Chapter 724 - 14

Days passed in a blink, each one bleeding into the next like watercolors on cheap paper. I woke to sunlight filtering through my curtains, groaning as I rolled out of bed. Today was the day of Takada-sensei's infamous survival test—the one he'd been threatening us with for weeks. Part of me considered the merits of simply staying in bed, but the other part knew that would invite a lecture I didn't care to endure. After a quick breakfast and even quicker hygiene routine, I made my way to the Academy.

"Today's exercise will test your tactical thinking, teamwork, and field awareness," he announced, standing atop a tree stump like it was the Hokage's platform. The rising sun cast long shadows through the trees, painting everything in hues of gold and amber that would've been beautiful if I weren't so busy suppressing a yawn.

'This would be so much more tolerable with sake,' I thought, absently adjusting my sandals while Takada-sensei droned on about the "valuable shinobi skills" we'd develop. The forest around us buzzed with birds chirping, leaves rustling, and the occasional distant roar that definitely wasn't part of the natural forest soundtrack.

Minato caught my eye from across the clearing and raised an eyebrow. I responded with my lazy half-smile.

"For this exercise," Takada-sensei continued, unrolling a scroll with unnecessary flourish, "you'll be divided into five teams of five. Each team will be assigned a territory with a core flag that must be protected at all costs. Losing your core flag means immediate disqualification."

The students around me perked up at this—nothing gets tiny shinobi-in-training more excited than institutionalized theft disguised as education. I stretched my arms above my head, joints popping satisfyingly. If I had to be awake at this ungodly hour, at least I could enjoy watching my classmates fumble through the forest.

"In addition to your core flag, there are 25 secondary flags scattered throughout the forest," Takada-sensei explained, tapping the scroll which revealed itself to be a detailed map of the training area. "Each team must capture at least three of these secondary flags while protecting their core flag. You have from sunrise—" he gestured at the orange sky, "—until midday to complete this task."

A boy toward the front raised his hand. "Sensei, can we move or hide our core flag to a better position?"

Sensei shook his head. "Core flags are fixed in place with a special seal and cannot be moved from their positions. Secondary flags, however, can be grabbed and carried with you."

A girl toward the front—Tsume Inuzuka, if the tiny ninken puppy poking out of her jacket was any indication—raised her hand. "Sensei, are there any restrictions on techniques?"

"Excellent question," Sensei nodded approvingly. "No lethal techniques allowed. This is practice, not warfare. Anyone using excessive force will be immediately disqualified and assigned extra laps around the Academy for a month."

Sensei produced a stack of small maps from his vest pocket. "Each team will receive one of these. They contain the general location of your territory and hints about the others. Use them wisely."

He cleared his throat and unrolled another scroll. "Now for the team assignments."

The collective intake of breath was almost comical. Academy students treat team assignments like life-or-death prophecies rather than the arbitrary groupings they actually are. I, on the other hand, pretended not to care, though I silently hoped I wouldn't get stuck with any of the overly earnest types who'd try to make me "take things seriously."

"Team One: Minato Namikaze, Mikoto Uchiha, Choza Akimichi, Tsume Inuzuka, and Kana Yamanaka."

"Team Two: Shikaku Nara, Hiashi Hyuga, Shibi Aburame, Kenji Tanaka, and Daichi Shimura."

Another power team. I was beginning to suspect Takada-sensei had some hidden agenda with these groupings.

"Team Three: Shinji, Kushina Uzumaki, Inoichi Yamanaka—" I perked up slightly at hearing Kushina's name, "—Takeo, and Takeshi Uchiha."

'Ah, Grumpy-chan has a name,' I mused, glancing over at the scowling Uchiha boy who seemed to be contemplating whether this team assignment was some form of cosmic punishment.

Kushina spotted us and made her way over, red hair swinging behind her. "Looks like we're teammates, ya know!"

"Fate has spoken," I replied with an easy smile, genuinely pleased with the arrangement. Kushina's energy complemented my approach—she bulldozed through obstacles while I slipped around them. We'd make a good team.

Inoichi joined us with a relaxed smile. "Hey, not a bad team," he said, looking between us with genuine optimism.

Takeo, a civilian-born student with more determination than natural talent, joined our little gathering with visible nervousness. I'd seen him get thoroughly trounced by Kushina in a taijutsu evaluation last week. The poor kid still flinched whenever she moved too suddenly.

Grumpy-chan approached last, maintaining a careful distance with that characteristic Uchiha frown.

"Great, the gang's all here," I said, stretching lazily. "I vote we find a nice shady spot, take a nap, and let the other teams exhaust themselves fighting over flags."

"Is that your strategy for everything?" Grumpy-chan snorted.

"Only the things worth doing," I replied with a grin and opened the map Sensei was handing out to each team. "Let's see what we're working with…"

While Takada-sensei finished reading out the remaining teams, our little group huddled around the map. It showed a roughly circular training ground divided into 25 territories, each marked with a flag symbol. Various cryptic symbols dotted the landscape—probably the "hints" Takada-sensei had mentioned.

"Our territory is here," Inoichi pointed to the northeastern section, "and it looks like we're bordered by Team One to the west and Team Four to the south."

"Minato's team is going to be trouble," I mused. "They've got Tsume's tracking abilities and Choza's raw power."

"We've got Kushina," Takeo said. "She's worth any two of them."

Kushina beamed at the compliment, her hair seeming to lift slightly with her pride. "Damn right, ya know!"

"And we've got an Uchiha," I added, nodding toward Grumpy-chan, who looked mildly surprised at my acknowledgment. "Between your eyes and my... everything else, we should be fine."

He scoffed, but I didn't miss the slight straightening of his shoulders.

"The real question," I said, tapping a finger on the map, "is whether we should even bother with our core flag at all."

That earned me four pairs of eyes staring in confusion.

"What do you mean?" asked Takeo. "We get disqualified if we lose it."

"True," I replied, "but we only lose if someone else destroys it. What if everyone's too busy defending their own flags to come after ours?"

Kushina's eyes lit up with understanding. "You're saying we should all go offensive! Just grab three secondary flags and destroy their core flags super fast and win before anyone can take our core!"

"It's risky," Inoichi said thoughtfully. "The standard approach would be to leave at least two people to defend."

Grumpy-chan frowned. "If we split up, we're more vulnerable. But if we all go..."

"We hit hard and fast," I finished. "Look at these secondary flag locations—there are three within reasonable distance from our starting point. We could have them all before most teams even finish setting up their defenses."

Sensei clapped his hands for attention. "One last thing before you begin. I've taken the liberty of... enhancing the training ground with a few surprises."

The collective groan from the students made me chuckle.

"Some areas contain traps I've personally set," Sensei continued, looking far too pleased with himself. "Others might have wildlife that's been—let's say—encouraged to be territorial. Oh, and a word of warning: not all flags are what they appear to be."

"Decoys," Inoichi murmured beside me.

"Also," Sensei added with a grin that bordered on sadistic, "I'll be observing your performances throughout. Consider this a practical exam as well as training."

'Of course he would,' I thought. 'Nothing like the threat of academic consequences to make kids fight each other more aggressively.'

"Your time starts... now!" Sensei announced, and immediately disappeared in a swirl of leaves—a completely unnecessary shunshin that I was convinced Jonin only used to impress Academy students.

"So, all offense?" Kushina asked eagerly, practically bouncing on her toes.

"Not quite," I replied, refolding the map. "We need to at least check our core territory first, see what we're working with. Then we can decide if it's worth fortifying or if we're better off hunting."

"That's... surprisingly sensible," Grumpy-chan remarked with mild surprise.

I clutched my chest. "I'm wounded by your lack of faith in my strategic abilities, Grumpy-chan."

As he sputtered at the nickname, I started walking toward our assigned territory. "Come on, we're wasting daylight. Those flags aren't going to steal themselves."

We set off toward our assigned territory, five very different shinobi-in-training moving beneath the forest canopy.

"What if we set traps around our core flag and then all go hunting?" Inoichi asked as we navigated around a suspicious-looking patch of disturbed earth. "Since we can't take the flag with us, we might as well make it difficult for others to reach."

"That's actually not a bad idea," I replied. "Quick defense setup, then full offense. Could work."

"You're assuming everyone else will play defensively," Grumpy-chan pointed out.

I grinned. "Exactly. Most people follow the obvious strategy. We gain an edge by doing the unexpected."

