Please leave a comment or PM if you have any questions, suggestions, concerns, or just compliments. For the sake of this work, the elemental balance will go earth}lightning}water}fire}wind. Thanks to SmallFountainPen for betaing chapters 57-73. Thanks to SoaringJe for betaing beginning with chapter 116.

Ibiki rolled his neck.

The first of seven rounds was about to start, and he wanted to make it through at least one.

Preferably two.

Actually, ideally he'd make it all the way to round five, because those would be the first rounds that would be held one-at-a-time, instead of four-at-a-time in one section of the newly-built arena.

More importantly, those rounds would be broadcast on the radio, there for all to hear.

Ibiki rather liked that idea; liked being so good the entire world got to know about him.

Or, at least, the entirety of Fire.

Kaiso was packed. The stadium seats were packed, but so was the rest of the port—he'd seen people clustered around radios as he'd walked in that morning, listening to someone explain which countries were still in the running.

He'd seen the little box they'd built into the stadium, too, over on one side—could see someone in there, someone talking into the radio.

This was a big event.

He'd known that even before he'd left Konoha, when his village was preparing for the onslaught of people who'd be arriving to listen on Konoha's radio, who'd be watching the videos that would be run back to Konoha at the end of every day.

Ibiki kind of wanted to see the videos too.

Wanted to be in the videos too.

He'd seen movies—those were amazing—and the idea of being a star, being something that people would be able to watch even years later, long after he'd actually competed—

That was really, really cool.

Misaki looked nauseous.

He knew she didn't agree, was more concerned with screwing up in front of the people, the radios, the camera.

Well, let her be scared.

He'd be excited enough for both of them.

Asuma, he knew, felt the same.

They stood together now, now that the teams had been disbanded, now that it was everyone for themselves, and looked around.

Ibiki wanted to ask Asuma if he wanted to bet on which of them would make it further, but he knew himself enough to know that he wasn't nearly the powerhouse Asuma was quickly becoming.

Asuma didn't ask either.

Instead they looked, pointing out potential specialties and weaknesses to each other as they took in just how many other people were here.

One hundred and fourteen.

One hundred and fourteen competitors.

Ibiki knew—they all knew, Konoha wasn't trying to hide it—that Konoha wanted a very large tournament, but he kind-of doubted they'd intended it to be quite so large.

"I wish they'd just announce the first matches," Ibiki said at last. "There's only so many stretches you can do."

Asuma grunted in agreement. "Time's wasting. I want to be a chuunin already."

Because, of course, he could be a chuunin.

Unlike Ibiki.

Ibiki pushed that thought out of his mind, pointing over to where Kurenai was meditating. "Does she do that a lot?"

"Says it makes it easier to focus. In my experience, it just means her next genjutsus are going to be much scarier than they have any right to be."

Genjutsu.

Ibiki had been learning a few of those.

Of course, he also knew that Kurenai knew a lot more—she'd been the one teaching him, whenever they found time to meet up.

They would be tricky to fight against, too. Beginners' genjutsus tended to be very easy to identify, to come out of.

Kurenai's…

Weren't like that.

She definitely had a knack for it.

Ibiki really didn't want to go up against her.

"Do you think we should meditate? Try to use genjutsu ourselves?"

Asuma rocked back and forth. "You can, but I don't really know that many, and none of mine are particularly good. I mostly just practiced ninjutsu and stuff when she was practicing."

Ninjutsu.

Also… not easy to go up against.

Ibiki began to cotton onto why Misaki was so anxious.

Taijutsu.

He felt like he could do a good job against someone specializing in taijutsu.

Of course, taijutsu was almost always a secondary specialization. Besides the obvious—like the Akimichi contestants—he and Asuma hadn't even identified any clear examples of competitors who specialized in taijutsu.

Huh.

That was… not good.

Ibiki may not have really considered the realities of a chuunin exam tournament.

Shit.

And then a voice was projected over the speakers, telling the competitors to go back to the locker rooms and prepare for the matches.

So they wouldn't even be allowed to watch.

That was…

That was just great.

Really, truly, just… great.

.

Sakura hopped into the stands, landing between Juro and Shin just as the first competitors began to appear. "You see Ibiki yet?"

"Just for a second, as they were ordering everyone back in. He looked more anxious than I expected. He'd been very excited yesterday."

Sakura shrugged. "He'll do fine. That said, there's no way he's going to win, which means…"

"Not everyone hates pain as much as you do, Sakura."

"They should."

Juro snorted. He didn't necessarily agree with her, didn't necessarily agree with Shin either, but it was good to argue.

Good to be together again.

The boys had been in the Capital for so long that Sakura had long since lost her subconscious expectation of seeing either of them at the dining table. Ibiki, at least, managed to stop by regularly enough that something twinged unhappily whenever two weeks passed without his presence.

Time had continued.

