Kimimaro lunged, the shaft of his blade piercing through the man's chest, a cry elicited from the man as he doubled over. Crimson life force spewed into the earthly soil as he fell, but Kimimaro was beyond regrets, beyond such thoughts and feelings. He needed to survive. Desperation drove him. It drove him to murder for his own survival. With another slash at the man's throat, he choked in his own blood, cutting off his cries.

The boy dug through the man's belongings. Hands tore apart ropes and anything he could use; food and supplies. His eyes fell at the meager, paltry amount of bread. It would only last him a day, and his stomach, still empty from the day before, clenched at the little amount he had. He pocketed his blade, a small shaft of a bone handle with sharpened bone around the edges, stronger than any kunai or the finest by any craftsmen or blacksmiths, never even chipping. He didn't know why, but the blood on the blade seemed to be absorbed, strengthening the blade even further. He supposed that it was his clan, a part of his bloodline that he was all but a relic of.

The young Kaguya had run from the Hidden Mist, now lost as he attempted to find his way. Many had taken to capture or kill him upon his escape, but Kimimaro managed to elude capture and death altogether, killing off the few that had split up to capture him.

He was not even sure how he managed to survive. There was no such thing as luck. If there was, then he certainly was sure that there was none in the part of gathering supplies.

Snatching up the bags of the food, Kimimaro scanned around the field, recalling the road the man took. There was a town he knew that was nearby, where the man had come from, where Kimimaro managed to spy from high above the tree. He was a merchant, and Kimimaro had prayed that the man had at least had a couple day's worth of food, yet there was none. All there was pottery and other wares, of no use to him.

There were multiple streams he could use to drink, so the boy wasn't worried that his body would wither with dehydration. Food was another matter. He, like any other living being, needed it, and he knew that most, even shinobi who were trained, needed supplements lest they starve to death.

He would have to leave. He could not move quick enough to hide the body, and he knew that more would be coming out soon.

Grabbing his meager prize, he quickly sprinted up a tree, applying chakra to his feet before he vanished into the alcoves once more.

Kimimaro dropped the corpse and pocketed his blade once more. A scowl formed on his lips as he breathed deeply. Hunger began to take a toll on his body as now he had gone for four nights without any form of food to nourish himself. The sole Kaguya survivor slammed his fist against a tree in fury, but it was weak. The pain in his stomach was far worse, and now Kimimaro believed that his luck had begun to run out as of this point. No food meant death. Death now came for him. He tried to stave off the effects of hunger with water, but it did nothing as his starvation was so great that he could not even sleep. Dark bags appeared under his eyes. The skin of his body protruded to his ribs and his shirt far too big for his emaciated body of crisscross of his bones.

His hands and body began to break out in hives as the effects began to settle in. Adding onto his degrading condition, Kimimaro was sure that by the following night tomorrow, he would be barely able to move. By the sixth day, he would be on the floor. By the seventh, he would be a corpse.

It was now even harder to kill. The men and women he had gutted had begun to fight back more and more, proof of which as his body was less agile to perform quick precise slashes with his self made knife. He had to escape one time the moment he had stabbed a woman, and just as he was about to silence her, the townspeople came fast at him, and Kimimaro was forced to flee. Fatigue began to settle in that day as it took even a great effort to even run up a tree utilizing his chakra, which now had begun to drain in an effort to sustain his body. At times, he fell off trees, and was now forced to climb normally to simply hide himself among the bushes to pick off lone targets. Most towns he could not steal food, unsure if they would know that he was formerly of the Hidden Mist if they detected him, and begging would do nothing.

Berries he had found, making sure that they were not poisonous or detrimental to his health, were so few that it barely sustained him. Most of them were and he threw them aside.

In those moments of hunger when he could not sleep, he could recall a towering man with a sword, the Mist headband around his head and in shinobi gear. A girl? Or boy…–They were quite pretty–staring back at him, traveling with the man in his past. He was sure that both were shinobi; the man's headband indicated that he was, and he could recall inquiring if they were of the Mist. The man had stated no, raising his blade in a silent threat and warning, and Kimimaro wasn't sure if he had believed it naively at the time or the threat of the man was clear, but Kimimaro ran, excusing himself. He did not spare a single glance back to them after.

Kimimaro now wondered where either of them were now. Where they were traveling and why. The painful lurch of his stomach brought him back centerfold, and he decided it was foolish to think of them. Any form of sustenance was now on his mind, and he intended to fill his belly by whatever means.

Shambling his exhausted body from exertion of killing and lack of any rest, Kimimaro perched as he leaped from branch to branch. His chakra was drained, and he could only leap a small distance, his body wobbling as he was balancing himself on a tightrope.

KImimaro didn't believe in a god, but he prayed. Prayed to find people.

At times, he even considered the flesh of the people he killed, but shook his head, shutting off the mind that even dared to consider that route.

