Kasumi continued. "The fight last night made everyone jumpy. And... there were Kiri shinobi involved. Hunter-nin. They eliminated a small group of ronin who were causing trouble. They are still in the port, watching."
Ryuu's blood ran cold again. Kiri hunters, right there. "Is it safe?"
"Safe?" Kasumi gave a short, harsh laugh devoid of humor. "Nowhere is safe, Ryuu. It is possible. The smuggler's boat is small, fast, knows hidden routes. He leaves before sunrise, before Kiri tightens its grip after last night's 'incident'. We move now, blend in with the dock workers loading the last cargo. Extreme caution. Absolute silence. And be ready..." Her hand rested briefly on the pouch containing her kunai. "...for anything."
The final approach to Nagi Port felt like walking through a minefield. They slipped through darkened alleyways reeking of stale beer, fish guts, and desperation. Rough-looking figures lurked in doorways, their eyes glittering avariciously in the dim light filtering from shuttered windows.
Kasumi navigated the maze unerringly, keeping Ryuu tucked close into her shadow, her senses constantly scanning, her body coiled like a spring.
They reached the designated dock just as the first hints of grey light touched the eastern sky. A small, battered-looking vessel, aptly named the 'Sea Serpent', was taking on the last few crates under the watchful eye of a grizzled, one-eyed captain whose face looked like sun-baked leather. A handful of rough dockhands moved with sullen efficiency.
Kasumi exchanged a brief, coded hand signal with the captain, who gave a curt nod, his one good eye lingering suspiciously on Ryuu's bundled form before flicking back towards the shadows of the port.
"Get aboard," Kasumi whispered, pushing Ryuu towards the narrow gangplank. "Quickly. Below deck. Don't look around."
Ryuu scrambled aboard, his heart pounding. He ducked into the cramped, dark space below deck, the air thick with the smell of brine, mildew, and something vaguely spicy – the supposed cargo. Kasumi followed a moment later, pulling the hatch almost closed.
Through a crack, Ryuu saw the last lines being cast off. He heard the captain shouting orders, the creak of the hull as it shifted, the churn of water as they began to move slowly away from the dock, away from Nagi Port, away from the Land of Water.
He leaned back against the rough wooden bulkhead, relief warring with trepidation. They had made it. They were on a boat, heading towards the Land of Fire. But Kiri hunters were still back there. The sea voyage itself held dangers. And Konoha... Konoha was still a massive, terrifying unknown.
He closed his eyes, focusing on the gentle rocking of the boat, the sounds of the sea starting to claim them. He felt Kasumi settle beside him in the darkness, her breathing barely audible. He reached out tentatively, his small hand finding hers. She squeezed it briefly, a silent acknowledgment of the hurdle overcome, and the vast ocean of uncertainty still stretching before them. The escape was complete, but the journey for survival had only just entered its next stage.
———————————————————————————————
(Meanwhile, in Konoha )
The weight of the Hokage hat felt heavier today than the simple ceremonial wood and cloth suggested. Minato Namikaze, Konoha's Yellow Flash, now its Fourth Hokage, stood gazing out from the panoramic window of his office. Below, the village pulsed with life – the steady rhythm of reconstruction after the brutal Third Shinobi World War, the laughter of children near the Academy grounds, the purposeful movement of shinobi heading towards the mission assignment desk.
Peace.
Yet, it was a peace bought with blood, fragile as cherry blossoms in a sudden storm.
Jiraiya-sensei's reports lay heavy on his mind, thicker than the stack of routine administrative scrolls awaiting his seal. Whispers from across the borders – lingering resentments in Iwa despite the armistice, suspicious neutrality from Kumo, Sand's cautious rebuilding under Rasa.
And then, the more unsettling fragments: anomalies near the ruins of Uzushiogakure, tales dismissed by most intelligence analysts as folklore resurfacing in the post-war chaos, but Jiraiya insisted on their potential significance.
Most concerning were the persistent, albeit shadowy, reports of a masked individual wielding abilities reminiscent of the Uchiha clan, claiming the impossible name of Madara. Wartime propaganda, perhaps? Or something far more sinister operating just beyond the veil of the known world? Minato trusted his sensei's instincts implicitly, Jiraiya didn't chase phantoms without reason.
A flicker of chakra, disciplined and familiar, announced an arrival. Minato didn't turn immediately. "Report, Taka," he said, his voice calm, betraying none of the underlying concerns swirling within him. The designation 'Taka' (Hawk) was common within the ANBU Black Ops, denoting an operative skilled in reconnaissance and swift communication.
