We moved through the branches in silence.
It wasn't exactly an alliance.It was… a strategic truce.
"We've got until noon," I said quietly. "We're not going to take a bell in direct combat. Not even you."
Sasuke nodded, serious. No arguments. Which, coming from him, was basically a "you're right."
"Clones?"
"He detects them before they even touch the ground."
"Traps?"
"He's already using them."
Silence again.
"Then," he murmured, "we improvise."
"No. We think like him."
We stopped on a high branch. From there, we could see Sakura still hiding behind some bushes, frozen in place. Tense. Poor thing looked like a wire about to snap.
Sasuke made a small gesture of disdain. Tiny. But it was there.
"What?"
"She's useless," he spat.
"You mean her?" I raised an eyebrow. "That's exactly why we need to bring her in."
He slowly turned his face toward me, as if trying to figure out whether I was serious or just insane.
"She's paralyzed."
"And you're emotionally constipated. We all have problems."
Sasuke clenched his jaw. Didn't reply.
"This test is about teamwork," I continued. "If we ignore her, we fail. If we use her as bait, we fail. But if we give her a role—any role—that changes everything."
"And if she doesn't want to?"
"Then I'll drag her by the ponytail. End of dilemma."
He didn't answer, but for the first time, he jumped down from the tree with me.
We approached without her noticing.
"Sakura," I said firmly.
She jumped like someone had jabbed a senbon up her spine.
"W-what?! Who's there?!"
"The only two working brains left on this team," I replied. "And we need yours."
"Mine? For what?"
Sasuke sighed, already losing patience.
"Just cooperate."
Sakura swallowed hard.
"But… I'm not as good as you two. I don't have any offensive jutsu..."
"We don't need you to fight," I said, meeting her eyes. "We need you to think. To act like part of a team."
Her shoulders were still tense, but this time, she nodded. Barely. A tiny yes. But enough.
Perfect.
Now we were three.
"What's the plan?" Sakura asked as we moved through the underbrush.
"A trap," I replied. "But not like his. One that hits where he least expects it—his ego."
Sasuke raised an eyebrow.Sakura swallowed again.I smiled.
The plan was simple.
Too simple, which made it perfect.
First, I sent a clone to Naruto and gave him instructions.
He'd attack first as a distraction. Then Sasuke and I would let ourselves be seen, pretending to fall into the brute force strategy Kakashi expected from hotheaded genin.
After that, Sakura would throw a subtle distraction: an explosive tag from afar, intentionally off-target—just enough to make it look like a rookie mistake and make her seem harmless.
And while Kakashi was mentally mocking our "tactical immaturity," I'd do the one thing he wouldn't expect from a genin student.
I'd talk to him like an equal.
We found him near a small stream, reading that stupid orange book like time didn't exist.
As expected, Naruto was the first to move.
Sasuke attacked next, with me at his side.
He jumped into the air, kunai in hand, and threw three shuriken like he meant it.
Kakashi deflected one with a finger. Dodged the second without looking. Caught the third with the edge of his book.
"This again?" he said, bored.
I appeared behind Sasuke, launching a cloud of blinding powder. It didn't hit.
Of course it didn't.
Kakashi vanished.
Then reappeared, same damn calm, right where he knew we'd see him.
And then Sakura threw her tag.
It exploded about five meters behind him, a dull flash of light. Didn't hit him. That wasn't the point.
Kakashi barely turned his head.
"That's it?"
And at that moment, I was already in front of him.
Dangerously close.
Not with a kunai.Not with a punch.
With a question.
"How many teams passed your test last year?"
He froze.
No words. No jokes. No bells jingling.
He just looked at me.
"And how many failed," I continued, "because they didn't understand the real test was about trusting each other?"
Sasuke appeared on my left. Sakura on my right.
We didn't attack. We didn't move.
We just stood there. Together. An imperfect line. Uncoordinated. Fragile. But firm.
And for the first time, Kakashi didn't answer right away.
"Hm."
He closed the book.
Looked at the bells.
"You must be very confident in that theory," he said at last.
"Confident enough to fail together," I replied.
"Or pass together," added Sakura.
And Sasuke...
Just muttered:
"As a team."
"Dattebayo!" said Naruto.
A thick silence fell over the clearing. The only sound was the stream and a few falling leaves.
Then Kakashi laughed. A low laugh. Almost nostalgic.
"Well... looks like someone finally got it."
And he tossed the bells into the air.
I caught one without effort.
Sasuke too.
Sakura caught hers with both hands.
And Naruto got nothing… yet Kakashi didn't look at him with disappointment.
"And you," he said, pointing at her, "you acted knowing you wouldn't get anything in return. But you did it for them. That's the kind of teammate I want on my squad."
Naruto was speechless. Literally. I think he forgot how to breathe.
And me?
I crossed my arms.
"It was that or leave him crying behind a bush."
"Hey!"
Kakashi sighed, pulling out a bento box from his bag.
"Lunch for four. But this time, no one eats alone."
Sasuke frowned.
"Even after you said those without bells wouldn't eat?"
Kakashi smiled.
"In the shinobi world, those who break the rules are scum… but those who abandon their friends are worse than scum."
Dramatic pause. How theatrical.
"That's what my best friend said," he added, looking up at the sky.
I looked down.
Not out of respect.Out of instinct.
Because something told me that sentence… carried more weight than it seemed.