The blue eyed reaper

A sprint through the Ocean

"Hey, could you possibly take me to the Land of Water? I'd be willing to pay," Bolt asked, for the eighth time that day. The fisherman he had asked looked up from where he was repairing his nets, laughed heartily, and then shook his head.

Bolt felt his eye twitch uncontrollably as he was denied, again. After the longest hike in his life, he finally reached the coast of the Land of Fire and found a moderately populated fishing village near a small bay. There were no less than twenty, perhaps thirty, fishing vessels docked in the village, and after approaching each of the captains in turn, he was denied passage. He offered to pay them. Denied. He offered to pay and work for them. Denied. He offered to pay and work and guard them as a ninja. Denied.

It was beyond infuriating. No one was traveling between the Land of Fire and Water. Every time he asked, they just laughed or scoffed at him before sending him on his way. It was beginning to wear on Bolt's already frayed nerves. Sighing heavily, Bolt gave up on the captain and went into the town proper to find something to eat. The docks reeked of dead fish, anyway, Bolt told himself. It was going to seep into his clothes. He'd never get the smell out.

Wandering through the village market, Bolt found an old woman manning a stall that sold, of all things, cinnamon rolls. They were a guilty pleasure of his mother, and he'd always manage to beg one off her whenever she brought them home.

Fishing around his pockets, he withdrew a few ryō and purchased a box. Finding a spot on the end of a pier, Bolt sat down and treated himself to a feast of sugar, savoring the sweet pastries. His mom wasn't here to tell him not to eat the whole box of six in one sitting, but he knew he'd probably be sick if he did, so he obstained.

Placing his pack on his knees, he sifted through his clothes until he found the wad of ryō he had stolen from his father. He was running dangerously low on money. In fact, counting the money he just spent on his treat, he probably didn't have enough to barter passage to the Land of Water. Sighing deeply, Bolt ate two more pastries while kicking his legs back and forth, watching his reflection in the water below the pier. Folding the box and placing it and the remaining three cinnamon rolls reverently at the top of his pack, Bolt stood and began to concentrate, focussing his chakra into the soles of his feet.

Taking a leap of faith, he jumped from the pier and landed on the water. There was one gut wrenching moment where he felt himself sink, then it passed as his chakra took hold and held him above the water. He bobbed with the tide, getting his bearings. Bolt had excellent chakra control. It was required to be a practitioner of the Gentle Fist, and all Hyūga had a natural finesse in the skill.

His was the best of anyone in his team—except, maybe, Sarada. Her mother was teaching her a few things about medical ninjutsu, which arguably required more control than even his Gentle Fist. The Gentle Fist was all about expelling chakra from your chakra points and blasting your opponent with them. Medical ninjutsu focussed on repairing even the smallest damage at a cellular level.

"Here we go!" Bolt declared, eager to get on his way now that he found his sea legs. No one would take him to the Land of Water, and he didn't have the money for a boat anyway. While he didn't really want to run the whole way, that was his only choice. But, it did give him one rare opportunity.

He could visit the Land of Whirlpools, the ancestral home of the Uzumaki clan. It had been razed in the Third Great War by the Hidden Cloud and Hidden Mist, fearing that the Hidden Whirlpool would come to their longtime ally, the Hidden Leaf's, aid. Supposedly it was nothing but ruins now, but there were rumors that after the Fourth Great War some of the remaining Uzumaki clansmen had returned and were attempting to rebuild their clan. If it was true, Bolt had to investigate.

He could just make out the fuzzy outline of an island on the horizon, and knew that there was only one island off the coast: the Land of Whirlpools. It wasn't even noon yet, and he had plenty of time.