"I like unexpected," Kushina declared with a fist pump.

Takeo looked less convinced but nodded anyway.

…

Five minutes into our trek toward our assigned territory, and Kushina was already plotting world domination. Or at least forest domination, which in the context of our current situation, was basically the same thing.

"I can't wait to see their faces when we ambush them right after setting our traps!" she exclaimed, punching her palm. "No one expects the aggressive defense strategy, ya know!"

I ducked under a low-hanging branch that seemed specifically designed to decapitate unwary shinobi-in-training. "Just remember that the 'stealth' part of 'stealth attack' typically involves not broadcasting our plans to the entire forest population."

Takeo snickered, then quickly covered it with a cough when Kushina shot him a glare that could've set his hair on fire without the need for jutsu.

"Shinji's not wrong," Inoichi pointed out. "But our plan is solid. Set our traps quickly, then immediately go hunting while everyone else is still getting organized."

Grumpy-chan, who had been silent as only an Uchiha could be, finally spoke. "The faster we secure our position, the sooner we can move on the offensive."

"Actually," I said, stepping over a suspiciously disturbed patch of soil that screamed 'trap' to anyone with functioning eyeballs, "I have a better idea. What if we—"

The kunai that embedded itself in the tree trunk precisely three centimeters from my ear put a rather rude end to what would have undoubtedly been a brilliant suggestion.

"Ambush!" Takeo yelped, dropping into a defensive stance.

I sighed deeply. We'd been in the forest for all of seven minutes. SEVEN. Either this was a new academy record for fastest ambush, or Shikaku's team had decided that playing by normal rules was for suckers. Given that Shikaku was involved, I was betting on the latter.

"So much for strategic planning," I muttered, lazily shifting my weight to my back foot as I assessed our surroundings. "Looks like philosophy hour is over, kids."

Five shadows detached themselves from the dappled forest canopy, dropping to encircle our little group with coordination that screamed "we actually planned this ahead of time unlike you chaotic disasters."

Standing at the forefront was none other than Shikaku Nara, hands already forming the first seal of his clan's signature jutsu. Flanking him were Hiashi Hyuga, his Byakugan already activated, Shibi Aburame, who stood so still he might as well have been a particularly fashionable tree, and the two other members of their team whose names escaped me because, frankly, they had yet to do anything interesting enough to earn real estate in my memory.

"Well, well," Shikaku said with that infuriating Nara confidence, "caught you early."

"Five against five in broad daylight," I observed with admiration. "How very... efficient of you, Shikaku. I expected we'd at least get to our territory before the fun began."

Shikaku smiled. "Why waste time when the objective is clear? Better to eliminate competition early."

"Because wasting time beats efficiency any day?" I suggested, even as I subtly shifted my stance, feeling Kushina tensing beside me like a spring ready to explode. Inoichi had already moved closer to Takeo, our weakest close-combat fighter, while Grumpy-chan was doing that thing Uchihas do where they try to stare you to death before actually fighting you.

I watched as Shikaku's shadow slithered across the forest floor like an overambitious ink spill, and nimbly sidestepped the shadow. Kushina chose that exact moment to launch herself at Hiashi with all the subtlety of an explosion tag in a library.

"GET THEM!" she shouted, as if the flying tackle hadn't already communicated her intentions clearly enough.

And just like that, our nice orderly discussion devolved into the kind of chaos that makes sensible ninja invest in good health insurance.

Hiashi, to his credit, managed to sidestep Kushina's initial charge with the grace his clan was known for. Unfortunately for him, "grace" wasn't much defense against "unhinged violence," and Kushina's second attack—a wild roundhouse kick—connected solidly with his shoulder.

I barely had time to appreciate her form before I had to deal with my own problems, namely the writhing mass of kikaichu insects now swarming toward me courtesy of Shibi. Nothing says "good morning" quite like the threat of having your face bitten by bugs.

"Really, Shibi? Insects before breakfast? That's just poor etiquette," I complained, lazily forming a single hand seal as if I couldn't be bothered with the full sequence. But instead of a complex jutsu, I flicked my wrist, sending three kunai in a spinning arc. Each blade trailed a nearly invisible wire coated with a flammable oil that I'd bought from the market last week.

As the kunai sliced through the swarm's formation in a triangular pattern, I struck the metal striker on my wrist guard against my own kunai handle, which I'd kept ready in my left hand.

The spark caught the oil-coated wires instantly. Fire raced along the lines, creating a burning triangle that cut through the kikaichu swarm like a hot knife through butter. The insects nearest to the flames dropped instantly, their tiny bodies unable to withstand the heat, while the rest of the formation broke apart in disarray.

"Sorry, not sorry," I called out as the charred insects fell to the ground. "Should've sent a clone instead of your little friends."

Shibi's expression tightened ever so slightly above his dark glasses—about as close to outrage as an Aburame ever displayed in public.

"Effective," Shibi commented in his characteristic monotone, though I caught the unmistakable edge in his voice. "Ruthless, but effective."

"I find most problems in life can be solved with either sake or fire. Usually sake first, then fire when things get complicated." I replied with a shrug, already pivoting to address the Nara shadow creeping toward my left foot.

I sidestepped Shikaku's shadow, making it look so effortless that it might as well have been accidental. The shadow darted forward again, more aggressively this time. I answered by flinging a kunai directly at Shikaku's feet, forcing him to shift his stance and breaking his concentration. As he stepped back, his shadow technique faltered, the dark tendril retreating several inches. Before he could recover, I sent a second kunai whistling past his ear, making him flinch and disrupting his hand seal.

"Shadow manipulation has two weaknesses," I remarked with a smirk, spinning a third kunai around my finger like it was a toy rather than a weapon. "Break the caster's concentration, and you break the jutsu."

The Nara heir's expression shifted from concentration to grudging appreciation as he readjusted his footing. "Since when do you pay attention in class?" he muttered, already recalculating his approach.

Meanwhile, Hiashi had engaged both Kushina and Takeo, his Byakugan active as he weaved through their attacks with typical Hyuga elegance. He was good—better than most in our class—but he was making one critical mistake: underestimating Kushina's sheer unpredictability.

Takeo was doing surprisingly well for someone often overlooked in class. He kept his movements tight and defensive, creating openings that Kushina ruthlessly exploited. Their teamwork wasn't polished, but it had a scrappy effectiveness that seemed to frustrate Hiashi.

As Hiashi focused on targeting Takeo's defenses, Kushina dropped into a seemingly sloppy stance that I recognized immediately. It was a trap—one that would spring the moment Hiashi committed to his next strike.

I turned my attention back to my own opponents just as Shibi launched a second, wider insect swarm while his other teammate—a boy with spiky brown hair I'd mentally dubbed "Porcupine-kun"—attempted to flank me.

Grumpy-chan, meanwhile, had fully engaged the fourth member of Shikaku's team—a lanky kid with oversized front teeth I couldn't help but call "Beaver-san" in my head—and was holding his own with textbook-perfect Uchiha taijutsu. For all his scowling, the boy moved with sharp timing, forcing Beaver-san into an increasingly defensive posture.

Inoichi hadn't been idle either. He'd positioned himself strategically between me and Shikaku, disrupting the Nara's attempts to catch me in his shadow while maintaining enough distance to avoid direct engagement. Every time Shikaku adjusted his position, Inoichi would counter-move, creating a dynamic that allowed me to focus on Shibi and Porcupine-kun.

"Two-on-one seems hardly sporting," I commented, leaning back just enough for a punch to whistle past my nose. I responded not with a counter-punch, but by simply sticking my foot out at the perfect moment, sending Porcupine-kun stumbling forward with his own momentum.

As he stumbled, I casually tapped his back with my palm—nothing fancy, just enough to throw off his balance further. His right arm flailed as he tried to recover.

"Basic school stuff," I explained helpfully as he struggled to regain his footing. "Physics over force."

The insects were closing in again, so I reached into my pouch and withdrew a handful of small metal balls that gleamed dully in the sunlight. With a flick of my wrist that looked more like I was skipping stones across a pond than fighting for my life, I scattered them in a wide arc.

The balls hit the ground and bounced in seemingly random patterns, but there was nothing random about their trajectories. While several ricocheted through sections of the swarm, most converged on Shibi, who stood half-concealed behind a large tree. He easily sidestepped the first volley, but the metal spheres ricocheted off each other in mid-air—my little surprise. Three balls converged from tricky angles, catching him in the shoulder, hip, and forehead with sharp thwacks, causing the once-coordinated swarm to falter and dissolve into confused, aimless buzzing.