Morino Sachiko remained dead.

Sakura wasn't a genin anymore; she was a full jounin, the co-Head of the fastest growing department in Konoha, and well known as the Hokage's preferred advisor. Shin and Juro were both special jounin, each making history in their own rights.

They weren't genin anymore.

And Ibiki, Ibiki whom she'd held as a newborn, whom she'd adopted as a young child—

He was one.

He wouldn't be a chuunin today, which was a relief to the part of her that couldn't help but picture him as she'd first met him, all tiny and red and small, but he would be fighting chuunin-level opponents today.

Would be showing his combat finesse, such that after he completed a year-long apprenticeship—Sakura knew several divisions across multiple departments had offers waiting for the conclusion of the exam—he could receive immediate promotion.

(Pending Minato's newest plan, but she wasn't allowed to talk about that yet.)

He wouldn't be an official chuunin, no, but to most, to nearly every adult (because to them age restrictions were a novel concept, a weird fad that might not last very long) he would be.

If he did well enough.

In perfect sync, team chinmoku winced as one of the genin below them started screaming, the poison coating his opponent's knife doing its work quickly and painfully.

"Nasty, that," Juro commented.

"Don't bleed." That had been a favorite phrase of their Sensei, during the relatively small time they'd spent on direct combat. Bleeding in combat meant you might have been poisoned, meant you had to redirect chakra flow to not lose too much, meant if you tried to run there'd be a trail—

Don't bleed.

That was Sensei's most important rule of combat, and the three of them had learned it well—learned it so well, in fact, that not one of them preferred bladed weapons.

Ibiki—

Would he bleed?

Would he scream?

Sakura remembered being a toddler, again, remembered watching Ren's promotion battle.

Remembered the violence, how much worse it was to just watch.

Swallowed.

The next genin were beginning to file out, the loudspeaker shouting out pairs of names as each combat came to its own end.

"They're going quick," she commented.

"They're all pretty young," Juro said. "They aren't very good at pacing themselves, and they don't have the endurance of a mature body." They watched another match come to an end. "It does seem to be going a bit faster than I thought it would, though."

"Invented anything nice recently?" Shin asked.

"Something I'm calling duct tape," Sakura said. "It's great."

"What, not another fifty-eight other things?"

Sakura pursed her lips. "Nothing else that I can mention."

.

Ibiki glared at his goosebumps, wishing they would just disappear. His name had been called, his equipment was ready, he was stretched and full of adrenaline—

And his goosebumps were giving away his fear.

He tucked his sleeve back down, squinting as he reemerged into the bright sunlight.

He was ready.

He was very, very ready.

And if he reminded himself of that often enough, then everything would be okay.

His opponent—

He had a Frost name, definitely.

Ibiki had been to Frost, learned enough about them to know their naming preferences.

But when he'd been to Frost, when he'd spent time in Frost's court, they hadn't had shinobi.

They had, very technically, had shinobi when his team had been sent north to keep Kumo occupied, but Ibiki had been on the border, then, hadn't interacted with civilians more than three or four times total.

And the Samurai hadn't even bothered to do any border work at all, just left Konoha to do all the heavy lifting.

Hadn't interacted with their 'hidden village' at all.

He took his place in the outlined area, bowed respectfully to his opponent.

Thought.

Frost was between Fire and Lightning, so his opponent probably used one of those two, assuming his opponent knew ninjutsu at all—but Ibiki should probably not risk underestimating him.

Their referee blew a whistle.

Ibiki put up his first genjutsu, a simple one that didn't affect visual sight—the most common genjutsu target—at all, instead worked subtly on the target's sense of balance, an idea pulled from the way his aunt Sakura's bloodline worked.

And then the Frost ninja was running straight at him, tripping, falling, and Ibiki had a kunai over his opponent's neck.

A stupid kunai.

He'd—

He'd spent all this time getting hyped up, imagining this grand tournament, imagining adrenaline-filled combat, showing off, kicking ass—

And then he'd spent the past few minutes worrying about this tournament, worrying about nerves in combat, being humiliated, having his ass kicked—

And it was all over before he'd even got to do more than form one genjutsu.

He hadn't even really tried to hide that he was doing it—he'd wanted to see how quickly his opponent would be able to get out of it!

He hadn't expected the teen to not even try!

Ibiki—

Was pissed.

.

Juro gave a low whistle. "Ibiki doesn't look happy."

Shin grinned. "Good. That'll make him even more dangerous."

Which… was true, Sakura thought. Ibiki had always had big emotions, and over the years he'd learned how to use those emotions very, very effectively.

"I don't think Frost's hidden village is getting independence," she said, "given that that was the last of their competitors. Ibiki's going to be thrilled when he hears that—he's still upset about how little Frost helped against Kumo's recent border incursions."

"All the better," Shin said. "That'll get his mind off not being promoted."