The Kaguya clan district sat on the desolate outskirts of Kirigakure.
As the most formidable combat force in the village, the Kaguya clan had originally occupied the very heart of the settlement. But everything had shifted when the Fourth Mizukage, Yagura Karatachi, ascended to power and inexplicably began enforcing the "Bloody Mist" policy.
The Kaguya were battle-maniacs by nature—explosive, violent, and constantly at odds with other clans and commoner ninjas alike. In the past, due to the constant state of war and the fact that several previous Mizukages hailed from noble clans, the commoners could do little more than swallow their resentment in silence.
However, since Yagura's rise, the Mizukage had used every possible pretext to suppress the noble families, and the hot-headed Kaguya were the first to be targeted. After several bloody skirmishes, the clan's authority and high-ranking advisory seats were stripped away. Finally, under the guise of "maintaining order," Yagura forcibly relocated the entire clan to this barren fringe of the village.
"Patriarch! We cannot let this continue!"
Inside the Kaguya clan shrine, a secret meeting was underway. The clansmen, long since fed up with the high-pressure regime, were boiling with rage. The traditional Heian eyebrows on their foreheads twitched with fury.
"The Yuki clan has already been wiped out!"
"If we just sit here and wait for death, the Kaguya will be next!"
"Patriarch! Overthrow Yagura's tyranny!"
"That's right! All the clans are terrified right now. If we—the strongest force in the Mist—rise up, no one will lift a finger to help Yagura!"
"That man has even turned against his own family; he is completely isolated!"
"Lord Patriarch! We will support you as the Fifth Mizukage!"
Facing the feverish intensity of his kin, the Kaguya Patriarch felt a wild fire ignite in his own chest. Yagura's policies hadn't even spared the Karatachi clan. The Seven Ninja Swordsmen were dead or defected; the only people Yagura had left were a few ANBU loyalists like Suikazan Fuguki.
"Sigh... if possible, I wanted to wait for Kimimaro to grow up," the Patriarch sighed, thinking of the child locked away because his Bloodline Limit was too powerful. If they had a few more years, that boy would undoubtedly possess the strength of an elite Jonin or even a Kage.
"Kimimaro?" The name caused a somber silence to fall over many.
Even at a young age, the boy's Shikotsumyaku (Dead Bone Pulse) was already more potent than that of many established Jonin. However... Kimimaro was only seven. Because his bloodline was so pure and powerful, his "bloodline disease" was far worse than normal. He suffered frequent, debilitating attacks that left him unable to fight or even live a normal life. The clan feared his power and raised him only as a weapon.
"Even without Kimimaro, we can succeed!" a clansman roared.
"Yes! That boy has been sick for days anyway."
"Hmph! Does the great Kaguya clan truly need to wait for a brat to grow up?"
The shouting resumed, reaching a crescendo. "Patriarch! Better to act now than to hesitate!"
The Kaguya Patriarch, himself a man of short temper, had reached his limit. Once the decision to revolt was made, there was no room for delay. With a fanatical gleam in their eyes, the clansmen surged out of the district under the command of their elders, charging straight toward the Mizukage Building.
In the Kaguya clan, there were no cowards. If they lost, it was a rebellion; if they won, it was the end of tyranny.
"My, my... these lunatics. Truly as mad as ever," Orochimaru murmured, leaning against a window in the shadows of a nearby building. His snake-like eyes watched the wave of Kaguya clansmen rushing toward the village center.
"Are they always like this?" Menma stood on the opposite side of the window.
He hadn't realized this coup was a spur-of-the-moment decision. To him, this "strategy"—if it could even be called that—of a mass frontal charge against the Mizukage's headquarters was indistinguishable from a suicide mission. Unless the Kaguya possessed a Beyond-Kage level fighter to end things in one blow, the battle would inevitably stall. Without allies, they would soon be surrounded by the rest of the village. After all, regardless of how hated Yagura was, he was still the Fourth Mizukage.
"They have always been this way," Orochimaru replied, a hint of lingering wariness in his voice as he recalled facing these madmen in previous Great Wars.
Menma's only real impression of the Kaguya was Kimimaro. In his memory, Kimimaro was calm, confident, and composed—polite even to his enemies. It was hard to imagine him coming from a family known for such mindless savagery. In that regard, he was quite like Uchiha Shisui.
"Let's go. The entire clan has deployed; none of them will be coming back tonight," Orochimaru predicted, clearly unimpressed by the coup. "I expect the Mizukage will send the ANBU to 'clean up' the elderly and children left behind before dawn."
The two made their way toward the Kaguya clan's underground prison.
"I've heard rumors of a seven-year-old genius," Orochimaru explained as they descended the stone stairs. "His Shikotsumyaku is so advanced he already rivals a Jonin in raw power. I know you're interested in Bloodline Limits, but this boy... I want him for myself."
His dark, predatory eyes darted toward Menma.
"You won't want him," a calm, certain voice replied from behind the white fox mask.
"Oh?" Orochimaru stopped.
They had reached the deepest level of the dungeon. In the final cell, they found a white-haired boy with dark circles under his eyes. He was curled on the floor, shivering violently, gasping for breath.
Orochimaru frowned. "Bloodline disease?"
In the past, this might have been difficult to solve. But now? Orochimaru's mind began to race—what would happen if he implanted Hashirama's cells or White Zetsu cells into the boy?
While Orochimaru was lost in thought, Menma stepped forward. He reached out and gripped the iron bars. With a horrific screech of metal, he twisted the thick bars apart as if they were made of clay and stepped inside.
Menma knelt beside the suffering Kimimaro. He looked into the boy's pained eyes and placed a hand firmly on his chest.
A massive, warm surge of chakra flowed into the boy's tenketsu, coursing through his meridians like a soothing hot spring. The warmth blunted the agony that had tormented Kimimaro for days. His breathing steadied, and his eyes slowly drifted shut as he fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.
"His body is too frail," Menma said, standing up after the boy had succumbed to sleep. He turned his masked head toward Orochimaru. "It cannot withstand the awakening of the Tomogoroshi no Haikotsu—the All-Killing Ash Bones."