Minato couldn't help but frown as he rolled up his sleeping mat and reinserted it into his storage seal.

He'd been sent back, alongside about half of the other powerhouse ninja, from the frontline one week ago now. In their place were all the Uchiha, Hyuga, and other bloodline ninja shinobi could spare, but there was a difference in being strong and being a powerhouse and their primary job was to make sure Konoha didn't lose position, fall back into Frost's ever-chilly embrace.

Still, quite a few ninja were sent to the front.

Additionally, many of the returning powerhouses were clan heads or future clan heads—they all had to attend to their own clan matters for at least a month before they could work outside Konoha's walls again.

Minato didn't have that problem.

He was also a sensor.

And so he hadn't been surprised to learn he was to be patrolling the Northwestern border, watching for possible Iwa infiltrators.

What had surprised him was, well…

"Did I do it right?"

Minato fought the urge to clear his throat, to stall to consider all over again how he wanted to answer the question. It was an urge he had every time Kakashi spoke, no matter what he asked.

"Yes, Kakashi. Good job."

The little boy grinned at him.

Minato fought down his nausea.

It wasn't that he didn't like Kakashi—he did, really, the kid was great—and it wasn't that he didn't like the concept of being a genin sensei—the Hokage had made it very clear that doing so successfully was a prerequisite to his position and Minato had actually been kind of looking forward to it.

It was just…

Kakashi was so young, and already so strong, so adept and capable and—

His father, Kakashi had explained, had kept him out of the Academy until that winter, had been perfectly aware of how strong his son was and wanted to avoid the boy jumping ahead into active service out of boredom.

He had even kept him home during the Second War, had personally gone to the General after his wife's passing and convinced him to let him stay within the walls to give him time to raise his son himself.

Kakashi still, surprisingly, didn't know what his father did during those years.

Minato did: ANBU.

So Kakashi came from powerhouse stock, and he was—at eight—a powerhouse already.

But he hadn't exactly graduated when he was supposed to, so instead of putting him on a team, a decision which would have absolutely made sense given the boy's clear and complete lack of social skills, they'd—

Apprenticed him to another powerhouse.

A sociable one, but still.

Really, Kakashi could become a chuunin tomorrow. A bit of training in one 'non-combat skill' or another and he could be special jounin level within the month.

Minato could teach him, would teach him, but patrolling the border alone with him for weeks at a time?

The boy needed socialization, needed friends, needed time to play, needed immediate feedback on the worst of his habits from his peers, and Minato couldn't give him that.

But now the boy was looking at him, so Minato made sure to keep the frown off his face, made a final pass-through of the camp, and then they were off.

Patrolling all over again.

.

Jiraiya and Uchiha Fugaku stood side by side, each concentrating heavily on their own concepts. Off in the Hokage tower the man was doing just the same, using the hand signs and chakra direction Fugaku had suggested.

In seconds ten clones had formed—seven from Jiraiya, two from Fugaku, and one from the Hokage. The latter would take some minutes to arrive—had to travel between the office and the Human Research Lab—but testing on the other nine could be started immediately.

Fugaku's, so far, had been far more capable of remaining even after being hurt, though that sacrificed much of their length—they never lasted more than half an hour. They didn't pop immediately after any injury, though, which was an important benefit.

Jiraiya's couldn't do that, couldn't even handle a cut yet, but unlike Fugaku's his lasted much longer (the oldest had yet to fade, and it had been going for weeks) and could even digest food—even had to, to continue existing, making it the far more lifelike option.

Both had sacrificed the memory retention aspect—once considered the most important aspect—in exchange, but that was most of the reason why it was so chakra intensive and utterly unnecessary for false bodies anyway. They'd also sacrificed most of the mental capacity of the clones, which was more worrying, but even being able to test physical effects of medicines would be more than enough.

Today, however, or actually yesterday—after that day's clones had already been allotted to testing—they'd had a bit of a breakthrough, come up with several different ways of combining both techniques, and this was the first try.

