Jiraiya's eyes ached. It was dawn, and he was supposed to get up, but no one would notice if he didn't; the only person who even still cared was Taida, and Taida was… irrelevant. Just one assistant in a line of them.

He hadn't done much, this week.

This month.

The world kept spinning around him, and he noted its movements with an idle eye.

What was the point, of continuing?

He'd tried to remind himself of life's pleasures.

Of drinking, and sex, and gambling.

He'd dove in headfirst, did his best to improve his mood.

He'd won more than he'd lost.

He hadn't felt like it.

Orochimaru was still out of reach, his former teammate turned traitor building up his power base where Jiraiya couldn't touch him. In the past years enough rumors had swirled that Jiraiya had managed to glean at least some of the truth; he was continuing his experiments, which were deadlier than ever, but he was also amassing more and more powerful allies, and they did not mind supplying him with victims.

Once, that had been enough to drive him.

The desperation of salvaging his friend.

But—

No one else saw it that way.

No one else saw him as redeemable.

And—

Jiraiya got that, mostly.

Understood that his teammate's actions, the ages of his victims—

Understood why people thought—

But—Jiraiya had to believe, if he just got to Orochimaru, if they just learned how to reverse whatever he'd tried and failed to do to his brain—

No one else agreed.

No one.

And yet they still looked at him to track Orochimaru down, to bring his teammate in to face justice. Jiraiya didn't mind that, really. He didn't.

He just minded the feeling of coming back to Konoha alone.

Unsuccessful.

Once, he'd thought that if he couldn't save Orochimaru, then at least he could at least stop him from hurting others.

Years, and years, and years of failure had drilled into Jiraiya that this wasn't true.

He couldn't do anything.

And now—

Now everybody else knew too.

Nobody expected anything of him. Even Taida was able to do his work without intervention. Sensei could barely look at him, talk to him. His own student—his only surviving student—didn't need him, wasn't looking at him for even sealing answers.

He was useless.

And nothing, absolutely nothing he tried to do let him forget it.

And so…

So he stayed in bed.

What was the point in doing anything else?

.

Kiri was gone, and had been gone for years.

Its legacy, however, lived on.

The Kurosoki family was not, and had never been, a shinobi clan. What it was, however, was powerful. They had dirt on just about every other Water clan, and they knew how to use it. How to maintain power even after fleeing their islands, even after 'settling' in Kaiso, even after everything.

And now—

Now the Kurosoki family wanted to move back to Water.

By itself, that wasn't an issue.

It was only when factoring in why they wanted to move to Water the problem arose.

Calling it a plan for a hidden village was too inaccurate a descriptor.

Calling it a plan for power was, however, wholly accurate.

What the research genin Nohara Kimiko had overheard all those months ago had necessitated a far greater investment into Kaiso intelligence, and that along with everything that had happened with the Yamanaka Head's fiancée—well.

Well, that's when Nara Taida was called to the Hokage's Office.

The good news was that the Kurosoki family didn't want to reform Kiri.

The Kurosoki family just wanted power.

Money.

Security.

…The exact things that a hidden village provided, even if the Kurosoki family didn't necessarily consider the advantages of such a setup in the same order of importance that the Uchiha and Senju clans once had.

It was clear, now, that the Kurosoki family had gotten the power they had through intimidation, threats, fraud, and murder. It had been very, very successful and they saw no reason to stop. They'd needed to settle, for a while, when their land was being ravaged by a madman with too much power to risk anything against, but Konoha had dealt with that issue neatly as far as they were concerned.

In the time since the Kurosoki family had taken up residence in Kaiso a good number of them had ended up imprisoned (particularly after the kidnapping), but they'd been smart enough about it, and the men who actually had power were not the ones who carried out the crimes.

It was little surprise, then, that the Hokage had decided to take drastic measures.

It was already clear that the highest of the family were not in Kaiso, were squirreled away somewhere or other in a (formerly) Water island that Konoha did not have control of.

The mid-level family members, however, were still on Konoha grounds.

Were still…

Usable.

Assuming Konoha actually had the time and resources, of course.

(What Taida wanted more than anything was more mindwalkers.

(He wondered if Head Yamanaka could start offering bonuses for additional children.)

Kiri was gone, the Kurosoki family was moving to take advantage of the limited governance, and Konoha had no other choice:

It was time to act.

Taida wouldn't watch, himself.

