"And better handwriting," Kushina added.
"My handwriting is fine."
"Your handwriting is functional. There's a difference." She nudged his shoulder with her own, a gesture so natural Tatsuya almost didn't notice it. Almost.
"Eat your lunch. We'll continue after."
They ate. The conversation drifted to other topics, village gossip, training schedules, a funny story about one of Jiraiya's infiltration techniques going wrong. Kushina's impression of Jiraiya trying to pass as a merchant involved gestures that couldn't have been anatomically accurate. Minato nearly choked on his rice.
Normal conversation. Tatsuya let himself sit in it.
---
The briefing room was smaller than Tatsuya expected, tucked away in the administrative building's second floor where foot traffic was light and conversations stayed private. Jiraiya had chosen the location deliberately, which meant whatever they were about to discuss wasn't for general consumption.
Team Jiraiya filled most of the available seating. Minato sat to Tatsuya's left, posture relaxed but eyes alert. Across the table, a man Tatsuya didn't recognize slouched in his chair with the practiced ease of a Nara. Older, maybe early thirties, with sharp eyes that contradicted his lazy posture.
"Hideaki Nara," the man said, noticing Tatsuya's evaluation. "Intelligence liaison. You're the medic."
"Tatsuya Meguri."
"I know." Hideaki didn't elaborate, just turned his attention back to the door as Jiraiya entered.
The Toad Sage closed the door behind him and ddin't bother with preamble. "Kumo's preparing. We need to know for what."
He spread reconnaissance photographs across the table. Distant shots of military encampments, supply movements, troop formations. The quality varied, but the pattern was clear to anyone who knew what to look for.
"Border buildup?" Minato asked.
"Beyond normal levels. They've moved three additional battalions into forward positions over the past month. Supply lines are being reinforced. Medical infrastructure is expanding."
Tatsuya studied the photographs. "Medical infrastructure as in field hospitals? Or surgical facilities?"
Hideaki's eyebrows shifted a fraction. "Surgical. Heavy equipment, which means preparation for significant casualties."
"Offensive casualties, not defensive. If they were expecting to defend, the infrastructure would already be established."
"That's the analysis." Jiraiya pulled out another photograph, this one showing a single figure at the center of a command tent. The image was blurry, taken from extreme distance. "Gashira Yotsuki. He's running their border operations."
The name landed heavily. Tatsuya recognized it from the intelligence archives he'd been studying since Jiraiya's warning two weeks ago. "Raikage's cousin. Storm Release wielder."
"You've done your homework."
"Storm Release — lightning and water fused into a third element. Laser-like beams with homing capability." Tatsuya met Jiraiya's eyes. "Thirty-seven confirmed kills against Konoha and Iwa combined."
Minato's expression had sharpened. "You fought alongside the Yotsuki clan, didn't you? During the last war?"
"Alongside and against, at different points." Jiraiya's voice carried the weight of old memories. "I knew Gashira's uncle before the alliance collapsed. The whole clan is dangerous, lightning nature specialists with a bloodline limit on top of that. But Gashira earned his reputation independently. He doesn't rely on his family name."
"Assessment?" Hideaki asked.
"If Kumo's making a move, he'll be running point. And if we encounter him..." Jiraiya's gaze swept across the table. "We disengage. He's beyond what this team can handle. Beyond what damn near any team can handle."
"What if disengagement isn't possible?" Minato's question was practical, not challenging.
"Then I handle him and you run. This isn't about pride, it's about survival. His unit has a zero-failure record on offensive operations. The shinobi who try to fight him don't get second chances."
The room absorbed that. Tatsuya thought about the intelligence leak, about being on a list. Gashira Yotsuki would know his targets inside and out before engagement.
"The mission," Hideaki said, pulling attention back to practicalities. "Reconnaissance. Primary objective is assessing their military buildup, confirming the offensive timeline. Secondary objective is identifying any intelligence leaks that might be compromising our patrol operations."
"The ambush in Grass Country," Tatsuya said. "They knew too much."
"They had specifics. Whether that's a leak or just good intelligence work remains to be determined." Hideaki tapped one of the photographs. "The supply movements suggest three to four months before they're ready to move. We need confirmation."
Jiraiya rolled up the photographs. "Mission launches in one week. Team composition will be finalized tomorrow. Until then, prepare for extended deployment in hostile territory."
The briefing continued — logistics, communication protocols, contingency plans — but Tatsuya's mind kept returning to that blurry photograph.
Five to ten years until war resumed, Minato had said. Maybe less now.
---
The eastern training ground at dusk. Shadows lengthening across trampled grass, the last light painting everything amber and grey.
