The plan was simple.

The plan just got complicated.

And Yamashiro Aoba needed a drink.

As best they could tell, the Hokage's previous fight with Orochimaru didn't curb the upcoming invasion. Which meant that they needed hard evidence and/or irrefutable testimony that an invasion was coming. Something to take to the Hokage. Something to kick countermeasures into gear.

From Miho's memories (or visions, or whatever it could be called that lingered in the girl's head), it was Gekkō that found that evidence, that testimony. It was Gekkō that had the key to stopping the invasion.

Then, he was killed.

So, this plan avoided that situation altogether.

It'd work and, maybe just maybe, it'd keep Gekkō alive long enough to see his wedding day.

After all, Aoba already had a down payment on the party room above the Twisted Shuriken for the stag party. That was non-refundable. Organizing so many different schedules in even getting that date settled was an absolute pain. Hell, getting Gekkō to even go for a drink was a pain. No way was Aoba gonna let him get out of it.

But, as good as the plan was, really, Genma was a shit actor.

Aoba just barely resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands as Genma dramatically fell into jōnin command, grasping at his shredded flak jacket. His trademark senbon was missing, along with a pretty large chunk of meat from his right thigh. As the on-duty jōnin hopped up to help their bleeding comrade, Aoba shot out of his chair.

He'd give Genma this much: he committed.

He hadn't anticipated that much damage. Hell, how much did he pay his summons?

"Commander!" He turned on his heel, with as close to a convincing expression as he could manage to get. Shock, concern. "We've got a problem!"

"Suna…Suna…" Genma wheezed, collapsing to his knees with a grunt. "Those Suna bastards…"

His expression was controlled, but he was affecting a bit of worry and fear in his eyes. True Genma characterization, there. Just underneath the surface. Aoba flinched, trying not to roll his eyes. Thank Kami and all the good and wonderful things in the world he decided to wear sunglasses as a trademark. Otherwise, they'd be screwed.

As if they weren't already.

Nara Shikaku appeared at the head of the large assembly room, flickering down to Genma's side. Genma— for his part— sold it with a particularly pained yelp as he was lowered to the floor by a fretting Raidō. And Raidō was normally a pretty cool guy, being a top-notch assassin. Apparently Genma's little show was hitting a trigger.

It was with a sick sort of feeling that Aoba remembered that it was Raidō that found his team captain eviscerated during the Third Shinobi War. From what he could remember, the gouge was in a similar location to Genma's wound. Died from blood loss.

Genma reached for Shikaku's forearm, grasping it. With desperation. His making physical contact must've punctuated something to the Nara because his features became more severe. "Suna's gonna invade." Something must've gotten caught in his throat because he fell into a completely real cough.

It looked just a little too real.

Drawing himself up, Aoba approached, trying to affect the best impression of concern he could muster. He acted as if Genma was broadcasting, recoiling a bit as if an errant through struck him like a jutsu. Shikaku looked up, catching the movement—as they expected he would.

"He saw a meeting between Suna's lead jōnin and a representative of Orochimaru. There's— There's an invasion coming."

"Raidō, get Genma to the hospital. Aoba, get a read. Now. We need to get moving. Everyone here, no word out until you receive orders. Understood?" There was an affirmative, people stepping back to give them some room. Shikaku stood, moving away from Genma's side while Aoba took his place, holding a hand above Genma's forehead. Aoba felt the ANBU appear. He recognized them, even with the ANBU get-up.

She really should be grateful. He was saving her fiancé, after all.

Genma's eyes were screwed shut, but his mind was whirring. Aoba could feel it. It was like a nest of bees. Like the Academy after a visit from the Hokage. Like a battle and a festival. As soon as his palm touched his friend's forehead, he gasped. On instinct, he slapped Gemna's mental manifestation.

And he didn't feel bad about it. Not one bit. The jerk deserved it.

"What the hell, Aoba?"

"I hate you and I hate this stupid plan."

"You liked it fine last night."

"Go to hell."

"It's gonna work."

"You remember that raid outside of—"

"This is nothing like that, man." Genma huffed, slipping a senbon between his teeth. Even in his mind, the man was fixated. "That was a spur of the moment plan. This is…Well, it's not so sudden at least." Sold. Perfect sell. Aoba totally bought that. Rolling his eyes, he shifted his weight to his other leg and crossed his arms. "I think it's pretty smart."

"'Pretty smart' isn't going to be enough for Nara Shikaku."