I smirked at the sight of Shibi frantically trying to regain control of his insects. One opponent down, at least temporarily. But there was no time to celebrate—a shadow shot across the ground toward my feet, forcing me to leap sideways. I'd been so focused on Shibi that I'd nearly forgotten about his teammate. Spinning mid-air, I landed in a crouch and immediately had to jump again as another shadow stretched toward me.

Shikaku's eyes narrowed as he watched me dodge his shadow with seemingly minimal effort. "You move... differently today," he observed, a calculating look crossing his face. "Been holding back in class?"

I smirked. "Me? Holding back? I'm wounded by the accusation. Maybe I'm just having a good day."

Grumpy-chan had fully engaged the fourth member of Shikaku's team and was holding his own. The boy had skill, I'd give him that, even if his personality had all the warmth of a winter night in the Land of Iron.

I caught a flash of movement in my peripheral vision and twisted my body at the last possible second, feeling a kunai slice through the air where my shoulder had been a heartbeat earlier. Porcupine-kun had recovered faster than expected.

"Not bad," I acknowledged, before dropping into a crouch and sweeping Porcupine-kun's legs out from under him. As he fell, I plucked the kunai he'd dropped from midair and used it to pin his sleeve to the ground.

"Anyone else feeling like we're getting a bit bogged down here?" I called to my teammates, ducking under another swarm of insects while simultaneously keeping an eye on Shikaku's increasingly frustrated shadow manipulation.

Kushina's response was a wild laugh as she finally sprung her trap on Hiashi, dropping to the ground at the last second and using her legs to catapult him over her body when he overextended on a palm strike. The Hyuga prodigy went sailing through the air with an expression of surprise that was absolutely priceless.

"Having fun?" I asked her, as I positioned myself next to Inoichi.

"Best class ever!" she replied as she spun to face Hiashi again.

The stalemate couldn't last, though. Shikaku wasn't one to waste time on a battle of attrition, and I could see him reassessing the situation with that calculating gaze of his. We needed an exit strategy, preferably one that didn't involve our team actually losing.

Just as I was wondering if we'd need to make a break for it, there was a commotion from the east—a rush of movement through the underbrush that caught everyone's attention. A flash of yellow hair emerged from between the trees, followed by the familiar figures of Minato's team sprinting into the clearing.

"Perfect timing," I muttered with a grin, catching Inoichi's eye and giving him a subtle nod toward our planned escape route.

"EVERYONE DOWN!" Someone from Shikaku's team shouted as Minato's group crashed into the clearing like a well-coordinated storm. Choza immediately expanded his size, creating instant chaos as everyone scrambled to avoid being caught in what was now a three-way battle.

I grabbed Takeo by the collar and yanked him away from the direction of the new arrivals. "Run for it!" I called to my team, though I needn't have bothered. Kushina was already bounding away, pausing just long enough to stick her tongue out at a surprised Tsume Inuzuka. Inoichi, ever adaptable, had fallen in step beside me.

"Looks like we weren't the only ones with the 'skip defense, go offense' plan," I remarked, not slowing our retreat. "Minato's team just crashed the party."

Kushina glanced back, a wild grin spreading across her face. "Ha! That'll keep them busy, ya know!"

We crashed through the forest like a herd of deer, putting as much distance as possible between ourselves and two enemy teams. After two minutes of running, I finally signaled for us to slow down in a small clearing partially obscured by dense foliage.

"I think," Takeo wheezed, doubling over with his hands on his knees, "I'm going to throw up."

"Please don't," I requested, patting his back with what I hoped was comforting rather than patronizing. "We've got enough problems without adding 'smells like vomit' to our list of trackable features."

Grumpy-chan frowned. "We were ambushed within minutes of entering the forest and we still don't have our flag secured."

"When you put it that way," I mused, leaning against a tree trunk, "it sounds like we're off to a fantastic start."

Kushina snorted. "Could be worse. We could've been caught in that shadow jutsu after being ambushed by Minato's team."

"We need a new plan," Inoichi said. "Our assigned territory is that way," he pointed northeast, "but both Shikaku's and Minato's teams are probably going to be busy with each other for a while."

I glanced up at the sun filtering through the leaves, estimating we had about five and a half hours left in this exercise. Plenty of time for things to go catastrophically wrong in multiple creative ways.

"I vote we skip the defending part entirely," I suggested, brushing leaves off my sleeves. "Let's go hunting instead."

"For Shikaku's team?" Takeo asked, alarm evident in his voice.

Kushina's eyes lit up like she'd just discovered a new flavor of ramen. "I like this plan!"

"Of course you do," Grumpy-chan muttered, but I noticed he didn't actually object.

Inoichi tilted his head, considering our situation. "So both Shikaku and Minato's teams are focused on each other right now..."

"Which means," I said, a slow grin spreading across my face, "that they're completely distracted. Perfect time to circle back and catch them both off guard."

"Wait," Takeo interjected, eyes widening. "You want to go back? Toward the fighting?"

Kushina was already nodding. "I like this plan! They'll be weakening each other while we swoop in and clean up, ya know!"

"It's high risk," Grumpy-chan admitted, "but potentially high reward. If we wait until they've worn each other down..."

"Exactly," I confirmed, already turning back toward the sounds of distant combat. "Why hunt for flags all over the forest when we can let them do the hard work, then take what we want from the winners when they're exhausted?"

"That's... actually not a terrible plan," Grumpy-chan admitted reluctantly.

"But what about our own flag?" Takeo asked, worry clear in his voice.

I tapped my temple with a lazy smirk. "Already thought of that. Before I follow you guys, I'll set up a few nasty surprises around our core flag territory. Nothing says 'hello' like a face full of smelly powder or a sudden plunge into a pit."

Kushina raised an eyebrow. "You want to split up? Is that wise?"

I waved off her concern. "Please. I'm just springing some traps, not engaging the enemy. There's zero danger even if I'm alone." I glanced at the four of them with amusement. "And you four will be perfectly safe just spying on our enemies from a distance."

"We'll deal with defending our position after we've collected a few extras," I continued with a casual confidence that suggested this kind of strategic audacity was perfectly normal. "Much easier to defend one spot when you have multiple flags to bargain with."

Kushina punched the air. "Then let's go clean up the battlefield!"

...

I bounced from branch to branch, enjoying the brief solitude while my team was off playing ninja voyeurs. Not that I was complaining about the alone time—setting traps was practically therapeutic for me. Nothing quite like the zen of engineering someone else's very bad day.

'Our territory should be just past this thicket,' I thought, spotting the distinctive rock formation the map had pointed out. Sure enough, our bright red core flag stood proudly in a small clearing, fastened to the ground with those seals that prevented movement.

"Hello, my precious," I murmured, landing beside it with a soft thud. "Don't worry, Daddy's going to make sure nobody touches you."

The clearing was about thirty meters in diameter, ringed by trees. Perfect trap country. I cracked my knuckles and got to work.

My fingers worked the thin wire from my pouch as I threaded it between two trees at ankle height. The wire hummed quietly when I tested the tension—too tight and it would snap, too loose and it would sag visibly. I gathered fallen branches and arranged them into a natural-looking pile near the wire, notching each one for my counterweight system.

"Let's see... for a proper pendulum mechanism," I muttered, selecting a sturdy tree with a thick branch.

I bundled rocks into my spare shirt—about thirty pounds worth—and secured it overhead. One brush against the wire, and the release mechanism would trigger, sending the rock bundle swinging at chest height and activating a camouflaged net that would spring up from the leaves.

"Simple and elegant," I said with entirely too much self-satisfaction as I tested it.

For the eastern approach, I went with something special—a spring-loaded pincer trap.

I selected several flexible saplings and bent each one carefully toward the ground, feeling the resistance in the wood before securing them with thin wires. To each bent tree, I attached sections of light netting woven from vines and forest debris. When triggered, the nets would sweep inward simultaneously, creating a pincer effect impossible to dodge.

"And for the coup de grâce..." I connected all six trigger wires to a central pressure plate disguised as forest floor. The true genius was in the timer mechanism—a series of slipping knots that would create a delayed release, giving victims a false sense of security before the trees suddenly sprang back about three seconds later.

