Kimimaro stood silently, lost for a moment in thought.
The ninjas of the Yuki Clan, regardless of gender, were known for their beauty. Yet beneath that beauty was a cold and aloof demeanor—a kind of distant indifference to others and the world around them.
But Kai of the Yuki Clan was different.
He never lost his temper. He always seemed gentle, even timid—easily mistaken for someone fragile. Yet within the clan's harsh training grounds, Kai showed unmatched discipline. The clan leaders praised him constantly.
Still, in the ninja academy's dueling exams, he underperformed. His hesitation in combat meant he couldn't even display half of his true strength, placing him near the bottom of the rankings.
The Yuki Clan patriarch had encouraged Kimimaro to befriend Kai—not only to bring the two heirs closer but also in hopes that Kimimaro's presence might toughen the boy's resolve.
But so far, it hadn't worked.
Kimimaro frowned. "You're not cut out to be a ninja. You should leave the academy."
He wasn't being cruel—he was being honest. If Kai didn't change, he'd die on the battlefield. Better to remain safe in the village than be slaughtered far from home.
Not everyone was meant to be a shinobi. There was no shame in stepping away.
Kimimaro understood better than most: the greatest mistake was forcing someone to embrace cruelty just to survive.
"..." Kai didn't answer. He only shook his head.
Kimimaro's gaze grew colder.
This wasn't the first time he had brought this up. Every time, Kai refused to argue, offering no defense—just silently continuing his training as always.
That kind of passive resistance—neither fighting back nor submitting—left Kimimaro at a loss. What could he even do?
"I…" Kimimaro began again, but suddenly, a sharp pain ripped through his body. It was as if every cell in him were tearing apart. His face went pale, and he collapsed backward.
Kai caught him in time, panic rising on his face. "Are you okay? Is it... that illness?"
The curse of the Kaguya Clan was their bloodline.
Their powerful kekkei genkai, the Shikotsumyaku, let them weaponize their own bones. But this power came at a terrible cost.
Where other clans like the Uchiha suffered psychological damage from their dōjutsu, the Kaguya's affliction was physical—and lethal.
"My… backpack…" Kimimaro whispered weakly. "Medicine…"
Kai immediately searched his belongings and found a syringe filled with red liquid. Without hesitation, he injected it into Kimimaro's shoulder.
The pain eased… for a moment. Then Kimimaro began coughing up blood.
Thick, dark crimson spilled from his mouth, staining the snow at their feet. His body writhed as if every vein were bursting.
Kai's face went pale with worry. "Did I use the wrong medicine…?"
"Don't worry," Kimimaro rasped, grabbing Kai's arm. "This is… normal."
The truth of the Shikotsumyaku was that it poisoned its own wielder.
The bone marrow, in producing its unique structure, sometimes leaked toxins into the bloodstream. Periodic bloodletting helped reduce the concentration—but it wasn't always enough. The Kaguya knew little about the patterns or causes of this mysterious illness.
Even with such mastery over their own bodies, the clan didn't truly understand the price of their power. It was cruel irony.
"I'll take you back to the clan," Kai said, trying to lift him.
Kimimaro shook his head. "No. I'm fine. Just lost some blood—I'll recover."
Had it not been for this inherited disease, the Shikotsumyaku would rank among the strongest kekkei genkai in the world. The ability not only offered powerful offense and defense, but even regenerative qualities—rivaled only by the Senju and Uzumaki clans.
Still, Kai refused to leave him alone. Quietly, he supported Kimimaro and began walking toward the clan compound.
He knew Kimimaro was stubborn. He might say he was fine—but Kai needed confirmation from the clan's elders.
"You idiot…" Kimimaro muttered, too weak to resist. He focused on restoring his blood and strength, trying not to feel humiliated. He hated looking weak in front of others, especially Kai.
But just as he was regaining his composure, he sensed something.
"Be careful—" he warned.
Kai was already moving, pulling him back protectively. His eyes locked forward.
A figure stood at the entrance of the alley.