"It's his son's plan, so…" Genma shrugged. "Look. Obviously, I'm not exactly enthused with this. It's gonna land me in the hospital. I'm gonna be placed on medical leave. It's gonna involve reports. Reports I can't even have my kid write. Oh well, ya know? Nothin' here is gonna be perfect."

"I'm not asking for 'perfect,' you idiot. I'm asking for semi-coherent."

Aoba could feel the franticness seeping into his tone, but he schooled his features. Because he was cool like that. Because he was a badass. Whatever freak-out he wanted to have, he could and would do it at home. Here, he was gonna be awesome, unflappable. Period.

"What's the plan from here? There're gonna know as soon as they send you to Inoichi."

Why would they send me to Inoichi when you're confident you pulled all the relevant information from me before I fell into unconsciousness from my grievous wounds? Genma's lips didn't move except to pull into a smirk.

Aoba didn't consider himself a violent man, his work as an assassin notwithstanding, so his urge to maim Genma was a heady mixture of rage and incredulity.

"That's what they're hearing from me, huh?"

Genma just shrugged and Aoba sighed, resignedly withdrawing from his friend's (loose terminology there also notwithstanding) head. As he withdrew, he forced Genma's mind into a meditative state. It seemed to be a deep unconsciousness to all observers. And if he left a few thoughts about dream rats in Genma's head to haunt his dreams, well then…Aoba stood, pressing his hands into his face to steady himself.

"Aoba. Report."

"Genma was tailing Yakushi Kabuto on a hunch. Heard him speaking with Baki of Suna about an upcoming invasion. Yakushi Kabuto is Orochimaru's right hand." Aoba followed Nara Shikaku through the halls of headquarters, toward the pass-through to the Intelligence Division. "Suna will betray Konoha on the day of the finals. They are pairing with Sound." He bit his lip, barely keeping himself from throwing out too many details. "Genma was attacked by Baki of Suna, but made it out alive."

"Is Suna aware of his survival?" Shikaku's voice was sharp. The voice of a man that was revered on the battlefield. Aoba was reminded why he thought the Commander was The Coolest.

"They aren't. Genma used his Still Death poison. Faked his death and made it here without being seen. As far as they know, we're unaware."

Which was what happened— only, to Gekkō. To disastrous ends.

Shikaku nodded, striding into Yamanaka Inoichi's office. Aoba's direct boss stood, shooting him a look as if to ask 'what the hell kind of trouble did you land yourself in this time?' to which Aoba had no reply. "Come on. The day just got busy."

Aoba didn't huff or sigh. Visibly, physically. But he did resolve to pay Genma back for this. Because this 'plan' of theirs? The Nara kid's genius plan? Genma's execution of the faked attack? They didn't have to do the real work of it. He did.

As soon as those brats could buy alcohol, Aoba was going to collect.

"My Lady Miho, you are strong. Very strong. Strong-strong like a Bear. I can see the Okuda Clan in you, my Lady. The Okuda were very strong. Strong, strong indeed."

Miho felt the sweat pouring down the sides of her face and clinging onto the longest curls in her ponytail as she let go of the weight. It crashed to the ground, sending up plumes of dust into the blue sky over Training Ground #5. Miho paced, shaking out her arms and stretching her back.

"The Okuda Clan birthed the strongest of the strong in the nations, even before the nations. When the Sage walked the Earth, the Okuda were lifting mountains and shifting lands. The Sage met the first Okuda. 'Okuda,' he said, 'how did you become so strong?' And the First Okuda said, 'I draw my power from the storm.'" Shinrin's voice was affecting gravity, as much as her sweet cadence could muster. "So, the Sage called the First Okuda 'The Storm Lifter.' And so, it was."

Dusting herself off, Miho drew one of her yukata sleeves over her forehead to mop up the sweat. She'd done three hundred repetitions: three hundred lifts of one thousand pounds. In less than thirty minutes. The weights on her legs were still there. The weights on her arms were still there. Her muscles were burning and aching and felt as if they were about to tear off of her bones.

Miho felt alive for the first time in weeks.

Shinrin watched from the shade of the nearby trees, idly drawing a thread through a piece of fabric with her delicate claws. As she worked (on what, Miho wasn't quite sure), she told stories. Stories about the Okuda and their skills, their knowledge.

"My Lady Miho, come here. Please." The bear sat the needlework to the side and sat her claws on her haunches. Miho walked over, releasing her hair from its hold. It felt cooler when it was released, the light breeze able to hit her scalp. Shinrin reached a claw out and poked the weight on her right ankle. "The Okuda have long-used weights like these. They learned of them from another clan, a taijutsu-based clan of old. What is your weight now, my Lady Miho?"