Duy was already there when Tatsuya arrived, finishing a handstand sequence that would have crippled a normal spine. He dropped to his feet as Tatsuya approached, bouncing slightly in place, perpetual motion incarnate.
"Tatsuya-kun, you've been thinking," Duy said.
"I'm always thinking."
"About the wrong things, usually." No judgment in the words. Just observation. "You mentioned a Kumo mission?"
"Among other things." Tatsuya set down his pack, rolled his shoulders. "I read the intelligence files. Gashira Yotsuki."
"Ah." Duy's expression went distant for a moment. "I've heard the name. Dangerous man."
"Jiraiya said to run if we encounter him."
"Jiraiya-sama is wise." Duy settled into stillness, always jarring from a man usually in constant motion. "But that's not what we're training for tonight. Tonight, no conditioning. No forms."
The air between them shifted. "The Gate."
"The Gate."
Tatsuya closed his eyes. Reached inward, following the familiar path through his chakra network to the place where the First Gate waited. Solid and immovable, a door in his mind that he'd been pushing against for months.
He pushed. The Gate didn't move.
"You're forcing it," Duy said quietly.
"That's how doors open."
"Not this one." A pause. "Your body is ready. Your chakra can handle the strain. But understanding and preparation, they'll only take you so far young man."
Tatsuya opened his eyes. "You've said that before. Necessity over results."
"I have." Duy moved to sit across from him, folding into a cross-legged position. "Tell me, have you ever been in a moment where thinking stopped?"
"Combat. The ambush in Grass Country from recent memory, there were a few seconds where I wasn't deciding, just acting."
"Close. But not the same." Duy was quiet for a while. The insects filled the silence. "When I first opened the Gate, I was younger than you. Genin. Supply run along the northern border."
Tatsuya waited. Duy didn't often talk about himself.
"Four of us. C-rank escort, routine." He paused. "Should have been routine."
"Ambush?"
"Three Kumo shinobi at a river crossing. Our team leader went down in the first exchange. Second man took a kunai through his sword arm." Duy's hands rested on his knees, still. "Just me and a man who couldn't hold a weapon. Three enemies who were faster and stronger and better trained."
"What did you do?"
"Nothing I'd planned." The faintest smile. "I'd trained for years by then. Every morning before dawn, working on what I understood of the Gates. Read everything, practiced everything, pushed until my body broke and then pushed the next day. None of it opened the door."
He let the silence sit.
"But there at the river, with Takeshi bleeding behind me and three shinobi closing in, I wasn't thinking about technique. Wasn't thinking about training. I was thinking about the man behind me who was going to die if I didn't do the impossible."
"And it opened."
Duy nodded slowly. "Not because I was ready. Because there was nothing else."
Tatsuya sat with that. Thought about his own attempts, the careful visualization, the systematic approach, the controlled pressure against the threshold. All the things that had worked for every other technique he'd learned.
"You're telling me I can't think my way through this."
"I'm telling you the Gate doesn't care what you know. It cares what you need." Duy was quiet again for a moment. "I spent years after that trying to understand what I'd done. Couldn't repeat it on demand. Just kept training."
"What changed?"
"My son was born." Duy went still in a way that had nothing to do with his body. "Holding him for the first time, that's when I understood what necessity actually meant. Not 'I might die.' Not 'this man might die.' But 'there is a person who needs me to come home.'" He looked at Tatsuya directly. "After that, the Gate was there when I reached for it."
"Your son is the reason."
"My son is why I'd open every Gate I have." He said it simply, the way he said everything that mattered. "Though, I do have to mention Tatsuya-kun, whilst this is my first time teaching someone, I do knwo that this sort of thing... its different for everyone, so don't go around having kids on my account." Duy grinned.
"I appreciate the precaution Duy, wasn't planning on it." Tatsuya smiled.
They sat in the quiet for a while. Somewhere in the village, a dog barked. Patrol lights moved across the distant rooftops.
"What about tonight's session?"
"Plenty of philosophy for one evening." Duy stood, rolling his shoulders. "Tomorrow. Conditioning. Your left knee is tracking wider than it should." He extended a hand, pulling Tatsuya to his feet. "The Gate will be there when you need it, but try not to need it too soon."
---
His apartment was dark when he returned. He dropped his pack by the door and moved to the desk where the intelligence files on Gashira Yotsuki were stacked beside Kushina's practice sheets.
He sat down and opened the files. Yotsuki clan tactics. Storm Release mechanics. Known operational patterns. The seal notation on Minato's scroll had been incomprehensible; this, at least, he could study.
Outside, Konoha settled into its evening, lanterns in the restaurant districts, shinobi crossing rooftops, the ordinary rhythms of a village that didn't know how little time it had.
He worked until the lamp guttered.