The ANBU operative materialized from the shadows near the door, kneeling silently. His porcelain animal mask – a hawk, naturally – was blank, expressionless, yet his posture radiated urgency. "Hokage-sama. Priority intelligence dispatch from Patrol Sector East-Seven, monitoring maritime approaches from the Land of Water."
Minato finally turned, his sharp blue eyes focusing intently on the kneeling figure. "Proceed."
"Increased and aggressive activity confirmed, Hokage-sama," Taka reported, his voice muffled and toneless through the mask. "Multiple sightings of unmarked, high-speed Kiri vessels operating well beyond traditional patrol zones, encroaching on civilian shipping lanes and fishing grounds near our territorial waters. Reports indicate forceful 'inspections' and confiscation of goods."
Minato frowned. Aggressive posturing wasn't unusual for Kiri, especially under the unpredictable Third Mizukage, but this sounded like a systematic increase in pressure. "Define 'forceful'."
"Threat displays, Hokage-sama. Brandishing of weapons. In two intercepted civilian communications, mention was made of warning shots fired. More significantly, we've triangulated multiple reports indicating dedicated Kiri hunter-nin squads operating unusually far south along the Land of Water's coastline, beyond their usual pursuit parameters."
Hunter-nin operating openly, far from Mist territory? That was highly irregular, almost provocative. "Their targets?" Minato pressed.
"Unknown, sir. But..." Taka hesitated for a fraction of a second, the only sign of the report's gravity. "Cross-referencing fragmented intel from our contacts within Water Country and refugee debriefings points towards a disturbing trend: renewed internal security operations within Kiri, possibly escalating into targeted purges. Chatter specifically mentions 'bloodline impurities' and disappearances linked to clans possessing certain Kekkei Genkai."
The air in the office seemed to grow colder. Kekkei Genkai purges. It wasn't unheard of – history was littered with clans destroyed by fear and paranoia – but for Kiri, a village built on unique water-based abilities and infamous swordsmen wielding legendary blades, to turn so viciously inwards... it spoke of deep instability, perhaps a power struggle reaching a bloody climax, or something even more orchestrated.
Minato's mind flashed back instantly to classified briefings during the height of the war. Whispers about Kiri's internal factions, about the growing fear surrounding certain powerful bloodlines deemed too 'uncontrollable'.
And more specifically, he recalled the risky, high-stakes intelligence exchange facilitated through a cut-out network years ago. A Kiri kunoichi, operating under extreme duress, known only by the codename "Hyōjin" – the Ice Blade.
Her information on Kiri troop movements and a planned ambush had been flawless, timely, saving an entire Konoha platoon, including some promising young shinobi he knew personally. Her signature technique, according to the fragmented reports, involved manipulating ice with terrifying speed and lethality.
A Yuki clan member, undoubtedly. She had vanished from their intelligence channels immediately after that exchange, presumed compromised or gone deep into hiding.
Was she caught in this new wave of purges? The thought left a bitter taste. She had taken an immense risk for Konoha.
"Understood, Taka," Minato said, his voice hardening slightly. "Implement Directive 7-Alpha immediately. Increase aerial and sensory surveillance along all eastern approaches. Task the Analysis Division to prioritize any and all intercepts related to Kirigakure internal affairs, hunter-nin deployments, and specifically, any mention of the Yuki clan or other prominent Land of Water Kekkei Genkai lineages."
He paused, tapping a finger on his desk. "Relay all relevant findings directly to Jiraiya-sensei via secure channel – he needs to be aware of this escalation. Also... reactivate passive chakra signature monitoring protocols, designation 'Winter Bloom'. Focus on any anomalies matching known or suspected Yuki clan diaspora patterns, however faint or distant. Log any potential matches, cross-reference with missing persons reports from Water Country if possible, but do not initiate active tracking or contact without my explicit authorization. We observe only, for now."
He needed information, but he couldn't risk exposing potential survivors or provoking Kiri further without understanding the full picture. Konoha didn't take bloodline purging and theft lightly.
"Hai, Hokage-sama!" Taka bowed deeply, then shimmered and vanished as silently as he had appeared.
Minato turned back to the window, his gaze distant, troubled. The Third War may have ended, but the shadows were lengthening again. Kiri's internal turmoil, the masked figure claiming Madara's name, the whispers from Uzushio...
it felt like pieces of a larger, darker puzzle beginning to slide into place. He ran a hand through his blond hair, the weight of responsibility settling more heavily than ever. He had Kushina to protect, their soon-to-be-born child, a village still healing... and now, a potentially genocidal storm brewing in the Land of Water, threatening to spill across the sea.
Peace was proving to be a far more complex battle than war itself.