"Six thousand pounds."

Shinrin looked up, green eyes shining happily. "You are strong, my Lady Miho. You will be stronger! Like a Bear, they will say. Like a storm." The bear reached over to grab a finished piece of needlework from the ground. "My grandmother— the Grand Old Thunder Bear, is what she is called— she taught me to do this." Miho took the proffered piece of material.

On it was a delicate pattern of outlined bears, lightning and clouds cutting their fur. She never would've expected such careful work from a bear, whose claws seemed too large to do such little details. The silk was unscathed from the claws.

"It is not that big things cannot do little work, my grandmother said. Big things must do little work better because they must be so much more careful than when little things do little work. And we're all capable of big work. It's the little work that's harder." Shinrin used the sharp point of a claw to pick at one piece of the pattern. "Pull the fabric, my Lady."

Miho did as she was told and the pattern began to unravel, pulling apart until the design was unrecognizable.

"This is the first in many lessons in the Bear Way, my Lady Miho. Patience and delicacy." She drew out a purple pouch and Miho took it, looking to her summon for explanation. The breeze picked up and it felt like relief after hours of toiling and training. "A pattern, fabric, string, and needles. When you needle the pattern, we will start the next lesson. Until then, my Lady Miho…" Shinrin smiled a wide, sharp-toothed smile before disappearing in a puff of purple smoke.

"Didn't see that coming."

Jerking around, Miho rolled to her knees and pulled her naginata from her left arm guard, swinging it behind her in one swift move. Now it made sense why Shinrin glanced over her shoulder just as she disappeared. So, the bear had been aware of his presence. Miho inwardly sighed. She really needed to get better with her sensing.

He held up both gloved hands, raising his brows minutely at the defensive stance. "Didn't mean to catch you off-guard. Thought you could sense me." Kankurō lowered his hands and gestured toward the training field. "This field off-limits?"

"It's my team's field and it's booked until six."

He nodded, shrugging his shoulders. "Seems like every field is booked up today."

Blinking, Miho pushed herself up using her staff. After a long moment staring at the bandaged puppet visible over his shoulder, Miho nodded, gesturing to the field. "What's a shared training space between allies, huh?" Turning her back to him, Miho sat on the ground against her favorite oak and withdrew the needle and thread from the Bear pouch. "You sure you're here to practice or're you hear to spy?"

Kankurō scoffed, pulling the puppet from his back to set it on the ground by his side. "You really think I'm a spy dressed like this?" Miho looked up to find a grin on his painted face. "Besides, why would I wanna spy on someone who's out of the exams?" He made a vague gesture that Miho probably should've found rude. "Since you gave me a cookie, you cann't be a half-bad training-field-sharer."

"If you're really just here for another cookie, then you're out of luck."

"Training, honestly, but I won't turn down one of those cookies."

Miho nodded, not quite sure what to make of the situation. There was no way an opponent village, no matter how confident, would practice in front of a rival village shinobi. It was poor strategy. Unless he planned to 'practice' some poor techniques in order for her to report it to Shino. She kept her face void of emotion as she threaded the needle, pursing her lips with the effort. He was up to something. She just didn't know what it was.

"Strings are complicated." Kankurō stated with some amount of sympathy. "You don't strike me as a 'strings' person."

But if you want it,

Here's my heart,

No strings attached.

She didn't look at him or acknowledge the strange synthetic beat in her head. She could feel the bass of it rattling her bones, as if it were echoing up from her feet. And she could feel her face flush with exertion. The lights were flashing. Instead, Miho focused on getting the thread through the eye of the needle.

"I am a melee fighter. I need more refining."

He scoffed, chakra threads flying from his fingers. Miho did raise her head then, to watch as the puppet came to life. She wondered, vaguely, if it moved differently in the humidity of Konoha rather than the dry heat of Suna. Maybe, one day, she could ask him. As a friend, rather than a Suna shinobi about to stage an invasion.

"Never been one for close combat." Kankurō was making conversation. Which was strange. Miho tried not to frown at the string that refused to go through the needle's eye. "I prefer keepin' my distance. Seems like that's the Aburame's style, too."

Ah, there it was. Not very subtle. Then again, Kankurō didn't seem to have a subtle bone in his body. Miho let out a sigh as the thread finally made it through and she looked up to see the puppeteer spinning through a series of puppet-centered katas.

