As 41 Konoha fully came into itself, so too did the size of Konoha's struggles.
With typhoon season well and truly over Kiri had decided to take advantage of the calm waters—if their chemical attacks weren't working on Fire, that didn't mean they couldn't target Fire's many vassal nations instead.
Fire, of course, sent more ninja in response—and Suna sent a few more of their own—but they had too many vassal nations with sea borders, and too few ninja, and the civilian deaths were beginning to mount.
Their western front was, if anything, doing worse.
Iwa had come up with gas masks.
Even when they'd had chemical warfare on their side, Konoha had barely been able to push into Earth territory with what few ninja they could spare for the front; without the benefit, they'd been forced to retreat, to rely wholly on the (thankfully still standing) blockade in Mushrooms.
But there was no such blockade in the Land of Canyons, nor the Lands of Grass and Rain, and Konoha didn't even have an information network in the bay that separated Earth from Lightning, much less anything to intercept the messages and supplies.
Water transport was still… lacking, though, especially in the frigid northern waters that were known for year-round storms—there was a reason for the Land of Lightning's name—and ships were rather limited in the number of bodies a single trip could carry anyway.
Which meant that when Iwa started to send a contingent of their army over land, across Canyons and Grass and Rain and towards the Konoha base in Frost, they knew.
They just didn't know how to stop it.
And then there was Kumo itself; the reason the war had begun.
Kumo, it quickly became clear, knew of Iwa's army's impending arrival.
Kumo, it quickly became clear, was preparing for a massive assault.
Konoha wasn't about to take the threat lying down, but the war seemed to be coming from all sides and their shinobi were stretched thin.
It felt, to many, as if, should nothing be done, something would break.
And so, of course, they called for the savior of the Second Great War.
"What do you mean I'm not to be General?!"
"General Nara is doing a perfectly capable job," The Hokage said. "I am sure we are in very good hands."
"Good ha—we are about to face an attack of a size not seen in this war, Kumo is clearly hiding something in their back pocket, Rain and Grass are being intentionally contentious—no doubt were promised some of Fire's land in return—and you think we're in good hands?!"
"There is a threat on the horizon, to be sure, but so far you have offered absolutely no evidence that General Nara is anything but able to face it."
"The people are chanting for me."
"And isn't that odd?"
Something about the Hokage's statement made Danzo hesitate, shift. "Odd?"
"Hmm… They also have no reason to think that General Nara will do poorly. In fact, he had been quite respected until he got promoted; I know you yourself employed many of his suggestions while you were General."
"And?"
"And, do you not think it is weird, that despite no failure the public feels strongly enough that you should be General instead? So strongly, in fact, that they feel comfortable all but outright demanding it?" The Hokage had, since Danzo arrived, sat comfortably in his seat, leaning against the back and allowing Danzo to complete his usual rant. Now, though, he shifted forward. The room seemed to drop several degrees in temperature, his eyes seemed to grow too knowing, too aware, and—
Danzo flinched.
He didn't mean to, but he did.
"Leave, Danzo. And call off your rabble-rousers before I have to react more strongly."
Danzo left too slowly for it to be considered flight, but it was clear nonetheless—he hadn't anticipated the course of that day's conversation.
"He'll be back, you know," A voice said from a corner. "And he's not about to call off his people… make them less obvious, maybe."
The Hokage sighed.
"And—his suggestion for a second ANBU? Do you really think that's wise?"
"That's enough," he snapped, then—"It might… calm him, I think, to have a bit more control. He wants what is best for Konoha, I know it. His methods are just a bit…"
Jiraiya went to speak again, went to—once more—emphasize the severity of the problem that his Sensei seemed determined to ignore, when the Hokage spoke again.
"Orochimaru hasn't taken my nomination of Minato well."
A hesitation, then an admission. "No, he hasn't."
"Check on him, please; I'd prefer him to not bottle things up before he becomes a second Tsunade."
"Finally realized she's not coming home?"
"She will, she just… needs more time than I thought."
"We're in the middle of a war and she hasn't spared us a thought."
"You know that is not true."
"I—" Jiraiya stopped, hesitated. Realized, with a start, that he'd been completely distracted from Danzo, been pulled into an argument which had already been played out too many times to count. "I'll go check on Orochimaru."
Jiraiya, like Danzo, did not leave in a good mood. Both wished, desperately, that their conversations had played out a bit differently.
The man they left behind, the only one visible in the room, sighed.
Often, he considered, it felt as if there were no winners.
.
Minato rubbed at his wrist, staring at the empty spot in front of him. He'd really thought that version would work.
