Jin Masashi had been stationed in the Land of Grass when he was ordered to pack his things and break down the camp. Not typically something to bat an eye at, except his company was told to do it quietly in the middle of the night, and there was no relief force to trade places with them. Essentially, they were squandering every inch they had worked for in the last month.

He didn't protest, even though a good friend of his died last month in the defense of this position. Masashi put his faith in the Tsuchikage, and he couldn't help but feel a tremor of excitement. This didn't seem like a retreat.

The entire camp was mobilized and marched southwest, hunkering down in a forward command post just inside the Earth border. They were among the first to arrive, but not nearly the last.

More and more troops trickled in over the course of the next week, until what felt like the entirety of the Iwagakure shinobi force was crammed into the tiny base.

"I heard Konoha is in the midst of routing Suna," another chunin gossiped. "They're pushing them back to the Wind border."

"Does the Tsuchikage think Sand will cut across and try something with us next?" Another asked.

No. Masashi's gut told him that something more significant was about to take place.

And only a couple days later, it did. The command post was emptied in silence, each ninja stern and solid as the stones they modeled themselves after.

Our target is Konoha, he had been told. As they overreach into the Land of Wind, we'll catch their northeast flank. The Explosion Corps will tunnel underneath, planting traps before surfacing to perform a pincer attack from the opposite side.

This was it. The legendary battle he had dreamed of, one that would live on in every history book written in the elemental nations. And levied against Konoha, no less—the first hidden village and the wealthiest, home to infamous clans like the Uchiha, the Senju, the Hyuga, the Aburame and many more.

He approved of the strategy too. This was how ninja war was supposed to be waged; with ambushes and quick, brutal strikes. Not with bunkers and long-range ninjutsu.

Masashi wasn't in a position to see their foes approach—he was underground, as was nearly every other member of the Iwagakure armed forces. Despite their numbers, command knew that this strategy would work a hell of a lot better with the element of surprise, and, unfortunately, Konoha possessed the most formidable sensory based bloodlines. Not chakra sensors themselves; in that department, Kumo and Iwa both had them beat, but with the Inuzuka, Aburame and especially the Hyuga on Konoha's side, it didn't really matter.

Remaining deep enough underground circumvented the first two clans, but the third was still a huge issue. The Hyuga could see through solid objects, even the ground itself, and pick up on chakra signatures, so the Iwa shinobi were all forced to use a technique called the Doton: Seishin Kesseki no Jutsu.

The technique involved using a Doton nature transformation throughout their entire bodies, something that was incredibly difficult and dangerous. Leaving it in place too long would prove fatal, and Masashi bet that at least a couple of their shinobi would die before the first blow would even be exchanged. However, if the Hyuga were to look in their direction with it active, they wouldn't be able to distinguish their bodies from the rock surrounding them. Hopefully.

Everyone without a doton chakra nature and those less competent with the technique would be forced to wait nearly a mile away from the ambush site, just in case. With the Explosion Corps kicking off the fight, they would have no issue telling when it began.

And neither would he. Masashi both heard and felt a thunderous shake in front of them and quickly exerted his will upon the surrounding earth, softening it so as not to be crushed to a pulp by the vibrations. His and his comrades' Seishin Kesseki broke at that moment, so they wasted no time to rise to the surface.

He found the Konoha battalion was in shambles, the dead numerous. Exploding clay had been laced below the ground they uncaringly trod on, too distracted with rejoicing in their meaningless victory over the sand rats. The trap had been detonated right as the center of their company passed above it, splitting the survivors into two clusters.

Masashi and his comrades charged the nearest one, leaving the other for the Explosion Corps to hold off until their distantly awaiting backup arrived. It almost seemed too easy.

Until there was an ear-shattering pop, and three massive plumes of smoke erupted from the group they were charging. From inside each of them arose a titan; one purple snake longer than the Tsuchikage's palace was tall, an orange toad with red markings and a pipe big enough to fit five of Masahi's peers inside the barrel, and a white and blue slug whose ooze sent streams of noxious vapor into the sky.

The three way deadlock. So, they were here, as expected. The Sanin. But Iwa was ready.

