After Kosuke had died in his surgery, Iwagakure had captured six missing nin to experiment on, hoping to perfect it before another of their ninja died under the scalpel. Why didn't they do this before? There was a reason, but Kazuhiro couldn't know it.
All he had deduced from scattered bits of information stitched together from multiple sources was that performing the surgery in such a manner wasn't a good test, and that they only did it now to develop a failsafe that would save the participants' lives at the expense of the operation's success. One of the medic-nin that was responsible tastelessly joked that the resulting experiments were the only surgeries he had ever been a part of that had a two-hundred percent mortality rate.
Until they succeeded. After which, Kazuhiro had been warned that, if his operation was a failure, he wouldn't die if medics could intervene in time. However, in that case, he would lose the ability to mold chakra permanently.
That was what happened to Kenta, many months prior. His operation had failed, he had nearly died, but the medics saved him.
Now, at long last, it was Kazuhiro's turn. He was glad his life was no longer on the line—even if the operation failed, he and his sister would reap all the promised benefits, and he would still be able to pass along Hisashi's teaching to her, theoretically. Still, he would much prefer a success, so that he could remain a shinobi.
After starving for a day, he was put under, and the next thing he remembered was attempting to quickly sit up and failing. Like waking from a dream in which he was falling, Kazuhiro felt frantic, something that was only exacerbated by the bonds keeping him restrained.
"Easy, easy," a voice called, and Kazuhiro blearily remembered the face of the head medic. "Asano-san, do you remember where you are?"
"Hai," he said after a moment, voice raspy. He wasn't in a hospital, and hadn't been from the start—the operation had taken place in a secure facility near the Tsuchikage's Palace.
"Do you remember why you came here?" The man followed up, and Kazuhiro tried to nod, only to find that he couldn't. Under his chin was a large neck brace that kept his head completely immobile.
"Hai," he repeated instead.
"Good." The medic gave him a smile that wasn't particularly warm, but held a measure of satisfaction. "There were no complications with the surgery so far. It's too early to tell if it is successful, but my team and I are optimistic. Your body has responded far better than Nendo-san's and Sho-san's. Our advances since each incident seem to have done the trick."
That was great news. Truthfully, after two consecutive failures, Kazuhiro had lost most of his confidence in the medical research team behind the initiative. Though that was most likely due to the lack of information he possessed. He still didn't even know what the procedure was supposed to accomplish, so he could hardly be privy to what advances they supposedly made.
"Recovery?" He asked.
"Extensive, I'm afraid. And we aren't going to rush things either. Don't worry, you'll be able to return to your normal level of physical activity soon. However, chakra activity will be another story. I must warn you, Asano-san. Major changes have been made to your chakra network. It needs time to adjust to its new homeostasis. Your body's autonomous chakra use is already testing it—don't cause any additional disturbances by using it actively. That means no chakra enhancement, chakra channeling even to assist healing, and for kami's sake, no jutsu until we give you the go ahead. Understood?"
And thus began his long road of recovery. After two days, he was beyond restless, but he wasn't allowed to leave. The only contact he had with the outside world was through letters to Akane-obassan and his imouto, who were ecstatic to hear of his procedures…well. Everyone was quick to remind him that they weren't sure it had succeeded yet. Not until he could use chakra without his body unraveling. But they were happy to hear that he hadn't died thus far.
"When can I take this off?" Kazuhiro asked finally, worrying at the lip of his metal neck brace. He had been holding it in this long because jonin didn't complain about discomfort, but he was quite ready for it to come off. More than once he had considered removing it himself in the dead of night, just to rid himself of the ich for even a moment. However, it wasn't possible. It wasn't fixed in place by cloth, velcro, or even anything that could be cut apart. Instead, it consisted of two thick pieces of dome-like metal, screwed tightly together at points he couldn't see because he couldn't fucking look down. He hadn't been provided any reflective surfaces to use either.
Even if he had the desire, he wouldn't have been able to break out of it, especially without the use of chakra. It was more akin to the armor samurai from the Land of Iron would wear than anything that should be found in a hospital.
