Summer, Year 10 of Konoha.
That summer seemed to have been pinned in place by that ink-drenched couplet. The days were unusually sweltering, and unusually long. Though the Anbu and the Sealing Squad had scraped the couplet clean overnight, grinding away even a layer of stone before whitewashing it again, those two lines and that four-character inscription were like red-hot molten iron poured into the hearts of quite a few people in Konoha, sizzling and smoking, burning painfully enough to keep them awake at night.
Among those "quite a few people" were, naturally, the disciples at the Hokage Building-young in years, but each more calculating than the next.
When the news reached them, they were resting together beneath the trees beside the training ground. It was hot, and after a morning of training, they were so drenched in sweat they looked as though they had been fished out of the water. Hiruzen Sarutobi leaned against a tree trunk, sipping from a waterskin, his gaze resting on the school gateposts in the distance, scraped pale. There was no telling what he was thinking. Shimura Danzō sat opposite him, poking an anthill in the ground over and over with the tip of his kunai, his expression dark. Utatane Koharu and Mitokado Homura sat side by side on a rock, quietly discussing a detail of the hand seals for a ninjutsu, though they were clearly somewhat distracted too. Torifu Akimichi sat at the outer edge, holding a cloth bundle. He had just taken a rice ball from it and was about to bite into it, but paused at the news. Kagami Uchiha sat alone on a wooden post a little farther away, vigorously wiping a shuriken with a piece of coarse cloth, his knuckles white.
The ninja responsible for bringing their lunch had