His company quickly moved out of the way as lava golem nearing the slug's size flowed over the ground, clumsily approaching the mammoth mollusk without a care who it crushed/cremated on its way. Controlled by every member of the Konjiki clan, this jutsu would fry the slug, and keep it from healing the decimated Konoha forces.

Meanwhile, there were several smaller pops as the Great Six of the Kamizuru clan called forth their personal summons to engage the toad. Bred at the peaks of the mountains surrounding Iwagakure, these giant bees were formidable, though they were still smaller than just the handle of the toad's oversized tanto.

Multiple legendary shinobi stepped up to challenge the serpent, including Biwa of the Dust and Three-Tongued Gorou, and when the summoner atop its head sent forth countless smaller snakes that could kill a man with one bite, someone else sent off a pack of mongooses to hunt them down. Iwa might not have had any Noble Summons, but the Will of Stone was indomitable.

This was what Masashi lived for. So when a dragon made of fire, a missed technique sent by the Sandaime Hokage at the Sandaime Tsuchikage, vaporized him almost instantly, the last sound that left his lips wasn't a scream or curse. It was a laugh.

- - - { ワナビー } - - -

Even though Kazuhiro was a shut-in and only took me outside when it was time for my doctor's visits, I still realized it right away when the war—the Second Shinobi war, I eventually discovered—ended. The entire time I had lived in Iwa, which was three months at this point, the streets were nearly empty, and there was an oppressive gloom that I could feel just by looking out the window.

Then, that changed overnight. Well, the first part at least—there was an ever present air of solemnity that dampened almost every face I saw, but the amount of said faces had nearly doubled. And each one was adorned by a Iwagakure forehead protector, so it didn't take a genius to figure out that they were soldiers who had returned from war.

It also didn't take genius to figure out why they were so upset, despite the war being over. We must have lost. I wanted more than anything to ask for details, but my tongue still wasn't nimble enough yet and likely wouldn't be for several months. I wasn't sure when babies were supposed to be able to talk, but it wasn't a lack of mental ability holding me back, just physical ability, so I would likely manage the feat early.

I felt like I was living my life on quadruple speed mode, and thank fuck for that. I would try to physically condition myself throughout the day with plenty of rest, and between workouts I would explore my chakra. That was something I never got bored of, though I would sometimes grow frustrated when I reached a tributary that was too small.

The tributaries, as I found out, led to both muscle groups and into bone marrow. I think. It's hard to be sure, as I'm not actually able to see anything, but I can extrapolate with my sense of touch, seeing as I can feel where my submarine is to some extent. It tingled.

The tributaries also varied greatly in diameter, and some were just flat-out unexplorable due to their size. Those were the ones I'm most curious about; my sense of touch wasn't accurate enough to pinpoint exactly where they were, so I couldn't really guess where they were going. I know there are a multitude of ways shinobi can use chakra to augment their bodies, and I also know that there are a multitude of ways they can injure themselves doing so. I'm hoping that my exploration now will give me a head start when I reach that stage of my training.

My awareness was slowly—oh so slowly—spreading up my right arm. It was close to reaching my forearm at this point, the appendage not nearly as exciting as my hand, which was almost unfathomably complex. Which was probably the reason hand signs were so integral for casting jutsu. I kept having to revisit the region as my ability to navigate my submarine grew and I could suddenly reach places that had once eluded me.

In other news, Kazuhiro was depressed. I didn't know why for the longest time, but I did my best to cheer him up whenever I saw him (my best consisted of grabbing his fingers and making cute noises). To my surprise it actually seemed to work, though not for long. The morose expression would soon force itself into his face shortly after.

To my pleasant surprise, as she was usually rather daft and spacey when it came to anything other than child-rearing, Akane-obasan not only noticed his mood, but eventually spoke to him about it.

All three of us were at her home across the street, because babies needed enrichment and there was precious little of it to be found at the Asano household. It was quite lovely, what I saw of it at least. Her son's old crib had been set up in her living room, which featured a giant window that caught as much light as the sky could provide and several floor to ceiling bookshelves. Scrollshelves? I wondered how she got them all; if this was anything like feudal Japan, they would have been hard to get ahold of.