The medic gave him a sympathetic look. "We were planning on doing a cleaning tomorrow morning," she revealed. "I can suggest we move it up to today."
Kazuhiro gave her a soft smile. "I would appreciate that."
Though the scratchy feeling of the cloth pressed tightly against his by the metal was obnoxious, a not insignificant amount of his discomfort resulted from the clammy, warm feeling of sweat he couldn't wipe away.
"Of course." She seemed to consider her next words, a conflicted expression on her face. "After that, though, I'm afraid we'll have to put the brace back on."
That was unfortunate.
"Do you know for how long?" he asked, and could see her glance from side to side, as if hoping someone would jump in and save her.
"…Forever. That was the consensus reached by the head of our research team and the jonin commander."
Through training, Kazuhiro's physical reactions to information had been suppressed completely. Where someone else would have visibly balked at the information, he only allowed a mild frown.
"Forever?" he repeated. How the hell was he supposed to fight if he could barely turn his head?
"Yes. I apologize—it's both for your protection, and to keep the true nature of our procedure hidden. Which, by extent, would also be for your protection, I suppose." She hesitated. "If you wish, once we take it off for your cleaning, I can permanently deaden the nerves along your neck and chest where the brace will rest. It might save you some discomfort."
"I…yes. Thank you," he said numbly. "I think that might be helpful."
She spared him a small, uncomfortable smile and speed walked away.
- - - { ワナビー } - - -
"Yokoda-san tells me she told you about the brace," the head medic said in greeting.
"I had asked," he said, in case the kind young woman had gotten in trouble for telling him.
"Only a matter of time, I suppose," he said. "It's not something we could have kept hidden from you forever, even if we wanted to. Unfortunately, she spoke the truth. We've briefly discussed ways to make this more comfortable for you, but that will likely be an extended iterative process. We haven't lived through the experience as you will, so there is likely much we haven't yet considered."
It was nice to finally hear the "as you will" bit said with some confidence.
"Please don't hesitate to bring any sources of discomfort to our attention. We will do our best to remedy them."
"Thank you," he said a bit numbly. "Yokoda-san, was it? She offered to deaden the nerves."
"Yes, that is certainly within our capabilities," he affirmed.
"That would be nice. I imagine, from the irritation, it will be easy to tell where exactly. Heat and the resulting sweat are my other sources of discomfort."
"After this, provided the region has healed to our expectations, you will be able to wash the area more frequently," he said. "However, heat…that's not something I can immediately think of a solution to. Especially in sunlight, metal will simply get hot. Not much can be done about that. But I will consult R&D nonetheless. It wouldn't do for you to suffer heat stroke in the middle of a mission."
So he was going back into the field. That had always been the plan, but the revelation about his cast made him wonder if it had been abandoned without consulting him.
"On the topic," he said slowly. "I am…concerned about my future efficacy. With this cast, I barely have any range of motion."
He didn't need to explain why that was a problem. The man, he knew, had been a combat medic in the Second Shinobi War.
"That, if all goes as we intend, will not be as much of an issue as it currently seems," he said, and Kazuhiro couldn't begin to piece together what the fuck that meant. "Now, come. I will teach you how to remove the cast, and then how to clean under it."
There was a special tool reminiscent of a screwdriver, though its end didn't bear the common plus or minus shape. It was almost like a tuning fork, though on each end facing inward were spring-loaded prongs. The medic showed him that, if he were to press the prongs downward, towards the handle, they would fold along pin-like hinges. Once pressure was released, they would spring back into place. However, they could not be bent in the opposite direction.
"This is your key," the medic told him. "It can be inserted into the cylindrical channel at the bottom of this brace, directly under your chin."
He guided Kazuhiro's hand to the opening for him to feel. It didn't feel like a keyhole; it seemed to be an O-shaped channel of unidentifiable depth, with a solid core inside. As he felt around the lip, he noticed for the first time there were countless, similar channels positioned equidistant from one another all the way around the cast. It was a misdirection; unless another person somehow knew their function ahead of time, it would be difficult to guess that they weren't anything other than cosmetic.
