Hyuuga Hiashi was worried.

Very, very worried.

Kumo…

Wasn't acting like they normally did.

They were hanging back, they were clustering together, they were on the defensive.

But they were still attacking.

The most obvious answer was that they wanted Konohans on the field, but why? What could they be planning? And could anybody figure it out before it was too late?

No.

Hiashi knew that the very second his stomach flipped, the very second his heels lifted off the ground, then his toes, and he was trying, reaching, but there was nothing to grab, and he was in the air, and everybody was in the air, and their weapons were in the air, and the water and ash and other jutsu remnants and—

The Ryoku family's bloodline was back.

They'd thought it irradicated, driven to extinction during the First War, but it was back.

And Hiashi was falling higher and higher, and everybody else was falling upwards alongside him, and he could see the Kumo shinobi still on the ground, holding on to whatever they could—clearly warned, but with what signal?—and he couldn't even tell who was controlling this, couldn't even guess—

And it was almost time for the jutsu to end—

And then it was over—

And gravity flipped once more—

And the ground was rushing—

And the enemy ninja, no longer as worried about their own deaths, were targeting jutsu at the falling prey—

And the Akimichi were bursting around him, inflating to absorb the impact—

And everybody was trying to figure out how to save themselves, how to not die on impact—

(They'd timed this. The Hokage left yesterday. Maybe they'd even waited until they had confirmation that he was at the frontlines with Earth before they struck—what was another few hours, after all?)

Hizashi hurtled to the ground, and he wished desperately that he had wind jutsu.

And then—

Radio waves, they were fast.

Faster than any person.

The Hokage's teleportation seals were even faster.

Their true extent had been hidden so far, only ever hinted at—

But clearly the Flash had gotten a signal, and reacted accordingly.

He hadn't been here, hadn't been anywhere near here, and yet now he was flashing around, throwing huge waves of wind out, trying to buffet as many landings as possible, and Hiashi hadn't seen him move like this, expend chakra like this, since before—

But he shouldn't have to save Hiashi, and so Hiashi threw out an earth jutsu, tried to brace his fall himself.

Heard the impact.

Heard the shattering of bone.

Didn't die.

And he couldn't move, but he still had chakra; he could still fight.

And so Hiashi did; he used an earth-wave jutsu to push the wounded he could see back, used another to make their enemy focus on their own footing.

Thanked everything that he'd expanded his jutsu repertoire, that he hadn't just relied on the taijutsu that had made him so feared in the last war.

And still—

And still—

And still—

It had to have been some time.

Hiashi was starting to feel the pain, now, his adrenaline already wearing off.

And still the Hokage was everywhere.

He looked—

In those instances Hiashi could see him, in those instances between each reappearance, between each new attack—

He looked feral.

He looked like a man pushed past his brink, like a man who took the attack personally.

And Hiashi, he could feel the pain, he could feel more and more Kumo targeting him, positioned as he was at the edges of combat, positioned as he was as easy prey—

But he could also see Minato's eyes, boring into their enemy.

He could also feel Minato's aura, so strong it was making shinobi hesitate just by being in his vicinity.

And Hiashi still had chakra.

The Hokage—he was dealing with attacking.

There were plenty of others working on defense, on recapturing wounded like him.

Hiashi could keep himself safe, and he would, but he wanted to do more.

Ryoku.

He needed to identify the Ryoku.

He scanned the battleground feverishly; the range of a bloodline wasn't limitless, and what usable attackers Konoha did have were firing at anybody who ran, trying to kill the Ryoku before they could get away.

So—

Maybe still here.

Maybe still fighting.

Can't be too obvious, they wouldn't make any rookie mistakes…

Can't be that heavily guarded guy, he was clearly the decoy…

Him.

Unremarkable under Hiashi's eye, except that there always seemed to be someone just in reach to keep him out of danger.

Unremarkable, except that there were far too many B-ranked threats in his vicinity—not high-ranked enough to draw attention, but high-ranked enough to get their living gravity-machine out of danger.

And then there was a Yamanaka beside him, a Yamanaka lifting him up, trying to get him on a gurney, and they didn't have time for that.

Hiashi signed, signed as rapidly as he could, and his vision was going, and everything was getting black, and the Yamanaka didn't seem to be paying attention—

But someone was.

Because a second later, the Yellow-Flash was right in front of the target.

And Hiashi, finally accomplished, could rest.

(He wondered how his brother was doing.)

.

This—

This was very bad.

Very, very bad.

Ebisu slapped another of his very, very expensive seals on the ground, jumping just out of its range as the torrent of water began to jettison out.

To his right Aoba was gagging, choking, trying to get his mask around his mouth before it was too late.

To his right Asahi had taken notice of the way Ebisu had set him up, was rapid-signing a very long string of jutsu—almost definitely lightning.

And yet they still weren't safe.

And yet they were still surrounded.

(Fucking liars. 'No specific concerns'. Yeah right—they knew that some other supplier wanted to get rid of their fields, hired missing-nin, were willing to kill—and not just kill, but kill by chemicals—to accomplish their objective.)

"Plan!" Ebisu shouted.

Asahi grunted, released his built-up jutsu, and—

Okay.

Okay, yeah, Ebisu couldn't do that.

The lightning was arcing—everywhere. Everywhere. It was using the pool of water Ebisu had created, but the lightning was jumping out in every angle, was targeting every enemy in what guaranteed it was at least A-level.

Ebisu didn't know any A-level jutsu.

Ebisu was still struggling with his two B-levels.

Asahi grunted, almost collapsing, then sprinted forward, and Ebisu's eyes flashed around—most enemies down, at least temporarily, at least for a second, but not all. Asahi had just more-or-less highlighted their most powerful enemies: if they were standing, they were a threat.

