It was an attack, certainly.

But why?

(Why?)

Ebisu—

"Ebisu, go down, slit their necks."

Ebisu nodded.

Their prisoners were already trying to visibly get out of their restraints by the time he popped into the car (was it some sort of signal? What signal?), but they clearly hadn't expected seals to be part of their detainment, which—didn't Konoha have that reputation by now?

It was discomfiting work, killing off imprisoned opponents, but Ebisu knew his duty and they clearly knew about the attack, were clearly a part of it.

Which meant they were, in fact, active threats despite their apparent containment.

Aoba copied Ebisu with grim determination, the two of them completing the job in mere seconds before joining Asahi back on the roof.

"Shit, they're fast," Aoba said.

"I figure they've got some sort of tracking seal on one of their compatriots," Asahi said. Ebisu glanced down, but Asahi made a negating gesture—not worth doing anything about now. "That's probably why they know where this train is. Which brings the question: are they here for their pals…" and if not their pals, what?

Trains were very, very long. They had to be, to contain all that they did; corpse cars, and injured cars, and prisoner cars, and one or two passenger cars. Most of the train, however, was made up of exactly one thing: supply cars.

And Ebisu had absolutely no idea what any car carried.

(Food, probably, on the way out; seals, too. But the thing was, this train was headed back to Konoha, and that meant it was probably carrying other resources; metals and rocks and gems and ink supplies and all the various needs Konoha could not meet closer to home. Of course, that was just Ebisu's guesswork; and even if he was right, he had no idea which cars contained what, which led to the question of the attackers and their plan once more.)

"Jutsu!" Asahi shouted, and they were still so, so far away but that was fire-coming-right-at-them-oh-no—

Ebisu dove into the car, Aoba and Asahi hot on his heels, and still they could feel the heat sear the inside of the car, the outside.

Ahead they heard the genin team's shouts, their jounin-Sensei yelling some type of orders, but already there was another fire jutsu and—

And these cars had to be at least a little fire-resistant, to still be holding up, but that was a lot of charring, and just a little bit of smoke, and it was very clear the cars wouldn't hold up forever.

"Move up, move up!" Asahi shouted.

Ebisu didn't hesitate to obey.

Another blast nipped at their heels, finally set the last car alight, and the three of them were racing up the walls of the next car, staring at the masked men who were keeping up with the cars, now, not trying to jump on.

"Well, they would've just killed their team if they'd still been alive," Aoba coughed, "so I think we can nix that as an objective."

Another fireball.

"Are they just trying to destroy everything?" Asahi asked. He formed a jutsu, but even though they'd had training fighting at running speed, this was quite a lot faster—his jutsu didn't hit his target, and the group on that side backed off, outside of that apparent range but within their own.

And then the jounin—not visibly from a clan, but that could mean anything—hopped alongside them. "I think they're trying to destroy this train, get at some of the cargo we have once it's a burning heap."

"They're using a lot of fire jutsu," Aoba warned, his voice shaking slightly as he trembled, wanting to do something but unsure how to help.

"Yeah," the jounin agreed, "And there are twenty of them, all with some amount of chakra."

"Only three that have been firing," Asahi pointed out. The train jerked again, reacting to yet another blast of fire.

"My kids are talking to the conductor; they have a radio and can send out a distress signal. I also have them ready to disengage everything but the first five cars; everything after that is just material, not people."

"So we're good?" Ebisu asked.

The jounin blinked at him. "Of course not. These cars are full of Konoha's materials, and we must protect them." Another fiery blast, but Asahi's and the jounin's ranged attacks were keeping them far away enough to minimize damage.

"Why are we not stopping?" Aoba shouted.

"We'd lose," the jounin said. "These people are… prepared. We aren't. They want what's on this train; and as long as it's still moving, we are conserving energy while they aren't."

Which, right.

Not good though.

"Do you think they're Iwa?" Ibiki asked, thinking to the closest of Konoha's enemies. "Or Kumo?"

"Kumo's more likely—they have more fire users. But, honestly, who knows. The point is, this was planned. And until we know more about their plans, we need to remain on the defensive."

"The enemy prisoners we had definitely knew when they had gotten within a certain range," Ebisu said. "But they also clearly weren't prepared for our containment seals."

The jounin narrowed his eyes. So did Asahi. That information—that was interesting.

That was something the gang didn't want them to know.

"What seals does everybody have?" the jounin asked.

Aoba rattled his—the least—off first, then Ebisu. Asahi had a surprising number, but Ebisu supposed he was a clan kid; clan kids had the kind of money for that.

The jounin pressed his lips together, clearly scheming, then rattled off his own—more than the rest of them, but not combined.

Unfortunately, none of them seemed to be fuuinjutsu fighters, which meant a lot of their seals were more-or-less identical; the sorts that the Researchers and the Hokage encouraged everyone to keep.