His eyes, though, were on her.

"Shino would win a one-on-one with you, close-range or otherwise."

He stopped, puppet falling in a battle-ready position in the grass between him and where she sat. Miho stared at it, but continued to draw the threat through the needle's eye until it was in the correct position.

"That's a lot of confidence in the guy. You a little sweet on him or somethin'? I thought you had something for the weird-looking kid." Her eyes rolled, but she said nothing. "Crushes shouldn't affect your assessment of skills." His tone was like a wise older brother dispensing wisdom.

Shrugging, Miho reached for the silk and rested it on her thigh before looking back toward him again. "Go ahead and assume that." She pushed the needle into the top of the pattern and slid it through. "Your information-gathering is an area for improvement."

"Yeah, that's what I've been told." Kankurō scoffed, throwing himself into another set of katas.

"Did you try tailing Kiba? He's a loudmouth."

"He's also got that ninken."

They fell into relatively easy silence. It was a strange sort of dynamic and, honestly, Miho wasn't sure what to make of it. Kankurō, in the Images, was brash as a kid. He threatened children and seemed to be constantly riled. But, this guy was calmer. He seemed to be more at-ease than he had in the Images. She didn't know what to make of it.

Every so often, she glanced up to see him running through a move. There were no strategies, nothing she hadn't seen in the prelims.

With nearly a quarter of the needlepoint pattern completed, Miho leaned back against the tree and drew out a bag of chips, watching as he moved.

He was slow. Comparatively. She could track all of his movements.

But what he lacked in speed, he made up for in strategy and replacement.

Kankurō was a master at the replacement technique. To the point that it had almost become a game after an hour of watching.

She finally went back to her needlepoint about fifteen minutes before he stopped.

"Gaara wants to kill you."

Miho looked up to find Kankurō staring across the clearing at her. He was using a jutsu to wrap his puppet, spinning it as the bandages hovered in midair. Swallowing the lump in her throat and the nervous hunger that struck her, Miho pursed her lips and nodded. She knew that.

"Wanted to give you a heads-up."

"Why?"

She saw his painted brows lift at that blunt question. He huffed a laugh, hauling his puppet onto his back. Kankurō waved away her disbelieving tone. "You didn't have to give me a cookie." As if that explained everything. He started walking toward the main road, his back to her. "And I'll beat the Aburame, too."

No, he wouldn't. He'd forfeit.

Miho sighed and reached for her snack pile, chucking something across the clearing.

He turned and grabbed it from the air, shock clear even at that distance.

"Last one!"

Miho stayed at the training ground until night began to fall. She only just finished a third of the needlework when her fingers ached too terribly to keep pushing the needle through the silk.

Delicacy was never her strength. Now, she could see what Shinrin meant.

"Sorry I'm late!"

"You're SO late! I thought my stomach was gonna implode!"

Naruto waved from where he stood, just under the entrance of the stadium. Miho hurried up, throwing her arms around him while he flailed at the sudden embrace. She grinned into his shoulder, uncharacteristically putting weight onto him.

"Woah!" He called out, actually managing to keep balance. "What's all this about? You're not upset because of the whole hospital thing, are you? I ate the food you brought. Every bit of it."

She pulled away, patting his shoulder before playfully swatting at his stomach. He grinned as he dodged. "Good thing I've already stocked your fridge. I made a lot and you've got a ton of bread and milk." Miho ignored his squawk, turning on her heel to start walking. "Make sure you eat well tomorrow morning, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I will. Okay." He folded his arms behind his head as they moved. "How's Chōji and Ino and Shika doing?"

It was just barely evening and Konoha was busy with life. Crowds were drawn from all over the nations to see the Chūnin Exam finals. Merchants crowded the streets and tourists were walking about on nearly every road they travelled.

It was a festival, stalls and crowds and drinking and joy.

"They're exhausted. Could barely keep their eyes open last time I saw them. Clan training has drained them. I know Shikamaru's been pretty determined for the last month, to the point that he stayed up late for the past week to learn another jutsu."

Naruto let out a low whistle, excitedly looking at shadows cast by merchant lanterns. "Think he's gonna be able to do any of that cool stuff Old Man Shikaku can do?"

Miho shrugged, but smiled. "Who knows?"

"And Ino's already scary enough. I bet she's gonna beat the hell out of her opponent."

"Considering she's got a bye…"

"She got a bye?!"

