The decision, once made in the cold, wind-whipped darkness of the rock cleft, settled between them with the weight of finality.
Konoha.
A name whispered like a desperate prayer, a destination impossibly distant, fraught with unknown perils, yet marginally less terrifying than the immediate, known dangers they were fleeing. There was no turning back. Shiosai, with its familiar rhythms and hidden fears, was now firmly behind them, likely already erasing their brief existence from its harsh memory.
While horrible atrocities (like the Uchiha massacre) occurred in Konoha, it's still a better place to live than most of the shinobi world, as outside Konoha entire villages or clans are massacred on a regular basis. At least Konoha is relatively stable and peaceful for the most part.
Before the first true light stained the eastern horizon, Kasumi roused Ryuu from a shallow, restless sleep. The meagre warmth they had shared huddled together dissipated instantly, replaced by the biting chill of the pre-dawn air.
Every muscle in Ryuu's small body screamed in protest. The previous day's scramble up the treacherous incline had pushed his underdeveloped physique far beyond its limits. A deep, aching exhaustion had settled into his bones, a leaden weight that made even the thought of moving feel monumental.
"Eat," Kasumi ordered softly, pressing another strip of dried fish and a piece of tough seaweed into his hand. Her own face was drawn and pale in the gloom, the shadows beneath her eyes darker than ever, but her movements were once again precise, efficient.
The hunted shinobi had reasserted control over the exhausted mother. "We need to move before the mist thins too much. We must be far inland before sunrise."
Ryuu chewed mechanically, forcing the salty, chewy food down a throat tight with weariness and apprehension. His mind, however, was already working, analyzing. Inland. Away from the coast, away from the sea routes Kiri patrols favored. Logical. But the interior of the Land of Water, from his fragmented knowledge, wasn't much safer.
Swamps, dense forests, mountains, and scattered villages potentially just as impoverished and hostile as Shiosai, all existing under Kiri's oppressive shadow. And then there was the matter of crossing the sea itself.
"How... how do we cross the water, Kaa-san?" he asked, his voice still small, pitching it carefully towards childish curiosity rather than strategic inquiry.
Kasumi paused in checking the simple bindings on her worn sandals. "There are... ways," she said evasively, her gaze distant. "Ports further south. Less watched, perhaps. Or... other methods. We find a way when we need to. First, distance."
She finished her preparations quickly: securing the remaining pitifully small bundle of food, checking the simple water skin filled from a dripping seep in the rock, adjusting the utility knife strapped to her thigh.
She glanced at Ryuu, bundled in his layers, his pale face almost luminous in the dim light. "Hat low. Gloves secure. Stay directly behind me. Match my steps. No noise."
The descent back down the inland side of the ridge was, if possible, even more treacherous than the climb. The darkness, combined with the swirling mist and slick, moss-covered rocks, made every step a gamble. Kasumi moved with preternatural grace, seemingly sensing footholds invisible to Ryuu, her body flowing over the obstacles.
Ryuu stumbled constantly, his short legs struggling to match her stride, his hands scraped raw despite the gloves as he grabbed at rocks and roots to keep his balance. Several times, Kasumi caught him just before he tumbled down a steep drop, her grip like iron, hauling him back with a whispered, urgent command to focus.
It seemed like she had expected this and used the situation as training. Ryuu was sure that she was more than just a housewife with how she had handled the situation, but he wasn't sure as to why she hadn't straight up confronted the villagers if she was a shinobi.
He hated the weakness, the dependency. His adult mind chafed against the limitations of this frail vessel. He could see the path, analyze the terrain, anticipate the dangers, but his body simply couldn't keep up without Kasumi's constant assistance. It was a humbling, infuriating reality.
As the sky reluctantly began to lighten, painting the mist in shades of grey and bruised purple, they reached the relative flatness of the forested lowlands behind the coastal ridge.
The air here was thick, heavy with the scent of damp earth, decaying leaves, and stagnant water. Gnarled, dark trees dripped constantly, their roots forming treacherous loops across the poorly defined game trails Kasumi seemed to follow by instinct. Visibility remained poor, the mist weaving between the trunks like silent spectres.
Kasumi slowed the pace slightly, but her vigilance increased. Her head swiveled constantly, her eyes scanning the trees, the ground, the air itself. She paused frequently, holding up a hand for silence, tilting her head, listening.
Ryuu tried to emulate her, straining his own senses, trying to filter the ordinary sounds of the forest – the drip of water, the rustle of unseen creatures, the sigh of wind in the upper branches – from anything potentially dangerous.
