We stood several feet behind Kakashi in a loose line, me in the middle with Naruko on my left bouncing on her toes and Neji on my right standing with his arms crossed. Kakashi was kneeling on the floor in front of the Sandaime Hokage like a child sent to the principal's office, and the sight was so absurd I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning.
Sarutobi Hiruzen, the God of Shinobi, the Professor, the man who'd seen three wars and countless crises, stood with his arms folded behind his back, his aged face carved into an expression of such profound disappointment that even I felt a twinge of secondhand shame. His Hokage robes billowed slightly in the smoke-tinged breeze, and far below us, ANBU operatives were still scrambling to put out the fires that dotted what used to be Training Ground 7.
And parts of Training Ground 3.
And a corner of Training Ground 11.
"Do you," Sarutobi said slowly, each word measured and deliberate like he was explaining basic arithmetic to a particularly dense student, "have any idea what you've done?"
Kakashi's visible eye was firmly fixed on the ground, his shoulders hunched in a way that made him look smaller than he actually was. He mumbled something too quiet for me to hear, but judging by the way the Hokage's eyebrow twitched, it wasn't the right answer.
"Speak up," Sarutobi commanded, his voice taking on that edge of steel that reminded everyone why he was still Hokage despite his age.
"They didn't get the bell, sir," Kakashi repeated, louder this time but still sounding like a kicked dog. His tone was contrite, almost pitiful, and I had to suppress a snort.
Next to me, Naruko wasn't even trying. She was snickering, her hand pressed over her mouth to muffle the sound, but her shoulders were shaking with barely contained laughter. Her blue eyes sparkled with unholy glee as she watched our sensei get dressed down by the most powerful man in the village.
I couldn't blame her. This was hilarious.
"Didn't get the bell," Sarutobi repeated slowly, like he was tasting the words and finding them wanting. He let the silence stretch for a long, uncomfortable moment, and I watched Kakashi's visible eye twitch. Then the Hokage held out his hand, palm up, in a gesture that brooked no argument. "Bell. Now."
Kakashi reached to his belt with the defeated air of a man watching his execution date get moved up. He unhooked the single bell, the metal jingling mockingly as he placed it in Sarutobi's outstretched hand.
The Hokage's fingers closed around it, and he stared down at the bell for a moment before lifting his gaze back to Kakashi. "My senseis," he said, his voice dropping to something dangerous, "did not come up with this test so I would nearly have a heart attack thinking we were under attack."
Below us, another tree groaned and collapsed.
Sarutobi didn't even glance backwards at the destruction. He just kept staring at Kakashi with that look, the one that said he was deeply reconsidering his life choices and how they'd led to this exact moment.
Then, without warning, he turned and tossed the bell.
Not to Kakashi.
To me.
My hand shot out on instinct, my fingers closing around the cool metal as my eyes tracked the lazy arc it had taken through the air. I stared down at it, confused, my brain taking a second to catch up with what just happened.
"Oh look," Sarutobi said, his tone so dry it could have started another fire, "they have the bell." He turned his gaze back to Kakashi, who'd lifted his head to stare at his superior with an expression of dawning horror. "Congratulations on being the Jonin Sensei of Team 7." The Hokage gestured toward the path leading away from the training ground. "Now out. You're dismissed."
Kakashi moved to stand, and I felt a surge of vindication so intense it was almost intoxicating.
But then Sarutobi held up a hand, and Kakashi froze mid-rise.
"Not you," the Hokage clarified, his gaze sweeping over the three of us standing behind our humiliated sensei. "Them." His expression softened fractionally as he looked at us. "Go get something to eat. I will be having a talk with your sensei about what 'acceptable escalation' means."
I didn't need to be told twice.
The bell was still clutched in my fist as I turned on my heel, already walking toward the path that led back to the village proper. Naruko fell into step beside me immediately, her earlier snickering having evolved into a full, unrestrained grin that stretched from ear to ear. Neji followed a beat later, his expression carefully neutral but I caught the faint curve at the corner of his mouth that suggested even the stoic Hyuga found this amusing.
We were maybe twenty feet away when I heard Sarutobi's voice rise again, sharp and cutting.
"Do you have any idea how many incident reports I'm going to have to file? And the budget—"
Naruko lost it. She doubled over, clutching her stomach as laughter poured out of her in breathless, wheezing gasps that echoed through the smoke-hazed air. "Did yo-, did you see his face?!" she managed between giggles, her braids swaying as she straightened up and wiped at her eyes. "He looked like Jiji was about to ground him for a year!"