Kato Doi leaned forward, eager, as one clone each from each creator was to the corner to survive as long as necessary and eat the provided brown rice to test digestion.

Another set of assistants moved to the next two clones.

Each stepped forward, pulled a kunai, and slit their assigned clone's arm.

Both clones bled.

Doi stared.

This was—

Both clones popped.

Doi didn't care.

They'd both bled! Actually bled! This was the closest they'd gotten to mimicking the immune system ever, because now there was blood, there were systems below the surface, there was the ever growing probability that not only would this plan work, it would work soon.

The two assistants turned to the next set of clones, the Hokage's only just having had been brought by an ANBU, and slit their hair.

The hair disappeared.

The clones…

Didn't pop.

Didn't—

The clones nails were cut.

The nails disappeared.

The clothes remained.

Their clothing was torn.

Clothing gone, clones still standing.

Each was kicked—hard—in the shins.

They seemed to hesitate, stayed for a second, then two, and then—

*Pop*

Well, it was still progress.

Still progress and, more than that, almost exactly the same amount of progress from both Jiraiya' and Fugaku's techniques. They'd try the other two ideas tomorrow, see if they worked even better, but this—

This—

Fugaku stared. He had initially been planning to take the week off—his wedding was the next Sunday—but this.

Jiraiya stared. He'd been complaining to the Hokage only a few days ago how boring Research was, how his charka was better used on the move, but this.

Doi stared. He'd come early today, hadn't even stopped by the market to bemoan his missing niece in his eagerness (had set aside time to do it in the afternoon instead) and this.

The three grown adult men, each highly respected in their own rights, teared up.

And then, alongside every single assistant in the room, began shouting in glee.

The rest of the Human Research Lab joined them in seconds, their success spreading like wildfire out of the room and then the building and then the hospital and—

They might, someday soon, have false bodies again.

They might, someday soon, spring medical research ahead dozens of years at a time like they'd used to.

Less than five minutes after the first clone bled the Hokage sent a note—he'd be sending three clones a day now, and would call in several shinobi who theoretically had the capacity to make clones themselves to learn the forbidden technique too.

It might still take months, might even take years, but now there was no doubt—medical Research clones were possible, and it was only a matter of time before Konoha would be able to print them out as needed.

.

Two days later Sakura grinned as Uchiha Shuji all but trilled over the new prototype of his computer the Research department had built. It was only slightly smaller, and contained more seals, but it hadn't been modified hundreds of times by him and it worked. It was a working, replicable prototype, and it was beautiful.

"Look at this! Look what it was able to do in just five minutes!" Shuji said, waving a page of numbers in her face. "And—I think you're right, about the transmission capabilities. Here, one second, let me find my notes."

Already his older one was being used by Efficiency, printing out data as necessary. Another two models were also being built—one a carbon copy of the one Sakura was staring at now, the second an even smaller model that would be even more energy efficient if it worked.

"Actually, I came here about that."

"Oh?"

"I have a couple ideas of how Kumo might be able to sense even intruders who are masking their chakra so easily, but that needs more data before anything can be done about it. What I was able to get a good look at, though, if nothing else, was the rail line."

"And that needs me because?"

"Because it's just a track; just meant to keep the trains in position as they cross long distances. Which means they haven't figured out how to transmit data over long distances. Which, you know, is obviously good. But we're rather limited with what we can transmit; the radio is limited range, the telegraph slow, and both of them need near constant maintenance. I was thinking we could create a computer network; tie them together with wires and allow something to be submitted on one end and printed out on the other."

"And maybe not even wires—" Shuji said, whipping to face his newest machine with all the manic energy he was known for. Sakura could have even sworn his sharingan activated for a second. "—we could use seals! Your clan heir just pushed through mandatory fuinjutsu training in the Academy, which means that we're probably going to get an increase in trained fuinjutsu users eventually, and my machines are reliant on seals anyway. Using seals would mean the transmission couldn't be interfered with, and couldn't be picked up on either—I know that's a worry with the radio."