He would, as always, be trapped in his office, collecting and collating information from sources around the world. He'd realized that nobody was going to offer him assistance, too, and was therefore more than a little busy spying on various genin and chuunin, aiming to hand select apprentices in the same manner he'd been indoctrinated.

So he wouldn't watch, wouldn't take part.

But it was his hand that had identified those family members who were particularly dangerous.

It was his hand that had identified the non-family members who were still inextricably intertwined with the growing syndicate.

If Jiraiya was unwilling to offer assistance—fine.

Taida would just have to do it all himself.

.

Kohana sighed.

Inoichi glanced at her. "Tasty, right?"

"I love a good matcha cake," she agreed. Smiling slightly, she leaned over him, picking up his pen and putting a tick next to 'cake'. "Well, would you look at that!" Inoichi watched as she traced down the line of check marks. "One might almost think we're ready to be married!"

Inoichi grinned.

It had taken a lot of effort. Inoichi had had to carve time out of his schedule to spend with Kohana, to spend with his other family members too, and for all that he still dealt with his anxieties about what needed to be done while he was away—he'd done it.

He'd made time.

And now—

Now he was happy, again.

Still dealing with headaches, more often than not. Still stressed beyond belief. Still with paperwork piling up faster than he could whittle it down.

But he had Kohana.

He had his cousins, and his friends, and his family.

"It's almost as if we already have the date set," he responded.

"And the guests invited."

"And the food selected."

"And the wedding dress tailored."

Inoichi's grin widened as he and Kohana leaned further and further into each other, reveling in their approaching vows.

And then a buzzer sounded.

Kohana was sitting up straight in an instant, glancing at the clock with a frown—Inoichi had specifically carved out the whole of the hour to spend with her, and there was still six minutes left.

He stood to get the door anyway; his family, at the very least, had finally gotten the message that he should be left undisturbed with Kohana whenever possible.

It was not a Yamanaka, as expected.

It was a messenger.

"For you," the messenger said. Inoichi spared a moment to check the headband—correct—and the seal type—clearly one of Konoha's—then took the storage seal, signing off on the turnover as he did.

"What is it?" Kohana asked.

"A message from Chouza," Inoichi said. "I… can't say more." He was moving to grab his weapons already, dry swallowing some naproxen as he did. When he came downstairs Kohana had already laid out his favorite greaves, and then he was gone.

Should he have been contacted?

Likely not, given that Chouza was certainly not in charge.

But it was his fiancée, the love of his life who had been harmed.

So he might not have been invited to the hunt, but that did not mean Inoichi was not going to participate.

The Kurosoki family would pay.

.

It was well understood that in times of immense distress people were capable of great things.

Mothers would lift whole trees off their trapped babies; one friend would carry another for miles to safety.

In times where it mattered most, you could be made strong enough to endure.

…But not for certain.

And certainly not on purpose.

No expert in the world could incite the necessary feeling on purpose, and even if you found yourself in such a predicament there was every chance that you just wouldn't have the strength, no matter how much you wished you did.

Researchers were, however, able to figure a couple things out.

Memory, for one, was wholly necessary.

Not memory of the brain (what use was that, when you were too distraught to think?), but memory of the body.

Every iryounin, therefore, trained in CPR until they could do it thoughtlessly, instinctively, immediately, without the slightest hesitation.

And every sensor trained so that throwing out their sense was something they did whenever they woke up, whenever they entered a new room, whenever they met a new person, the muscle memory kicking in even when they were sleep deprived or chakra deprived.

It wasn't just specialists, either; every Academy graduate was trained in a few life-saving measures, was trained to press onto wounds, to circulate chakra to maintain temperatures, and—critically—to catch falling comrades.

It was this instinct that kicked in for Rin, that kicked in for everyone around her.

It was this instinct that propelled her forward, under the falling body coming down from the cliffside.

(They were out of Iwa, now. Out of the Land of Marshes too. Firmly in the Land of Fire, but even fire had its elevation changes.)

Obito was up in the air and the back of her mind took note, adjusted her position, and Kakashi was wooshing out—oh, an air jutsu, quick thinking—and Obito had a leg and Rin was underneath the man, grabbing him to prevent his head from touching the ground, and—

"Hey, I know him!" Kakashi said.

"Missing-nin," Rin noted blankly. Her brain had just kicked on, she was still working with Obito to set him on the ground, but—the slash on the leaf spoke volumes.

Except to Obito, which was why she said it out loud.

Obito gave a low whistle, and the man—clearly conscious, and what did that say?—glowered angrily between them.

"Uchiha," Kakashi said, and that—far more than Rin's note—caught Obito's attention.

