Dawn broke over Konoha, casting long shadows across the empty streets. Minato, Kushina, and Makima met Jiraiya at the main gate. Minato's pack was compact and perfectly weighted, Kushina's was slightly oversized (packed with emergency ramen), and Makima carried only the essentials, her movements light and precise.
Jiraiya, looking slightly disheveled but still exuberant, led them out.
"First rule of wartime deployment, bratlings," Jiraiya announced, adjusting his pack. "Always move with purpose. We are crossing the Land of Fire, and then cutting through some truly miserable borderlands. It's a long run, so conserve chakra, move silently, and never trust a rabbit, especially one with glowing red eyes."
Kushina glared at him. "What kind of rule is that?"
"The experienced kind, Kushina-chan. The experienced kind." He winked. "Don't worry. We'll be running formations. Minato, you're the advance scout. Kushina, you're the perimeter guard. Makima-chan, you'll stick closest to me as tactical observer."
The three Genin exchanged glances. Minato nodded, already moving into a quick, steady pace ten yards ahead. Kushina grumbled slightly, finding the constant vigilance tiring. Makima simply fell into step behind Jiraiya, her golden eyes constantly sweeping the tree line.
The initial travel through the deep forests of the Land of Fire was swift. Minato, utilizing his speed and natural pathfinding skills, was flawless. However, as they transitioned into the rocky, scrubland territories near the border, Jiraiya decided to test them beyond simple marching.
"Halt!" Jiraiya's voice was suddenly sharp, stripped of its usual bravado.
They stopped instantly. Jiraiya pointed toward a narrow, dusty trail leading between two sharp cliff faces.
"That is the path to the Land of Wind, and it's heavily monitored. I want you to run that kilometer section in a tight, soundless formation. Minato, lead. Makima, mid-guard. Kushina, rear-guard. I'm walking the high ground. If I hear anything louder than a mouse fart, or if you break formation, we double back and do it again. Go."
Minato took off immediately, his steps barely stirring the dust. Kushina tried to keep up, but her raw power was still clumsy, and her boots occasionally scraped a loose rock. Makima, however, was unnervingly efficient. She moved with a fluid, economical grace, conserving every ounce of energy while maintaining perfect distance from Minato's pace. She was the ghost between two hurricanes.
After two hundred yards, Kushina, slightly out of breath and frustrated, leaned to the side, kicking a small, flat stone into the cliff face with a loud crack.
Jiraiya's voice echoed from above, stern and immediate: "BREAK FORMATION! BACK TO THE START! And Kushina-chan, that wasn't a mouse fart. That was a small land mine."
The trio trudged back to the starting line. They repeated the drill four times, each repetition ending with a minor, frustrating error—a rustle of clothing, a clumsy footfall, or once, Jiraiya simply declaring the formation broken because Makima had anticipated a shadow and adjusted her path without verbal confirmation.
On the fifth attempt, they made it. When they emerged, Jiraiya was waiting, lounging lazily on the first rocky outcrop.
"Acceptable," he sighed, returning to his usual persona. "You have teamwork, but no synchronization. We will fix that. Now, let's rest for five minutes. Makima-chan, come here."
Makima approached Jiraiya, who was already scribbling notes in a small, worn notebook.
"Tell me your assessment of the team's failure to synchronize," he murmured, without looking up.
Makima's voice was low and purely analytical. "Minato-kun is focused entirely on the objective, but his pace is based on his own efficiency, not ours. He needs an anchor or a clear limit. Kushina-chan is motivated by energy, but her lack of precise chakra control makes her movements loud and volatile. She is the raw strength that needs constant harnessing."
She paused, considering Jiraiya's Flirting Tactics of a Gutsy Ninja notebook.
"And you, Jiraiya-sensei, are trying to teach us the fundamental necessity of teamwork while simultaneously attempting to gauge our individual thresholds for pressure and fatigue. You failed us multiple times just to watch how we reacted to being told to retreat."
Jiraiya froze, his pen hovering above the page. He slowly looked up, his expression losing all trace of humor.
"You're too sharp for a Genin, Makima."
Makima smiled, that perfect, harmless smile. "I am merely observing the structure of the team, Sensei. Minato-kun is the speed. Kushina-chan is the power. And I, Sensei, am the control. For any system to work, its components must be understood."
Her observation was a veiled promise of obedience to the village, and a mental blueprint of the chains she was already forging.
Minato values safety and efficiency. He will obey any order that serves to protect Kushina.
Kushina values ambition and strength. She will follow the person who she believes can make her the strongest Hokage.
Jiraiya values peace and his research. He will ignore any minor administrative deviation if it means he can continue his pursuit of either.
Makima knew how to pull every string.
After their brief rest, the atmosphere changed completely. Jiraiya led them out of the rocky scrubland and onto the dusty, hard-packed earth characteristic of the Land of Wind border. The playful jokes ceased, and Jiraiya's eyes became cold and tactical.
"From this point on, you are in a live combat zone," he whispered. "You are no longer kids. This is the border. We are crossing into enemy territory. Find cover."
A strong, dry wind carried sand and the low, distant rumble of artillery fire from the western horizon. The tension was palpable. Kushina's face was grim, her hand instinctively resting on the hilt of her kunai. Minato's breathing was shallow and controlled, already mentally tracking wind direction and potential ambush points.
Makima stood perfectly still, letting the dust settle on her uniform. This landscape, dry and unforgiving, felt appropriate. It was a blank canvas for the exercise of power.
"Our target is an abandoned border post three miles out," Jiraiya reported, drawing a quick map in the dirt. "We need to determine if it's currently being used by Suna patrols. Move low, move slow, and if you see a flicker of movement, assume it's hostile. Understood?"
"Understood," the three Genin responded, their voices quiet but firm.