He kept talking, muttering about which seals could possibly be modified in his newest pursuit, and Sakura excused herself after only another minute of waiting—he'd clearly forgotten her presence.

Besides, she had a meeting with her actual clan head. He had questions about the public opinion of the Generals, apparently, and because her genin teammate had brought them to his attention it was apparently her duty to help him find the answers.

(She wasn't all that displeased, really. Any reason for increased scrutiny of Danzo was no doubt good.)

.

Asuma, Ibiki, Genma, and Kurenai bent over their table, frowning as they tried to work out an attack plan.

Every other group had been reordered with the new semester, but Ibiki' and Asuma's animosity had meant they'd been stuck together. Ibiki knew that their new amity likely meant they would be split up come summer, but that was okay. He could still hang out with them after school and stuff.

For now, though, it was very important that they figured out the best next move. They'd lost the last four Friday tournaments, the longest they'd gone without a win so far, and none of them were willing to let it go on for five straight weeks.

If that meant they had to win at a shogi tournament despite none of them actually liking the game all that much, then that's what it meant.

This week was supposed to be an easy one, Ibiki knew, a break given the difficulty of last week's obstacle course and the week before that's trap-setting race, but.

Four weeks!

"We should—" Genma started.

"No." The other three interrupted. Genma still hadn't learned the pieces' names, and his suggestion was inevitably to attack.

They'd made it to the final, they weren't going to give up now.

Ibiki turned to stare at their opponents, whispering over their own table as their classmates sat in rapt silence.

It might be boring now—three minutes between each three moves more or less guaranteed that—but their opponents—Team Maple—had won the last two Fridays, and it was looking like Team Pine's dominance might finally be usurped by a Hyuga, Uchiha, orphan, and civilian kid.

Unacceptable.

"I vote we go with Kurenai's move." Ibiki whispered, glancing at the clock as he did. Twenty seconds remaining.

"Fine." Asuma said. "But I still think it's too defensive."

They broke up, turning to the board.

After another five seconds their opponents did the same.

Ibiki made the move for his team—as he was being raised by a Nara, it seemed only right.

The Hyuga made his team's move in response.

They'd expected it; that was good.

Ibiki made the next planned move, then each team retreated to their tables.

Twelve rounds later, Team Pine officially declared their victory.

Shogi might not be his favorite, but Ibiki doubted he'd think it was boring ever again.

.

Choza, Juro, and Bukoso were the only ones who made it to Office 40, but that was okay—they already knew exactly what they'd be working on.

"There's really no chance Research can, you know, do more research?"

"I mean, they can, but right now Human Research has kind of thrown everything but false body clones to the side. If we want nutrition standards before then we have to rely on existing research. Mind you, our clan's done a lot of research on that front."

"So have ours: it was necessary given that our insects eat many of our less necessary organs to make room for themselves."

Choza hadn't known that.

Choza hadn't wanted to know that.

Still, more information was always good. "Let's see if our clans agree, then."

Juro and Bokuso nodded. Besides nutrition standards the three were also working on new insect-based soil repletion techniques, but they already had small boxes of various piles of dirt, bugs, and plants set up so all that was left to do about that was waiting.

Choza had been surprised, actually, at how easily his elders had taken him doing personal research. He'd thought, before he and his team had begun personally testing things, that it might be considered an insult to the Research Department, but apparently it was rather traditional for individual clans to take up their own studies when they felt Konoha's Department was acting too slowly or on the wrong subjects. The Research Department even had a system where anyone—even civilians—could submit designs and receive prototypes and patents in exchange; his announcing that he would be testing things himself, then, was viewed as a rather unusual but possibly beneficial hobby.

"Well, we have very different numbers on required calories, but that's not a surprise."

Choza snorted. "You don't think that might have to do with the Akimichi bloodline, do you?"

Bokuso hummed. "Ours as well: again, less organs."