But he was so, so, so hungry… and there was fat on their bodies and it would at least help him…

He wouldn't be that bad if he just took a little bit of skin or meat off the top at least… It was just a little…

The Kaguya boy was sure he would hurl whatever little he had in his belly, if not his own stomach, and he willfully pushed aside the thoughts, demanding them to go away.

It was revolting and sickening, and Kimimaro just wanted to not feel hungry.

Please please please… Let there be somebody.

He didn't care anymore. Even if it was another child, a part of him screamed at him to reconsider such thoughts, because the people he killed were at least adults, but they were not starving like him, and they could never understand.

Blood was on his hands, Kimimaro knew that when he had slaughtered his first man to kill, an elderly man. He didn't want to, but he was so hungry, so hungry that he didn't care of his corpse laying at his side, grabbing the birds in their cages before setting them aflame and tearing into them like an animal. He probably was one.

He didn't want to but he did and Kimimaro wanted food. He wanted to stop feeling hungry. He didn't want to feel lonely. He wanted someone to be with.

But there was no one. He was that all that remained of his clan.

And so Kimimaro Kaguya acted in his desperation to not feel hungry, just to survive in a world that birthed him no kindness.

The boy didn't cry. He could never through all that had experienced in the Mist. But he thought of the man with the sword and the girly-boy and wondered if he should have begged to join them, because he had no one and was all alone and it was unfair and so Kimimaro sobbed in the night of the harsh world, at what he had done because he didn't want to feel hungry anymore.

Yet there was no other way.

In one universe, Kimimaro would have found someone. In one universe, Kimimaro would have been found by a man he would swear his entire being into, in a man who would promise him all that he desired: A man named Orochimaru. An encounter by chance, and Kimimaro Kaguya would have sworn his entire life, dedicated in servitude to the man who gave him a chance at life.

Kimimaro, in this world, was never found by the same man that he would dedicate himself to, and so he would continue to traverse in an endless cycle, of no one who would grant him it.

A sound of voices cut through the emptiness, and Kimimaro's eyes flashed up, hastily rubbing away the signs of his grief.

Kimimaro followed the noise, silently leaping onto a branch that was sure to hold his weight. The knife was ready at his side. A tedious process he found himself in as he approached in trepidation. Their voices near, Kimimaro halted himself before a branch and in a large bush to provide him cover. Peeking through, he saw them.

Garbed in black and in clothing that covered their entire bodies, they moved through with a grace that was an indication that they were of a highly trained nature. They carried weapons and a variety of tools that Kimimaro could not recognize.

Shinobi? But there were no headbands. Not one of any of even the Mist. And their clothing did not even match a designation of any shinobi village at all.

Kimimaro watched and waited.

Ace knew damn well that he and the others were lost the moment he and the rest stepped into elsewhere.

What he had expected to see was a town, but not any of what he had ever encountered in Terra.

Goddammit. He thinks. All the looks of the civilians were on him. Scout offered to come with him, but they already attracted enough attention as it is. It wasn't the good kind. He quickly departed as soon as he arrived. Batteries to their radios were low, and he only made short calls to Scout and the rest.

The moment he returned, expected gazes were thrown his way, and he confirmed it. "Shit." Was all their words, or at least what they were thinking of. Scout said it the best when he returned: "We're in deep shit now."

"Well, I definitely have some story to tell Blaze if and when we get back." The Pythia notes, recalling the hotheaded temperamental Feline.

"Her, Rosmontis, and probably Amiya. Definitely Doctor Kal'stit as well. She would want full information of this entire world and its geographical ranges."

Pith glances up at them in silent agreement.

"Our currency doesn't match theirs, so wherever we are, we're in someplace not even anywhere close to Terra." They knew it. LMD was widely the universal currency in Terrakind, and this world used Ryo instead. "Five Great Nations, and we're somewhere in the Land of Hot Water from what I've been told."

"Fun." Scout notes with sarcastic humor. "Anyone wants to take a dip in the town's saunas?"

It wasn't, but sarcasm and jokes were of the variety now the moment they became lost, which would not be an issue if it didn't also entail in some random world that wasn't connected in any shape, way, or form to Terra. Really the only way they stayed sane. Then again, humor was one of the few reasons anyone could stay sane in a situation like this.

None of them were laughing, but the air of levity was around them with small smiles. Their work was not done, however, the humor vanished as they got back to work. The Elite Ops continued to travel, hunting and gathering as necessary.

Okay, so I lied.

Kimimaro anyone? He was already a badass in Canon. Man literally had to have ninja cancer just to not kill Naruto, Lee or Gaara, like Itachi against Sasuke. This chapter was also inspired by a NarutoxATLA crossover that was Kimimaro-centric. (Name please? I forgot).

Also, more appearances for the Elite Ops. Please Yostar. They need more appearances. We already get Blaze and Rosmontis are part of them. Show more of the other Ops, dammit. Stop showing the waifus of the Elite Ops and give us the sexy husbandos.