"From there, you simply twist it apart like a normal screw. If the prongs don't latch, twist the key a little until they do."
As he demonstrated the motion, he withdrew the key, which took the entire internal mechanism with it. Immediately, Kazuhiro felt the brace slacken against his neck.
"This is the lynchpin," he said, holding it up for Kazuhiro to see. It was a cylindrical piece of metal around the thickness of his pinky, which made up the core of the opening. There were no grooves, and without the prongs on the end the key would have found no purchase. However, there was a hollow segment that provided just enough space for the prongs to spring back into shape. And the metal beyond that was threaded just like a normal screw.
"R&D is developing a safety measure," the medic warned. "It will be implemented as soon as it is completed. When it is, any attempt to open this up without the proper key will result in detonation."
Kazuhiro nodded in understanding. It was probably a prudent safety measure.
"Once the lynchpin is out, we can simply open up the hinge."
He hadn't felt a hinge the many times he had run his fingers over the offending piece of metal, but it was there nonetheless. He could have breathed a sigh of relief as the damned thing was removed, and he could finally feel cold air on the back of his neck.
"Is the splint going to stay there permanently too?" Kazuhiro asked, referring to the weight he still felt affixed to his neck and upper chest. Even with the casing gone, he still couldn't fully look down because of it.
The medic was quiet for a moment. Then, "there is no splint."
His eyes flicked upwards sharply, but the man's face was indecipherable. Instead, he stepped to the side, revealing a full-length mirror, and Kazuhiro's heart dropped at the sight of his reflection.
"What…what is that?" he asked, dryly. Affixed to him was a bulbous…growth. There was no other way to describe it. His first impression was that it almost looked like a scrotum, but over five times the normal size. The shape was on par and so was the texture, but as he grazed a shaky finger over it, he immediately felt a dissimilarity. Something hard, almost like bone, could be felt just underneath.
"It houses a chakra related organ we had surgically attached to your body," the medic said in a detached voice. Kazuhiro strongly got the impression that it was a sentence that had been workshopped by a committee for a significant amount of time. "Unfortunately, that is the extent of what I can tell you, aside from this. If your body adjusts to accommodate this organ, you will have, in addition to your original, gained a second affinity."
Finally, all his education in Futon made sense. He nodded slowly, and it took every bit of self control not to start hyperventilating, throwing up or both. To have something just…melded to his body. It was nauseating. And the appearance certainly didn't help.
"This will be good, even if it seems…strange," the medic said, and Kazuhiro wanted to bark out a laugh. He had never heard such an understatement in his life. "You just have to get used to it. To that end, let me show you how to wash the addition. Dampen a cloth in warm water, just like this…"
- - - { ワナビー } - - -
Over three months later, Kazuhiro was finally cleared to leave the facility (accompanied by an unseen observer who would whisk him off if he dropped unexpectedly and started foaming at the mouth). The procedure had officially been called a success, there had been much rejoicing, and he had a touching reunion with the similarly disfigured Kenta, who had suffered all of the consequences while reaping none of the rewards.
While his imouto was still in class, they shared a drink in front of the Monument to the Fallen.
"To Kosuke," they toasted. "Kampai!"
"If not for the two of you, there would be nothing to celebrate," Kazuhiro said, seriously. "I owe you both. And if I can do what I'm being trained to, Iwagakure will owe you as well."
"Credit the medical research team," Kenta waved him off, lowering his voice and covering his mouth to prevent anyone reading his lips. "I'm just thankful they learned something from me and Kosuke. Though I do wish they'd cut the damn thing off now that they're done with it."
"Don't count yourself out just yet," Kazuhiro said similarly. "There's talk about revisiting your case, after all the research they've collected from me. They might be able to make something out of it yet."
Kenta's eyes gleamed at the news.
"First I'm hearing of it."
"Well, you didn't hear it from me. And obviously, I can't make any promises."