He focused on the chakra training Kasumi had begun teaching him – not active manipulation, which was too risky and draining now, but the passive act of feeling. Feeling his own small, feeling the subtle ebb and flow of Kasumi's much larger, denser reserves moving just ahead of him, feeling for any other signatures, however faint, that might intrude upon their solitude. It was exhausting mental work, another layer of strain on his already weary mind, but potentially life-saving.
Kasumi reinforced this. "Feel, Ryuu," she whispered during one brief pause, kneeling beside him behind a thick tangle of roots. "What does the forest tell you? Not just with your ears and eyes. Feel the... stillness. Or the lack of it."
He closed his eyes, concentrating fiercely. He felt the thrum of insects, the slow pulse of the trees, the dampness seeping into his clothes. And beneath it all, the quiet, steady hum of Kasumi's chakra beside him. Anything else? He strained, reaching out with that nascent inner sense. A flicker, far off, discordant? Or just his imagination?
"Something... moving?" he whispered uncertainly. "Fast?"
Kasumi nodded slowly, her eyes narrowed, scanning the direction he vaguely indicated. "A boar, maybe. Or deer. Too rhythmic for shinobi, I think. Good. Keep sensing."
She didn't exclusively tell him what was going on or what he was feeling. It was obvious that Ryuu was a sensor type, someone who could detect chakra signatures.
He didn't know when his mother had realized he was one, but she was training him with the ability in mind.
They pressed on, the hours blurring into a monotonous cycle of careful movement, strained listening, and gnawing hunger. Kasumi supplemented their dwindling dried fish with edible roots and fungi she identified with unerring accuracy, showing Ryuu the distinguishing features, making him repeat the names and properties. Survival lessons delivered on the run.
"This one," she indicated a pale, rubbery mushroom clinging to a rotting log, "looks like the edible Kiri-kinoko, but see the faint ring on the stem? This is Dokujin. One bite can paralyze your lungs."
She crushed it under her heel deliberately. "Never eat anything you are not absolutely certain of. Assume everything wants to kill you." A harsh lesson, but one perfectly suited to this world, Ryuu thought grimly.
By midday, the constant dampness had seeped through Ryuu's layers, chilling him to the bone. His small body was flagging badly, his steps becoming heavier, slower. Kasumi noticed, her lips tightening. They couldn't afford to stop for long, but pushing him past his limits risked injury or illness they couldn't handle.
She found another shallow overhang, this one drier, hidden behind a curtain of hanging moss. "Rest," she commanded, pulling out the water skin. "Only a little."
Ryuu drank sparingly, the water tasting metallic and flat. He leaned back against the damp rock, closing his eyes, trying to gather his reserves. Kasumi took up a watchful position near the edge of the overhang, scanning the surrounding forest, motionless as stone.
He used the brief respite to practice again, inwardly. Reaching for that cool current within, trying to coax it, guide it towards his hands. It felt marginally easier now, perhaps due to the constant passive sensing, like flexing a muscle repeatedly.
He managed to pool a tiny amount of cool energy in his right palm, holding it there for several seconds before it dissipated, leaving his hand tingling and his head swimming slightly. Progress. Infinitesimal, but progress.
He glanced at Kasumi. Her back was to him, but he sensed no change in her steady chakra signature.
Suddenly, Kasumi stiffened. Ryuu felt it too – a subtle shift in the forest's rhythm. The insect hum seemed to quieten. A bird call ended abruptly mid-trill. Silence descended, heavy and unnatural.
Kasumi silently drew her utility knife, melting back further into the shadows of the overhang, pulling Ryuu with her. She pressed a finger to her lips, her eyes wide, fixed on a point somewhere beyond the moss curtain.
Ryuu held his breath, straining his senses. He focused on feeling. There. Faint signatures, multiple, moving through the trees with practiced stealth, but not flawlessly.
Not Kiri ANBU, perhaps. Their movements were coordinated but lacked that utter seamlessness. Their chakra felt... rougher, less disciplined than what he imagined elite shinobi would possess. Bandits? Or maybe... Nukenin? Rogue shinobi? Equally dangerous, potentially more unpredictable.
He heard a twig snap not far off. A low curse, quickly stifled. They were close.
Kasumi's eyes darted around their small shelter, assessing escape routes. There were none that didn't involve breaking cover directly into the path of the approaching group. She pressed Ryuu flat against the back wall, shielding his small body with her own, the knife held low and steady in a reverse grip.
Her chakra flared slightly, a controlled surge of readiness, cold and sharp like honed ice.
Ryuu closed his eyes, focusing entirely on suppressing his own meagre signature, making himself as small, as insignificant as possible.
