Sakura had only just fallen back into a sort of routine when a message (and package) from Research came.

The package was for General Nara, not her, but the General had taken one look at the message and decided that no one had ever been paid enough to interpret it.

But hey, they had her!

The message was written in small, cramped handwriting, with its writer—the Community and Detection Deputy Head—clearly both in a rush and valuing getting more words per line than those same words being legible.

Still, the gist was easy enough to get.

Sakura looked up from the letter and, with the rest of the head honchos (and several looky-loos), at what came along with it.

"It's meant to transport injured to and from the battlefield." Sakura said. "The cart's sealed on all sides to provide protection from debris, and has extra wide padded wheels—they wear down quicker, but should provide better stabilization. It's designed to be carted by one active—" (active here was code for only-possible-if-they-work-themselves-to-death) "—genin continually over the course of one day."

Everyone blinked at the thing.

"And the reason it's supposed to be used for the injured instead of all transport?" The Transport Commander asked.

Sakura squinted at the letter. "It… it's designed to be carted in both directions, so you don't have to turn it around in the battlefield."

"Ah." General Nara gestured to it. "Is everyone getting one?"

"…One per battalion, for now." Sakura parsed. "They… want us to report any flaws back before making more."

"Alright. I'm sure… it will work perfectly. Sensor Yamanaka, please meet with Transport Commander Agawa and walk his genin and genin corps through how to use it."

Sakura thought about mentioning that the letter hadn't bothered to describe that, and that she'd never pushed a man-powered cart before in her life anyway. "Hai, General."

The crowd, finding any new information lacking, cleared out, and as they did, Commander Agawa began poking and prodding at the giant contraption on wheels. "How many is this thing supposed to fit?"

"Four injured, two on top of each other on either side, and a medic between them—plus the driver."

"Tch. Looks pretty close to what we're used to with normal carts, if you ignore its size. Alright, just get me a copy—written out so it makes sense—of that letter and give that and the original to me by the end of the week."

"Hai." Sakura turned to leave.

"Why are you Research anyway?"

"I mean, I'm not right now."

"But in general. You're a sensor, and a good one—that's one of the most powerful skills a ninja can have. There are plenty of career paths that take full advantage of that, but you went down one of the few that doesn't—one of the few where, any time they decide they need an extra sensor or two, they'll have no trouble yanking you away from whatever you're doing and shove you into something else entirely instead."

Sakura shrugged. In truth, she knew that Konoha would have vastly preferred her to go down a different career path. They respected her intelligence enough to decide that it was sufficiently useful to let her Research, sure, but… well, it hadn't just been Sensei that had tried to push her down infiltration.

It was in her genes, after all; at least, that's what the aunties she lived near said. She'd be good at it, too, they claimed—she was smart enough to get out of sticky situations, could use her chakra sense to evade detection, was a simple eye surgery and dye job away from looking interchangeable from most of the southeast—those who knew about it even pointed to the first mission where she was lead, how that had been infiltration, and how well that had gone.

But Sakura had no interest in infiltration.

It was true that she had the genes for it. It was true that she had the 'sense' for it—both literal and metaphorical—and the look for it.

But…

She just didn't want to do it.

She liked learning new things. That's what had always gotten her into trouble—it was why she'd been unable to hide her genius as a toddler, part of the reason why her team had been chosen for the Diplomacy mission (it really required learning a lot of information in a very short time), and why she couldn't choose anything but Research as her career path. Most of all, though, she liked learning new things because that meant there was a chance she could make her world more like Arden's: more peaceful, more calm, more focused on entertainment than knowing how to defend oneself.

"I've got these ideas." Sakura said. "About how to make the world a better place. And I want to see if they help. Research's it for me."

"Well," Commander Agawa said, "I always wanted to be a tracker. Went down that path my whole life. Except I'm not a sensor, and I've got no bloodline helping me out, and I'm getting older—I run a little less fast, jump a little less high. So now," he hoisted up the cart, "now I've got no say in may own career, and I'm managing a bunch of nobodies doing the jobs that everyone thinks of as trivial. Just something to keep in mind." And then he left.

And Sakura stood in front of the Commander's Tent, with the newbie sensor above her, unable to leave until her and the newbie's relief showed up.

She glanced at the newbie, then at Agawa's back.

Then (after her customary check of the surrounding area), she sat.

He was right, of course, but to her that changed nothing. Research was still what she actively enjoyed, still where she saw her alien knowledge coming in the most useful.

So she'd just have to deal with it.

The newbie coughed.

"Yeah?"

"Isn't our shift over?"

"Do you see our replacement?"

"No, but I'm getting tired."

"It's not over for another ten minutes."

"Can't I take a break?" Now the newbie was whining. Her name, Sakura knew, was Kataoka Yui. She was twelve, had just graduated from the Academy, and would be an even better sensor than Sakura with practice.

This was only their third match-up together (newbie was usually placed with the most experienced, so that they could teach her and sense at the same time), but Sakura already knew she didn't like her.

When she was honest with herself, Sakura would admit that Kataoka was just immature. Just as her chakra sense needed time and effort to become totally useful, Kataoka needed time and effort—time and effort cut short by her premature graduation and field assignment—to mature, to grow up.

It just hadn't happened yet.

"It's just ten minutes." Sakura said. "I can feel your reserves—you'll be fine for that long."

"I'm only twelve!" Katoaka Yui said. "And I need a break!"

"I'm thirteen." Sakura said.