"I failed," Kazuhiro finally said, caving to Akane-obasan's nagging. "I failed Hisashi, and I failed Kasaiki."

"How do you mean, Kazuhiro-kun?" Akane-obasan asked gently.

"Iwa struck back at Konoha," he said shortly, avoiding eye-contact with the woman and not looking in my direction entirely. "And I wasn't there. And we lost the battle. It would have been my only chance to avenge Hisashi and Mana—with the non-aggression pact the Tsuchikage signed, I won't get another."

"Lost is a very strong word," Akane-obasan said hesitantly, choosing to fixate on that for some reason.

"We were forced to flee," he said angrily, his voice raising. "We lost half the Explosion Corp, most of the Konjiki clan and Gorou-sama, one of our only S-ranked ninja! And those are only the public losses—who knows how many of our forces have been killed besides that! What was Tsuchikage-sama thinking?"

"Kazuhiro-kun!" She admonished, looking over her shoulder as if expecting the door to be busted down. "Do not say such things. You or I can't presume to know the motives of the Tsuchikage. There must have been a reason."

"What reason could there be?" he cried.

"I don't know, but…Kazuhiro-kun, you must promise not to breathe a word of what I'm about to say to anyone. Do you swear?"

I was jolted out of my pity for my caretaker—his thought process might have been immature, but he himself was also immature, so it could be excused, and he was really going through it with the death of my parents—at her words. Of all people, ditzy Akane-obasan was the one with meaningful information?

Kazuhiro promised, and the older woman sighed.

"My son is in a position of importance within the Tsuchikage's inner circle," she revealed. "He confided to me that, as a direct result of the attack, he himself and Iwagakure as a whole has gained a great advantage. He wouldn't tell me what, exactly, and I knew better than to press. He also told me that, while the losses were higher than expected by a wide margin—they underestimated not the Leaf itself but the ability of its highest ranked ninja—the Tsuchikage is satisfied by the end result."

It spoke volumes about the world I was reborn into that someone could say "our leader is satisfied with the result of an action that caused the deaths of many of his own people" and mean for it to be taken as a reassurance.

"So you see, there must be more going on here than you or I am aware of," she concluded, though I could have told her so myself if I could speak.

Always look underneath the underneath. This was a ninja village—nothing was what it seemed.

"I still should have been there," Kazuhiro whispered, and Akane laid a gnarled hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sure Hisashi would have been glad you weren't," she said, and I was certain that she was correct once again.

- - - { ワナビー } - - -

Months passed, and I soon found that I wouldn't be blowing past milestones nearly as fast as I thought I should. Apparently, babies developed physically and mentally at around the same rate, so even though I possessed the mental ability of an adult, it still took just as long for me to be able to, for example, speak, roll over, crawl and eventually walk.

Once I got to that part, however, I was unstoppable. I trained—er, played—constantly, something Akane-obasan only thought was cute because she didn't understand what I was really doing.

Cat's cradle? That was for improving finger dexterity. The floor is lava—apparently a real concern in Iwa with the Yoton release wielders scattered about—was for nimbleness and footwork. And drawing? Well, that actually was for fun. But hey, it could be helpful in my future as a shinobi. You never know. Akane-obasan encouraged my talents, supplying brushes and colored inks. Not my preferred medium, but I wasn't sure pencils existed so I made due.

Kazuhiro might have been able to put two and two together regarding my self-training, but Iwagakure was struggling financially after the war's kinda sorta end. As such, all available shinobi were sent on mission after mission. And there were no shortage of things to do; with no one slinging jutsu around all over the place, merchants were eager to sell the inventories that had been piling up over the last couple years, and there was much that needed to be rebuilt.

Also, Grass kinda hated Konoha now, for some reason, and decided that, out of the five great villages that had utterly decimated it over the course of the war, they disliked Iwa the least. That brought in a lot of business.

So my official guardian wasn't home all that much anymore, leaving me in Akane-obasan's tender mercies. Realistically, I couldn't have asked for a better arrangement.

I did have to deal with nonsense every once in a while. Like on my first birthday, for example, when Akane-basan decided that I should have a party. I complained, but the old bag didn't seem to piece together what I was complaining about. I could have tried harder, I suppose, but crying in general was beneath me, and crying because I wasn't getting my way was especially so.