It was too late for another try, too—he could already hear the two boys arguing as they cleared the camp, and if they wanted to make it to join the rest of the troops on time then they really couldn't leave any later.
He'd just really thought he finally got a functional new weapon.
Next time, then.
(Really, he'd prefer to be back in Konoha. Kushina could go out and perform heroics, and he'd been in Research or something figuring out new jutsu, and then she'd come home and they'd have dinner together and talk for hours and then he'd teach her the jutsu he created and in doing so he'd get a million new ideas—was that a scream?)
It was a scream.
Minato stared at Obito's hand. "How?"
"It was all—"
"Choose your words carefully. How?"
The Uchiha boy flushed, then shrugged his shoulders. "I wasn't paying attention."
"Idiot." Kakashi muttered.
Minato hesitated, then ignored the comment outside of a warning glance; Kakashi's mood was, if anything, getting worse of late as the boy became more and more aware of how much he was outstripping his theoretical teammates. He'd already been promoted to chuunin—that had been outside of Minato's hands, he would have liked some more emotional development first—and the rank had only seemed to ensure the boy that he was in the right.
It wasn't a problem with an easy fix.
Obito's hand, thankfully, could be brought back to rights much faster; Rin's work already had the wound closed and the boy flexing his fingers experimentally.
"I expect more information later, but we need to get going. Is everything packed?"
"Yes." Three voices answered; at least all of them had that much down.
"Let's go, then. We need to be at the Kannabi-Bridge in less than twenty-four hours."
.
Sakura played with a loose thread in the hem of her shirt as Aiko paced Office 40, her voice banging against each wall as she turned to face it.
Aiko was now a property judge.
Aiko hated property.
Well, that wasn't true; not really.
What she really hated was property law.
Law wasn't really 'stable'. There were statutes, of course, and official commandments by the Daimyo, but they rarely if ever covered every conceivable circumstance and so it was judges that were meant to fill in the gaps, meant to keep order, maintain peace, and encourage commerce.
Which was fine.
In theory.
In reality, each and every judge saw the world slightly differently, and each and every judge saw property slightly differently, and each and every judge ruled slightly differently.
That, in combination with the general principle that older case rulings should be replicated unless the new case was substantially different, meant that every single difference a case might have would change the precedent that applied.
"And don't get me started on water rights!" Aiko snapped, whipping around again to start pacing in the other direction.
All Sakura had asked was if she was doing well, and that had been nearly twenty minutes ago.
The door had creaked open and closed seven minutes ago, as someone—possibly Juro, he'd mentioned he might make time that day—heard the rant and decided they were better off somewhere else.
Sakura couldn't escape.
Which wasn't to say it wasn't interesting, or anything—it was, really—but…
The yelling was a bit much.
The door creaked open again, seemingly forcing itself against the noise—Aiko had decided not to bother with water rights, to turn instead to estates and wills (the Daimyo had apparently passed several new, somewhat contradictory, laws about such in quick succession between the wars)—and Bokuso slipped, however reluctantly, in.
"It's late: it is time for quiet."
"I thought this room was sealed?"
"It is sealed: it reduces noise, does not eliminate."
"Noted." Aiko flushed, Sakura grinned, and Bokuso… ignored the caterpillar crawling across his forehead. "I'll quiet down some."
"If it's that late then I need to go home anyway," Sakura said, despite having fully intended to spend at least two hours when she'd arrived. "See you later."
"Bye."
"Safe travels."
Home, at least, was quiet.
Kohana and Himari were out helping plant the Akimichi soy crop—more hands were always needed during planting and harvesting times, and with most of the genin out doing more dangerous missions instead of D-ranks it was left up to the non-military members of Ino-Shika-Cho and the many civilians who lived on the lands year-round.
Ibiki wasn't home either; an Akimichi friend of his was teaching him how to make pancakes.
Sakura considered working—probably should, really, especially with the Hokage's lackluster response to Danzo—but the rant had drained something out of her.
Doing nothing felt too wasteful, though, so instead she made her way to Taichi, her taijutsu instructor.
He was tutoring three genin when she arrived, walking through the steps to a set of new kata, but he glanced at her over his liquor bottle and she got to practicing too, watching the genin out of the corner of her eye as she did.
Two of the three genin were competent.
The third tried to stop doing the exercises the second Taicho's back was turned, no matter how many times she was caught out.
The hour passed, the genin left, and she and Taicho sparred until it was time for Ibiki to be home.
"You're getting better." The drunk grunted, packing up his empty bottles as he prepared to make his way to his own home.
"Not good enough—I can barely flee from the average jounin, much less defeat them."
"You really think you'll need to be that good? I thought you were a Researcher—not much fighting, is there?"