He glanced up to the sky and read time from the sun's position.
"The academy lets out soon. I want to be home before my sister arrives, as a surprise."
"Don't let us keep you, then," his comrade said, nodding towards Kosuke's name on the monument. Kazuhiro bid them both farewell and headed home.
After his little sister blew it up, he had had their home rebuilt to look much the same as it had before. The only two differences were that he added a second bathroom, and cut out the third bedroom entirely to make room for more backyard.
Now, the building felt even more foreign than it had after its reconstruction. It wasn't that the place itself had changed; Kazuhiro was the one who was different. Even more so than he had been in between when he sold his parent's old home and when he had bought it once more.
He was a jonin, full-fledged. He could fight and think at the level of an elite. He had authority. And Kami, he felt older as he sank into the armchair and waited for Kasaiki to arrive.
The door opened soon enough, with no accompanying "tadaima," but he could all but hear his imouto stiffen the moment she saw his sandals, absent for months, tucked in their cubby.
"Ni-san?" she called, hope coloring her voice.
"In the living room," he said, and she was before him in a flash. Kazuhiro could see the indecision on her face as she was torn between treating him like an injured hospital patient and jumping into his arms.
"Come here," he said with a smile, wrapping her in his arms, and she laughed as he picked her up and spun her around. "You cut your hair," he observed, her topknot poking him in the chin. It was unusual—the hairstyle was usually used by samurai, but theirs looked nothing like his sister's. Especially the bit underneath. Instead of it being shaved all the way, it was merely trimmed short, though lines had been artfully etched into them.
"You like it?" she asked with a grin. "Look! Business mode." She took out her band, and combed out the twists in her hair with her fingers. "And discrete mode."
He nodded obligingly. With her hair down, he couldn't see any of the distinctive features carved into her undercut. But he didn't need to see them to tell how abnormal she looked. Not even a half-blind civilian would consider her discrete.
Her muscles, for one, were more developed than those found on kunoichi years her senior. Hell, her proportions made her appear almost more built than he had been when he first picked her up from the hospital. Then, of course, there were the scars. And the voice. And, most damningly, the way she carried herself. She didn't walk, she stalked like a mountain lion on the hunt.
Now he felt even older. Kasaiki was in her tenth semester—in only a year, she'd be on the verge of taking her final exam. And kami, she already looked the part.
"How are classes?" he asked, feeling oddly emotional all of a sudden.
"Great!" she beamed. "I am enjoying my Tōton Applications class."
The way she said enjoying, accompanied by the unnerving gleam in her eye, made him feel sorry for her sensei. Hell, just her knowing that jutsu made him feel apprehensive. He could easily see through it himself—it was one of the Basic Academy Five for a reason. But it was a watered down version of something much stronger, and if anyone was able to take it to the same heights as Lord Mū, it would be his sister.
"Good," he said. "And how are your friends?"
"Well, Aimi's thriving under Atsuchi," she said. "And Daigo's a piece of work, just like he always is."
"I trained with his father a couple times this past month," Kazuhiro reflected. "Guess the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree."
Kasaiki laughed. "You can say that again. I admire the man, and am grateful to him. But kami, he's an ass." her eyes fell on Kazuhiro and lost some of their mirth. "Is there anything I can do, ni-san? I can make konbu miso."
His heart warmed at the offer. That was their "feel better" food.
"I'm fine, imouto." he placed a hand on his cast, which looked different than it had previously. It was more domed than tightly cylindrical, which helped him stay cool and made him look far less ridiculous (more aerodynamic too). "I'm not injured. This is a permanent thing. It's part of my division's uniform. The division I'm captain of."
"That's amazing, ni-san!" He should have known she would identify such a blatant distraction. "I think you can take it off now, though, since we're at home. Unless you just wanted to show off?"
"Well, about that," he hedged. "It doesn't really come off. Unless I'm in the shower. Don't worry about it."