He could hear them now, the soft tread of boots on damp earth, the rustle of clothing against undergrowth. They were passing directly in front of the overhang.
"...sure this is the way? Map looked clearer..." one voice grumbled, low and rough.
"Quiet, fool!" another voice hissed back. "This area's crawling with Mist patrols lately. Stick to the plan. The merchant caravan should pass through the southern marsh road by tomorrow."
"If we get there first," the first voice muttered. "And if they have guards worth a damn..."
"They always do," a third voice, colder and calmer than the others, interjected. "Means better loot. Now move. Less talk, more speed."
Merchant caravan. Southern marsh road. Robbery. Ryuu filed the information away automatically. They sounded like experienced bandits, possibly former shinobi themselves given their awareness of patrols and guard strengths.
The footsteps faded into the forest. Kasumi remained motionless for a full five minutes after the last sound disappeared, her senses stretched taut. Ryuu didn't dare move a muscle, his own breath held until his chest ached.
Finally, Kasumi relaxed infinitesimally, letting out a breath she seemed to have been holding since the group first appeared. "Gone," she whispered, though her knife remained firmly in her grip. "Bandits. Likely Nukenin judging by their discipline."
She scanned the forest floor outside their shelter intently. "They didn't notice us. We were lucky." She looked at Ryuu, her expression grim. "This is why we must be careful. This land is dangerous, not just from Kiri. Desperate men roam freely."
The close call served as another brutal lesson. They were utterly alone, vulnerable not only to the organized power of Kiri but also to the random, opportunistic violence of desperate men. There was no law here beyond strength and vigilance.
Kasumi deemed the shelter too exposed now. "We move," she decided, helping Ryuu to his feet. "We need to find somewhere better hidden to rest properly tonight. And we need to replenish our water."
The rest of the day passed in a blur of cautious movement, strained senses, and gnawing fear. They found a tiny stream trickling down mossy rocks, and Kasumi painstakingly purified the water using boiled stones and filtration through layers of cloth – another survival skill demonstrated under duress.
Food remained scarce, limited to a few more slightly bitter roots and the last of the dried fish. Hunger began to add its own sharp edge to Ryuu's exhaustion.
As true night fell, thick and starless beneath the dense forest canopy, Kasumi found a marginally better shelter – a hollow beneath the massive roots of an ancient, gnarled tree, screened by thick ferns. It was damp, cramped, and smelled strongly of wet earth, but it offered concealment.
Kasumi built a tiny, almost smokeless fire using dry tinder she'd gathered meticulously throughout the day, shielding its minimal light with her own body and surrounding rocks.
The small flicker of warmth was intensely welcome, chasing away some of the bone-deep chill. She produced not food, but a small pouch containing ink and a brush, along with a tightly rolled scroll of thin, durable paper.
In the flickering firelight, she began to draw, her calloused fingers moving with surprising delicacy and precision. It wasn't art, it was cartography. She sketched the coastline they had fled, the ridge they had crossed, the streams and rough terrain they had navigated, marking potential hazards, water sources, and the approximate location where they encountered the bandits. She worked from memory, her focus absolute.
Ryuu watched, fascinated. This was another facet of the shinobi skillset – information gathering, mapping, strategic planning even on the run. She was creating her own intel, adapting to the territory.
When she finished the immediate area, she began sketching outwards, drawing coastlines, major rivers, land features further south, towards the sea they needed to cross, and beyond, towards the vague shape she marked as Hi no Kuni – the Land of Fire.
Her knowledge seemed extensive, detailed. How? Had she travelled these routes before? Or was this information gleaned from her time as a Kiri shinobi, assuming she had been one?
She paused, tapping a finger on a specific point along the southern coast of the Land of Water. "Nagi Port," she murmured, mostly to herself.
"Dangerous. Independent, but attracts... trouble. Smugglers. Ronin. Sometimes Kiri spies."
She hesitated, then drew a faint, broken line leading towards it. "But it may be our only chance for passage across the sea without official channels."
She looked up, catching Ryuu's intense gaze in the firelight. "This is our goal," she said, her voice low but firm, tapping Nagi Port. "It will take days, maybe weeks, moving carefully. We avoid all villages, all main roads. We live off the land. We trust no one."
She met his eyes directly. "And you, Ryuu, must master your control..." She didn't finish the sentence, but the implication hung heavy in the air.
She carefully rolled up the map and tucked it away. "Sleep now," she ordered, though her own eyes remained open, watchful, scanning the darkness beyond their small fire. "We need all our strength."
Ryuu curled up on the damp earth, pulling his thin blanket tighter. Sleep felt distant, chased away by hunger, exhaustion, and the terrifying weight of their situation.