"They'll never see it coming," I grinned, sprinkling blue berries over the nets as a finishing touch.

With the major traps set, I turned to psychological warfare. I placed several conspicuous tripwires at eye level—thin wires catching just enough sunlight to be noticed.

Each "obvious" wire connected to harmless mechanisms that would make noise but cause no capture. Anyone spotting these decoys would instinctively duck under or jump over them, landing precisely where my actual pressure plates waited. I scattered a few obvious kunai-shaped shadows using carefully positioned leaves, creating illusory hazards that would funnel movement right into my spring-loaded pincers.

"First rule of trap-making," I whispered, "make them think they've outsmarted you."

I was just admiring my traps when movement caught my eye. I froze, senses alert, then casually turned toward a cluster of bushes to my right.

At the exact same moment, a head popped up from behind the bushes. Our eyes locked in mutual surprise.

A boy I vaguely recognized as kid from Team 4—Noboru something-or-other, one of the civilian-born students—stared at me with his mouth hanging open. I stared back. For three glorious seconds, neither of us moved or blinked.

"Well, this is awkward," I finally said.

"I was just..." he gestured vaguely, "...looking for... berries?"

"Behind a bush? While spying on my flag?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Special berries," he nodded vigorously. "Very... bushy berries."

I watched as he slowly began to sink back into the bushes like a particularly unconvincing prairie dog.

"I was never here," he whispered, now only a pair of eyes and a tuft of brown hair visible above the foliage.

"And yet, here you are," I countered, tilting my head.

He stopped mid-retreat. "I didn't see anything."

"Except me."

"Except you," he agreed.

"And my traps."

He winced. "Your... what traps? I don't see any traps."

I gestured vaguely around the clearing. "These aren't the traps you're looking for?"

"I should go report back," he said, rising fully from his hiding spot.

"About the traps you didn't see?"

"Exactly!" His eyes darted toward the trees behind him.

"You realize I can't let you do that," I sighed dramatically.

"I could run," he suggested hopefully.

"You could try," I agreed.

He must have decided fleeing from me was his best option because he suddenly bolted to the left. His escape might have been more successful if he hadn't immediately tripped over one of my perimeter wires. He face-planted with the grace of a drunken elephant, making a sound that was half yelp, half sneeze.

"Catch you? Seems the forest floor beat me to it," I remarked, strolling over to where he lay sprawled.

Noboru flipped onto his back. "I won't tell you anything about Team 4's plans!"

"I didn't ask," I pointed out reasonably.

He blinked, momentarily thrown off script. "Well... good!"

What followed was less a fight and more an improvised comedy routine. The poor kid had clearly practiced the Academy basics but had about as much practical combat experience as a particularly sheltered houseplant. He'd telegraph a punch from last Tuesday, I'd sidestep. He'd try a textbook sweep, I'd hop over it. All while maintaining a running commentary.

"Has anyone ever mentioned you move like you're underwater? But slower?" I asked as he missed me for the fifth time.

"Stay! Still!" he grunted, swinging wildly.

"That's generally not how fights work," I caught his wrist mid-punch and spun him around. "But points for enthusiasm."

After about two minutes of this, I decided to put the poor kid out of his misery with three well-aimed strikes—nothing painful, just enough to drop him like a sack of rice.

"That was..." he gasped from the ground, eyes wide with shock.

"The part where you lose? Yes, it was," I agreed pleasantly, already retrieving wire from my pouch.

His struggling was minimal as I efficiently trussed him up, his limbs folded into what resembled nothing so much as a human dumpling.

"There we go," I said, patting his shoulder. "Snug as a bug."

I dragged him to a hollow beneath a large tree root, carefully positioning him so he was hidden from casual view but wouldn't become a meal for the local wildlife.

"Consider this a learning experience," I told him cheerfully. "Next time, maybe don't pop up like a surprised gopher in the middle of enemy territory."

His muffled reply sounded anatomically impossible.

"I'd love to continue this conversation," I said, "but I have more traps to set and you have..." I gestured vaguely at his bound form, "...well, you have whatever's happening here. Enjoy the ambiance."

I returned to my work, placing the final touches on my trap network. I scattered a handful of shiny pebbles around the clearing, smiling as they caught the sunlight in brief, distracting flashes. The perfect misdirection to draw attention away from my actual traps.

"If only Kushina could see this," I mused, imagining her reaction to my handiwork. "She'd either be impressed or horrified. Possibly both."

I took a quick swig from my flask—purely medicinal, of course—savoring the burn as it traveled down my throat.

I was admiring my masterful network of traps when a thought hit me like a chakra-enhanced slap to the face.

"Wait a second..." I froze, turning toward the human dumpling I'd stuffed under the tree root. "I forgot the loot!"

Noboru's eyes widened with what I chose to interpret as enthusiastic consent.

"Can't believe I almost made such a rookie mistake," I muttered, strolling back to my captive. "What kind of self-respecting shinobi doesn't check for valuables?"

I crouched down beside him, patting his pockets with quick, familiar movements. "Now, let's see what goodies you've got."

His muffled protests increased in volume and creativity. I was fairly certain one of those suggestions involved my head and a place heads generally don't fit.

"Language," I tsked. "What would your mother say?"

My fingers closed around something in his left pocket. "Aha!" I pulled out... three slightly bent kunai with chipped edges. My excitement deflated faster than a punctured balloon.

"Seriously?" I held one up to the light, noticing the rust forming along one edge. "These look like they were handed down from your great-grandfather's war collection."

Noboru made a sound that might have been agreement or an anatomically impossible suggestion.

I continued my search, finding two onigiri that looked suspiciously leaky, a handful of shuriken that had clearly seen better decades, and a crumpled piece of paper that turned out to be a half-finished grocery list.

"Eggs, milk, kunai polish—at least your priorities are in order," I commented, tucking the list back into his pocket as a courtesy. "Though judging by these weapons, you might want to move 'kunai polish' to the top."

I sat back on my heels with a sigh of profound disappointment. "I've looted storage closets with better inventory. Is this what being a civilian-born student means? Budget weapons?"

Noboru somehow managed to look offended despite being trussed up like leftovers.

"No judgment," I assured him, pocketing the least decrepit kunai. "We all start somewhere. Though in your case, that somewhere appears to be the Academy's reject bin."

I was contemplating the cosmic injustice of his subpar equipment when I heard it—the obvious sound of footsteps trying very hard not to sound like footsteps. Four sets, moving in formation. Team 4 had arrived in full force minus their captured scout.

"Well, well," I murmured, patting Noboru's cheek. "Seems your friends got tired of waiting. How inconsiderate of them to interrupt our quality time."

His eyes widened with what I chose to interpret as agreement.

I straightened up, dusting off my hands. "Now, be a good hostage and don't make any—" I stopped mid-sentence, hit by sudden inspiration. "Actually, scratch that. I have a much better idea."

Noboru made a muffled sound of alarm as I dragged him out from under the root and propped him up against a tree trunk—conveniently positioned just at the edge of my most elaborate trap network.

"How do you feel about being bait?" I asked, adjusting his bindings so he was sitting upright.

The footsteps were getting closer—still trying to be stealthy but growing bolder. They clearly thought they had the element of surprise. How adorable.

I quickly slapped a handwritten note to Noboru's chest that read: "CONGRATS! YOU FOUND YOUR TEAMMATE!" with a crude smiley face underneath, then slipped behind a nearby tree with a clear view of my masterpiece.

"Mmmmfff!" Noboru's objection was admirably loud despite the gag.

"Shh, you're ruining the tension," I whispered, peering around the trunk just as four figures emerged cautiously from the treeline.

Team 4 had arrived in all their glory, led by Miyabi Senju. I found my gaze lingering on her a moment longer than the others. With those amber eyes and pale blonde hair, she had a hint of Tsunade about her—just enough of a resemblance to make me do a quick double-take. She was pretty in that classic Senju way, though obviously younger and more modest in all proportions than the legendary Sannin. Then there was Droopy Eyes looking like he'd rather be anywhere else, Squinty scanning the clearing with narrowed eyes, and Slouchy bringing up the rear with—you guessed it—a slouch. Textbook formation, textbook caution, textbook everything. I stifled a yawn.

Miyabi spotted Noboru first. "There he is!"

"Wait," Droopy Eyes hissed, grabbing her arm. "It's too obvious. It's probably a trap."

