Chapter Text
Kiri was nicknamed the ‘Bloody Mist’ for a reason.
It’s Shinobi were known as being cruel and violent. The practices of the Kirigakure Academy graduation were well known across the elemental nations.
Their shinobi were trained to survive, but only the toughest would. They had to be ruthless and without mercy.
But that didn’t mean that all of their shinobi were inherently built this way.
Within Kiri there were many clans, and one of these was the Wakame. They inhabited an island to the west of the Hidden Village, secluded from the others on the mainland.
They were holders of a specific Kekkei Genkai- the Shinjushitsu. Named because of the pearl-like appearance their skin took when activated, they had the ability to extract chakra on touch. In people, it could lead them to the point of chakra exhaustion or even death, but they could also absorb it from objects as well. Those who were truly proficient could drain and kill a man with a single quick touch. They could then use that chakra how they saw fit- for themselves, transfer to others or instil into objects. Over time, they honed their skills to become assassins- training in agility, taijutsu and stealth. Their knowledge and understanding of the human body was almost instinctual- they were evolved to kill, and kill effectively. They could make it seem of natural causes, or manufacture a violent death- whatever was necessary.
They were efficient killers, often taking assassination missions or being relegated as hunter-nin. It suited them well- they preferred a single kill over the many in a battlefield. And their preference was never questioned- they had some of the best mission success rates. It was a matter of pride.
In order to protect their children from the dangers of the shinobi world, they trained them from a young age. As soon as they could grip, a kunai was put in their hands. As soon as they would walk, they were taught to run. For when a Wakame entered the Academy, they were ready and they were guaranteed to graduate and survive the ceremony.
It made them feared but respected.
It was known you did not cross a member of the Wakame clan and expect to come out unscathed. If you insulted one member, you insulted the whole clan. They would not fight you in the open, but it was a saying that if you wronged a Wakame, you could sleep with one eye open but it wouldn’t help you.
While they were known as loyal members of Kiri, their ‘clan comes first’. It was their first clan law. The Clan Laws were taught to them from the moment they could talk.
“And the second?” Wakame Isui, the clan leader asked his five year old daughter.
“Never take more than necessary,” Wakame Kiyo parroted. Whether it lives, chakra, money or power, minimalism was the way of the Wakame.
Kiyo was only five, but she loved training. It was all she knew, and she excelled- she loved the praise her success brought. But most importantly, her father was clan leader, and she was his only heir, so she couldn’t let him down.
She was already skilled in weapons and was better than her older cousin in taijutsu. She was being taught stealth by one of the masters, and had shown some promise. She knew she was good for her age, and took pride in that. She tried hard to prove she was worthy of her father.
Last year her father had made her make her first kill- someone he had been sent to target and would die anyway, but he wanted to to experience it early. It was a test of her mindset and assess her readiness for the shinobi forces. She did as commanded however had cried afterwards. Her father had been happy.
They did not want to raise mindless killers, but only did so out of necessity. If a Wakame became desensitised to it or showed enjoyment, they were removed from service and kept to the island or killed. Should they try and leave the clan- they were killed. Their art and Kekkei Genkai was closely guarded, as well as their morals.
“And the third?”
“Your word is your contract.” The Wakame were trusted for a reason. They took their promises very seriously.
“Well done. Now, I want you to practice your kata. I will provide feedback.”
Her father was rarely around, always on mission, but when he was she enjoyed it. He never truly shown her affection, unlike her aunt and uncle, but he would dedicate every free moment to her training, helping her to achieve perfection. He would tolerate nothing less.
As she practiced, he would watch intently. Correcting her footing and insured it was perfect- even if it meant moving a few centimetres here and there.
This session he seemed particularly judgmental, and was critiquing her every action. She was getting annoyed with herself- he was correcting her nearly every time. When did she get so sloppy? She was better than this! Her arms and legs were all over the place.
“Relax. You are becoming too tense. We will stop.”
“But father! There’s too much to do! I’ve gotten worse!”
“Nonsense. You have grown, and with that comes the necessary corrections for weight distribution and balance,” he said, very matter of fact. “Your form is almost perfect.”
“I want to continue!” She huffed.
“And that is why we must stop. You are too self critical and it will be your downfall,” he said. “Come, let us head to the target area instead.”
And after target practice came spars. She fought her cousin, Hayase, two years her senior, and would have won had he not used his Kekkei Genkai. Her father has scolded him, but explained it would serve another lesson - fair fights were rare. Always trust that shinobi couldn’t be trusted.