There weren't that many standing.

Ebisu grinned.

Aoba, mask finally on, screamed a war cry; clearly, he wasn't a big fan of their use of chemical warfare.

And this—this Ebisu could do.

This Ebisu felt confident about.

He slid in on Asahi's right, slamming one fire jutsu after another into their customer's enemies. Even as more and more enemies stood, started to contribute.

Aoba (a descendant of a bastard Yamanaka) stayed behind them both, stopping at each opponent in turn to detain and contain them as efficiently as possible.

Slowly, steadily, they began to make progress.

…And if some of their enemies, those that stayed locked-in on their actual goal, began to set fire to the poppy fields at their back… what was the harm?

.

Kosei grinned as the wagon crested the horizon, fields stretching out in every direction.

It wasn't as good as when he and his family still lived on their farm, but joining the Akimichi farmland cooperative had its benefits, and every day there was some new crop, some new livestock, to learn about. One day, with this knowledge, he would own a farm of his own. He would eat his own yams, his own apples.

He would have the life he always dreamed of.

His parents… they didn't understand.

Wanted him to go into shinobi life, become a sealer or a doctor or something.

But that wasn't what he wanted.

Beside him two of his classmates—Kaede and Itoku—were arguing. They were going to be ninja. Itoku's father told him to learn to bodyguard his eldest brother, and Kaede wanted to protect people, to make people feel safe.

Kosei liked them both, actually. Liked that when they played ninja they put him in charge of supplies, made feeding ninja necessary to win the game.

Understood that what he wanted wasn't what they wanted.

Respected that.

(He suspected that their non-ninja parents helped with that, because a lot of his other classmates didn't understand. Didn't get it. But then, his parents weren't ninja, and that was all they wanted him to be.)

Today the boys were arguing over their field day results—they'd just started third year, and Itoku had done… poorly.

Almost as poorly as Kosei.

And Kaede thought Itoku hadn't tried as hard as he could have.

"But I don't have to!" Itoku argued. "I don't need to know how to track, I won't ever track again when I go home!"

"You don't know that!" Kaede snapped back.

They were younger than him—seven, like most of Kosei's other classmates, unlike Kosei's nine years of age—but they were usually less… upset, than now.

He regretted that they tended to choose the farmland D-ranks to spend time with him.

They were almost at the field, now, and it looked to be a weeding day; the most common, by far, of the D-ranks, but it needed to be done.

Itoku and Kaede were still arguing.

Kosei tuned them out again, because they weren't exactly coming to any sort of agreement, and breathed the green in.

An Akimichi in thick, muddy boots stomped towards them, began pulling the experienced out of the group with a practiced eye so he could spend more time monitoring the newbies.

Kosei jumped off, heard the thumps of Itoku and Kaede following him. (At least they'd gone quiet—the Akimichi supervisor wouldn't have taken it well otherwise.)

Kosei got started, trying not to resent that Kaede and Itoku chose to start on the rows on either side of him.

"You don't get it," Itoku was saying. "You're a Yamanaka. Your parents will let you do anything."

Which… was true.

Itoku and Kosei both commiserated about parental pressure, though obviously Kosei's was… less severe.

Kaede didn't.

Like, his parents weren't super happy about him deciding to be a ninja, but the rest of his clan was definitely on board, and when his own dad decided not to be a ninja in a ninja clan, they'd just… let him.

So he was a chef instead.

And to be fair, Kaede, he knew that. Respected that.

But he also—

Didn't.

For him, of course everyone should try hard on the tracking part of the exam, because they were still kids, and they might end up really liking tracking and doing that as adults, or even just tracking as part of some other job.

But Kosei fully didn't want to do anything ninja, and Kaede kind-of understood that.

And then there was Itoku.

Itoku would be a bodyguard, would keep his eldest brother alive.

And that was it.

That would be his job.

And Kaede… didn't understand that.

"You'll be an adult!" Kaede argued. "You can make your own choices!"

And that… wasn't the world. It wouldn't ever be the world.

It was going to be a very long day.

.

Ibiki ran his hands over his scars.

He—

It hadn't been a big thing, before.

That his early years had left visible reminders.

It hadn't been a big thing before, but there was a pretty girl at the market, and Ibiki saw her every Saturday, and when he'd finally worked up the nerve to go up to her, to say hi—

She'd flinched.

Because Ibiki had scars.

She'd recovered fast, but Ibiki—

Knew.

It was one thing for full-grown adults to be scarred; it was expected, in this ninja world.

But Ibiki was still relatively young, and the others his age—

They weren't used to looking at scarred faces, seeing the person underneath as a romantic interest.

It hadn't occurred to him before.

Now he stood in front of the mirror, and he tried to stop himself from spiraling.

The girl—she didn't act ninja. Probably wasn't ninja.

Probably, maybe, if he asked someone who was ninja—

They wouldn't freak.

(None of his friends had. Not ever. That's why he'd thought—maybe it was different. If you wanted them to like you in a different way.)

Ibiki—

He knew he should probably talk to someone.

Aunt Sakura, probably, because Uncle Shin and Uncle Juro were both in the Capitol.

But Aunt Sakura knew nothing about dating, wasn't interested.

(And Aunt Sakura was—

(Well, hard to think about, right now.

(Hard to see just waltzing about, acting like her life wasn't in danger, right now.)

And he couldn't talk to Asuma, because Asuma was still moping.

And he couldn't talk to Genma, because Genma hadn't even been home in a month.

And he couldn't talk to Deidara, because Deidara was too young to understand.

Kurenai.

Kurenai was—

Was she in town?

She had been three days ago.

Ibiki had to act fact, before she disappeared to another mission.