I smiled. At least one of them had a functioning brain cell.

"Of course it's a trap," Squinty scoffed. "But what choice do we have? We can't just leave him."

'My thoughts exactly,' I mused, watching them debate rescue strategies with all the tactical sophistication of a group deciding where to eat lunch.

"Hiroki and I will go left," Miyabi whispered. "Akira and Yua, circle right. We'll converge on Noboru from both sides."

I bit back a laugh. Was she reading from 'Basic Shinobi Rescue Operations for Dummies'?

They split into pairs, approaching from opposite directions—inadvertently lining up perfectly with my trap network. It was almost too easy. But to make sure...

I pulled out a shuriken and flicked it toward a branch above the clearing. The small thunk drew their attention upward for just a second—and that tiny shift in their paths was all I needed.

Miyabi and Slouchy now stepped directly toward my pressure plate trigger, while Droopy Eyes and Squinty were perfectly aligned with my tripwire. A master trap-setter doesn't force victims into traps; he guides them into thinking the trap-free path was their own idea.

I watched with professional pride as Miyabi's foot landed squarely on the disguised pressure plate. There was a beautiful three-second delay—just long enough for her to think she was safe—before the mechanism released. Six saplings that I'd bent and secured suddenly sprang back to their natural positions, carrying nets in a perfect pincer movement.

The nets swept inward like enthusiastic puppies greeting their owner, colliding exactly where Miyabi and Slouchy stood. Their surprised yelps were music to my ears as they found themselves suddenly bundled together in a cocoon of netting and foliage, sprinkled liberally with blue berries that burst on impact.

Simultaneously, Droopy Eyes's shin caught the tripwire on the opposite side of the clearing. There was a soft click as the notched stick dislodged from my release mechanism, and the counterweight I'd so carefully arranged went into action. The rock bundle swung down, triggering the secondary system that launched a camouflaged net upward.

Droopy Eyes, hearing the mechanism engage, threw himself into a desperate backward roll—his Academy reflexes finally proving useful for something. The net barely missed him, sailing over his head by centimeters as he tumbled awkwardly away.

Unfortunately for Squinty, she was mid-stride when the net deployed, catching her as she tried to leap over what she thought was the actual trap. The netting wrapped around her like an enthusiastic octopus greeting its favorite prey.

"Home run!" I announced, stepping out from behind my tree and slow-clapping with appreciation. "My traps are having a mostly productive morning."

"Shinji!" Droopy Eyes shouted, scrambling to his feet after his narrow escape. He whirled toward me, face flushed with anger and still breathing hard from his acrobatic save. "You sneaky bastard!"

"The preferred term is 'tactically innovative,'" I corrected, drawing a kunai and twirling it lazily around my finger. "Though I'll accept 'devilishly clever' as an alternative."

Droopy Eyes charged at me like a wild boar, arm cocked back for a haymaker.

I stepped aside and felt his sleeve rush past my ear. He staggered forward, caught himself, and whirled back around. His face darkened to crimson. "Stand still and fight!"

"That's generally not how fights work," I said, ducking under his next swing. His knuckles went over my head. I weaved right as he jabbed left, then bent backward as his roundhouse sliced through empty air. Each miss made his breathing more ragged. "But nice hustle."

Slouchy had cut halfway through the net with his kunai, the fibers snapping one by one. He wriggled through the gap, leaving Miyabi twisted up in the remaining mesh.

"Two against one now," he growled, circling to my left while Droopy Eyes took the right.

I pressed a hand to my chest in alarm. "Oh no, whatever shall I do?" I gasped, before dropping into a casual ready stance. "Come on then, boys. Show me what they're teaching in remedial taijutsu these days."

They rushed me together—Slouchy diving low for my legs, Droopy Eyes swinging wild for my face. I hopped the sweep and tilted just enough to feel Droopy's knuckles brush past my cheek.

"Timing's off," I commented, landing between them. "But the enthusiasm is commendable."

Slouchy recovered first, launching into a surprisingly decent combination of strikes—left jab, right cross, left hook. I blocked the jab with my forearm, slipped the cross, and caught the hook, using his momentum to spin him around.

"Not bad," I admitted, releasing his arm before he could counter. "You've been practicing."

"Every day," he grunted, dropping into a lower stance.

"It shows." I nodded appreciatively. "Your form is much less tragic than last semester."

Droopy Eyes tried to capitalize on our exchange by attacking from behind—a respectable strategy if he hadn't announced his approach with footsteps that sounded like a herd of drunken elephants.

Without looking, I dropped low and spun, sweeping his legs out from under him with a casual circular kick. He hit the ground with an indignant "Oof!"

"And that," I told him as he lay there gasping, "is why shinobi wear those soft-soled sandals. Sneaking 101."

Slouchy thought he had me distracted and launched himself through the air, foot aimed at my gut. I snatched his ankle mid-flight, leaving him hanging there like a broken kite. He twisted hard and swung his free leg at my head. I let go at just the right second. He spun like a top, arms flailing wild as he stumbled and slammed shoulder-first into a tree trunk.

Droopy Eyes had regained his feet and was now approaching more cautiously, hands raised in a basic Academy defensive posture. His eyes narrowed in concentration—clearly trying to apply actual tactics instead of just bull-rushing. Progress!

"See, this is much better," I encouraged, gesturing at his stance. "You're thinking now."

"Shut up," he growled, edging sideways.

Slouchy had recovered his balance and now the two of them coordinated their approach, trying to flank me. I allowed myself to be backed toward one of the few areas of the clearing I hadn't trapped, feigning concern at being cornered.

"Nowhere to run now," Droopy Eyes said, a triumphant smile spreading across his face.

"Who said I'm running?" I asked, then dropped fast to the ground, leg whipping out in a wide sweep.

Slouchy wasn't quick enough—my shin slammed his ankles and his feet flew out from under him. Droopy Eyes actually managed to jump my sweep—though he came down wobbling like he'd never landed on two feet before.

Slouchy toppled with a satisfying thud, and I sprang straight from my sweep at Droopy Eyes while he was still wobbling, grabbed his arm, and twisted—just enough to spin him around. In the same motion, I yanked on his weapons pouch strap, which came loose like a poorly tied shoelace.

"Hey!" he protested as I danced away with several feet of strap now in my hands.

Slouchy lunged at me from the side, but I sidestepped, hooking one finger through his loose belt loop. With a quick tug and twist, his belt came undone, and I added it to my growing collection of clothing accessories.

"What are you—" Slouchy started, grabbing at his now sagging pants.

"Improvising," I replied cheerfully, twirling the belt and strap like dual lassos. "The materials you carry are always your first weapons."

Both boys charged me at once. I ducked between them, looping Droopy Eyes's strap around Slouchy's ankle while simultaneously using Slouchy's belt to snag Droopy Eyes's wrist. One well-timed yank later, they were stumbling into each other, tangled in their own accessories.

"Basic Academy lesson," I announced, circling them like a helpful instructor. "Anything can be a tool in the right hands."

Their coordination devolved into chaos as they tried to separate, each movement tightening the improvised bindings. I took the opportunity to pluck Slouchy's scarf from around his neck and Droopy Eyes's arm wraps. He grunted, trying to free his wrist from the belt, but I haphazardly knotted the scarf to the arm wraps.

With some hand-waving that would have made any Academy taijutsu instructor facepalm so hard they'd need medical attention, I tangled my collection of clothing items around their flailing limbs. The more they struggled, the more entangled they became.

"Stop moving!" Slouchy hissed at Droopy Eyes. "You're making it worse!"

"Me? You're the one who—"

I interrupted their bickering by giving the final knot a tug, completing my masterpiece. Both boys were now effectively bound together, back-to-back, in what looked like a thrift store had thrown up on them.

"Stop moving!" Slouchy hissed at Droopy Eyes. "You're making it worse!"

"Me? You're the one who—"

I cut off their bickering with a final tug that yanked the knot tight. Both boys jerked like caught fish, now bound back-to-back in what looked like my laundry's greatest hits collection.

"This is humiliating," Droopy Eyes groaned, twisting uselessly against his bonds.

"Think of it as a team-building exercise," I said, making another slow circle around them. "You wanted to work together to defeat me, and now look—you're inseparable."

