Somewhere in the Land of Water's vast sprawling archipelago, on a smaller island.
Inside a makeshift prison built into one of the clan's battered ships, a 7-year-old boy moved restlessly.
The ship bore a few faded Kaguya clan emblems, but it looked as if it had been dragged onto the shore and half-abandoned, its hull warped and patched with crude repairs.
The boy stretched and twisted his small body as if warming up, but his focus was inward, quietly molding chakra with a suppressed thrill in his chest.
Outside, the sound of shouting was fading.
His lips curved into a grin.
He had wanted to escape for a while, but until now, there had been no chance.
Today, that changed.
It hadn't taken much.
The guards were already seething. Fighting was glory to the Kaguya, and guarding a "caged child" was humiliation.
Worse, most of those guards actually came from two rival factions, each answering to different clan chieftains.
Kimimaro had "innocently" stoked some of that tension that was not uncommon in the clan.
A word here, a hint there, a few careless remarks that pitted pride against pride.
Soon, they had taken the bait.
It was not hard to manipulate brutish people like those.
The two groups of four stormed outside, leaving the weakened and the unlucky around half behind to keep watch.
The ship was too small, too fragile to host a fight inside.
The last few guards remaining were spread thin, grumbling, resentful. Perfect.
Now all he needed was to smash apart this ramshackle prison, break the bones of the nearest fools quickly, and seize control of the boat.
Some would have to be eliminated, and others would be tools to man the vessel next.
The Kaguya clan didn't sail like the great merchants or noble fleets.
Their ships were crude, thrown together superficially by coerced carpenters from all around.
Comfort and craftsmanship meant nothing to them.
A vessel only needed to last long enough to deliver warriors to shore; after that, it could sink for all they cared.
Their "fleet" was a swarm of rough mid-sized boats, each carrying a few dozen fighters, light enough to drag onto beaches and heavy enough to ram into docks.
At most, the clan numbered only a few hundred, with a handful of larger hulks following and staying behind for families and spoils.
Kimimaro's prison was inside one of those mid-sized ones.
Normally, it would take at least half a dozen adults, or more, to man its sails, tiller, and oars.
Without that, it was a coffin adrift.
But Kimimaro didn't need willing sailors.
A few guards pressed into service with a bone at their throat would be enough to row him clear.
The shouting outside grew harsher, the "competition" intensifying.
Kimimaro's eyes narrowed.
It was time.
The makeshift cell wasn't much, wooden planks nailed together, lashed with rope, reinforced with a few iron bands taken from the ship's hull.
Crude, but enough to keep a small boy locked away.
To the careless eye, it seemed secure.
But for a week, Kimimaro had been quietly hollowing out its weakness.
During the voyage here, he had used his bloodline sparingly, never recklessly like the original soul once had.
After all, he had been 90% certain of the true cause of the illness that plagued the original, and he wasn't about to repeat that mistake.
No endless tearing, no pointless bleeding, in the slightest, no matter the situation.
Instead, he used only the smallest fragments, slivers of bone shaped from his palm, sharp as needles, but no larger than a nail.
Tools, not weapons.
Each time, he had ejected one cleanly, cauterizing the wound with pressure, then hiding the piece.
One slipped under the straw mat he pretended to sleep on.
Another wedged into a crack in the planks.
Two more tucked into the folds of his ragged clothes.
The guards never checked.
With those bones, he had patiently weakened the cell.
Bit by bit, he had shaved the seams, loosened ropes, and weakened nails.
To others, it was still a cage.
To him, it was already a door.
Now, with the guards distracted, he gave it the final touch.
Sliding one of the hidden shards into the last rope binding, he twisted.
Fibers frayed and snapped.
The wood creaked, then split.
Kimimaro braced his small body, pressed his shoulder into the weakened spot, and shoved.
With a muted crack, the planks gave way.
He soon stepped out into the night air, free at last.
But he knew this was only the first step.
His chakra was already gathered, pulsing faintly in his legs, fueling every movement.
From his palm extended the thinnest, sharpest possible bone spikes, so unnatural they looked more like a grotesque flower sprouting from flesh.
Despite being so minor, the sight would still have been fantastical in his past life.
His grin faded into a calm, serious mask.
This was do or die.
There was no mercy in the Kaguya clan, no replay button if he failed.
He could already imagine what they would do to him if they caught him after a failed escape: torture, humiliation, or execution.
That wasn't a future he would ever accept.
In this world, you don't underestimate anyone, not even relative 'trash' like these guards.
He needed to escape, to take the first step toward the dreams he had built in his head during endless hours of captivity.
Plans, visions, futures full of desires, each one waiting beyond this night.
A great journey begins with a single step, and this was his.
The plan was simple. Cut down a few, brutally enough to set the tone.
Take out the strongest first, before they have a chance to react. Let fear do the rest.
The survivors wouldn't resist after that; they would cling to life and man the boat for him desperately if only to delay their own deaths.
He didn't need all of them.
He only needed enough to be able to escape.
After all, he was still only seven.
His strength was monstrous for his age, but even so, operating a vessel of this size alone was impossible logistically.
He moved quickly, silently, suppressing sound with careful chakra control through his soles, something he had practiced again and again in his cells, among a few other things, during the last few months since his transmigration here.
