We headed out to Training Ground 7 that morning, the three of us moving in a loose formation through the village streets, me in the lead, Naruko bouncing along beside me like she was on some endless sugar high, and Neji trailing a step behind, his posture as rigid and unyielding as ever. We'd all eaten lightly, just enough to keep the edge off without weighing us down. For me, it was a simple bowl of rice and some grilled fish, nothing flashy. Naruko had scarfed down a couple of onigiri she'd made herself, which were surprisingly edible this time, though I'd double-checked to make sure she hadn't snuck in something toxic by accident. Neji, being the stoic Hyuga he was, probably had something equally minimalist, like tea and a protein bar or whatever passed for breakfast in that uptight clan of his.
Kakashi's "recommendation" about not eating had been noted, but ignored; we weren't about to starve ourselves for his mind games.
Naruko was decked out in her new coat, the one she'd splurged on recently with some of her stipend that she was saving up since she was basically living in my house for the most part. It was eerily similar to that red flame-emblazoned jacket her male counterpart had worn during the Pain invasion in the original timeline. But hers was orange, of course, because why wouldn't it be? It was a toned-down version, though, blending the subdued, earthy orange from her older self's outfits with black. Not too garish, not too muted. It hugged her frame well, practical for movement but with enough style to scream "Uzumaki" without blinding everyone in a ten-mile radius.
It wasn't bad looking, honestly. Far better than the obnoxious orange monstrosity I'd finally browbeaten her out of wearing every damn day. I'd tolerated the orange shirts and pants for a while, they were her signature, after all, but that old jacket? It had been like staring at a walking traffic cone. Too bright, too loud, too... Naruko in her unfiltered state. I'd nagged her about it enough times, pointing out how it made stealth impossible and clashed with everything, until she'd caved and upgraded. Now, this new one? It suited her. Made her look more like a kunoichi ready to take on the world, rather than a kid playing dress-up. Not that I'd ever tell her that outright; her ego was big enough without my compliments inflating it further.
The walk to the training ground was quiet at first, the early morning mist still clinging to the trees as Konoha woke up around us. Birds chirped overhead, and the distant sounds of vendors setting up their stalls filtered through the air. I kept my pace steady, my mind already churning through the plans we'd hammered out the night before. Neji and I had scoped out Kakashi's place with his Byakugan, humiliating as that had been for him, using a clan dojutsu to spy on a smut book, and confirmed some key details. Naruko's clones had been slaving away at the compound, churning out seal tags like a fuinjutsu assembly line. We had traps, contingencies, everything short of calling in reinforcements. It should be enough. It had to be.
We arrived at exactly 8:00 AM, the sun just starting to burn off the fog as we stepped into the clearing. Training Ground 7 was your typical Konoha setup; a wide expanse of grass ringed by dense forest, a small river cutting through one side, and plenty of boulders and trees for cover. It smelled like earth and pine, with that faint undercurrent of scorched dirt from past jutsu mishaps. No sign of Kakashi, of course. The guy was chronically late; it was practically his kekkei genkai.
So we waited. And waited. And waited some more.
At first, it was fine. I leaned against a tree, arms crossed, scanning the perimeter out of habit. Naruko paced for a bit, kicking at pebbles and muttering about how "this better be worth it, -ttebayo." Neji stood like a statue, his pale eyes fixed on some distant point, probably running mental simulations of the fight. But as the minutes ticked into an hour, the annoyance started to build. My foot tapped impatiently against the roots, and I could feel that familiar simmer starting in my gut, the one that flared up whenever someone wasted my time.
Then it hit me, like a kunai to the forehead.
Kakashi's words from yesterday: "Won't start until all of them are there." No, wait… he'd said "when we all get there." We. All. Including him. The bastard had worded it so we'd show up at 8:00, but he wouldn't bother until he felt like it, making the "all" complete. It was a classic Kakashi troll, hiding the delay in plain sight.
"He said until we all get here… he was meaning himself too."