I couldn't help it. The corner of my mouth twitched upward, then pulled into a full smile, and before I knew it, I was chuckling too. It started low, just a quiet rumble in my chest, but it grew, fed by the sheer absurdity of everything that had just happened. The traps. The explosions. Kakashi's stupid dogs. The forest being reduced to a smoking wasteland. And now this, our legendary jonin sensei getting scolded like a misbehaving genin while we walked away with the bell and a pass.
"We actually did it," I said aloud, more to myself than to them. My fingers tightened around the bell, feeling the weight of it, the cold metal pressing into my palm. "We actually passed."
"Of course we did," Naruko said, throwing an arm around my shoulders and pulling me into a half-hug that nearly made me stumble. "We're awesome, -ttebayo! Did you see how big that last fireball was? I thought we were gonna burn down the whole village!"
"We nearly did," Neji muttered from my other side, his pale eyes flicking toward the plumes of smoke still rising behind us. "I counted at least seventeen distinct fire sources at the peak of your... enthusiasm."
"Enthusiasm," I repeated, the word tasting strange in my mouth. That was one way to put it.
Because the truth was, somewhere in the middle of all that chaos, the explosions, the adrenaline, the desperate scramble to outthink and outmaneuver Kakashi, I'd started having fun.
Not the grim satisfaction of a plan coming together. Not the cold calculation of strategy paying off. Actual, genuine fun, the kind I hadn't felt since... I couldn't even remember when. Maybe not since before Itachi. Before everything went to hell.
Naruko and I had spent the last phase of the test doing nothing but constant combo Ninjutsu, her wind feeding my fire in an endless barrage of destruction that turned entire swaths of forest into scorched earth. We'd been laughing as we did it, shouting coordinates and encouragement at each other while Neji watched from a safe distance with his Byakugan active, probably questioning every life choice that had led him to this team.
There was something wrong with me. There had to be. Normal people didn't find that kind of wanton destruction fun. Normal people didn't grin like maniacs while reducing government property to ash.
But then again, I'd never claimed to be normal.
And judging by the way Naruko was still giggling, practically skipping as we walked, she wasn't normal either.
"So," I said, glancing down at the bell in my hand before tucking it safely into my pouch, "where do you two want to eat?"
Naruko's answer was immediate. "Ichiraku's!"
I'd expected nothing less. "Of course you'd say that."
"It's the best food in the village!" she protested, her blue eyes widening in exaggerated offense. "You can't argue with ramen, Sasuke. It's perfect."
"It's sodium and carbs," I countered, but there was no heat in my voice. Honestly, after the day we'd just had, I'd eat anything. My stomach was growling loud enough that I was pretty sure Neji could hear it.
"Neji?" I looked over at the Hyuga, who'd been silent through our banter. "Any preference?"
He shrugged, a subtle motion that barely moved his shoulders. "I have no strong opinion. Ichiraku's is... acceptable."
"See?" Naruko pointed at him triumphantly. "Even the stick-in-the-mud agrees!"
"I did not agree," Neji said flatly, but the ghost of a smile was still there, lurking at the edges of his expression. "I merely stated it was acceptable."
"Same thing!"
I shook my head, but I was smiling too. The tension that had been coiled in my chest for hours, days, really, ever since I'd started planning for this stupid test, was finally starting to unwind. We'd done it. We'd actually beaten Kakashi, or at least convinced Sarutobi to override his decision. We were a team now. It was official.
Team 7.
The name felt heavy, possessed with expectation and history I wasn't sure I wanted to think about. But for now, in this moment, with Naruko chattering excitedly about what kind of ramen she was going to order and Neji making dry comments about her lack of culinary sophistication, it felt... good.
We reached the edge of the village and I gave a cursory look. Civilians milled about, going about their daily routines, and a few of them glanced our way, probably because we were covered in soot and smelled like smoke, but no one stopped us.
"Hey, Sasuke?" Naruko's voice pulled me from my thoughts, and I turned to look at her. She'd stopped bouncing, her expression suddenly serious in a way that didn't suit her. "Thanks. For, you know. Everything."
I blinked, caught off guard. "What are you talking about?"
"The plan. The training. Helping me pass the written test." She ticked off each point on her fingers, then grinned up at me, that trademark brightness returning to her eyes. "I wouldn't have made it without you."