"What?"

"Not Uchiha," the man spat. "Haven't been Uchiha for a long time."

"Fuma?" Rin suggested, and the man snorted.

"Not that neither. Just—just a child of a bastard."

Obito signed quickly—two approaching, direction of Konoha—and Kakashi grunted. "Uchiha Shinichi." And that wasn't an uncommon name, but Rin could just about feel Obito stiffen. "Son of Uchiha Takashi, who helped Uchiha Madara… with his aims." What a polite way of putting it. Shinichi sneered, clearly disagreeing.

Rin… hadn't known that there were any Uchiha who helped out Madara especially, to be honest. Like, the Uchiha she knew had always been touchy about the subject of the co-founder under the best of times, but this implied—well.

You could let someone keep the name while shunning them, after all.

"What were you doing?" Kakashi asked.

"Killing myself," the man answered, easy-as-could-be, and then two shapes appeared at the top of the cliff.

"Identify yourself!" Both groups shouted at once. There was some hesitation, and then—when the two with the higher ground clearly had a better look at the situation, and who exactly had Uchiha Shinichi trapped—the other group answered.

"Iwashi Tatami and Shiranui Genma, chuunin tracking team."

Kakashi made a quick sign; that last part was a lie. With the other hand he was gesturing them down, though, so clearly they were Leaf-nin.

"This guy says he was trying to kill himself." Kakashi said.

"Makes sense," the younger of the two—Shiranui Genma, apparently—said. "He's wanted for trafficking."

"Ah," Rin said, as diplomatically as she could manage.

Obito winced.

"We were important!" Uchiha Shinichi shouted. "We obeyed, and look where that got us! I only did what I had to do!"

Already, though, Obito and Kakashi had him bound. They didn't bother with any special seals; the ages of the two 'trackers' made it obvious enough that he had no special skill.

"What you had to do…" Rin said leadingly.

He turned on her, and his eyes were—wild. Flickering.

"The great Orochimaru understands Madara! Understands! He wanted Konohans, and who was I—"

Okay, they were wrong. Very, very wrong. The boys were already working to correct their mistakes, whipping out very strong seals and making damn sure that the man couldn't get away. And, on second thought, both Shiranui and Iwashi looked… very prepared.

Okay, ANBU.

That… made sense.

She would've appreciated the heads-up on the danger, but it made sense.

"Don't worry," Iwashi said. "He was a paper pusher, ostensibly." And now both Kakashi and her both waited as there was an unusual pause, as something unsaid passed between him and Obito. Obito relaxed. "Trafficking… it's bad, but he didn't do the dirty work himself. He just figured out we were onto him and went running two days ahead of time."

They were barely eight hours outside Konoha.

…Eight hours average ninja speed, anyway. Clearly a very different matter if you were a paper-nin.

"Need some help?" Obito offered brightly.

Rin narrowed her eyes at him.

"Sure, could always use a hand!" The elder ANBU replied.

Okay, fine.

Obito was ANBU.

…Brat.

She'd just figure out how to punish him for not dropping hints later. Right now there were bigger fish to fry.

The three ANBU and prisoner were quickly out of sight, and she and Kakashi—who were obviously not intended to follow—turned and looked at each other.

"Why do you know so much about the Uchiha?"

"Why are you concerned about that? And not Obito—Obito lying to us!"

"That's what ANBU are supposed to do. Now, about the Uchiha…"

"Come on, refocus! He's Obito! He's not supposed to be capable of—of—that!"

"Kakashi. Uchiha."

Kakashi shrugged. "I mean, it was part of—" And then he went silent.

One beat.

Two.

He broke.

"I've been, maybe, reading some of… my dad's notes. On how to be clan head. Maybe. With Kurenai. Maybe. And they might've, um, mentioned some things. About Madara. And everything that happened after. And then I asked Obito, but he didn't want to say shit—except that he admitted that it was a large clan, so sometimes they had issues with 'group cohesion', whatever that means, and then—well, and then Researcher Sakura wanted to measure my back for the final trial seal to give the tailed beasts avatars and I kind of got distracted."

Rin blinked at Kakashi.

The slightest hint of red was apparent just over his face mask.

He turned towards Konoha. "On that note, we really should get back! I'd be downright rude to my companion if I delayed their quasi-freedom any longer!"

And he was a blur in the distance, and Rin was clearly going to make the rest of the journey alone.

Well, there was only one thing for it.

Rin needed to get some secrets of her own.