Naruto stopped in the middle of the road, looking to Miho in shock. For some reason, Miho felt a tingle crawl up her spine and she felt herself stiffen. Someone was watching. She didn't dare to look up, but she could feelit. Whoever it was— and she had a pretty good guess— was observing. It felt like pressure on the back of her neck.

"Whaddya mean she's got a bye? What happened to that weird guy from Oto?"

"He was killed." Miho jerked her head toward Ramen Ichiraku down the road. "Let's not discuss it here, okay?"

"Miho! Naruto! What're you two doing out and about?" Miho turned to see her father with Yamanaka Inoichi. They were in their mission outfits, which meant that they likely just returned from what called them away a few days before.

Which meant that they were likely as prepared as they could be for the imminent invasion.

Miho felt fear curl in her stomach as her father approached and rested a large hand on her head.

There were bags under his eyes.

Inoichi looked down at Naruto and smiled, but it didn't quite meet his haunting blue eyes. "You'll do great tomorrow, kid." He reached forward and ruffled Naruto's hair. Miho studiously kept her jaw from dropping, looking up to her father instead. "Miho, see if you can keep Ino and the boys out of trouble, will ya?"

"If Ino can't keep them out of trouble, there's no hope."

Her father nodded to Inoichi as the other man left, walking in the direction of the Yamanaka estate. Miho watched as her Pa withdrew his pouch, reaching over to take Naruto's hand as he knelt down. Naruto startled at the contact, looking at her father with wide eyes.

"This is something a friend gave me a long, long time ago. You remind me of him. A lot. I remember when he entered the finals. He was nervous."

Miho watched as he deposited something in Naruto's hand, wrapping the boy's fingers around it. Her heart skittered, feeling the same prickling sensation as a few minutes before. He was watching. Gaara was watching. Miho shifted her back to where she felt him. Perhaps it was just her mind playing tricks.

But she still put herself between her imagination and her family.

"It's…bandages?"

"Special reinforced bandages. They're chakra-enhanced. I've never used them, but I think you will use them well." He made wrapping motions around his forearms and then gestured to his legs. "Just one layer should do it."

Miho could see tears glistening in Naruto's eyes. "I— I— Thank you, Uncle Chōza!" He flew forward, throwing his arms as far around her father's chest as he could, which only amount to the tips of his fingers on the edges of her father's arms.

Her Pa's eyes went to her and he smiled, reaching forward to press a hand to the side of her face. Like always.

"Be home by eight. There is much to be done."

Hesitating for just a scant moment, Miho nodded. Her hands fisted at her sides.

He would be preparing the clan compound for the invasion.

Her father stood and stepped back, looking down at them. And, for some reason, it felt different. Miho couldn't say why, but… He smiled and turned to the right, toward the compound. Naruto looked down at the bandages in his hand while Miho watched her father walk down the street, towering over the crowds as he moved.

At one time, she rode above the crowds on his shoulders.

It always seemed like she could see forever up there.

"Can you show me how to put these on?"

Miho turned to Naruto and smiled. "Of course."

He nodded, resolutely— as if he had made some sort of decision. Naruto grabbed her hand and pulled, dragging her over to the Ramen Ichiraku stall. He spun around to walk behind her, pressing under her shoulders to get her to move faster to a seat.

"You still keep that pencil on you?"

Brows pulling together at the question, Miho nodded, reaching down to draw a pencil from her kunai holster.

Naruto smiled, but his smiled a bit strained. He grabbed a napkin from the counter, shouting a warm greeting to the cook and his daughter as he scribbled. Looking determinedly at the countertop, he pressed it over to her.

We're being watched.

He sensed it.

Miho felt her heart shudder and she struggled to breathe for a moment.

Of course, he sensed it. Naruto was seriously in-tune with chakra, even without that kind of training. And it wasn't even chakra that had tipped her off— it was a feeling. Like how prey can sense a predator lingering just out of sight. A feeling of dread.

She took the pencil from him, pretending to look at the menu. She'd been here a hundred times and her order never changed.

I know. It's Gaara.

Naruto nodded, boisterously waving off the old cook's concern over his hospital stay. She could see the tension in his shoulders. Reaching over, she threw an arm around them.

Though she desperately wanted to turn and glare toward where she felt the pressure, she couldn't confront Gaara. She wouldn't stand a chance. And neither would any of the innocent civilians that would pay collateral.

"Remember to set your alarm tonight. Don't run late."

