Kimimaro smiled calmly as the dozen or so Taketori ninja surrounded him. He didn't move—until they were within striking distance.
"Dance of the Larch!"
Countless sharp bone spines erupted from his body in all directions. Caught completely off guard, several Taketori were impaled on the spot, their cries cut short. Bone spikes jutted from the ground, ceiling, and air itself.
"He can use the Dance of the Larch!?" Taketori Takeken's eyes widened as he saw five or six Bamboo-Take warriors collapse in an instant.
But the others gritted their teeth and pressed forward. They activated their Kekkei Genkai-based bone armor—more crude and defensive than the Kaguya's—but enough to barely withstand the field of piercing bone.
"Brat! You're exhausted after using that jutsu. Die!"
Disregarding the clan head's orders, Takeken charged. His entire arm was covered in hardened bone, shaped like a gauntlet, and he slammed a heavy punch toward Kimimaro.
But it never connected.
A single ossified hand caught his fist mid-swing.
"H-How!?"
Takeken stared in disbelief as Kimimaro twisted his arm effortlessly. The boy's skin had transformed—white, bone-like, and far denser than his own armor.
Kimimaro's smile remained unchanged. "You forget your place. The Taketori are nothing more than an offshoot of the Kaguya."
With that, he drove sharp bone needles from his forearm into Takeken's flesh, piercing through even the hardened outer shell. Takeken screamed.
Then Kimimaro heaved him up and slammed him down onto the forest floor—right into the spines of the Dance of the Larch, which impaled his abdomen.
"You're not dying yet," Kimimaro said coldly. "It's time I collected some interest."
Activating his ability, Kimimaro absorbed Takeken's Life Energy directly through the bone spikes, draining his strength bit by bit.
Meanwhile, Kimimaro extended a whip-like spine from his hand and lashed it toward the remaining Taketori Chūnin. The whip coiled around their limbs, dragged them close, and slammed them one after another onto the bone forest, impaling them.
Kimimaro's control over the battlefield was absolute. All the white bones shifted at his will—dancing, writhing, impaling.
In mere moments, nearly 20,000 units of Life Energy flowed from Takeken into him.
"You're not weak," Kimimaro muttered, "but your clan's crude imitation of our bloodline means nothing before true Shikotsumyaku."
One remaining Chūnin, Matsuda Goro, hadn't joined the charge. Seeing the massacre, he turned and tried to flee.
Kimimaro didn't chase. He quietly formed hand seals.
"Earth Release: Earth Flow Divide."
The ground cracked and split beneath Goro's feet, throwing him off balance.
"Wood Release: Thorn Binding Technique."
Thorned vines burst from the earth, snaring Goro's limbs and pinning him in place as thick wooden pillars rose around him, boxing him in.
"W-Wood Release!? Who are you!?" Goro screamed, thrashing in panic. "That's Senju power!"
Kimimaro said nothing. He stepped forward and pressed a palm to Goro's chest. Life Energy surged out again.
Even after draining Takeken, Kimimaro hadn't hit his absorption limit. Goro's energy topped him up.
"Please—don't kill me! If you do, Mui will come after you!"
Mui?
Kimimaro paused for a moment, unfamiliar with the name. The system provided some info—Mui was the warden of Hōzuki Castle, the Land of Grass's infamous prison.
But Kimimaro wasn't concerned.
A wooden spike rose from the ground and skewered Matsuda Goro through the heart.
From his corpse, Kimimaro extracted a piece of Blood Essence—rare, but useful.
The rest of the fallen Taketori yielded little. Altogether, their Life Energy amounted to less than 5,000 units.
"Living targets give more Life Energy," Kimimaro noted. He checked his system. The current reserve had reached 65,000 units.
Then he turned to Karin.
"Can you preserve their bodies? I need them to retain vitality."
"As a Medical Ninja, I can try," Karin said. "But full preservation won't last long unless the volume is small. What are you planning?"
"Drain their blood. I want to keep the Taketori samples intact—for potential use."
"Use? For what?"
Kimimaro's expression remained unreadable. "If I establish a base in the future, the Taketori bloodline might be useful for creating quick-growth fighters. They're not elite, but they're durable, and their bloodline is low-tier enough to process rapidly."
Karin blinked. "You're planning to synthesize them?"
"Possibly. I don't have enough test tubes yet, so for now, this is just preparation."
He looked out across the bone-covered battlefield, where blood soaked into the cracked earth.
After draining them of blood, Kimimaro extracted all their bones with surgical precision. The spinal columns were smelted and reforged into his evolving bone whip — now tougher and more flexible than even his own spine. The remaining bones were stored for future use. If he collected enough, perhaps he could truly craft a massive construct — a towering bone puppet, animated by chakra.
"They're really unlucky," Karin muttered, glancing at the smoldering remnants of corpses. "Can't even rest in peace. You're starting to feel more like a demon than a human."
"What, are you scared now?" Kimimaro asked, expression unreadable.
"No way. No matter what you become, I still like you." Karin instantly leaned in, affection undeterred.
"I support Big Brother too!" Hanabi chimed in confidently. Though young, she was unshaken. "Father told me: mercy to enemies is cruelty to yourself."
Eventually, they reached a neutral intelligence station on the border between the Land of Waterfalls and the Land of Iron — a discreet hub used for message relay among rogue ninja, merchants, and informants.
Kimimaro handed a scroll to one of the masked staff. "Deliver this to the Taketori Clan."
…
Inside the Taketori stronghold, Takenaka Takemoto slammed his palm on the table after reading the scroll.
"He really said that?"
"Yes," the messenger replied. "He said that out of respect for your shared Kekkei Genkai heritage, he refrained from retaliating further. But if your clan dares pursue him again, he won't hesitate to annihilate the Taketori entirely."
The message was unmistakable. Kimimaro's warning wasn't a bluff.
After the massacre of Taketori scouts, Kimimaro had no interest in returning to Kusagakure. Karin's hatred had also cooled. Though her mother died serving the Grass Village, they had also taken her and her mother in for a time. Karin decided it wasn't worth stirring further conflict with Kusagakure.
So Kimimaro bypassed direct confrontation and instead sent a clear message via a neutral party.
Back in the Taketori compound, Takemoto sat in grim silence.
That boy… he killed two of their five elite Jonin. The clan now had only three remaining. Their numbers were already thin, barely a few dozen active shinobi. Retaliating recklessly would be suicide.
And yet… Takemoto's pride would not allow him to simply back down.
"Hmph. Even if he can kill Taketori ninja, I don't believe he can defy an entire Hidden Village. Someone!"
"Clan Head, your orders?"
"Send this letter to the elders of Kusagakure. Tell them a powerful rogue ninja has infiltrated the Land of Grass."
"Yes, sir!"
Takemoto gritted his teeth. "The Grass Village may not be one of the Five Great Shinobi Nations, but even they are not someone a lone ninja should provoke. Kimimaro… don't show your face near Kusagakure again."
After a pause, Takemoto muttered coldly, "I suppose it's time I make a trip to Hōzuki Castle myself. Matsuda Goro's death cannot go unanswered — and Mui will want to hear this personally."