That single sentence from me had both of my compatriots scowling, with Naruko being the most vocal and complaining loudly about Bakashi.
I let out a low growl, my Sharingan flickering on for a split second before I reined it in. Of all the petty... The three of us were annoyed, but me especially. Here we were, genin fresh out of the Academy (well, technically), twiddling our thumbs while he probably lounged around reading his porn. Neji's jaw tightened, a rare crack in his facade, and Naruko huffed loud enough to scare off a nearby squirrel. But I was the one seething internally. I'd put in the work, scouting, planning, coordinating with these two, and now this? It felt like a slap in the face, a reminder that Kakashi could jerk us around just because he outranked us.
I thought back to all the planning we'd done, the late-night strategy sessions at the compound. Neji and I perched in the trees outside Kakashi's house, his Byakugan straining as we confirmed the bell's location and that weird advance copy of Icha Icha with the birthday note. It had been midnight by the time we wrapped up, and Neji looked ready to collapse from dojutsu overuse.
But it was worth it; we had intel. Naruko's clones had flooded this place with tags, explosives, sealing, and all kinds of distractions. I'd trained her well over the years, turning that raw, chaotic energy into something directed. She followed my instructions now, mostly, after I'd drilled it into her head that teamwork meant listening, not just charging in like a blonde battering ram.
Still, I was a bit unnerved at the idea of having to fight Kakashi in an actual fight. The man was a legend, the Copycat Ninja, thousand jutsu, all that crap. I'd sparred with him before, sure, but that was training. This? This was him testing us for real, and I knew he was the kind of bastard to ruin my day just because I'd pissed on his parade by figuring out the original bell test too quickly. He'd stomped those bells into the roof like they offended him, all because I saw through the teamwork ruse. Tough shit for him, though. He'd given me access to a crackhead jinchuriki I'd molded into a weapon, Naruko, with her endless chakra and seals, and a Hyuga prodigy for backup. I'd put them both to good use in prepping for this showdown with the silver-haired jackass.
We waited longer, the sun climbing higher and turning the mist into humid air that stuck to my skin. Kakashi still hadn't made his grand entrance, so Naruko, ever the bundle of impatience, wasted no time in making herself comfortable. She plopped down cross-legged on the ground with a dramatic sigh that echoed across the field, pulling out a battered book on fuinjutsu from her pouch like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Where'd she even get that? I wondered idly, eyeing the worn cover. It wasn't one from my collection, I'd recognize the spine, and it didn't look like standard Academy fare. Maybe it was something Sarutobi gave her. Girl had a knack for acquiring things when she set her mind to it, especially if it involved seals. She'd been obsessed lately, ever since I'd introduced her to basic Uzumaki techniques. It was one of the few things that could hold her attention for more than five minutes without exploding something.
Though it did mean she was better at making bombs.
I glanced over at Neji, figuring it was best to get ahead of the curve while we had downtime. The waiting was grating, but at least we could use it productively. "About Kakashi," I said, keeping my voice low but clear, just in case the Copy Ninja was lurking nearby in some genjutsu disguise. "Follow my lead when he shows. I've trained with him before, and I know some of his tricks."
Neji nodded once, his expression unchanging like he'd been carved from marble. Impressive actually. "I will. I'd sooner follow yours than Uzumaki's, anyway."
That jab didn't go unnoticed. Naruko's head snapped up from her book, her ears practically perking as she caught the words. She stuck out her tongue and blew a raspberry at him, whiskers twitching and attitude flaring, before diving back into her reading like the exchange hadn't even happened.
Neji shook his head, a faint scowl creasing his brow as he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for me to catch, "Immaturity at its finest."
I smirked a little despite myself, leaning against the opposite tree and crossing my arms. The bark was rough against my back, a small distraction from the growing frustration of the wait. "It's part of her charm," I said, glancing her way. "She's like a stray cat that stays around after you feed it once."
"Hey!" Naruko yelped, slamming her book shut with a thud that sent a puff of dust into the air. She glared at me, blue eyes narrowing in mock outrage. "I'm not some mangy alley cat!"