"Let's mask up first," the jounin said. "That opens up some opportunities. Then… then we'll check when backup should arrive."

.

Ever since a Ryoku showed up—and then been summarily killed—on Kumo's frontlines, Konoha's frontlines had been talking.

And talking.

And worrying, and now Konohans weren't pushing forward as much against Kumo, weren't willing to put as much at risk, were far more on the defensive.

"We need to get everyone's head back on straight," Nara Shikaku said. Commander Nara clearly agreed, but that did not mean either of them knew how to do anything about it.

Both turned to look at Inoichi.

Inoichi was busy rewrapping his bandages (the idiot got struck head-on by a lightning jutsu like an idiot), but after a few seconds he noticed the silence, looked up. "I mean, didn't the Hokage deal with it?"

"He killed the known Ryoku," Commander Nara said, "but who knows how many gravity-reversers they have?"

"And when they'll show up," Shikaku added. He understood; of course he did. He understood the terror of the knowledge that at any second the world might flip, that their connection to it might disappear. He understood.

But Konoha could not afford to go on the defensive indefinitely.

He and the other representatives of the People's Council were pushing forward a plan to, as much as possible, increase economic dependence on Konoha—increase the monetary pressure on the other nations, increase the desire for less combat, less poor relations.

They were pushing forward, but the tactic was a slow one, a creeping one.

The not-war was happening now.

And being on the defensive—

That would only open up the chances for Kumo to push forward more, push into Frost, sneak in spies, sneak in saboteurs.

Commander Nara frowned, staring down at his second's genjutsu of the current troop positions.

"We need to call in samurai," he said at last. "Their arrows can bridge the gap until we have more information about how many Ryoku are frontline ready, or even exist."

"Yeah," Inoichi said, "but from where?"

.

Ibiki shuffled awkwardly, not looking at Kurenai as the two of them collected their thrown shuriken. "It's not that—like, yeah, I know a lot of kunoichi won't care…"

"Then what?" Kurenai asked. Her voice wasn't harsh or anything, just confused.

That didn't make it any easier.

"My… my uncles, they live in the Capitol," Ibiki started. "I don't know about Uncle Shin, he doesn't talk about it, but Uncle Juro is engaged."

"That's nice."

"Yeah… anyway, my Aunt Sakura obviously isn't interested, and all of that means I haven't really… like, I know what dating looks like; I've seen friends do it… but." It was hard to put his thoughts into words. To not say the wrong thing.

"What does that have to do with a girl flinching from your scar?"

"Well, maybe if I was more suave—" okay. Kurenai did not have to laugh that much.

"I'm—I'm sorry, Ibiki, but you're like, so little, and—and—suave!"

"Now you're just being mean," Ibiki said, and then decided he might as well stomp off to make his point.

Later—after Kurenai bribed him with dango—Ibiki listened to Kurenai's more chilled attempts to help him. "I guess I could ask my dad… he's not scarred or anything, but he's very powerful, and I get the impression that my mother's family didn't really like that."

"I thought people liked power? Generally?"

"People like clans, generally. My dad doesn't have a clan. Power without a clan is just seen as dangerous."

"I didn't know that."

"Well, you're part of Ino-Shika-Cho, so it doesn't matter."

"Would've, if my mom had lived."

Kurenai hesitated, not knowing what to say.

Ibiki cleared his throat. "Sorry."

"Is that what this is about? Because honestly, I didn't expect you to spiral that hard off of one reaction."

"No. Maybe. I dunno. I—I have a dad, you know, out there somewhere. And I don't even know what his name is."

"Your guardians really don't know?"

"I haven't asked them."

Kurenai let the silence speak for itself.

"I know… I know I could… I just, I don't want it to be awkward, you know?"

"Do you actually think they'd let it be awkward?"

"They wouldn't have much of a say in it. I'd make it awkward enough all on my own." Kurenai snorted. Ibiki smiled. "Look, I dunno… I've just, been thinking about relationships a lot, recently, since even before I tried to ask her out," he didn't look at Kurenai, carefully didn't address one of the many reasons it was on his mind, "and everyone always said that my mom and dad were like… liked each other, or whatever. But that doesn't really explain why… why he wasn't around. Why he isn't around."

Kurenai shifted uncomfortably. "I mean, you don't really look… fully Fire, if you know what I mean."

"No, yeah, I know… I just. My brain's…"

"I really think you should talk to your guardians," Kurenai advised.

And Ibiki knew that was the right step, but that still didn't explain why he was so reluctant to take it.

.