"You are?" The newbie, in complete breach of protocol, slid down to the ground, leaving no one covering visible security from the roof. "Really?"

"Get back up there!" Sakura shouted. She turned to the side of the building and began scrambling up its edifice.

"I'll feel them before—"

"And what if you don't?"

"Don't change the subject!" The newbie finally climbed back onto the roof. "I—"

But Sakura didn't care what she had to say. "You just endangered the life of everyone in this battalion!"

"I was barely on the ground for a second!"

"And were you scanning before then?"

"I told you, I'll sense them before—"

"Problem?" Sensor Sensei Inuzuka said. She hopped onto the roof, her partner beginning her perimeter around Headquarters at the same time.

"She left her position, and hasn't been visually scouting!" Sakura said.

Sensei Inuzuka's eyes flashed. "What?"

"It was for, like, a second!" The newbie shouted. She turned to Sakura, furious. "You just ratted—"

"MP!"

"MP?!" Kataoka turned back to Sensei. "Nothing happened! It's not a big deal!"

Sakura's ears were ringing. Her eyes darted, again and again, around the surrounding area.

The first thing—the first thing—that sensor classes taught was that when you were on sentry duty, you had to be aware at all times. Merely sensing wasn't enough—they'd been taught how to survey visually, how to notice unusual smells, how to take note of and track ambient temperature…

It had been a lot, Sakura knew, to leave the newbie to do it all by herself, but the Commander had called her down—she'd had no choice.

Had she not been tracking those senses?

Had she really been relying solely on chakra?

Kataoka Yui was still complaining, still confused, as the MPs grabbed her by both arms.

"We'll do a full camp check." Sensor Sensei Inuzuka said. "How long were you busy with the Commander?"

"Only a couple minutes," Sakura said, "but she asked to be on the roof today, so I've been sensing on ground level since the morning." Ground level sensing was useful—especially for those who could sense underneath it—but the higher view was always considered superior; ground duty was therefore reserved only for if there were two sensors on duty.

"Tch." Sensei rubbed her forehead. "I'll go coordinate with the MPs. You stay on the roof. Keep watch."

This was not good.

Everyone in camp was already on edge—messengers were being targeted now, and true information was being intercepted while misinformation was, when possible, substituted; it had been weeks since anyone was completely, 100% sure all that did come through was accurate.

And now…

Well, to be perfectly frank, there might've been an infiltrator in camp even without the newbie half-assing her duty. The camp was large, and the sensors could only do so much—a regular patrol and constant position over Headquarters protected Headquarters a hell of a lot more than it did the rest of camp.

But to just… not do it?

Not do her job?

So now there was a higher than usual chance that someone, somewhere, had eluded detection. Now there wasn't just a fear of what was happening outside the camp borders, but inside too.

And so soon after the previous Commander had been killed.

And so soon after half her guard had died trying to protect her.

And now they had to re-check, re-investigate the entire camp.

And the Samurai would arrive soon too, and bring their own camp, and have their own logistical and security issues to throw into the mix.

And the food shortage hadn't ended.

And the alarm—the 'we're checking everything' alarm—was beginning to blare (that there wasn't actually an alarm didn't change the effect of gossip from mimicking one—Sakura could see the wave of realization move through camp from her perch.)

The message (verified three times before she'd gotten a hold of it; they'd sent a full team to deliver the cart and many other messages hidden inside, so there was little worry of them, at least, being false) crumpled in her hand.

She was thirteen.

She was thirteen.

She was thirteen.

.

Arden's memories provided little solace in the following days, and while no infiltrator had been found, the gap in security had left everyone uneasy, particularly as the long-distance communication issues remained.

So Sakura fell back on some of Arden's old memories.

Telephone lines could be cut. Any lines could be cut, actually, so that nixed a lot of options. Railroads—a primitive sort, but one which was improving rapidly—already existed, but so far Kuni didn't have a single track laid.

And that left radio.

Arden knew… next to nothing about the radio.

But she knew it existed, and that was enough.

Between shifts, then, Sakura began working on a new proposal.

She spent hours sketching out ideas of how the hell a radio could work, built incredibly cheap test-of-concepts out of whatever scrap metal she could find, and searched Arden's memories for something other than her own world for the first time (it didn't help, of course, the memories were far too garbled to do anything more than grab on randomly, but it was still a first.)

There were, she knew, radio waves.

Also, radios needed power.

So she had to invent batteries first.

Proposals for power storage already existed, but none had ended up particularly effective.

Still, they were a jumping-off point.

For the first time since the war started, including the time she had spent bedridden, Sakura began to (for a few brief hours a day) forget that she was a child soldier in the middle of a war that wasn't going well for her home nation.

She was missing out on sleep, but that was okay—she was having more and more issues sleeping anyway.

It was worth it, to get back to Research.

No matter how many speedbumps, how many hiccups—this, this inventing and science and research and not being constantly on edge, looking out for the next danger, this was what Sakura wanted to do.

Even if it meant that she'd have to give up doing the work full-time during every war.

.

On February 18th, Uzumaki Mito died.

She died on the other (on the true) frontline, in front of dozens of shinobi on either side. There had been a brief scuffle for her body.

Konoha won.

Uzumaki Mito—wife of the first Hokage, powerful warrior who, even in her old age, was nearly unstoppable on the battlefield, fuinjutsu master—was dead.

The jinchuuriki was dead.

The Samurai arrived on the frontlines three days later.