"There's enough." Sakura said.
Orochimaru flashed across her mind, the boy—Sasuke—in his grasp and unable to get away.
"I just need to be prepared."
"Add ninjutsu, then. You might not have the reserves for much, but anyone who can chakra-sense will be able to tell that—so when you do use it it'll be that much more of a surprise."
Sakura grunted in surprise. "I'm having enough trouble juggling taijutsu and combat fuinjutsu and my Yamanaka bloodline and you want me to add ninjutsu to that list?"
"Yep."
Well, it would be unexpected.
.
Rento screamed in excitement as his Deputy Head flung out the next combat seal, its shocking spike of light no doubt blinding for everyone not wearing protective goggles.
It was his first combat jutsu, he hadn't even had enough chakra to finish all the trials to find one that was successful, but now he had it—he'd done it—he'd made it.
The seal was more than just a light, after all—with a single thread of chakra from someone attuned to it they could direct the beam, turn it in any direction and concentrate or diffuse the light with ease—so easily, in fact, that one could do it while fighting.
"That is a very good job, Yamanaka." Deputy Head Uchiha said. "A very good job indeed."
"Thank you, si—"
"Get the chakra requirement down."
"Yes."
"Dismissed." The light blinked away, the chakra connection cut, and Rento grabbed it—grabbed his own invention! — and made his way back to the offices.
He'd done it!
Well, not really. Not yet, at least. Still had to—had to modify it, improve it a bit. The seal was only a prototype; it would only go out for production if he dropped the chakra requirement, made it literally cheaper for a combatant to employ.
But he'd still made something, made something that no one else had ever before.
He flung himself into his desk, pulled out his notes, and bent over his research without a care in the world for his sore eyes, for his nearly-exhausted chakra.
He'd been surprised, really, when his aunt had pushed him away from Human Research, especially with how much she worked there often herself, but she was right; Deputy Head Uchiha was a great mentor, always pointing out where Rento fell short and offering suggestions when he stumbled.
It had been a long time coming, he'd spent too much time just helping others' projects as he tried to figure out something to invent himself, but now he was there.
Just as soon as the seal was finished—and he knew now that it would be—he'd be a chuunin.
He flushed with pride, looking not only at his notes on the light beam seal but the many others that worked off the same idea.
The Yamanaka might be more associated with T&I, but his aunt had opened a new route, a route that felt more comfortable, more natural, and Rento was going to take full advantage.
.
They were still well away from the bridge when Minato realized that everything had already gone horribly wrong.
Kannabi bridge crossed Grass's least controlled river, a long, near-continuous, rapid that stretched from the tallest Grass mountain to the Bay.
Destroying it would almost cut off one side from the other; the river was near impossible to cross even with chakra and the Bay, while more feasible, was constantly wrought by one storm or another.
Destroying it would mean that the best way through land was through Fire's territory, and the Samurai and Konoha's shinobi had control of that.
It was necessary, then; it was vital.
It was the first order when Iwa breached the Land of Canyons, no matter how bad the repercussions to Fire's reputation with the Land of Grass.
Iwa must have known that, though, were certainly aware that Canyons and Rice were still furious at Konoha due to their interactions during the Second War, the sheer amount of suffering thanks to the near-continuous fighting.
They'd picked up the pace, then, likely relied on drugs to keep going when their body started shouting its inability, and Minato and his team—who were supposed to arrive early, were already in the area and supposed to be in and out before the danger arrived—were late.
Those Konoha shinobi who had arrived before him were doing their best, trying their hardest to keep Iwa's forward shinobi at bay, but—
They needed help.
They needed help now.
Minato thrust his bag into Kakashi's arms; he might not know much about fuinjutsu, but he knew enough to know how to use explosive seals, and ones of the strength Minato had was all that was necessary to destroy a bridge, even one as reinforced as Kannabi.
"Go destroy the bridge. I'll keep them away."
Kakashi and the two genin stared back at him, goggle-eyed. They were still far too far to see the danger, but his sudden shift was clear enough evidence of the changed parameters.
Kakashi was the first to firm up.
He bowed, a short, quick thing, and Minato was off.
It galled him, leaving behind the children in his charge, but his comrades were only getting more outnumbered—he could sense one falling every few seconds—and—
He had an idea, and then another, and then his brain was full, all half-formed half-good plans on how to save everyone, do everything.
He didn't have time to think, barely had time to breathe before his knife was slicing through one throat while a quick wind jutsu slashed through two more.
This wasn't—
He couldn't—
He had to—
He'd do it, he'd do everything. Save everyone.
He just needed a minute to think.