Naruto affected a scoff, shaking his head. "I'll get up and run whatever three hundred stupid laps you and Bushy Brows run! I need to get an early start! You wanna run with me? I can meet you at Training Ground #5!"

Miho nodded, grinning. Naruto turned back to Old Man Ichiraku. Fear gripped her stomach then— a different fear than the red-headed one lingering on some rooftop nearby. This one was chaos. Chaos that might lead to many people dying in less than a day, in less than twelve hours.

This disaster was coming for her whole village.

Her grip tightened as a large bowl of ramen, much larger than what her friend had ordered, was placed on the counter. She sat back and released her friend, watching with awe as the man turned away.

Naruto gleefully shouted his thanks as Gaara's looming disappeared.

She gratefully accepted her pork ramen a moment later.

That night, she only ate five bowls.

Her usual was fifteen.

Chōza wondered. He wondered as he watched his son run up to his daughter. He wondered as they strode, with clear purpose, to the archive at the back of the compound. He wondered just what possessed him to follow them. It seemed, too often now, that his children kept much from him. At first, it was just Miho. Miho and her lack of trust. Miho and her disappointment in him and his actions. Her distrust was like a kunai to the heart every time it reared its ugly head.

Then, Chōji followed his sister's lead. It was subtle at first. Then, more and more apparent. Chōji's goals over the last month were telling, telling of more than his own shame. Chōji trained like a young man with a deadline.

It seemed, so did the other two heirs of the Three. Shikamaru and Ino both trained as if the world was ending, not as if it were the finals of an exam. At first, he found it endearing— they were trying their hardest to become good ninja.

He felt pride knowing that Chōji and the others had such determination.

Then, Miho finally left Rock Lee's side in the hospital. She signed with the Bears. She upped her weight regimen and took up the more offensive naginata. She drew her hair back into a bun to keep it from her eyes. She and Chōji sparred, training for life-or-death battles.

He recognized desperation when he saw it.

He also recognized when his daughter placed herself between Suna's lingering jinchuriki and himself and Naruto.

Now, immediately after arriving home, his daughter took one look at her brother and followed him to the archive.

Chōza was a father. And Chōza wondered. So Chōza followed.

She didn't even know of her teacher's injuries or how close she'd come to losing him the previous night. Knowing her, she would spend days at his side in the hospital, if she were allowed. Then, she would throw herself headlong into training. Chōza followed, stopping cold when he realized that his children had hidden themselves in the reading room at the back corner.

The only room in the archive with pre-made privacy seals.

Privacy seals he controlled. Privacy seals he had Minato place on the walls when he'd become Clan Head.

Minato, whose son looked up at him that evening with so much thankfulness for just a few bandages and well-wishes.

Chōza thought about letting it be. He had a clan to prepare and a compound to secure, an invasion to prepare for. But, one memory kept rattling around in his head. Like dried pieces of corn in a rattle drum.

Chōji had been on his back, gritting his teeth through the pain in his muscles as they cramped. Chōza remembered the same pains from his youth, before his body was used to the stress of the pills. Just one pill had his son heaving and he hoped that he'd never experience two or, Kami-forbid, three pills.

After a couple deep gulps of air, his son rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself to his knees.

"It's not enough. Let's go again."

"You just did a controlled green pill transformation, my son. It's—"

"It's not gonna be enough. Not yet. I need to be stronger."

"Strength comes with ti—"

"We don't have time." Chōji had settled onto his haunches, staring up at Chōza with startlingly clear eyes. The pain had been managed, forced away. His son forced himself to stand, balancing his new weight with ease. Chōza felt a chill as his son's eyes narrowed. "We don't have time, Pa. Let's go again."

Chōza reached forward and pressed his palm to the wall. Those within would not sense the tap-in. Only he would be able to hear what they were saying. And, perhaps, this was a breech of their privacy. Perhaps his daughter would trust him even less if she knew, but…

"—in the hospital. Probably wasn't a part of the plan." Miho sounded tired. More tired than she should be at her age. Not the kind of physical exhaustion that came from a day of missions or training. She sounded soul-tired. "Shikamaru didn't specify, did he?"

"Just said 'troublesome, figure it out.'" Chōji answered. "With Genma-sensei out of commission—?"

They knew about Shiranui Genma's injuries? How? His entire situation was classified by Nara Shikaku. The man had been unconscious and been protected by ANBU guard for three days.

"He'll be up and about before things go sideways. Aoba-sensei's not stupid."