His sister's eyes went wide. "What—"
"Don't worry about it," he said more firmly. "It's not something I can discuss. Now, I bet you and Aimi have been cooking something up while I've been gone. Tell me all about it."
- - - { ワナビー } - - -
After all the trials he faced over the last few months, Kazuhiro's first night home felt like a dream. His second night felt like a nightmare.
He woke up in the early morning. He wasn't sure why, or in what way, but he felt like something was wrong. Then the pain started. A noise ripped itself from his chest involuntarily, but he couldn't speak beyond that. It was as if his modification had swollen pressing into his throat and vocal chords within it. Then, sharp pain lanced through him, so intense that he briefly saw streaks of white.
He strongly pulsed his chakra to alert his watcher, and they were by his side in an instant. There was no meaningless what's wrong—they immediately started firing off yes or no questions, trying to ascertain what was wrong. He clumsily signed his responses. They quickly removed his brace, and their hands glowed green with the Mystic Palm jutsu.
A rustling from the hallway drew his attention, and a brief second later, to his dismay, Kasaiki peaked her head in.
"Ni-san, why'd you—Ni-san?"
All weariness was whipped from her face in an instant as she saw the masked figure hovering over him administering aide, and she blitzed to his side
"Ni-san," she whispered in horror.
"With him exhibiting these symptoms, I have been instructed not to move him," the masked medic stated. "I will be back with a team. Keep him lucid, and keep him still."
They were gone, and his imouto snarled, "fuck that."
She disappeared too, but was back in a moment, hoisting a king roll of fabric he recognized. Though he couldn't turn his head to watch, he knew she was unrolling it on the floor.
"Ni-san, I'm going to put you on Observe," she said, and lifted him gently and with little difficulty onto the fabric. It was more than big enough for him to fit on it with no issue. She must have activated the seal network underneath, because she gasped.
"No," she said in horror. "Oh, Ni-san. What did they do to you?"
Even if he could physically respond, he wouldn't have known what to say. But the question seemed to be rhetorical. His sister's magnum opus (of her short life so far) told her everything she needed to know.
"Ni-san, can you understand me?"
He nodded shallowly, hating how on the verge of tears she sounded.
"There's an important tenketsu in your upper chest. It's not one you can control like the others. And there's another just like it in the thing they put on you." She laid a hand gently on the growth. "In here. The two are supposed to hold the same function. But the second…I can only assume it came from someone else. They've manufactured a false network that is supposed to connect the two, and embedded another six tenketsu in your system. One of them collapsed, and your chakra is getting backed up. You need to make an incision with your chakra where I tell you, and let out the blocked chakra. Or you won't last long enough for the medics to fix you."
Her hands glowed green.
"Follow my chakra with your own," she commanded, and he did his best to follow the order. It was hard—as Kasaiki said, the added organs were never supposed to be part of his body, so controlling his chakra within them felt unnatural. However, against the excruciating pain, which only worsened the moment he started messing around in there, Kazuhiro's iron will won out.
"Stop!" She said suddenly. "Right there. I need you to puncture that pathway outward. Please."
It was hard to focus his chakra into a fine enough point to do as she asked, much less control which way it ruptured. But he could feel Kasaiki's worst fears coming true. Feel the swelling between the growth and his chest, inches from his heart and even closer to his lungs. He was going to burst like a bubble.
And so, Kazuhiro focused all of his will, all of his determination into his chakra coils. Under his desperate assault, it split, and it split outwards.
Immediately, the intense pressure began to lessen, as if he was a deflating balloon. Breathing became far easier, and he gasped for air. No, he wasn't comfortable by any means—his self-inflicted wound burned, and there was a deep ache within his chest. But he was alive.
Kasaiki was calling to him urgently, and all he could do was let out a garbled "I did it."
She slumped bonelessly over him in relief, and began to let out all the tears she had been holding back. But not even for a minute.
"This won't be a one time thing," she said, trying to catch her breath. "If it happened once, it will happen again, likely after the same amount of time. Maybe in a different spot. They need to come up with some way to passively release chakra if it builds up too much. Obviously trying to come up with a closed system won't work. There are no failsafes, who the fuck designs something like this?"