“You are such a daddy’s girl,” Hayase whispered to her, when her father was conversing with another member of the clan. She didn’t even turn to him and stomped on his foot.
“Ow! You little brat!” And with that, round two of their spar commenced. She loved her cousin, but he lived to torment her. Kiyo spent most time at his parents house when her father was away, so he had plenty time to hone his art.
“Children, stop,” Her father called. And both stopped immediately. “Show some decorum. You are Wakame, not street rats.” Now her father was mad with her.
“Sorry, father,” she said glumly. She hated the feeling of disappointing him.
“Daddy’s girl,” Hayase hissed under his breath again. She turned to glare at him this time.
“Stop this, both of you. Kiyo, assist your cousin to his feet.” Hayase was still kneeling on the floor, and didn’t need her help, but her father was trying to show them diplomacy.
Kiyo offered her hand, but saw a glint in Hayase’s eyes. As she grasped him, he activated the Shinjushitsu technique. She copied him, and both of their hands shimmered, the sign of their Kekkei Genkai activation. When two were active at the same time, they usually cancelled each other out.
“Children! Stop your games!” He father shouted, and they both grinned at each other. They’d receive a further scolding later, but it was worth it.
A few days later, her father was still around however was spending a lot of time in meetings, leaving Kiyo with her Aunt and Uncle. As her mother died during child birth, she was a constant member of their household when he was not around. It was unusual for him to be around for so long, but Kiyo was not complaining.
Deep into the night, they were woken by smoke and screaming, and ran out of the house to find pandemonium.
Their village was being attacked. Most of the people present looked like villagers from the shore, but there were also a few Shinobi. They were prepared - using long distance techniques and killing the Wakame instantly and without mercy. She could have sworn she saw plumes of poison clouds in the distance- the blue vapour shimmering in the flames.
Her aunt pushed her and her cousin to the back door. “Run! Both of you. Hide!”
And she ran.
She became separated by her cousin quickly, losing sigh of him in the panic and darkness. The village was surrounded, and the adults were attempting to fight, but it was a slaughter. They were outnumbered.
On a stroke of luck, Kiyo saw a small opening between two boulders and ran. She landed in a deep rock pool with seaweed all around her, floating around her legs.
She took a deep breath and activated the Underwater Breathing Technique, and suppressed her chakra down. She pushed herself to the bottom of the rock pool and waited. She had not been taught much ninjutsu yet, however the basics of stealth had been drilled into her and she hoped it would work now.
The island was limited in size, and hiding areas were scarce. If she was seen, she couldn’t hope to outrun a hired mercenary, but hopefully they wouldn’t expect a small child hiding in a mass of seaweed.
She was nearing the end of her air supply when the shadow of two figures appeared above her, so she dug down deeper into the green. They must have been talking, but she had no hope of hearing them.
Her heart was beating so fast she thought it would explode. She didn’t know what was going on. The villagers from shore were clearly attacking the Wakame village with intent to slaughter them clan, but why? She hoped people had managed to escape. She hoped she would manage to escape.
The edges of her vision were beginning to blur and her chest was burning by the time the figures moved on. She waited until the last minute to expose her head, take in a breath and wait again. She did this for what must have been hours.
Kiyo was nearing exhaustion, but she kept willing herself to continue.
When morning broke, she finally allowed herself to get out of the water. She cautiously made her way out of the rock pool and crept around the boulders, keeping small and in the shadows.
It was silent.
When she reached the village she collapsed. In exhaustion or grief, she didn’t know.
Every building burned or turned to rubble. There was no one there. There was blood spatter on the rock and grass, but no bodies in sight. It was eerie, especially in the first light of the morning.
In the distance she saw smoke flying high. She picked herself up and ran to a vantage point- high enough to see the island and able to keep out of sight.
On the shore at the other end of the island, there was a bonfire smouldering. A thick foul smelling plumes filled the air. There were treads of boats on the shore- but whoever had been there was long gone and there was not even a hint of another person.
Summoning the courage, she made her way down to the shoreline.
She wished she hadn’t. The fire was still burning, and most of it was a melted mess, but near the bottom she could see the arm of the aunt protruding from the mass, catching the flames.
The fire was the burning corpses of her clan.
Kiyo stared with morbid fascination and had to swallow a sob that threatened to erupt. She refused to let it out.
For hours she watched as the fire ended, and there was nothing left but ashes and bone.
A week later she would hear rumours of the Bloodline Massacres, and knew what had fallen her clan. Many of the shinobi within the Land of Water with Kekkei Genkai were targeted out of fear by the people they often protected.
She vowed to stay hidden forever.
She escaped, and she would survive.