Something uncomfortable twisted in my chest, and I looked away, suddenly very interested in the pattern of cracks in the cobblestones beneath my feet. "Don't be stupid," I muttered. "You would've been fine."
"No, I wouldn't have." Her voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. "You're my best friend, Sasuke. And I'm really glad we're on the same team."
Best friend.
The words shouldn't have hit as hard as they did. But they did, like they always did when she said it, sinking into me like kunai finding gaps in armour, and I had to swallow past the sudden lump in my throat.
"Yeah," I said quietly, my hand coming up to rest on her head for a brief second before I pulled it away. "Me too."
Neji cleared his throat pointedly, and we both turned to look at him. He was standing a few feet away, arms still crossed, his expression carefully blank. "If you're finished with the emotional display," he said, his tone bored, "I believe there was mention of food."
"Right!" Naruko's mood shifted instantly, and she grabbed my wrist, already tugging me forward. "Come on! I'm starving!"
I let her drag me along, my smile returning as we made our way through the village streets toward Ichiraku's. Behind us, the smoke from Training Ground 7 continued to rise into the sky, a testament to the absolute chaos we'd unleashed.
And somehow, despite everything, despite the destruction, the scolding Kakashi was probably still receiving, the fact that we'd nearly given the Hokage a heart attack, I felt lighter than I had in years.
We were Team 7.
And I was actually looking forward to whatever came next.
xRSxxRSxxRSx
The erhu's strings hummed under my fingers, the bow gliding across them in a smooth, practiced motion that sent a melancholic melody drifting through my living room. I'd positioned myself in my usual spot—the chair by the window where the fading evening light could still reach me—and let my mind empty as I played. No thoughts of training. No replaying the day's chaos. Just the music, the vibration of the strings against my fingertips, and the quiet that settled over everything like a blanket.
Well. Mostly quiet.
Behind me, I could hear Naruko slurping her way through another bowl of ramen, the sound punctuated by occasional satisfied hums and the scrape of chopsticks against ceramic. I didn't need to turn around to know she was on her third helping. Maybe fourth. The girl ate like she had a bottomless chasm where her stomach should be, and my wallet was bleeding out because of it.
I really needed to be more financially frugal. Ordering takeout for both of us every other night was going to drain my inheritance faster than I'd like to admit, even with the obscene amount of money the Uchiha clan had left behind. I should just make her cook her own food when she wanted her seventh damn helping. It wasn't like I was her personal chef.
Except... I kind of was.
Because Naruko cooking for herself was a disaster waiting to happen. The girl had somehow managed to burn water once. Water. I still didn't understand the physics of that, and my Sharingan had witnessed it firsthand, so I knew it wasn't a genjutsu. She'd left the pot on the stove, gotten distracted by something shiny outside the window, and by the time I'd noticed the smoke, the water had completely evaporated and the pot was glowing red-hot.
I simply didn't trust her in my kitchen. Not after the egg incident. Not after the Great Ramen Explosion of last month that had left noodles on my ceiling. Some stains just didn't come out, no matter how much scrubbing you did.
So yeah. Takeout it was, because the alternative was coming home to find my house on fire and Naruko standing in the middle of it with that sheepish grin that said she had no idea how it happened.
'You're basically a stay-at-home mother.'
Kakashi's words from earlier today echoed in my head unbidden, and I felt my jaw clench involuntarily. My bow stuttered across the strings, producing a discordant note that made me wince. I violently crushed down the memory of Naruko's laugh, that high-pitched, wheezing giggle that had followed Kakashi's observation, and forced myself to refocus on the music.
I was not a housewife. Or a stay-at-home mother. Or whatever humiliating label that silver-haired bastard wanted to slap on me. I was just... practical. Efficient. Someone had to make sure Naruko didn't accidentally kill herself through sheer incompetence, and since the universe had decided I was the only one qualified, here I was.
Cooking. Cleaning. Making sure she did her homework. Braiding her hair this morning…
Shit.
I pressed down harder on the strings, the note rising sharp and angry before I eased off and let it fade back into the melody. The erhu was forgiving that way. You could pour whatever you were feeling into it, and it would just... take it. Shape it into something that sounded almost intentional.
Behind me, Naruko's chopsticks clattered against her bowl, and I heard the telltale sound of her leaning back in her chair with a satisfied sigh.
Then she belched.
Loud. Unrestrained. The kind of belch that echoed off the walls and probably violated several laws of polite society.