"Well, it's true," I shot back, shrugging nonchalantly. I wasn't about to back down; teasing her was one of the few perks of this whole setup. "You latch on and don't let go."
She puffed up like an indignant fox, crossing her arms over her new coat and jutting her chin out. "If anything, you came to me after I blew you up."
"You blew up the tree I was in," I corrected, deadpan, though the memory brought a faint twitch to my lips. That had been our first real encounter, her accidentally (or not) blowing it up or not. Chaotic, but it had sparked... whatever this was.
"Same difference..." She trailed off, tapping her chin in thought, then her eyes lit up with that mischievous spark that usually meant trouble. "Wait, you were in a tree! Like a cat."
I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help the twitch of a smile pulling at the corner of my mouth. Touché, dobe. Neji just watched the exchange with that Hyuga stoicism, probably wondering how he'd ended up with us lunatics.
The banter helped pass the time, but as the hours dragged on, the sun beating down and turning the ground warm underfoot, my mind wandered back to the bigger picture. This test wasn't just about grabbing a bell; it was Kakashi's way of weeding out the unworthy. I'd spoiled his original plan, so he'd upped the ante to lethal force. Fine by me, I'd come prepared. Naruko's clones had produced hundreds of tags, each one a potential game-changer. We'd mapped the ground, planned ambushes, planned how we would synchronize attacks. With Neji's Byakugan spotting openings and Naruko's sheer volume overwhelming defenses, we could pin Kakashi down long enough for me to snag the bell.
But underneath the confidence, that unnerved feeling lingered. Kakashi wasn't just strong; he was unpredictable, a master of misdirection. What if he pulled out some S-rank jutsu just to humble us? What if he targeted our weaknesses; Naruko's impulsiveness, Neji's pride, my... whatever he thought mine was?
Finally, around 11:00, when the sun was high and my patience was threadbare, Kakashi sauntered in like he had all the time in the world. He appeared in a puff of leaves at the center of the field, hands in his pockets, that single eye crinkling in amusement.
"I see you three got up early," he said, his voice muffled slightly by the mask, but I could hear the smile behind it. "But I'm not sure why. I did say when we all got here."
I fixed him with a flat look, suppressing the involuntary twitch my face wanted to make. Masking my irritation as best I could, I bit back a retort. Of course he'd twist it like that.
"We know," Naruko scowled, sitting up straight and sealing away her book with a quick hand sign. "Stupid Sensei, -ttebayo."
Any other day, I'd have been stifling a laugh at how adorable Naruko looked when frustrated, her whiskers scrunching, braid swaying as she huffed. But right now, I was in my more combative mindset, for lack of a better term. Sure, I'd been making jests earlier, trading barbs to kill time, but simmering under it all was the same iron will that had driven me through countless training sessions. The one that pushed me until my bones ached, my chakra depleted, and yet I'd drag myself back for more. This wasn't playtime; this was the real deal, and Kakashi was such a willing punching bag that I couldn't think of anything else other than fighting him.
He just chuckled, pulling out the single bell and letting it dangle from his fingers. "Alright, let's get this started. Remember, lethal force if you want a shot. Clock's ticking till noon."
The fight was on, but even as we sprang into action, that simmering resolve burned hotter. We'd planned for this. We'd win.
xRSxxRSxxRSx
Kakashi stood at the center of Training Ground 7, the midday sun filtering through the canopy in dappled shafts that danced across the dew-kissed grass. The air hummed with the low buzz of cicadas, a deceptive calm before the inevitable storm that was the exam for his prospective students. He had arrived fashionably late, as was his custom, materializing in a swirl of leaves. The three genin before him, Uchiha Sasuke, Uzumaki Naruko, and Hyuga Neji, were a mismatched trio to everyone else that didn't know the three.