I scanned the battlefield—my personal disaster zone. Miyabi thrashed in the net like a landed trout, her usually perfect blonde hair now a mess dotted with blue berry stains. Even caught in my trap, though, you couldn't miss those Senju features. Give her a few years, and the village would have another knockout on their hands. Priorities, priorities.

Squinty hung in my second net trap, finally gave up fighting it and just watched with the look of someone reconsidering their life choices. Noboru stayed put where I'd planted him, probably thinking the same thing. And here were Droopy Eyes and Slouchy, trussed up tighter than anyone at a festival dumpling stand.

"Welp, this has been fun," I said cheerfully, brushing invisible dust from my clothes. "But I've got flags to collect."

"You're just going to leave us like this?" Miyabi called from her net, having finally torn a small hole in the mesh.

I paused. My eyes drifted to her—couldn't help it, really. Like a cat with a new toy, I strolled over and started working the knots.

"Actually, I've got a proposition for you, Miyabi-chan," I said, carefully untangling her from the mess of netting and berry stains.

She eyed me like I might bite as she emerged, berry-stained and leaf-covered, unconsciously brushing debris from her chest. Her cheeks went pink when she caught my glance.

"What kind of... proposition?" she asked, her tone suggesting she had some very specific ideas about what I meant.

I grinned innocently. "Mind out of the gutter, Miyabi-chan. This is strictly business."

The blonde Senju blinked, looking both relieved and kind of insulted. "I wasn't thinking—"

"Course not," I agreed smoothly. "Though I'm flattered by whatever crossed your mind. I'm talking about the kind where you do me a favor, and in return, I don't make your teammates wish they'd never been born."

"I'm not—" she started, then caught herself, cheeks going redder. "What exactly do you want?"

"Something simple," I replied, enjoying watching her squirm. "Though not what you're thinking."

She crossed her arms over her chest defensively. "I wasn't thinking anything inappropriate!"

From my pouch, I pulled out a small jar, unscrewing the lid like I was defusing a bomb. Before the full stench could escape, I yanked my collar up over my nose—the mint oil I'd dabbed there earlier finally earning its keep.

The smell that wafted out made even me grateful for my prep work. The others weren't so lucky.

"What is that?" Miyabi choked, backing up with her nose scrunched.

"My special blend," I said proudly, voice muffled through my collar. "Fermented skunk cabbage, three-day-old fish paste, and a touch of that yellow fungus that grows behind the Academy toilets. I call it 'Essence of Regret.'"

Droopy Eyes, still tied to Slouchy, went pale. "You wouldn't."

"Oh, I absolutely would," I promised, dipping a small stick into the nasty mixture. "A little dab behind the ears, maybe some war paint across the cheeks. You'll be the talk of the Academy for weeks—or at least until the smell fades. If it ever does."

"That's so mean!" Slouchy protested, squirming harder against his improvised bonds.

I stepped toward them with my goo-covered stick. "Hold still. This'll only destroy your social life."

"Wait!" Miyabi jumped between us. "What's the favor?"

I smiled. "Simple. Go to your core flag, destroy it, and bring me the remains as proof."

All four members of Team 4 gaped at me. "Destroy our flag? That's our mission objective!"

"Totally destroy it," I raised my eyebrows. "I just want proof. Unless you'd rather I use my special cologne on your teammates?"

"Takada-sensei will fail us!" Miyabi objected.

I waggled my smelly stick toward the tied-up boys, who all tried desperately to escape. "Pick your poison, Miyabi-chan. Takada-sensei's disappointment, or the eternal stench of regret burned into your skins. Berry stains fade, but this smell? It's the gift that keeps on giving."

To make my point, I stepped closer to the boys and waved my hand near their faces, safe behind my mint-scented collar. The reaction was instant and brutal. Droopy Eyes made a sound like a cat coughing up its own lungs, while Slouchy's face went through seven different flavors of pure horror.

"It's in my nose!" Droopy Eyes gagged. "It's actually burning my nose hairs!"

"My eyes are watering," Slouchy wheezed. "Is this what dying feels like?"

Noboru, still stuck by the tree, immediately turned and dry-heaved into a nearby bush.

Something flashed in the corner of my eye—blonde hair, then the high-pitched whistle of metal cutting air. I jerked sideways as three shuriken punched into the tree trunk where my shoulder had been a split second before.

"Let them go," Miyabi demanded, already closing the distance with scary speed. Her stance shifted into classic Senju combat form—feet shoulder-width, right hand forward, left hand chambered at her hip.

"Negotiation phase over already?" I asked, pocketing my jar. "And here I thought we were having such a nice chat."

She answered with her fist. A right jab transformed mid-swing into an elbow strike aimed straight for my temple. I twisted inside her guard, the attack missing so close I felt her sleeve brush my ear and caught the scent of sweat and cedar.

I bumped her forward with my shoulder while stepping back, using her momentum against her to create space. Her eyes flashed with surprise—she hadn't expected me to slip that attack so easily.

"Your traps were clever," she said, circling me with quick, measured steps. "But your taijutsu is something else."

She exploded forward—palm strike to solar plexus, then a knife-hand to the throat, flowing smoothly into a backwards-spinning heel kick. I blocked the palm with my forearm, ducked the knife-hand by a hair, then caught her ankle mid-spin and redirected her like a spinning top.

Miyabi didn't miss a beat. She used my grip as leverage, launching her free leg at my face in a butterfly kick. I let go of her ankle and dropped flat, her foot whistling over me as I rolled back into a crouch, dirt grinding into my palms.

"Not bad," I said, chest heaving slightly as I watched her land with perfect balance. "You fight like a true Senju."

Her response was a diving lunge that suddenly twisted into a handspring at the last second, her feet nearly connecting with my chin as she flipped over me. I sidestepped and spun to face her landing, just in time to meet a barrage of rapid-fire strikes aimed at every weak spot on my torso.

"You know," I commented as I deflected her attacks with open-palm parries, "with that blonde hair and those amber eyes, you're the spitting image of Tsunade-sama."

Her rhythm hiccupped for just a heartbeat—enough for me to counter with a palm thrust that pushed her back two steps.

"Is that supposed to distract me?" she growled, channeling something into her right fist as she charged again. The attack connected with a tree as I dodged, splintering the bark like she was trying to make firewood.

"Just making an observation," I replied, circling her with quick steps. "The legendary beauty of the Senju clan clearly runs in the family."

She dropped low without warning, sweeping both arms in a wide arc that forced me to jump. I twisted in the air, the kunai she'd thrown slicing through my sleeve as I barely avoided the blade.

"Is that all anyone sees?" she muttered through clenched teeth. She sank into the Tiger stance—knees bent, hands open like claws, her whole body coiled and ready to spring in any direction.

I matched her stance, watching her eyes for the next attack. "Hit a nerve, did I?"

She unleashed a storm of Tiger-style strikes—open-palms smashing toward my sternum, throat, and face in rapid succession. Each hit carried enough power to drop me on the spot if they landed clean. I slipped between them, redirecting her force rather than blocking directly, letting her burn energy while I conserved mine.

"Try living with it," she snapped, frustration flashing in her eyes as another strike whistled past my ear. "Everyone staring, always comparing. 'When will you start training at the hospital?' 'Why aren't you at the hospital like Tsunade-sama?'"

I caught her wrist as she overextended on a straight punch, feeling the tendons tense under my fingers as I yanked her off-balance. She countered instantly, dropping her center of gravity and twisting into my space, trying to use my own grip as leverage against me.

"Family expectations," I nodded, releasing her before she could complete the counter and stepping back. "Worse than enemy kunai sometimes."

She paused, breathing slightly heavy, rethinking her approach. Her eyes flicked to her trapped teammates, then back to me.

"Where's your team during all this?" she asked, circling again. "Or did they assign flag defense to their best fighter?"

"Who says I'm their best?" I replied with a grin.

Her eyes narrowed. "You took down my entire team single-handed."

"Maybe your team just needs more practice," I suggested, earning a glare that could melt steel.

She attacked again—complex combination starting with a feinted right cross that transformed into a spinning backfist, flowing into an axe kick that would have bruised my shoulder if it landed. I redirected each strike with barely any effort, waiting for the opening I knew would come.

It appeared when she committed too much weight to a forward thrust kick. I sidestepped, hooked her supporting ankle with my foot, and pushed her shoulder with just enough force to break her balance. The move sent her sprawling forward, though she turned the fall into a combat roll and bounced back to her feet—her face flushed with frustration.