He could hear a chair creak and he could imagine Miho falling into one of the century-old wood chairs inside. A crackling sound and then the crunch of potato chips. He would know that sound anywhere. Another similar sound. They both had opened up chip bags.

"Shikamaru's still good on the plan, right?"

His son sighed. "Ino's not too happy about it, but she's got the bye, so…"

"At least if he forfeits, he won't be tired when the fighting starts."

"Yeah, Ino just says he didn't put that much effort into it there and then either."

Miho's scoff was so familiar that Chōza— even in the unfamiliarity of what he was hearing— could see her eyes rolling. "He was chakra exhausted."

"Either way, he's good to go. Ino's ready as well. We're all good." Chōji was obviously trying to head-off an old argument by the tone in his voice. "You're still planning to go up there?"

"It's the only plan we could think of that has it ending tomorrow."

"We?"

"It wasn't my idea, Chōji."

"Your speed's not—"

"I know."

Silence hung in the air and Chōza sat with his uncertainty. His children knew something. They knew what was coming. They knew of the invasion. The only explanation that he could think of was that Genma had told his daughter. Which meant that her teacher had told his team an A-rank secret. But when had she visited Genma? Was he even conscious yet? He'd been under ANBU guard for nearly three days.

"Miho, I still don't think this is a good idea. You won't get past him. He'll kill you before you're able to do anything. Why not just let Aoba-sensei and Genma-sensei take care of it? They knew him anyway, didn't they? Or just…There's got to be a better plan."

His daughter didn't answer and Chōza felt anxiety build in his stomach. He'd had enough. Enough of the confusion, enough wondering. Removing his hand from the wall, he rounded the final wooden bookshelf and knocked on the door, opening it before they could answer.

His children stood.

Chōji shifted just a bit, but enough to be a tell. Of guilt. His son looked as if he didn't want to be ashamed, but he was regardless. He couldn't hold Chōza's eyes for more than a few seconds.

Miho rolled her shoulders, waving at him with as innocent of an expression as she could manage. She didn't look guilty— just tired. He tried not to notice the bags under her eyes. So similar to Chisato.

"Who is it you will be getting past tomorrow, Miho? And how it is that you two know what is coming during tomorrow's exams?"

It was his daughter that figured it out first, eyes flying around the room as if she could see the seals. When her eyes settled on him again, her expression made him want to take a step back. Even when she was younger and she'd chastised him for his— whole generation's— treatment of Naruto, she hadn't looked at him like this.

Before, it had been unwilling distrust.

She wanted to trust him, but she couldn't.

Because she didn't understand or respect his actions.

Now, it was outright.

And he earned it.

"Father, we were just—" Chōji stopped still, mouth opening and closing before his hands fisted. He looked to Miho, but she didn't look to her brother. She held Chōza's stare, back straightening.

Chōza's eyes narrowed and he tried to impress upon them the seriousness of the situation.

His arms crossed.

"Well?"

His daughter didn't falter. "Genma-sensei told me."

"How? He's still unconscious, from what I know."

"I was doing my usual training. I found him in the forest on the eastern side of town during my run. I got him as close to Jōnin Command as he would let me go."

"And he told you what?"

It was a test, to see what she knew and how much danger his children were in. Miho's normally soft brown eyes narrowed to slits before flicking to her brother. He was hesitating, shoulders shaking. "I can't say any of it out loud without a seal, Father."

She was lying. Miho had a habit when she was lying, ever since she was a little girl. She swayed her weight, rolling to the balls of her feet in such small increments that it was almost imperceptible unless someone knew what to look for. And Chōza was her father. He knew all her tells.

He thought he knew all about both of his children. Apparently, he was wrong.

"And my other question?"

"Which one?" Her voice was controlled, almost foreign. Chōji shifted.

Chōza wondered if this was his daughter, the kunoichi, rather than his daughter, just his daughter. "Who you will be 'getting past' tomorrow." She sighed, lowering her head. He could see that she was considering lying. She'd shifted her weight. "The exam proctor. I want a chance at—"

Something slammed to his left and he found Chōji's hand on the wall, green chakra echoing around the room.

"Orochimaru."

Miho jerked her head around to stare at her brother. The hurt and betrayal there made his heart ache. Her brother didn't look at her, standing straighter as he stepped forward. Chōji was stubborn and determined whenever he chose to be. And, it seemed, he'd chosen. Chōji's Will was strong. Stronger than most.

"Chōji—"

"She'll try to get past Orochimaru."

"Chōji!"

Chōza did take a step back, staggering a bit at the force of what his son said. His daughter planned to get past the Snake Sannin? "What?"