Sasuke's dark eyes burned with calculated intensity, Naruko's face and entire body twitched with barely suppressed need to move, and Neji's pale gaze held the cool detachment of a Hyuga assessing a battlefield from afar. Kakashi's single visible eye crinkled in amusement behind his hitai-ate, though the mask hid the faint curve of his lips. This was the moment of truth: would they prove themselves worthy of his time, his guidance, or would they crumble under the weight of it?
He had altered the test on a whim, because the brat ruined the fun and the son of the White Fang was many things… and petty was definitely one of those.
"Begin," Kakashi said simply, his voice a lazy drawl that belied the coiled spring beneath.
In an instant, Neji and Naruko vanished, or so they might have hoped. To Kakashi, their movements were as clear as the footprints of a particularly large footed klutz in fresh snow. Neji blurred leftward. Naruko exploded rightward in a burst of orange and blonde, her new coat flaring like a banner as she vaulted into the treeline, chakra-propelled leaps carrying her aloft in a series of acrobatic arcs that were admittedly impressive.
Kakashi though could have tracked them blindfolded.
Neji's path was a straight-line efficiency, conserving energy for the inevitable fight; Naruko's was chaotic, erratic zigzags. Amateurs, in the grand scheme, but promising ones.
Sasuke, however, remained rooted in front of him, a black silhouette etched against the grass. The Uchiha's face was a mask of unyielding seriousness, brows furrowed, jaw set like stone. His dark hair stirred faintly in the breeze, and his hands hovered near his pouches, fingers twitching with the ghost of seals yet to form.
Kakashi tilted his head, the bell on his belt jingling softly. "You should be careful with that expression, Sasuke. Hold it too long, and it'll stick like dried ramen on a pot."
Sasuke's scowl deepened, carving sharper lines into his youthful features, and in response, his Sharingan ignited fully. The red glow bled into his irises, tomoe whirling with predatory focus, mapping Kakashi's every micro-movement.
Sasuke was far too serious at times, Kakashi mused inwardly. But at least this time, the gravity was warranted. This day would determine whether these three became his soldiers, his to command, to unleash like hounds on the hunt, to sculpt and shape into the shinobi of tomorrow. They would build upon the ashes and bones of those they had slain, rising as pillars in Konoha's ever-fragile peace.
Or, as some of the more bloodthirsty jonin would poetically say, annoying and uptight the lot of them. Kakashi preferred the practical view, training them right so they don't break.
"Hmmm," Kakashi hummed, crossing his arms over his vest and tilting his head in exaggerated thought, fingers drumming against his bicep. "I do wonder what your plan is. The three of you are no slouches in taijutsu, solid fundamentals, all of you. You and Naruko know what I've let slip about my style over those 'informal' sessions: the feints, the substitutions, the thousand jutsu I supposedly hoard like a dragon with scrolls. And... hmmm…" He paused, eye narrowing playfully.
"Are you going to offer yourself as a prisoner to draw me in, buy time for your partners to flank?"
Sasuke's response was a vow laced with venom. "No, you overgrown child. I'm going to kick your ass and make you the laughingstock of the other jonin."
With a fluid motion, he popped the seal on a concealed scroll in his pouch. Smoke puffed briefly, and a katana materialized in his grip, the blade a whisper of tempered steel catching the light. He adopted a defensive stance; high guard, hilt clasped in both hands, point angled downward in a subtle invitation. His feet were planted, weight balanced on the balls of them, ready to pivot or explode forward. It was a classical form favoured by Uchiha, his eyes locked not on Kakashi's center mass but his face and side, anticipating the telltale torque of a strike.
Kakashi raised a brow, the motion lazy but his mind already dissecting the boy's posture. Was that... supposed to annoy him? Heaven help him, he truly needed to tutor Sasuke in the fine art of battlefield taunts. That line bordered on sad, not even scraping the depths of pathetic. Gai would have countered with a sonnet on the flames of youth; even Anko could have twisted it into something venomously flirtatious. But Sasuke? It was earnest, almost adorably so.
"If you're done delaying for your girlfriend and pet Hyuga to execute whatever convoluted plan they've cooked up," Kakashi drawled, noting with satisfaction the visible tensing of Sasuke's shoulders at the "girlfriend" jab, too easy, "feel free to come at me."