He wore a black cloak over a clean-cut samurai outfit. He wasn't large, but he radiated presence. His braided hair, red earrings, and strange symbol below his eye marked him as someone not of the Land of Iron.
Kimimaro's brow furrowed. No chakra presence… not a ninja… not even a samurai… so why does he feel so dangerous?
"Who are you?" Kimimaro asked coldly. "Why are you in our way?"
The man ignored the question. His eyes narrowed in disgust as he looked Kimimaro over.
"Kaguya's descendant… heh…"
He didn't elaborate. But Kimimaro recognized the disdain in his voice. He stepped forward, assuming a combat stance.
"If you're not looking for a fight, then move."
The man's expression didn't change, but the contempt in his eyes deepened, igniting Kimimaro's fury.
Just as Kimimaro launched forward, a voice whispered directly beside him—without the man even moving.
"I'm not interested in a child like you…"
"…But I'll be taking the other one."
His eyes shifted to Kai, now filled with curiosity.
This man's name—at least the name of his current vessel—was Jigen. But his true identity was Ōtsutsuki Isshiki.
Long ago, he arrived on Earth alongside Kaguya, intending to harvest the fruit of the divine tree. But she betrayed him. His essence was nearly destroyed—his "Kāma" mark consumed by the tree.
By a stroke of luck, he found a dying monk named Jigen and used him as a vessel to survive.
But that body, sustained for centuries, was deteriorating. In recent years, Isshiki had begun searching for a new vessel—one worthy of carrying his power.
So far, his search had been fruitless.
But while investigating a trace of a familiar chakra in the Land of Iron, he encountered something unexpected.
Kai.
"You want to take him?" Kimimaro growled, standing tall despite his condition. "Over my dead body!"
"You're not my opponent," Isshiki said flatly.
And Kimimaro felt it. A pressure like a mountain pressed down on him. His knees buckled. He could barely stay upright.
Kai caught him and stood firm, eyes sharp.
"We know we can't beat you," he said, voice calm. "But this is the Land of Iron. The territories of the Yuki and Kaguya clans are under the Akatsuki's protection now."
"You clearly have great power. So you must also know the name Nagato—the leader of Akatsuki."
"Even if we can't stop you… Nagato can."
Isshiki had indeed observed the recent battle between Nagato and Orochimaru. They were powerful—perhaps on par with the likes of Hashirama or Madara.
But to suggest they could defeat him was absurd.
Still, Kai's words caused Isshiki to briefly reflect. Kai noticed the shift in his aura and felt a chill. Whether Isshiki saw Nagato as a true threat—or as someone unworthy of his attention—it didn't matter.
Either way, this was bad.
They would have to fight.
Frost swirled in the air. The alley's temperature plummeted. Ice crystals formed from moisture around them. Kai's body tensed like a drawn blade, ready to strike.
Kimimaro responded, summoning chakra to armor his body in bone.
But before they could move, an immense force crashed down on them.
Their bodies froze.
Isshiki hadn't moved an inch. But black markings now stretched across his face, and the sheer pressure of his chakra thickened the air to suffocating levels.
Oddly, the people walking by the alley were oblivious. It was as if nothing unusual were happening.
Kai and Kimimaro were horrified.
Even their clan leaders—powerful in their own right—couldn't compare to this. In fact, the only shinobi who might approach this power were Orochimaru and Nagato. And even they…
Who is this man? Kai wondered. Why have we never heard of him?
And worst of all, if they died here… no one would even know who did it.
Just as despair set in, Isshiki suddenly withdrew his aura.
He stepped closer to Kai, gazing into him with intent.
"If you come with me willingly," he said, "and become my vessel, I will grant you one wish."
Isshiki had lived among humans for millennia. Though most were dull, a few had great potential—especially those attuned to natural energy. This boy was one of them.
If Kai agreed, Isshiki believed he might finally obtain the perfect host body—one superior even to his current form.
"A wish?" Kai asked cautiously. "What kind of wish?"
Isshiki's eyes flicked to Kimimaro.
"I can cure his illness."
Kai's eyes widened in shock.
"You can… really cure his bloodline disease?"
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