It was also hard. If I wanted any sound to pass through my lips, I really had to work for it, especially when that sound was in a higher register.

But I digress. Akane-obasan wanted me to have a birthday party, a real one, with cake and other kids. I always hated the birthday scenes in Naruto fics, I think because I thought they were always too…convenient.

But then I realized; I wasn't in Konoha. I wasn't going to run into major characters and create lifelong bonds and rivalries. I wasn't going to meet some important parents and establish myself as a budding prodigy. I was a nobody orphan—anyone who Akane-obasan could con into attending would be just as ordinary and unremarkable as I was (on paper).

"Oh, I'm so excited!" The old woman gushed. "You'll get to make so many new friends! My son Atsuchi-kun passed along my invitations to some of the children of his coworkers. They're all very promising future shinobi, so this will be very beneficial to your future!"

Mother. Fucker.

Hamamoto Atsuchi, Akane-obasan's son who I still haven't met. Who was apparently high up in Iwagakure command. His coworkers' kids were coming to this?

Never mind, then. I guess I better mentally prepare for a chance encounter with an important character anyway. For better or worse.

- - - { ワナビー } - - -

Ishida Yuudai was no longer sure where his life would take him. With their baffling defeat at the hands of Konoha, and the current…staffing issues resulting from it, all departments had to be reorganized and merged. His was no exception. In a month, his Black Tengu would no longer enjoy the autonomy they had taken for granted, and would be absorbed into the Red Ogres to form a single elite division.

But that was a headache for tomorrow. Hamamoto Atsuchi, who, due to the nature of their respective positions he worked very closely with, had invited him and his son to a meeting disguised as a birthday party for a one-year-old his mother had taken in. At least, he hoped it was a meeting disguised as a kid's birthday party. He brought a bottle of sake in addition to the obligatory gift—a rubber kunai—just in case.

It was a good thing too; the bastard didn't so much as make an appearance (Yuudai would learn the following morning that he got caught up in a project and simply forgot). Still, it wasn't as if he was the only one Atsuchi invited; he saw one of his division captains with their kid, a couple he recognized from the Nitoriku clan with a boy, an administrator with his daughter, and a handful of other notable figures.

"Ishida-kun!" a frail voice called out in greeting, and he looked up with a smile.

"Hamamoto-san," he returned, smiling at the elderly woman. "You remember Iwao, don't you?"

"Of course!" she replied, bending down and pinching his cheeks. His son squirmed in agitation, but Yuudai's hand on his head kept him from pulling away. "He's still quiet as ever, isn't he? He might get on well with the birthday girl!"

Once they had taken off their shoes, she led them to the dining room, where, at the end of a long, snack laden table, was the girl in question. She was in a high chair, but Yuudai's first impression was that she didn't belong there. She sat without even the slightest hint of a slouch, and her eyes locked with his immediately, only straying briefly to give his son a passing, dismissive gaze. He felt like he was facing a member of his own Tenga, not a year-old child.

"This is Ishida Yuudai," she introduced to the girl, something he found slightly bizarre. "And his son, Ishida Iwao. Yuudai-kun, Iwao-kun, meet Imai Kasaiki."

Yuudai examined her, curiosity piqued. "Kasaiki?" he clarified. "What a…peculiar name."

The elderly Hamamoto sighed. "Yes, quite. She was a survivor of the Fugatoro incident. Her parents were veterans living there; they didn't survive. She was only a month old then. She is now officially in the care of her god-brother who adopted her, but he's away on missions. He's the one who gave her that name."

He nodded, mood dampened by the reminder. He recalled the incident in question vividly; it was a catalyst for many changes in Iwa.

"I-shi-da-san," a small voice chimed in, and Yuudai looked up in shock. "I-shi-da-kun. Yo-ro-shi-ku o-ne-gai-shi-ma-su."

Extremely taken aback, Yuudai glanced back and forth between the tiny girl and Akane.

"Did…did she just…" he trailed off.

"Isn't Kasaiki-chan the cutest?" the older woman squealed. "She's been practicing that all week!"