Sasuke's retort was action, not words. Impressively, he formed only a single hand sign, fingers clasping the hilt mid-gesture without breaking flow. Chakra surged through his legs in a controlled burst, propelling him forward in a black streak that blurred the line on a low-tier jonin velocity. The ground barely registered his passage, a faint depression in the grass the only thing left behind. His katana rose in a diagonal overhead arc, blade whistling through the air with the clean snap of a well-honed edge seeking flesh. It was a classic overhead strike, a feint in the wrist to disguise the true vector, aiming not for Kakashi's shoulder but the elbow joint, intending to disarm or maim in one quick motion.
Kakashi sidestepped with the barest movement, his body angling just enough to let the blade carve empty air a few centimeters from his vest. Closer than intended; the wind of the swing tugged at his silver hair.
"Huh," Kakashi murmured, backing up with a series of fluid evasive steps, bobbing and weaving through the follow-up barrage. Sasuke transitioned seamlessly, a horizontal sweep low to the knees, forcing a back step, then an upward stab to the ribs, parried with a casual flick of Kakashi's hand as he smacked against the flat of the blade, then a flourish of the wrist that brought it down and grazed the air where Kakashi's throat had been a heartbeat prior. "I was hoping you'd dust my jacket a bit more. This thing's seen better days."
That earned a feral growl from deep in Sasuke's chest. His attacks accelerated, each strike a testament to relentless drilling. Another thrust to the solar plexus, Kakashi deflected with the flat of his kunai that he drew now because he was bored of smacking the blade away with his hand a second time, steel singing against steel. A low sweep to knock out his legs followed, met with a pivot that turned his defensive strategy into a glancing elbow counter, which Sasuke rolled under with acrobatic grace. The Uchiha was impressive, always circling to maintain angular advantage, denying Kakashi a straight-line counter.
But Kakashi's interest waned after the initial flurry, boredom creeping in. These were genin forms, polished but predictable.
He flicked another kunai from his sleeve with a casual shift of his arm, the blade spinning end over end to intercept Sasuke's next stab at his right lung. Metal clashed in a shower of sparks, the kunai slapping the katana aside like a tutor correcting a pupil's grip. Sasuke pressed the opening, committing to a follow-up roundhouse kick with his right leg, inside Kakashi's guard now, the distance collapsing fully. The kick was textbook, the Uchiha's hips coiled like a spring, knee chambered high for torque, shin extended as a battering ram toward Kakashi's midsection.
Kakashi met it with a rising block, forearm absorbing the impact—ow.
He took a deliberate step back, shaking out his left hand as a sharp sting radiated up his ulna. Sasuke's right leg retracted fluidly, the Uchiha dashing backward in a controlled skid to reestablish distance, regaining momentum like a fencer resetting his guard. That kick landed with almost an unnatural impact, the force compressing Kakashi's guard just enough to bruise. Evidently, Sasuke had internalized Lady Tsunade's chakra-enhanced strength principles far better than Kakashi had realized.
Respectable, for a boy who'd only figuratively glimpsed the information about that particular Sannin's abilities from a relatively far separation. It almost stung as much as one of Gai's signature Dynamic Entry jabs.
Still, nowhere near good enough. Kakashi flexed his fingers, kunai glinting as he prepared to launch a counterassault. He feinted lunge to draw Sasuke in, followed by a hip throw to ragdoll him into the dirt and force Neji and Naruko to spring their trap prematurely. Expose the plan, dismantle it piece by piece.
But Sasuke anticipated the shift, his Sharingan tomoe spinning faster, and darted away in a swirl of leaves. The Uchiha rematerialized ten meters to his right, pivoting on his left foot in a spin that regrounded his stance.
His free hand blurred through seals, familiar ones, Kakashi noted with a mental sigh. The Uchiha clan's Goukakyuu no Jutsu, C-rank fireball, as predictable as ever.