She wasn't shy about saying something as much to the stunned medical team who arrived, clearly not expecting Kazuhiro to still be kicking. As much as he tried to stay lucid and make his foolish, insubordinate, amazing sister shut up, he found it extremely difficult to keep his eyes open. He was drained both from the ordeal, and from the medical chakra used to repair him, which depleted his already low reserves.
"Your little sister really is something," Yokoda-san. Kazuhiro was glad she was among his rescue team—after all that, it was nice to see a friendly face. "To think someone so young who isn't even training to be a medic knows that much about the Gates. You're incredibly lucky."
"I've always known that," he rasped, listening in to her conversation with the head medic to the best of his ability.
"Valves don't exist in chakra systems, aside from those in the tenketsu that are outward facing," the medic was saying. "Adding them between tenketsu would be unnatural."
"Unnatural?" his sister screeched. "Unnatural? I'll tell you what's fucking unnatural. Slapping a second fucking Shōmon onto my brother's body so he can have a dual fucking affinity. You've long abandoned what's natural, so come up with something fucking new to keep him from fucking dying." She left again, and Kazuhiro noticed she took the carefully rolled cloth sheet with her. His rescue team never saw her's and Aimi's fuinjutsu. She returned a moment later with her set of medical texts. "Look!"
Their medical jargon put him to sleep. The last thing he heard was something about artificial tenketsu and spigots made out of chakra metal.
Asano Kazuhiro would go on to become the first and most infamous captain of Iwagakure's Sky Division, which in another world would have crashed and burned before it could take flight. Though no one but him would ever know that his success stemmed not from intuition or skill, but from advanced knowledge on aerial combat and tactics from another world.
- - - { ワナビー } - - -
Tadao, no surname, was a very jumpy fellow. In every circumstance, with people around or without, he could always be seen looking over his shoulder, and startling at the slightest noise. He had been like that all his life—something that likely stemmed from the incident that cost him his parents and his name. Despite this, he was well liked, and deeply entrenched in the community of Kumogakure. It helped matters that he was a genius architect, with talents in great demand.
No one considered that he had a reason to be jumpy.
"Are you sure about this?" The Konoha spymaster asked seriously from the mouth of a toad hidden in the ceramic pot of blue delphiniums that seemed to be doing quite well for themselves.
"Y-yes," Tadao stammered. "It's h-happened twice now. Buildings being c-constructed with infrastructure for s-seal security. By the m-metrics you've given me."
Few still around knew seals like the Konoha spy master, and he had given Tadao instruction that Kumogakure wouldn't dream he possessed. Though a civilian architect wouldn't be given the specifics, and he wouldn't see much of the final product, he could identify when seals were intended to be placed in his projects without being told so, and he also knew some defining bits to seek out when the fuinjutsu task force began work.
"You pick up anything useful?" The toad asked.
"G-general shape," Tadao said. "Th-that's all I could make out before they closed it."
It wasn't much, but the spymaster could still tell a lot about the seal just from its expanded shape. Tadao sketched it from memory with the skill and precision of a career architect, quickly rolled it up and stuffed it into the toad's mouth. With a gulp, it disappeared.
"What…you're sure it looked like this?" The voice, normally full of humor and overall good cheer, came out with a sternness that made Tadao tremble.
"H-hai."
The toad said nothing for a minute. Then, it gave a harsh curse.
"What…is it b-bad?"
"The composition," the toad said. "Five point spiral. There's no mistaking it. It's Uzumaki style fuinjutsu."
"Uzu-Uzumaki?"
Tadao had heard of the predominant clan of the recently destroyed Uzushiogakure. There had been a great deal of celebration when news broke of Kumogakure's conquest.
The toad cursed again.
