Kimimaro then inquired and listened again as Reika urgently spoke, piecing the rest together that happened a few days ago in regards to those Kirigakure shinobi, in a bit more detail.
The attack on her family had never been random.
It was tipped off, targeted, and well planned.
Kirigakure had known exactly who they were among the Yuki survivors, how important they were, and they had sent heavy squads to make sure none survived.
The only reason she had escaped was because her mother, with that amazing Uzumaki vitality and vast chakra, had unleashed everything at once, in the end, her desperate emotions bringing the peak of her twin bloodlines, and frozen them all to some extent, allowing Reika to escape.
But that kind of sealing ice could never be perfect. Shinobi caught on the edges could break free eventually.
And if one of them had been a sensory jonin… then following her trail across the sea would not have been difficult.
Extending his senses again, Kimimaro felt them now, clear and steady.
Nearly a dozen.
Six weaker presences, likely chunin.
And three stronger, unmistakably jonin.
Enough to drag him into a battle he could win only by burning his body far past safe limits alongside Reika.
Not worth the risk, in his opinion.
He exhaled quietly.
It pained him to abandon this peace after three years, but he knew he had no choice.
Additionally, another place could always be found afterward.
Peaceful training could continue anywhere; this was not the only such place in the world, after all, and just as he saw now, it was not all that peaceful to begin with.
Sacrificing his body here for a pointless clash would only cripple the staircase he was still climbing.
His gaze shifted to the seal chamber, the swirl faintly glowing on the stone. His thoughts pressed inward.
"It seems we'll have to leave earlier than expected, Ashina. Thankfully, we prepared for this."
The seal pulsed faintly, the old man's presence answering dry and low.
"So it's time, boy. Hmph. At least you were cautious enough to plan ahead."
Kimimaro's lips curved slightly, his expression calm.
Years ago, he had realized this day might come.
Peace never lasted.
He resolved that he would not allow Ashina to vanish with the ruins, while he had to run away alone like now.
So he had created another vessel.
A relatively large necklace, forged from his own hardest bone, polished and pure.
Into it, over months and years, he had carved the smallest, most intricate fuinjutsu runes with bone points so fine they cut his hands to make, using the smallest bone spikes possible dipped in ink.
The pendant bore the Uzumaki spiral, layered with countless sealing marks.
Because it was made from his own body, his chakra could flow into it constantly, nourishing whatever it held.
That was the key.
It was not just an ornament, but a living conduit.
A mobile cage for a soul.
Ashina had guided every line of its creation, and now his essence could rest there, sustained as long as Kimimaro wore it.
A library of knowledge tethered to his chest.
A teacher better than even the Sanin, still alongside him.
The only reason it was possible in such a smaller form was precisely because Kimimaro would constantly wear it and supply it with his own chakra that could flow freely within his own bones.
Kimimaro's hand brushed briefly against the shape beneath his cloak, cold and heavy against his sternum.
Then his gaze returned to Reika, steady and sharp.
She was watching him closely, still unaware of everything he had just secured, still thinking only of the enemies closing in.
Kimimaro's voice was calm, matter-of-fact, as he looked at Reika.
"There are nearly a dozen shinobi closing in. Six weaker probably chunin, three jonin. We don't fight them. We run."
He reached into his inner pocket and produced two folded slips, each marked with precise sealing patterns.
One he pressed to his own chest, the other he handed to her.
"These will hide our chakra. Suppression seals. Put it on."
Reika obeyed silently, pressing the paper against her skin, feeling its faint tug as her signature dulled.
Meanwhile, Kimimaro wove signs, three earth clones rising around him. They didn't speak.
They simply scattered into different corners of the island, their chakra pulses designed to confuse and mislead enemy sensors.
Then he stepped toward the old seal in the chamber, unclasped the pendant from around his neck, and placed it carefully against the spiral carved into stone.
The reaction was immediate. Light stirred within the pattern, faint but alive, pulsing with a rhythm that wasn't natural.
Strange waves rippled outward, a current of mysterious soul-like energy and chakra that pressed against the air itself.
Reika froze, eyes widening.
She didn't understand what she was seeing, but it wasn't ordinary.
Not chakra alone, not sealing alone. Something deeper.
Kimimaro's voice cut through her thoughts, steady but sharp.
"Not now. I'll explain it later. For now, we escape."
Minutes ticked by as the transfer ran its course, the glow feeding into the pendant until it was faint and still.
Kimimaro then slipped the necklace back beneath his cloak, his expression unchanged, and turned. "Come."
They made their way quickly through the brush of the river that split the island.
There, hidden under reeds, was a small wooden boat.
It wasn't meant for company, just a narrow craft carved for one person's quiet escape.
Now, with both of them aboard, there was little space between them.
Reika settled stiffly at his side, her cloak brushing against his arm as she tried, and failed, to keep some distance.
The boat rocked lightly under their combined weight, the wooden frame creaking as though reminding her how close they were.
Kimimaro took the oar without comment, his posture straight, movements steady, face unreadable. To him, their proximity seemed irrelevant, just another fact of the situation.
But to her, it was different.
The silence, the faint warmth of his body beside hers, the unavoidable closeness, all pressed against her composure.
Embarrassment prickled at her cheeks.
Of course. He had never prepared the boat to be large enough for anyone else previously.
They climbed aboard, the suppression seals already suppressing every trace of them.
Kimimaro took the oar, guiding them with calm strokes down the current.
The silence that fell was heavy.
Reika sat stiffly, her cloak drawn close, eyes lowered for once.
Embarrassment pressed tight in her chest.
It was also, in fact, because she thought that because of her, he had been forced to abandon this place, his new "home", his peace.
She contemplated whether to speak, to apologize, but the words stuck in her throat.
Pride and grief made her tongue heavy.
Kimimaro's face betrayed nothing.
He rowed with smooth, even rhythm, as if this were only another exercise.
But between them lingered a strange tension, supple, not hostile, not comfortable.
Something unspoken that neither reached for.
The river narrowed, then spilled out into the open sea.
Kimimaro adjusted their heading, setting the prow northwest.
He didn't hesitate, didn't explain why.
He simply rowed forward, the island shrinking behind them until it was only a shadow.