The sphere of flame roared forth, a roiling orb of orange-red inferno that scorched the grass in its wake, heat warping the air like a mirage. Kakashi scoffed inwardly at the telegraphed play, elemental ninjutsu as a smokescreen, classic misdirection. But as the fireball hurtled closer, he thought to himself.
What direction is the wind coming from?
A smirk tugged at his mask as, right on cue, a gale-force fuuton jutsu howled from the treeline, Naruko's work no doubt, raw and unrefined but no less potent. The wind sheared into the flames, supercharging the conflagration in a volatile marriage of elements. What had been a middling C-rank swelled into a B-rank tempest, the fireball blooming into a vortex of searing heat that devoured oxygen and spat embers like shrapnel.
Kakashi didn't hesitate. Chakra flooded his feet in a seamless move, the earth yielding like wet clay as he sank beneath the surface in a controlled dive. The ground rippled above him, muffling the explosion's roar to a dull thunder. He tunneled laterally, displacing soil in efficient bursts, several dozen meters in mere seconds.
Emerging in a spray of dirt on the field's far edge, he scanned for vectors. Sasuke barreled toward him full tilt, katana extended like a lance, lightning chakra writhing along the blade in azure arcs. He surged to meet the charge, closing in three explosive strides, body low and serpentine to minimize profile.
Suddenly, a shout shattered the rhythm. "Dattebayo!" From the treeline erupted a horde of screaming blondes in orange, Naruko's Kage Bunshin no Jutsu in full, frenzied glory, dozens strong.
In perfect, if sloppy, tandem, they executed a mass shunshin, blurring toward Kakashi in a tidal wave of chakra signatures. Half collided mid-dash in a tangle of limbs and curses, a comedy of errors that should have dispersed them in puffs of smoke. Kakashi expected as much from standard bunshin frailty. Instead though, the impacts detonated like clustered explosive tags, concussive blasts ripping outward in overlapping spheres, shrapnel of fabric and chakra-laced fireballs peppering the field. The shockwave hammered Kakashi's guard, dust billowing in a choking cloud that obscured vision and cloyed the throat with acrid smoke.
Was… what… was that even on purpose or was she that stupid?!
Through the haze, he barely registered the multiple shuriken whistling inbound, five, six blades, trajectories arcing from elevated angles to converge on his face and torso. Basic diversion, but timed well.
He sidestepped the cluster in a lateral slide, body twisting at the hips to let them bury into the earth behind him with wet thuds. His eye widened a fraction as air displaced at his six o'clock a split second later. Those "crashing" clones had been diversions, and the shuriken were shadow clones henge'd.
A blue sandaled foot from behind sliced through the air scant millimeters from his temple, the whoosh parting his hair like a comb through silk.
Kakashi's body reacted on an ingrained reflex, his torso contorting into a breakfall, right arm planting as he inverted into a one-handed flip. Momentum carried him through a full 360, left leg whipping out in a sweeping heel hook toward Naruko's face while his right foot arced upward in a scything crescent to intercept Sasuke's descending katana.
The blade met his sandal mid-swing, steel biting into reinforced sandal with a screech of protesting leather. But Sasuke had layered raiton chakra along the edge, and the crackling discharge surged up Kakashi's leg in a crackling blue burst, numbing his toes and ankle in a pins-and-needles blaze. Pain lanced sharp and electric, but Kakashi rolled with it, tucking his chin as he completed the flip and surged to his feet in a coiled crouch.
The field was a haze of settling dust and dissipating smoke from the clone explosions, the acrid tang of ozone hanging heavy in the air like the aftermath of a thunderstorm. Naruko's remaining clones, down to perhaps eight or nine now, hovered at the periphery, waiting for an opening. Sasuke circled left with predatory grace, his katana held in a mid-guard, blade horizontal at chest height, point aimed at Kakashi's throat, feet shifting to maintain distance and angle.