Hizashi's breath felt like it was being stolen from him. He could literally feel the moisture being robbed from his body the further into the desert they got. Even with preparation, even with seals, even with the knowledge that it would take some catastrophic event to prevent them from accessing water, the heat still bore down so inexorably that Hizashi could almost feel the world itself telling him and his team to turn around.

It was amazing that anyone chose to live here, really.

…Of course, most who did traveled only at night, and spent their days in towns surrounding water with various architectural and technological mechanisms to combat the heat.

Hizashi couldn't do that.

His team was searching for any sign of Orochimaru, and that meant that not only did they have to grid search as much of the endless nothing as possible, they also had to do it in the daytime, given that light was required for most of the trackers he was running with to actually do their jobs.

Hizashi took another swig of water, absently pressing into the seal on the side of his canteen to refill what he'd just consumed, and continued doggedly forward.

There hadn't been any progress yet, but Hizashi was more than aware of what the snake summoner had done to his brother, had been right outside the door as the hours of surgery passed.

Hizashi knew exactly what Orochimaru was capable of, and he was not giving up until every possible burrow was ferreted out.

.

Rento knocked, but no one answered.

After a minute or two he went in anyway; his mom had a key, so it was probably fine.

It didn't take long to find Yoriko; she was lying in bed, a pillow over her head and both arms pressing it further into her face.

"Migraine?" Rento whispered. Yoriko whimpered, then whispered her agreement. He winced, then cast a quick jutsu—getting rid of noises was a no-go, given how Yoriko was a ninja and therefore primed for danger, but many jounin-senseis intentionally trained their students to learn how to relax under purely visual jutsus when they knew they were safe.

After a moment his sister visibly relaxed, no longer worried about allowing any sunlight to get to her from her window.

"I'm going to make you tea," Rento whispered next. "I'll use a seal." Because it was quicker and less loud than using a proper teapot.

Yoriko didn't acknowledge him.

It had—

Well, Yoriko had been excited, at first, to find out she could mind-walk.

It was certainly the most coveted of the many strains of their bloodline (the only one that was directly linked with pupil-less-ness), and guaranteed good money too—the Yamanaka clan even paid an additional bonus on top of whatever Konoha paid for every job.

But there was a reason for that.

Doing it too much, too often, without enough breaks—

It left you lying in bed with a pillow over your face while you tried to drown out the pain, and there was no currently known medication that really helped.

After the tea was ready, Rento brought it in a thermos to Yoriko. He left, running to the library to ask their mother to send over soup later, then came back. Yoriko was, blessedly, asleep, and so Rento cleaned the dishes as quickly and quietly as possible, collected all the dirty laundry to bring back to their mom, and watered Yoriko's plants.

This was at least a weekly routine, now, but still Rento's heart clenched.

It was getting worse, not better. Before Yoriko had at least been able to make it to the door, been able to keep water at her bedside, but she hadn't bothered this time.

She needed a break.

Konoha needed mind-walkers.

Someone had to suffer, and Rento was tired of it being his sister.

…But. But, Rento was a sealer.

Was, in point of fact, a sealer specializing in tattoo seals.

…What if—

That wouldn't—

But maybe—

Could he—

He needed to talk to his aunt.

.

Hyuuga Mawaru stood on the training ground. It was decently sized, about five blocks squared, but nowhere near the size of the Hyuuga Compound.

If he and the rest of the branch were to separate, though, then they'd need land, and this was one of the only training grounds large enough that Konoha would even theoretically be willing to part with.

It was being used at the moment—the Hatake boy working with a group of children on some kind of obstacle course—but no one had protested his presence, and Mawaru walked the ground, imagining a cluster of houses, gardens, a smaller training ground for their clan specifically. It was just on the edge of the training grounds, too, which meant it was only a few weeks to the market, and (as evidenced by the Hatake's presence) reasonably close to several of the manors for smaller clans as well.

Really, truly, Mawaru felt entitled to the current Hyuuga Compound. It was his ancestors' blood, sweat, and tears which had earned the property, after all, had suffered for the benefit of the current owners.

But Head Hiashi had been more accommodating than Mawaru had expected in this process, and he knew better than to push his luck, than to demand any more than his and his family's freedom.

And Hiashi had already agreed to that.

(What Hizashi would do remained a mystery, and Mawaru suspected that would continue to be the case until someone actually asked him.

(Mawaru wasn't about to ask.)

Mawaru had one more training ground to look at, but it was about half the size—the only reason he'd even wanted to consider it was the included pond, but given how small this ground was he doubted that would be enough to sway him.

Still, he'd discuss it with his family, later, discuss what they thought.

There was also the idea of living outside Konoha's walls, but the added risk meant that he sincerely doubted anyone would be interested.

One day, someday soon, his people might live right here, might live in their own houses, might live without fear.

Mawaru smiled.

Left the Hatake boy and his students to their training.

And began planning next steps.