His plan was simple: strike first, strike brutally, use fear as a weapon, and leave no doubt about who commanded the ship.
The first guard he targeted was leaning against the hull, half-distracted by the shouts of the argument outside.
He was a man with braided hair looped at the sides, three crimson dots marked neatly on his forehead, and his face almost structurally containing the clan's madness, everything typical of that clan.
His gray robe hung loosely over a wiry frame.
He never expected that child to come at him.
The bone spike lanced through his throat in one clean slash.
No hesitation.
The man collapsed without a sound.
When Kimimaro's bone spike pierced his throat, the red blood spilling down that pale, marked face looked almost symbolic, as if he were killing the clan itself in miniature.
Two more followed soon, wide-eyed, but hesitation killed them faster than steel.
Kimimaro dashed forward, bone tearing through one chest, then snapping into another's gut before either could scream.
They fell in a heap, twitching like gutted fish.
That was enough.
Soon, he approached the rest openly.
Kimimaro crouched, yanked up the head of the third guard by the braid, and held it dangling.
Blood dripped onto the planks.
The remaining guards froze, their weapons half-raised, their pale faces caught between rage and a dawning, choking fear.
There were four left, and all of them were suddenly aware that the quiet and strange, but 'monstrous', boy they had often mocked was already holding three corpses at his feet.
Using that same eerie ability they all feared.
Kimimaro straightened, blood dripping from his bone spikes, and tilted his head at them.
"You've got two choices now. Try your luck, and die like these three. Or pick up the oars and row for me away from here. I don't need all of you alive, remember that."
The silence stretched.
Their eyes darted to the corpses, to each other, then back to him.
Finally, one dropped his weapon with a clatter.
Another followed.
The rest obeyed, stiff with fear.
Kimimaro stepped back, making sure they saw the head he carried in his small hand.
He positioned himself by the mast where none could circle him without crossing the open deck, his gaze sharp, daring them to move wrong.
"Good. Then row immediately. Faster!" he said calmly.
"If you want to see another sunrise."
The boat creaked as it slipped away from the shore, paddles churning reluctantly under terrified hands.
On the beach, the two groups of four of Kaguya, still locked in their brawl, barely noticed at first, but then they did, eyes widening in confusion as their previous ship began to drift free.
"That's the brat, he's escaping!"
Their voices carried over the waves, a mix of fury and disbelief.
Kimimaro stood tall at the prow, blood staining his small figure, the night wind catching his hair.
He glanced at the distant fighters, lips twitching into a dry smirk.
"They fight each other and forget me. Typical," he said softly, loud enough for the men rowing to hear.
His eyes slid over the survivors, bone-white spikes still wet in his hands.
"And you, you're alive only because I need hands, not because you're worth anything. Remember that, too."
None of them dared to speak.
One swallowed audibly, his knuckles whitening on the oar.
Kimimaro let the silence hang, then laughed once, low and sharp.
"Pathetic. All of you. The clan thinks I'm a prisoner, but look who's rowing me to freedom."
The sea breeze carried the sound toward shore, where the two rival groups were still caught between rage and the realization they had been outplayed by a child.
But then they broke from their daze, rushing toward the water.
A few hurled themselves into the sea in blind rage, splashing and thrashing as they swam.
They knew the punishment would be brutal if they let him escape.
"Get him back before we're skinned alive!"
Their voices cracked with fury, but the boat was already cutting ahead, leaving them flailing helplessly in its wake.
Kimimaro's grin widened as the boat finally cleared the bay.
The torches of the Kaguya camp, along with the burning manor of the minor noble in the distance, dwindled into the night, reduced to nothing more than faint, dying sparks on the horizon.
He lifted his gaze to the dark horizon, eyes steady, voice a cold whisper meant for himself.
"This is step one. A single stone on the staircase. I'll climb until the world itself is the cage."
The oars beat the water in rhythm, fear fueling every stroke.
Behind him lay the clan that betrayed him.
Ahead, only the endless sea - and freedom.
.
.
.
.
.
.
A/N: Give the story a few chapters before you judge it. This also isn't meant to be skimmed, but read with attention.
It's a more logical, deliberate buildup, drawing you in deeper as the pieces fall into place.
Don't expect every canon character to appear right away. Forcing them in too soon would break the flow and logic.
Some OCs will show up instead, as subordinates, or eventual harem members (alongside even more canon females), but always in a way that makes sense for the setting.
After all, the MC can't realistically steal many characters from their original roles, but he also can't conquer the world completely alone.
If you despise OCs, then fanfiction, as a genre, probably isn't for you, so better stay with canon only.
Their presence here is necessary, but they'll fit naturally within the established lore and system perfectly.
The pacing is a bit slower at first since the MC begins young; he can't realistically dive into nonstop action right away, but I promise, it will "explode" later.
This isn't a "brainless OP machine" story, nor is it endless angst about a weakling drowning in obstacles.
The MC is cunning, villain-leaning, and steadily rises from "strong to stronger". If you enjoy a strategic climb to power and a high-IQ story, then this is for you.
It's not about being better than canon. It's about going deeper. Many canon characters will also become far more interesting when explored that way.
Every mystery, conspiracy, character, and power path the original skipped over gets expanded here, making the world feel richer and more complete. You will feel rewarded.