Uchiha Makoto looms over the blood-soaked, fire-licked wasteland below, eyes flat as a frozen lake.
Down there, the last Kaguya clan psychos are on a suicide blitz—cackling, roaring, yanking bone spikes and blades from their own flesh like moth-to-flame kamikaze runs straight into Kiri's locked-down defense.
"Idiots."
His voice slices the chaos like a kunai—low, but crystal-clear to the four behind him. Zero emotion, just cold facts.
Kaguya and Uchiha? Both Otsutsuki offshoots, blood cousins way back. But right now? Mud vs. clouds. If Kaguya had Uchiha juice, Kiri'd be flipped upside down, new management.
No ifs.
War cries fade like a dying tide—swallowed by dead silence. Crackling flames on wood scraps, distant groans from half-dead stragglers. Battlefield's funeral dirge.
Dawn finally rips the night open, weak sunlight spilling over the carnage. Fog and smoke scatter—revealing the horror in HD: mangled corpses, black-crusted blood, charred ruins. Brutal.
Edge of the mess, under scorched-but-standing trees, one white figure stands alone.
Kimimaro Kaguya.
Emerald eyes dead pools, scanning. Zero Kaguya left standing.
The laugh-charge lunatics, the kill-high screamers, the death-glory freaks… now cold, stiff, chopped-up meat mixed with dirt and gore.
"…Alone again."
Kimimaro mutters—zero sadness, zero fear. Just void deeper than the fog.
The "orders" that kept him swinging? Clan wiped = mission voided. Emptiness slithers in, ice-cold snake around his heart.
He wanders—aimless, boots dragging through blood-stink woods. Clan gone = "weapon" value zero.
Where to? What now?
Fog thins with sunrise, but bone-chill deepens.
Eventually hits an ancient tree—roots like dragons clawing earth, stubborn AF.
Between gnarled root and boulder? A speck of pure white.
Tiny flower. Petals paper-thin, trembling in breeze, dew drops sparkling. In this death-washed hell? Alien. Fragile. Blinding.
It blooms anyway—silent flex: life persists in deepest despair.
Kimimaro freezes.
Stares like it's a goddamn miracle.
Squat slow. Pale, blood-crusted face cracks a ghost-smile—pure, kid-like, nothing like his killer mask.
Fingers—filthy, scabbed—reach… then stop inches away.
Dirty vs. pristine. Unworthy. Hand drops.
"Why… bloom here?"
To the flower. To himself. Voice lost, aching.
"No one… will see you."
Flower sways—zero answer.
"Why ignore me?"
Whiny edge creeps in. World-ditched loneliness floods back, drowning that micro-joy spark.
Rage ignites.
Emerald eyes flash rejection-fury. Unneeded? Unseen? Beauty = pointless.
"Blooming where no one looks—might as well—"
Bone spike raised—ready to impale the fragile white.
"Don't."
Clear, warm teen voice—zero warning—from behind. Shatters the dead zone.
Kimimaro locks mid-stab. Spooked animal swivel—eyes wary, panicked.
Morning mist fading… five figures materialized.
Lead kid—older teen, hot, black hair/eyes, calm aura. Smiles like safety. Center of gravity.
Behind: purple-haired/purple-eyed tsundere chick sizing him up; super-pretty "girl" Shiro with pity-eyes; glasses blonde MILF Nono radiating mom-vibes; tiny terror Yuri with her skyscraper blade, glare sharp.
Shiro's heart clenches—Kimimaro's empty emeralds mirror his old lost self pre-Makoto.
Makoto locks eyes—peaceful, sees the pain.
About to speak… peripheral catches thick shadow far off—writhing. Smirk deepens.
Old "friend" Orochimaru… right on cue.
Snake lurking, waiting to snag lost lamb Kimimaro.
Not today. Makoto's here—yoink.
Fun idea: Use Oro's canon recruitment script… while the snake watches.
NTR plot? Chef's kiss.
Oro pissed? Makoto's blade sharp enough.
Step forward. Focus on guarded kid.
Kimimaro Kaguya—clan's swan song, sole Shikotsumyaku user.
Canon: Oro's pick, top vessel candidate. Insane talent.
Blood disease caps him at 15. Cure it? Kage-level easy.
Cool, confident, polite to foes—Kaguya outlier. Loyalty? Absolute once bonded.
Crossroads kid. Who gives meaning = his path.
Makoto met him—no tragic rerun.
Eyes flick to flower, back to Kimimaro. Voice clear:
"Life's got no preset meaning. This flower? Blooms 'cause it wants to—not for anyone."
Words pierce defenses. Bone-spike hand trembles.
"Find your own answer on the long road."
"Stay alive… meet wild shit."
"Like you finding this one-of-a-kind flower in the ruins."
"Like me finding lost-ass you this morning."
Drops mic—then ruffles Kimimaro's soft white hair. Gentle.
Kid jolts—warm shockwave. Could bone-spike Makoto's guts in a blink… but feels trust. No disgust, no "monster/tool" vibes—just sunlight melting ice.
Kimimaro looks up—backlit Makoto. Breeze clears fog. Sunrise spotlights him—golden halo, hope incarnate.
Warmth floods. Walls crumble. Home-found peace drowns him.
Cheeks flush visible. Greedy for the head-pat heat. Lips curve—real kid smile. Eyes sparkle emerald again.
"Come." Makoto offers clean hand—salvation invite. "Join us. Change the world."
Kimimaro stares—hand, eyes. Found my light.
Fog gone. Sun bathes them.
Far off—twisted tree shadow. Orochimaru slithers out.
Golden snake eyes slit—danger + intrigue. Tongue flicks lips.
That's Black Flash—Kiri's boogeyman, wanted poster fresh.
Oro wants him too.
Saw the whole scene: hand-extend, pure smile, "live and find meaning" speech.
"Heh heh… delicious scene." Husky snake-whisper. "That pitch, that vibe… why's it feel familiar… and pissing me off?"
Kid glanced his way—knew he was watching. Deliberate poach?
Offended rage + burning curiosity twist.
Plus… Black Flash feels known. Deep memory nag…