My entire body tensed. The bow jerked across the strings in a screech that made my teeth ache, and I recoiled like I'd been physically struck. My shoulders hunched up toward my ears, and I had to resist the urge to turn around and throw something at her.
'Deep breaths. Don't kill the Jinchuriki. You need her alive.'
"S-sorry," Naruko mumbled, her voice small and sheepish. I could hear the embarrassment in it, the way she stumbled over the word, and when I finally risked a glance over my shoulder, I saw her face was flushed pink. She was staring down at her bowl, her fingers fidgeting with her chopsticks. "Didn't mean to... uh. That."
I just stared at her for a long moment, my expression carefully blank. Then I turned back to my erhu without a word, repositioning the bow and starting the melody again from where I'd left off.
She went back to eating. Quieter this time, at least. Small mercies.
The music filled the silence again, slower now, more deliberate. My fingers found the familiar patterns, the muscle memory taking over as my mind wandered. Tomorrow was going to be our first official day as Team 7. Kakashi had caught us on our way out of Ichiraku's earlier, looking distinctly put-out as he informed us that training drills would start at 8:00 AM sharp.
"And this time," he'd said, his visible eye narrowing in what I assumed was supposed to be threatening, "I won't go easy on you."
I'd just raised an eyebrow at that. "You didn't go easy on us today."
"Oh, Sasuke." He'd tilted his head, that infuriating eye-smile returning. "I absolutely did."
The implication had hung in the air like a kunai waiting to drop, and I'd felt a chill run down my spine. If today was Kakashi going easy, I didn't want to know what "hard" looked like.
But that was tomorrow's problem. Tonight was about decompressing, letting the adrenaline fully drain out of my system and enjoying the rare peace that came with an evening at home. No training. No explosions. No life-or-death scenarios.
Just me, my erhu, and the world's loudest eater sitting at my kitchen table.
I transitioned into a different melody, something slower and more contemplative. The notes hung in the air like mist, soft and delicate, and I let my eyes drift closed as I played. This was what I needed. This quiet. This stillness. The music was a tether, grounding me when everything else felt like it was spinning out of control.
Behind me, I heard Naruko shift in her chair, the legs scraping against the floor. Then footsteps, light and uneven, the gait of someone still full from too much food, and I cracked one eye open to see her padding over to the couch. She flopped down onto it with all the grace of a sack of potatoes, her arms sprawled out and her head lolling back against the cushions.
"That's so pretty," she said after a moment, her voice drowsy and content. "The music, I mean."
I didn't stop playing, but I turned my head slightly to look at her. She was staring up at the ceiling, her blue eyes half-lidded, and there was a soft smile on her face that made something in my chest twist uncomfortably.
"Thanks," I said quietly, the word barely audible over the melody.
"You should play more," she continued, her hands folding over her stomach. "Like, for people. They'd love it."
"I play for me and together," I replied, my tone firmer than I intended. "Not for other people."
"Yeah, but—" She yawned, her jaw cracking audibly, and burrowed deeper into the couch cushions. "S'nice. Makes everything feel... calm."
I didn't respond to that. I just kept playing, the melody weaving through the room like a thread stitching the silence together. Naruko's breathing started to even out, slower and deeper, and I knew she was drifting off. She did that sometimes, fell asleep on my couch after stuffing herself with food, too comfortable and too full to bother walking back to the guest room.
It should have annoyed me. Should have made me wake her up and tell her to move. But I didn't. I just kept playing, the notes softer now, gentler, as if I could wrap them around her like a blanket.
This was my life now. Somehow, in the span of two years, I'd gone from a traumatized kid clinging to revenge and isolation to... this. Playing music for a sleeping Jinchuriki in my living room while the remains of takeout ramen sat cooling on my kitchen table.
I wasn't sure how I felt about it. Part of me, the part that still clung to the cold, calculated version of myself I'd tried so hard to become and failed terribly at, whispered that I'd gotten soft. That I'd let myself get too attached, that this was a weakness waiting to be exploited.
But another part, quieter but growing stronger, whispered something else.
This is what you were missing.
The melody shifted again, something lighter this time, almost playful. My fingers danced across the strings, and I let myself smile, just a little, just for a moment, as I played.
Tomorrow, we'd train. We'd fight. We'd push ourselves to the brink and probably destroy another training ground in the process, if Kakashi's ominous warnings were anything to go by.
But tonight? Tonight was mine. And Naruko's. And the quiet music that filled the space between us.
And honestly? I wouldn't trade it for anything.
End Chapter: