Inside the gloomy cave, sunlight struggled to reach the deeper cells, casting only faint, patchy shadows through the iron bars.
Takizo lit the oil lamp hanging by the cell. As the flame flickered to life, the light revealed a white-haired child curled up in the corner.
The boy wore ragged grey clothes. A heavy iron collar was clamped around his waist, connected to three thick chains. The other ends of the chains were welded solidly to the specialized chakra-metal bars of the cell.
Sensing the shift in light, the boy lifted his head.
His skin was pale, bordering on sickly. Wisps of white hair fell across his forehead, partially obscuring two red dots positioned just above his eyebrows. Below them, his green eyes were voids of dead silence.
Kimimaro Kaguya.
The only Kaguya clan member to get any real screen time in the original Naruto series. Orochimaru's most loyal fanatic.
When he first appeared in the anime, he was already terminal, barely kept alive by medical machinery. Yet even in that state, he fought like an elite Jonin. During the "Konoha Crush," he helped Orochimaru assassinate the Fourth Kazekage.
later, during the Sasuke Retrieval Arc, he dragged his dying body onto the battlefield to secure Sasuke's body for Orochimaru, taking on Naruto, Rock Lee, and Gaara in succession.
In the end, just as his bone drill was inches away from impaling Gaara, his body finally gave out. He died standing, succumbing to his illness at only fifteen years old.
Takizo looked into Kimimaro's eyes and felt a pang of heartache. It seemed like a curse in the Naruto world: the greater the genius, the more tragic the childhood.
Kimimaro was born different, even for a Kaguya. His stark white hair and incredibly potent Dead Bone Pulse allowed him to extract bones from anywhere in his body and wield them as weapons with terrifying ease.
His combat potential was so off the charts that it terrified even his own battle-crazed clan. So, they locked him up in a cage, treating him like a rabid dog to be unleashed only when they needed a weapon. He would remain a prisoner until the day the clan was wiped out.
And yes, they were going to be wiped out.
It wasn't just the Uchiha transmigrators who had to worry about a clan massacre. Takizo had a similar executioner's blade hanging over his head.
The difference was the motivation. The Uchiha were marginalized, oppressed, and plotted a coup, leading to their tragic end. The Kaguya Clan? They were just clinically insane.
The Kaguya were wired for slaughter. They had zero empathy for life—enemy or ally, it didn't matter. To them, existence was binary: kill or be killed. As long as blood was spilling and blades were clashing, they were living their best lives.
Back in the Warring States Period, they could let their freak flags fly. But once the Hidden Mist Village was established, they were put on a leash. If there was a war, the Mist pointed them at the enemy. If there wasn't, they were confined to their compound, far away from civilization.
And honestly? The Mist was right to be paranoid. The stifling peace eventually broke the Kaguya. Oppressed by boredom, they chose suicide by cop. They launched an assault on the Mist Village with zero strategy, zero goals, and zero chill—attacking anything that moved until every last one of them was dead.
Kimimaro's birth was the starting gun for that countdown.
The worst part for Takizo was that the original series never gave a specific date for the Kaguya massacre. The countdown was ticking, but he had no idea what number it was on.
Every time there was a clan meeting, Takizo sat there sweating, terrified that some psycho would stand up and yell, "Hey guys, let's go attack the Mist!"—and just like that, game over.
"Takizo?"
Takizo snapped back to reality. The cell door was already open. Ishitaro had rushed in and was excitedly chatting with Kimimaro, gesturing wildly. Kigetsu was sitting nearby, setting out the food, looking at Takizo with concern.
Takizo gave her a reassuring smile and sat down on the floor. He reached over and lightly bonked the hyperactive Ishitaro on the head.
"Sit down. Time to eat."
Ishitaro settled down immediately, rubbing his head as he sat cross-legged.
Seeing this, the blank mask on Kimimaro's face cracked, revealing a faint, shy smile. Life returned to his dull eyes. He shoveled rice into his mouth, mumbling through a full cheek.
"Brother... can you teach me a new Jutsu today?"
"Did you master the one I taught you the day before yesterday?" Takizo asked.
Kimimaro didn't answer with words. He put down his bowl, extended both hands toward the stone wall, and—thwip, thwip, thwip—ten small holes appeared in the rock face.
"Whoa! Ten-Finger Drilling Bullets!" Ishitaro shouted.
The Ten-Finger Drilling Bullets was a signature move of the Dead Bone Pulse. It involved pressurizing chakra in the fingertips and firing the distal phalanges like bullets.
Takizo stood up and inspected the holes.
"Not bad, Kimimaro," he praised, checking the depth. "Only two days of practice and you're already burying them half a finger deep into solid stone."
He ruffled Kimimaro's hair. "You really are a genius."
Kimimaro blushed. "It's because you're a good teacher, Brother."
Takizo chuckled and shot a teasing look at Ishitaro. "If I'm such a good teacher, how come there's another student here who can't even dent a log?"
Ishitaro turned beet red. "I can pierce through a tree now! And Kimimaro is six! I'm not even five yet!"
He started rambling excuses until Takizo's laughter finally broke him. With a tragic wail, Ishitaro threw himself into Kigetsu's arms as she was cleaning up.
"Kigetsu! Big Brother is bullying me!"
Kigetsu gave Takizo a playful glare, comforting the boy.
After the laughter died down, Takizo got serious. "Alright, Ishitaro. Do you want to learn the new technique or not?"
Ishitaro instantly popped his head up from Kigetsu's lap, eyes sparkling. "Yes! Teach me! I'll learn it faster than Kimimaro this time!"
Takizo stretched his arms. "Today, I'm teaching you a Taijutsu style—Dance of the Willow."
"Dance of the Willow isn't just an attack; it's a combat philosophy. I told you before that for a Dead Bone Pulse user, bones are alive. We can freely manipulate our osteoblasts and osteoclasts."
As he spoke, Takizo took off his shirt, revealing a lean, muscular upper body. "Like this."
Shing.
Instantly, six sharp bone spikes, each about a foot long, erupted from Takizo's shoulders, elbows, and palms.
He could have made them longer, but given his four-foot-something height, a foot of bone was plenty of reach.
"This is basic manipulation. I've taught you this already. Now, we're going to get a little more complex." Takizo pointed a palm spike at Kimimaro. "Kimimaro, touch the spike."
Kimimaro reached out tentatively. As soon as he applied pressure, the bone spike bent, flexible as rubber.
Ishitaro's eyes went wide. "It's soft!"
Takizo turned the spike toward Ishitaro. "How about now?"
"It's hard again!" Ishitaro exclaimed, tapping and feeling the bone.
"The Dead Bone Pulse doesn't just let us shape cells; it lets us control the calcium concentration in our bones," Takizo explained. "We can make them harder than steel or flexible like a whip."
Kimimaro looked confused. "Harder makes sense for damage and defense. but what's the point of making them soft?"
"The simplest application is grappling," Takizo said. "You make the bone flexible to wrap around an enemy, then instantly harden it to lock them in place."
To demonstrate, the bone spike in his palm suddenly snaked around Ishitaro's hand, trapping it.
After releasing him, Takizo continued. "The more advanced application involves controlling the calcium density in your entire skeleton. You can even dissolve unnecessary bones temporarily to make your body incredibly flexible and lighter."
"The Dance of the Willow uses these changes. There are no fixed forms. You react to the enemy's attacks in real-time."
Takizo moved his arm fluidly. "You move like a willow branch in the wind—light, fluid, reacting to the force rather than fighting it—then you strike."
Kimimaro raised his hand.
"What is it, Kimimaro?"
"What's a willow?" Kimimaro asked innocently.