"Oh. True. Do we have anything about civilian requirements specifically, then?"

.

Inoichi frowned opposite Shimura Danzo, Shimura Hiro, and Shimura Shin; a clan elder, the new Head Teacher, and the only Researcher who dealt with education respectively.

He'd finally figured out a plan he liked, a way forward that might adequately addressed the sheer boredom he'd felt throughout his Academy education, had written it up, even gotten Sakura to check over it—she'd liked the concept in theory, thought it might work in application, but warned him about Shimura Danzo, about how he might not get the results he expected.

He'd thought she was being pessimistic.

In recent years, primarily due to Sakura, actually, the Research divisions had become… myopic. The Department as a whole had always been rather limited by its size, but now it seemed as if each division had one major project, and everything else had just…

Fallen out of focus.

Human Research had the false body clones, Communication and Detection were trying to replicate Kumo's railroad and figure out their chakra detection system, Efficiency Sciences had economics, Analysis had taken over the computer, and Weapons and Materials had a new type of durable mesh they were trying to figure out how to mass produce.

All important, of course.

All tricky problems that still felt eminently solvable.

But not the only problems.

Inoichi had been far from surprised to learn that his tutor was part of a group that, outside of her work in Research, was investigating how to improve the world in their free time.

He was a little surprised to learn that the Uchiha Head was so deeply involved in the false body clones despite not being a Researcher—his concept was apparently now in the lead in terms of doing what it was supposed to, and Sannin Jiraiya had taken to wailing about it in public.

He was even more surprised when he found out that his family had taken his' and his teammates' focus on making sweeping changes as entirely beneficial; yes, they were still expected to prove their military power and perform all the traditional rituals of Clan Heirs, but if they could better the clan in their spare time? No one was about to complain.

Still, he'd taken to what he saw as blanket permission with gusto, had delved into literal centuries of histories spanning the entire continent to try to decide how to fix his childhood misery.

And now.

"We just don't think your idea is very plausible." Researcher Shimura said.

"If anything, this will worsen the gulf between clan and non-clan children." Academy Head Shimura said.

Inoichi took a breath. His idea was twofold, really, and if they stopped at the first he could see why they believed that. Creating standardized tests for individual skills that any Academy student could try for at any point would provide a motivator to continue training, but it would also make those who were unable to prove their skills through them even more aware of the gulf of skill.

Which was why he was also advocating for the classes to, as a whole, be more like Kohana's nephew Ibiki's: based on teams that were semi-regularly changed and intentionally spread across the full span of backgrounds and ability.

He opened his mouth to say as such, again, but it was Elder Shimura's turn to say his piece.

"It is not that I disagree with you; the Academy is a horrible waste as it is, stymying the progress of clan children in the name of loyalty. But we also have to balance the need for as large a force as possible, and as it stands the Hokage allows any student to drop out at any time. Grouping students will just encourage those who are more capable to try to force those who are less capable out quickly, so that the average ability of the team increases. We've seen it happen before. Morino Ibiki's class is an exception, yes, but that is only because they have become incredibly proud of being the class with the least attrition, and are actively attempting to maintain that status. The second they lose it they will inevitably turn to infighting."

"I think you're dismissing this too quickly." Inoichi said. "I'm not claiming my concept is perfect, but the problems that do exist may be able to be further mitigated—"

"The Hokage has made it very clear." Elder Shimura interrupted again. "He will not allow the Academy to be made mandatory."

"There are other—" even as he continued, kept on arguing his point, calling on the anecdotal and hard evidence he'd brought, he knew they wouldn't budge.

Had already made up their minds that it was impossible, and therefore any modifications he suggested would be insufficient.

He grit his teeth and as Academy Head Shimura responded to his next point, remembered the Akimichi-Mitokado row which had only just calmed into non-existence, decided it was his turn.

It wasn't reasonable for the Shimura clan to have such a stranglehold on Konoha and Yamanaka education, and he was going to make that opinion known.