But I was already there, stepping into her space before she could reset her stance. One hand twisted the fabric at her collar while the other gripped her hip, creating that perfect split-second where her body couldn't respond—leaving her completely exposed and unable to counter.

"You're better than I expected," she admitted, voice tight as she realized how vulnerable she was.

"You're not so bad yourself," I replied, maintaining the hold without applying pressure—just enough to show I could end things if I wanted.

"Let's make a deal," she proposed. "You let my team go, and we'll give you our secondary flags. We've collected two already."

"Interesting offer," I remarked. "Why would I accept when I could just take them anyway?"

"Because we could help each other," she countered. "My team against yours. Alliance."

I pretended to think about it, releasing her collar to tap my chin with my free hand. "Tempting. Very tempting."

She tried to straighten, testing my grip. "So we have a—"

The slight shift gave me exactly what I needed. I let go of her collar and snatched both wrists. Before she could react, I spun her around, her own jacket becoming her prison as I manipulated the fabric like I was gift-wrapping a difficult present.

I ripped her belt free with a sharp tug and threaded it through the bunched sleeves, cinching it tight with a quick pull that made her grunt in surprise. My fingers worked faster than she could follow, turning her expensive jacket into perfect restraints.

By the time she realized what was happening, Miyabi found herself trussed up like her teammates—basically a human dumpling with better breeding.

"I call this one 'Senju Spring Roll,'" I announced, stepping back to admire my work. "Not quite as stylish as Tsunade's outfits, but it has charm."

She struggled against her fabric prison, managing only to roll onto her side with an undignified grunt.

"You're a monster," Miyabi whispered.

"Monster is such a harsh word," I sighed. "I'm just a shinobi with standards." I retrieved my jar of death from the nearby stump and unscrewed the lid with a flourish, drawing horrified looks from my captive audience. "Now, about those flags we were discussing..."

I turned back to Slouchy and Droopy Eyes, who renewed their desperate struggling at the sight of the opened container. I swirled my lovely stick in small circles near the boys' faces. A drop of the toxic substance dripped ominously toward them.

"Fine!" Miyabi shouted. "I'll do it! Just—just put that away!"

I screwed the lid back on with a smug grin. "Excellent choice. You have fifteen minutes. Any longer, and I'll assume you're reneging, in which case..." I patted the jar lovingly.

"How do I know you won't do it anyway after I leave?" she demanded, tossing her blonde hair back with attitude.

"Shinobi's honor," I replied, placing my hand over my heart.

"You don't have any honor!"

"I'm hurt, truly," I said, not looking hurt at all. "But fine—I'll sweeten the deal. Go to your core flag, completely destroy it, and bring me what's left. Not only will I spare your teammates from smell hell, I'll also set them free."

Miyabi glanced at her suffering teammates, then back at me. "30 minutes. I'll need time to reach our flag."

"Deal, but I'm keeping this open as insurance." I unscrewed the lid again, setting the jar on a nearby stump where the breeze carried its unholy aroma directly toward the captives, while I remained safely upwind, breathing through my collar.

Miyabi shot me one last glare before darting into the forest, leaves crunching under her angry footfalls.

"She's not coming back, is she?" Noboru asked sadly after she disappeared.

"Oh, she'll be back," I assured him, keeping a safe distance from my own biological weapon. "Self-preservation is one thing, but teammate preservation? That's shinobi 101."

Droopy Eyes was trying to breathe through his mouth. "What is actually in that stuff?"

"Trade secret," I replied, sitting cross-legged on a clean patch of ground. "But I can tell you the fungus behind the Academy toilets was definitely the finishing touch."

"There's no fungus behind the Academy toilets," Slouchy said with narrow eyes.

I winked. "There is now. I planted it three weeks ago for exactly this."

"You're lying," Squinty called from her net.

"Am I?" I asked mysteriously, knowing full well I absolutely was. The jar actually contained a harmless but extraordinarily nasty-smelling mix I'd made from ordinary kitchen stuff. The power of suggestion was doing most of the work.

We settled into an uncomfortable waiting game—uncomfortable mainly for my captives, who were now trying various breathing techniques to minimize their exposure to the jar's fumes. I kept myself busy by whistling cheerfully and occasionally giving the jar a little swirl, which never failed to produce fresh gagging sounds from my audience.

To my genuine surprise, Miyabi returned in just under 25 minutes, her face flushed from running and her right hand clutching what was clearly the shredded remains of a core flag. The fabric was torn to pieces, with clear evidence of kunai slashes and what looked like burn attempts.

"Impressive," I commented as she skidded to a halt before me, breathing hard. She thrust the destroyed cloth toward me. "Here. Now let them go."

I examined her offering carefully. The red fabric was thoroughly mangled, blackened scorch marks and burn holes hiding where Team 4's emblem had once been. The destruction looked almost vindictive. "How did you manage the destruction so quickly?"

"Kunai, flint and steel," she replied curtly, using a sleeve to wipe sweat from her brow. "Now fulfill your end of the bargain."

"With pleasure." I rose and replaced the lid on my jar of death, much to the visible relief of my captives. Then I approached the human dumpling known as Droopy Eyes and Slouchy.

"Behold, the release of the Dumpling Jutsu," I announced, deftly untying the complex knot that held everything together. In seconds, they sprawled free on the forest floor, scrambling desperately for their stuff.

While they sorted out whose belt was whose, I strolled over to Squinty's suspended net and slashed her down with my kunai. She landed with surprising grace for someone who'd been hanging upside down for the better part of twenty minutes.

"I have to say," I remarked, tucking my kunai into my pouch alongside the secondary flags, "I didn't think you'd actually do it. Burning your own core flag? That's commitment."

Miyabi's lips curled into a sly smile. "Who said it was ours?"

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You asked for proof that I burned a core flag. This is proof that I burned a core flag." She gestured to the charred fabric. "Team 5's flag, to be precise."

My surprise gave way to admiration. "You sneaky little—"

"It's creativity," she mimicked my earlier tone. "I just applied your lesson."

The other members of Team 4 were looking at Miyabi with expressions from shock to respect.

"And Team 5 was none the wiser—they were too busy fighting another team when I slipped in." Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction at my reaction.

I stared at her for a long moment, then threw back my head and laughed. "Well played, Miyabi-chan. Well played indeed."

She offered a small, triumphant smile. "So we're free to go?"

"Absolutely," I confirmed with a nod. "You've more than earned it." I gestured to their now-freed teammates. "Though the stains might take a day to fade."

Droopy Eyes was trying to rub some of the blue stains from his clothing with limited success. "This isn't over, Shinji," he grumbled, though there was less heat in his voice now.

"I certainly hope not," I replied cheerfully. "You've all become much more interesting than I gave you credit for."

Miyabi gathered her team like a mother hen collecting chicks. And as they began to file away, Noboru, now fully freed from his bindings, paused beside me. "That stuff," he said quietly, gesturing to the jar. "What was really in it?"

I winked. "Mostly cabbage water and food coloring. The power of suggestion is a shinobi's greatest weapon."

His eyes went wide. "But the smell—"

"Oh, it definitely stinks," I confirmed. "Just not half as bad as your reactions suggested. Psychology is a beautiful thing."

With a final glance, he hurried after his departing teammates, leaving me alone in my trap-filled clearing.

I surveyed the aftermath of my morning's work—scattered berry stains, disturbed foliage, trampled ground, and some secondary flags in my pouch, plus what was definitely the remains of Team 5's core flag.

"Not exactly according to plan," I mused, "but far more entertaining."

I took a celebratory swig from my flask, enjoying the warm sensation as the sake traveled down my throat.

"I wonder how the others are doing," I said, watching Team 4 disappear into the trees. "But first..."

A slow smile spread across my face as I pocketed my jar. The blonde Senju and her team had put on an admirable performance, but the game wasn't quite over.

"Their core flag is still intact somewhere," I murmured, setting off in the direction Miyabi had run. "And I think it's time to complete my collection."

After all, leaving Team 4's flag intact posed a risk I couldn't ignore. What if they regrouped and decided my territory made for perfect revenge? My traps were good, but a motivated Senju with a grudge wasn't something to take lightly.

"Nothing personal, Miyabi-chan," I muttered to the forest as I picked up speed. "Just covering my bases."

...