"Orochimaru's taken the place of the Kazekage. He's going to resurrect the former Hokage and control them when he fights the Third."

When he…

"You can't just—" Miho's voice was frantic, terrified, hurt, betrayed. "Chōji, what're you doing?"

Chōza looked between his children, watching as Miho edged backwards from the table. As if she needed the walls to cover her back. As if they would not do that for her. His stomach lurched at the way she retreated. His heart stopped at the look she sent Chōji. "What— How do you know any of this?"

Miho dragged her eyes away from her brother, staring at the floor beneath her feet. She was beginning to shake, to quiver.

"It doesn't matter," Chōji tried. Chōza waved a hand. "Father, it—"

"It matters, son. If this source is credible, then—"

"It's credible, but— but limited." Chōji seemed to choke on nothing, looking toward his sister. "Miho, we have to tell him. We have to. It's tomorrow. What if something goes wrong? What if— Miho, what if—" Her brother raced around the table, holding up both hands when his sister took a sharp step back, eyes rising from where she was staring at the wooden planks beneath her feet.

That anger. The way her eyes narrowed and her teeth bared as she stepped back?

That was all Okuda Keisuke.

Then, he saw it melt.

The bravado. It melted into a firm sort of confidence that…was hauntingly familiar. Her shoulders pulled back and she raised her chin just a bit, looking down her nose at Chōji. Chōji, whose hands were still raised in placation.

"Miho, explain this. Please." Chōza kept his voice calm, even.

She looked to him, over her brother's head. His daughter drew in a breath, held it, and released it again, sagging forward as if under a tremendous weight. She swallowed nothing, shot her brother a disappointed look, and rolled her shoulders one last time.

"Thank you for giving Naruto the Fourth Hokage's bandages, Father. I told him before I left him tonight who they belonged to. It meant the world to him. And it meant the world to me." She leaned forward in a deep bow. "I've tried my best to protect people the best ways I know how. But, it seems like I have to give more." She rose and looked to her brother. "I'll keep giving until I have nothing left to give."

Sweet, sweet Chōji. Chōji, who was crying as he drew his hands away.

Chōza knew his son. Chōza could see the regret.

She tilted her head back to keep her own tears at bay. Her eyes were resigned. She was resigned.

Chōza felt his heart breaking for his children, whatever was happening. Perhaps he'd made a mistake. He'd made a mistake and there was no righting it now.

"I know the future, Father. A version of it. I know what will happen tomorrow. I know what might happen years from now. I know more than I should."

Miho drew herself up to her full height even as Chōza felt the world shift.

"I didn't hear anything from Genma-sensei. Genma-sensei heard about the invasion from me."

Aoba entered the Hokage's office to see Akimichi Miho kneeling before the old man, chin raised and eyes shut. Her body was shaking violently, the tremors seemed to reverberate around the office. When he saw Inoichi's hand draw away from the girl's head, Aoba just barely caught her before her body hit the floor. Looking up, he could tell that the Third was intent- intent on what exactly, Aoba wasn't sure.

Never break the chain

Never break the chain

He could hear the remnants of an unfamiliar song making the rounds within her brain, one echo after another. Inoichi had put her into unconsciousness, so she wouldn't have to deal with the Hokage. Inoichi, who stood partway blocking the girl from view, was protecting her. Aoba looked between the Yamanaka and the old man.

"The girl is telling the truth, Lord Hokage."

The Third didn't move, continuing to stare at the dark village. After a few long minutes, he turned and moved to his seat behind the desk. Aoba shifted the girl in his arms, wondering if they would all end up in neighboring cells. After all, now Inoichi had all the information he needed. But his daughter was also involved.

Resources...Secrets...

"Aoba, you were aware of this?"

He nodded. "I was, Lord Hokage."

"Explain to us what you know and why you made the decisions you made."

Yamashiro Aoba needed a drink.

The plan just got more complicated.

Really, the plan was shot to hell.

And it was supposed to be so simple.

A/N: The semester starts next week, which means that I'm in full-tilt prep mode. All sorts of meetings and orientations and so on. It's fun and I'm excited about all the possibilities.

I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. I enjoyed writing it. It's going off the rails pretty quickly, huh? I know everyone's going to be up in arms over some of the decisions being made this chapter... Don't judge Choji too harshly for this. He has his reasons.

Thank you so much for reading! Thank you everyone for your reviews, favorites, and follows! Let me know what you think!