The Uchiha exploded forward again, going all in this time, no more probing feints, just raw, committed aggression. His charge was a textbook one, foot stomping down for propulsion, hips twisting to generate torque as the katana thrust forward in a straight-line, aimed dead-center at Kakashi's chest. It was a killing blow in intent, the blade's tip humming with residual raiton sparks.
Kakashi's appraisal of the boy dipped slightly, impressive speed and power, yes, but the overcommitment left Sasuke exposed, his guard too narrow, elbows flaring just enough to invite counters. A seasoned swordsman would have layered in a secondary option, like a quick draw from a hidden tanto or a feint to mask the true vector. This was bravado, potent but unrefined.
Naruko's clones sensed the vulnerability, surging in from the sides in an opportunistic pincer, three from the left, launching synchronized side kicks with legs high and snapping down hard; two from the right, diving low with sweeping leg hooks to buckle Kakashi's base mid-parry. Their movements were sloppy but synergistic, bodies twisting in mid-air to maximize impact angles.
Kakashi met Sasuke's stab head-on, his kunai snapping up in a rising deflection, steel on steel in a block, wrists shifting to shunt aside the katana's blade and redirect its force upward. The impact jarred up his arms, Sasuke's momentum carrying him closer than intended, but Kakashi twisted his hips, using the bind to unbalance the boy and knock the sword aside with a sharp wrist flick. The katana veered wide, exposing Sasuke's center line.
But instead of retreating to recover, Sasuke flung himself forward in a reckless body check, his shoulder leading and free hand darting out like a striking serpent toward Kakashi's waist.
The bell, Kakashi assumed.
It was a desperate grab for victory and Kakashi saw ot. He shifted his weight seamlessly, a subtle step sliding his hip out of reach, the bell jingling mockingly as Sasuke's fingers brushed empty air. Yet the hand adjusted mid-grasp, snaking higher toward Kakashi's chest instead, his fingers hooking under the collar of Kakashi's vest, yanking with surprising ferocity on something tucked within.
Kakashi's visible eye widened in dawning horror as realization hit him.
The familiar weight of his precious Icha Icha Paradise, the advance copy with Jiraiya's personal inscription, slipped free from its inner pocket. The orange cover flashed in the sunlight, pages fluttering as Sasuke wrenched it away in a triumphant snatch.
'Nooooo!' Kakashi internally screamed, a rare crack in his composure fracturing wide. That book wasn't just smut; it was a rare unreleased edition stamped for next year. Irreplaceable. The audacity, the sheer blasphemy, ignited a fire in his veins hotter than any Katon jutsu.
Reflex took over, unfiltered and barely guided. Kakashi flung a wild kick at Sasuke, nearly falling over to get him away. The impact connected solidly with the Uchiha's side, knocking him aside and sending him crashing to the ground with his book in his hand!
He was going to kill him. Kakashi was going to kill the brat dead.
But the thought shattered as something orange and blonde slammed into his back with concussive force, a Naruko clone, leaping from behind in a flying tackle and her knees drove into his spine. The impact sent him stumbling forward three steps, his balance disrupted, and the clone's chakra flaring hot against his flak jacket before it popped in a puff of smoke from the sheer collision force.
Growling angrily, a low rumble that vibrated through his chest, Kakashi formed a single hand seal. Lightning chakra surged from his core, coiling around his form in a rippling aura before exploding outward in a spherical discharge of electricity that blasted in all directions. Blue arcs lanced through the air in a twenty-yard radius, frying every remaining clone in sight, bodies convulsing mid-charge, hair standing on end as voltage coursed through the chakra constructs, dispersing them in synchronized poofs of electrified smoke. The ground scorched black in patches, static crackling faintly in the aftermath.
Unfortunately, Sasuke, his eyes wide in shock, face paling as an ungodly amount of killing intent radiated from Kakashi like a palpable miasma, thick enough to choke the air, disappeared in a blur. It was a shunshin, leaves swirling in his wake as he body-flickered toward the treeline, the stolen book clutched protectively to his chest.
With a shout of outrage, Kakashi tore after the little brat in need of a lesson.