"I heard rumors from an informant in Mist," it said. "The alliance of Mizu and Kumo had been brokered on the promise of shared fuinjutsu knowledge seized from Uzu. But when my team and I investigated, we found security seals activated in every knowledge repository in the village. All of Uzu's sealing knowledge was obliterated, we were sure of it. The alternative was that they had someone on the inside who not only knew where each repository was, but also knew how to disarm and re-trip the security seals after replacing the texts inside."
"Y-you can't underestimate Kumo," Tadao said quickly, eyes darting from side to side. "An-anything you can conceive, they c-can do."
That was something he learned the hard way.
"The people who were laying the seal. Did they appear to be Kumo natives? Any of them have red hair or purple eyes?"
"Y-yes. Kumo natives."
There was another curse.
"The timing's off. They shouldn't have been able to crack this, even with an Uzu refugee or prisoner to guide them. They'd need the Uzushio indexes to make that amount of progress so quickly. And if they have them, I have to assume that Mist does too. Maybe even Iwa. Though they weren't present for the invasion, they were definitely a part of the offensive, and might have been promised a slice of the reward. And that A was willing to uphold his end of the bargain for a change. I doubt it, but Ohnoki is a shrewd bastard. He wouldn't act without some form of assurance."
"Wh-what does that mean?" Tadao asked, and the toad was silent for a long while.
"Konoha has been able to maintain its superiority since the dawn of the hidden village system for three reasons. The clans that make up the backbone of our military might are one, as are our climate and fertile lands, which allow us to outclass other nations in agricultural production. The third was our tie to Uzumaki—the only clan that could truly boast mastery over fuinjutsu. Now, not only have we lost the original masters, but their greatest developments could be in the hands of our enemies. If our worst fears are realized, then Konoha may, for the first time, be the least knowledgeable nation in terms of fuinjutsu out of all the great five bar Suna. It's something that we need to consider when this grudge war breaks out."
The toad gave a great sigh. "I doubt you will hear anything of the sort, but if there's one thing I learned since taking over for Koi, it's that you never know what you'll overhear and when. Please, keep your ears open for anything regarding Uzumaki Kushina. Kumo tried to kidnap her recently, and very nearly succeeded. She is a sensitive figure in our village, and we had hoped they targeted her solely because of her clan name. But if they already have Uzu's texts, our leaks might be far worse than I thought."
With that, the creature disappeared in a puff of white smoke.
- - - { ワナビー } - - -
AN: Hey, y'all! That was the last interlude. Next week, the graduation exam begins.
Aimi hasn't had much of a hand in Kasaiki's seals. Kazuhiro just thinks she does. She is passing along information to Kasaiki, but she hasn't advanced nearly that far in her studies to be of much help for something like her Observe prototype. Three guesses as to what exactly that does ;)
Let me take this moment to address a little bit of timeline related stuff. In the first chapter, I stated that I would do my best to conform to canon, but not at the expense of story coherence. The timeline is incredibly murky, and I'm going to take quite a few artistic liberties for the sake of my story.
For example, in this story, Kumo has just tried to kidnap Kushina, who had just had the Kyuubi sealed inside her. I think (actually not sure despite how hard I've tried to find a definitive answer) she was kidnapped as a genin in canon. I didn't think that was believable, and it works better for the timeline for it to be this way too. She's in the academy still, and the same age as both Minato and Kasaiki.
In canon, the war only lasts around two years in canon (according to a graphic I found). It will be longer in this fic. I'm treating the two years as the "official" time it takes. But in reality, even though was isn't officially declared, conflict is going to steadily ramp up long before then. I think, in a war between ninja villages, there would be another, pre-war stage. I'd hesitate to call it a cold war, because there most definitely is fighting. But its not a "two armies clashing against each other" war. It's more of a "ninja putting on the headband of another nation and performing false-flag operations along with military sabotage in preparation for a two armies clashing" sort of thing. This is the era in which Kasaiki and Minato grow up and hone their skills in. Then the war officially starts.
Anyway, TLDR: war is gonna start soon, please enjoy the story how it's written, don't bother strictly trying to make it conform to the canon timeline because it just isn't going to pan out like that (though I'll do my best).