The little girl huffed in annoyance and looked away, as if embarrassed that her caretaker had revealed that little tidbit.

"Did you teach her that?" he asked dubiously, because that was an extremely well enunciated sentence for a one-year-old. Also, he doubted she had received a guest list and memorized all the names on it, so his surname couldn't have been rehearsed, right?

It was clear the syllables would have run together, but it was also clear that she recognized that and chose to space them out to compensate. Prioritizing clarity over speed and a more natural, if garbled, sound. He also noted that her voice was strangely hoarse.

"Nope! Kasaiki-chan is so smart, she picked that up herself! And, she wanted to greet her guests properly."

"Huh," he said, a little stumped. "How long has she been speaking?"

"She said her first word over a month ago," Hamamoto-san said proudly. "No. Then arigato. Now, she pulls out phrases she hears at the drop of a hat, when she chooses to speak that is. Talking at all is difficult for her, due to a chronic injury from that night."

No to arigato was a big jump. Arigato had four syllables!

"Very interesting," he muttered, surprisingly not lying in the least. "It is nice to meet you Kasaiki-chan. Iwao is two and a half, so he's a little older than you are. Do you know when you'll be two and a half?"

Kasaiki's eyes flashed. "May, year one-hun-dred and ten."

Yuudai, if he would get a correct answer at all, expected her to say a year and a half from now. The answer she gave was a lot more impressive.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" he asked.

"A shinobi," she said immediately.

"Why?" he retorted immediately, and her face lost its aloofness. The corner of her lips tweaked upwards in almost amusement.

"Why not?"

- - - { ワナビー } - - -

Yuudai kept a close eye on Kasaiki for the duration of the night, but it was clear the other guests wore her out. The children especially; they were all quite a bit older than her, and though most were forced to be there and quite resigned and subdued as a result, some were excitable. And likely attention starved, with their parents always working.

Then, Hamamoto-san announced it was time for cake. She set the dessert in front of the birthday girl, lit with a single candle, and Kasaiki bore the ensuing, off-pitch singing with the stoicism as a true shinobi.

"Okay, blow out the candle, Kasaiki-chan!" her caretaker encouraged.

The child regarded the flickering flame in front of her for a moment, and Yuudai briefly wondered if the song had done more damage than he thought. But then, she reached out with her hand.

"No, Kasaiki-chan, don't touch—" the elderly woman said with a start, but it was too late. Kasaiki pinched the burning wick tightly between her fingers, snuffing it out without even the slightest wince.

"Kasaiki-chan!" Hamamoto-san scolded, fretting over her slightly singed fingers, but it seemed Kasaiki lost interest. Though she did help herself to a hefty slice of cake when offered.

Before he left the Hamamoto abode, Yuudai made plans with Akane. Every Tuesday night, Kasaiki would have a playdate with Iwao, because he was certain the girl would grow up to do big things, and he wanted his son to influence and be influenced by her growth.

Additionally, as head of intelligence, he felt it was prudent to watch over an individual born outside of the village, with parentage highly suspected but not confirmed, who had intelligence well beyond what should be exhibited by someone of her age, and who's arrival in Iwagakure was the result of an unexplained and meritless attack by the Hidden Leaf Village. Each time he dropped off and picked up Iwao, he performed a scan of some kind on the girl, probing for hidden seals or mental conditioning.

Each time, he left both disappointed and relieved, because there was nothing to be found.

- - - { ワナビー } - - -

AN: the phrase Pyrrhic Victory was named after one King Pyrrhus, who defeated the Roman armies at a great loss to himself. The commander he fought against was Publius Valerius Laevinus. Credit to Brad DeLong for coining the term.

Iwa needed some stronger shinobi. They're supposed to be one of the strongest hidden villages, which to me means they should have a handful of people who are A-rank and up. So I created some. Three guesses as to Gorou of the Three Tongues' abilities, although he was killed by Orochimaru.

Also, I feel bad for only writing one chapter a week, so I'm sorry about that. I wish I could do more, but I work full time, and almost every minute I'm not doing that, I have to write stuff that's actually gonna get published and theoretically make me some money in the future. I am having a good time with this fic though, so I'm really stoked by all of the positive feedback. Thank y'all so much!