Following Team 4 through the forest was almost too easy. I mean, they weren't exactly being subtle—crashing through the underbrush like a herd of drunk elephants. Even Academy first-years could track this mess.

'Maybe I should give them some pointers on stealth after I steal their flag,' I thought, ducking under a low-hanging branch. 'Of course, professional consultation doesn't come cheap. I'll have to bill them for the lesson - teaching fee, expertise surcharge, and a small markup for my time.'

Tracking them was stupid easy. Noboru walked like he had bricks for feet, and Droopy Eyes kept snapping twigs every few steps. They might as well have left a trail of breadcrumbs.

I froze behind a thick tree when I heard voices up ahead. Sticking to the shadows, I inched closer until I could see into a small clearing.

Well, crap.

Team 4 wasn't alone. They were huddled up with Team 1—Minato, Mikoto, Choza, Tsume, and Kana. Ten people total, looking sketchy as hell. Nothing screams "we're up to something" like a secret forest meeting.

I crept closer, staying low behind the underbrush. They were still too far away for me to make out every word, but Miyabi's angry gestures told me everything I needed to know. She was waving her arms dramatically, pointing in various directions, and clearly working herself into quite a state. Even from this distance, I could tell she was badmouthing me—her face had that particular shade of indignant I'd seen right after I'd rolled her up in her own clothes. From where I was hiding, I could only catch bits and pieces of what she was saying.

"...psychological..." her voice drifted over, "...disgusting jar..." she did this full-body shudder, "...threatened us with..."

The others leaned in like she was telling the best ghost story ever. I couldn't hear everything, but my gut told me she was painting me as some kind of psycho.

Minato's voice carried better. "...flags stolen?" I heard him ask.

Slouchy nodded like a bobblehead, pointing at his clothes. I caught the words "...tied us up..." followed by some wild hand gestures.

Everyone in the clearing started laughing. Even from where I was hiding, I could see Choza's jaw drop.

When they calmed down, the groups huddled closer together, their body language shifting from confrontational to collaborative. Minato was speaking now, his calm gestures a stark contrast to Miyabi's animated ones. Whatever he was saying had everyone nodding in agreement.

Miyabi punched her palm like she was already imagining it was my face. Whatever they were cooking up, I was definitely the main ingredient.

I frowned. 'That can't be good.'

Suddenly, Tsume's ninken puppy perked up. Its little nose twitched frantically, and its head swiveled directly toward my hiding spot. Our eyes met through the foliage.

'Oh crap.'

"Someone's there!" Tsume shouted, pointing directly at my bush.

Curse those Inuzuka noses.

Ten heads whipped around simultaneously, and I found myself staring at a collection of surprised and then quickly hostile expressions. Miyabi's face turned a shade of red I didn't think was humanly possible.

"I knew it! He was following us!" Miyabi yelled, looking way too happy about catching me.

And that was my cue to exit. I exploded out from behind the bush like a jack-in-the-box on steroids, abandoning any pretense of stealth, and took off in the opposite direction.

Behind me, I heard the thunderous scramble of multiple sets of feet and Minato's calm voice. "Don't let him escape! He heard everything!"

No, I didn't.

So much for being sneaky. I took off running. Behind me, the clearing exploded with activity as ten angry kids charged after me.

Running through the forest felt like flying. I leapt over exposed roots, ducked under branches, and pushed off tree trunks to change direction. The forest was a blur of green and brown around me as the sound of ten academy students crashing through the underbrush behind me created a jumble of snapping twigs and rustling leaves.

"Shinji! You coward!" That was definitely Miyabi. "Come back and face justice!"

"Sorry, justice is on lunch break!" I called back, not breaking stride.

"We'll catch you eventually!" someone else shouted.

"Your legs will give out before ours do!" That was Choza, which was rich coming from an Akimichi.

'This is great,' I thought. 'Nothing like a morning jog with ten people who want to kick my butt.'

Behind me, it sounded like a tornado tearing through the forest. Branches snapped and leaves crunched as Teams 1 and 4 crashed through the forest after me like bulls in a china shop.

"Shinji, you can't outrun all of us!" Minato called out. He sounded too confident, which made me instantly suspicious.

"Watch me!" I yelled back, running faster.

I zigzagged through a bunch of close-together trees, trying to shake them off. The sounds swearing continued behind me.

"Spread out!" I heard Minato yell. "Don't let him circle back!"

The chase went on for several more minutes, my lungs starting to burn in that good way that means you're pushing yourself. I jumped over a little stream, landed on a slippery rock, and used it to launch myself deeper into the trees like a slingshot.

I heard splashing behind me as some of my hunters followed. But something felt weird. The noise behind me had changed. I snapped my head back over my shoulder. Through gaps in the trees, I caught glimpses of my pursuers, but they weren't the tumbling mess I'd left behind. More like a well-oiled machine and less like an angry mob.

After about five minutes of running through the forest like a madman, I started really paying attention to the sounds behind me. Something was definitely off.

I started counting what I heard.

One-two-three... four?

Wait a second. Only four sets of footsteps? Where the hell were the other six?

I jumped up and grabbed a low branch, swinging myself into the trees for a better look. Crouching on the thick branch, I peeked back at who was chasing me.

Minato was in front, his blond hair like a beacon. Behind him came Mikoto with her perfect Uchiha running form. Tsume followed with her puppy, and... Miyabi?

'Oh, you sneaky bastard,' I thought, reluctantly impressed.

It hit me like a water balloon to the face. This wasn't a random chase; the sounds were getting fewer, the pursuit less chaotic. Minato hadn't sent everyone after me.

Which meant...

"My flag!" I hissed, suddenly getting it. While this small team kept me running the wrong way, the rest were probably heading straight for my undefended territory.

I changed direction immediately, pushing off the branch and launching myself toward home like a human cannonball. The quick change in forest sounds told me my pursuers noticed. Sharp rustling to my left, synchronized footsteps to my right.

"He's figured it out!" Mikoto's voice rang through the trees.

"Cut him off!" Minato ordered. "Mikoto, left flank! Tsume, right! Miyabi, with me—we'll block his escape route!"

I heard them picking up speed. Time to get creative. I pulled out some ninja wire, strung it between two trees as I passed, setting it at ankle height like a spider weaving its web at light speed. I heard a satisfying "Oof!" followed by some very creative cursing that definitely came from Tsume. Something about my "ancestry" and "explosion."

"Trip wires? Really?" Miyabi was closer than I expected. "Didn't you already use that trick on my team?"

I glanced back to see her jumping neatly over my wire, eyes locked on me like I was her favorite target at the shooting range.

"I stick with what works!" I called back, pushing myself to go faster.

The forest got thicker as I got closer to my territory, branches scratching my arms as I pushed through. I could hear Minato and the others closing in.

I burst into a small clearing at full speed and spotted three figures ahead. Slouchy, Droopy Eyes, and Noboru were coming from the east, exactly as I'd guessed. They froze like deer in headlights.

"Boss! He's back!" Noboru yelped, pointing at me with eyes as big as dinner plates.

I skidded to a stop so hard my feet dug trenches in the dirt. Four Team 4 members in front of me, four chasers behind me, and who knew where Choza and Kana were.

Minato burst into the clearing behind me like he'd been launched from a cannon, with Mikoto, Miyabi, and a slightly messed-up Tsume practically on his heels.

"Nowhere to run now, Shinji," Minato said, barely out of breath from the chase. His blue eyes checked every escape route like he was calculating angles for kunai throws. "Eight against one. I'd say your flag-stealing days are over."

Tsume and her puppy moved to my right while Mikoto glided to my left like a cat ready to pounce, boxing me in with textbook teamwork.

I couldn't help grinning despite being totally outnumbered. "You know, most people would just ask for my flag. There's no need for violence."

Eight pairs of eyes locked onto me, full of determination, annoyance, and in Miyabi's case, what looked a lot like payback.

Until suddenly I stood there, hands raised in surrender like some bandit from those old Western movies. Eight pairs of eyes stared at me like I'd just suggested we have tea instead of trying to punch each other.

"You're not seriously surrendering," Miyabi said, sounding almost offended.

I grinned. "Oh, I absolutely am. You want my core flag? I'll even give you my autograph so you can prove you caught me."

Choza's jaw dropped. "But... but we were going to have an epic showdown!"

"Epic is exhausting. Pass."

Mikoto raised an eyebrow. "You're surrendering? But you seemed so excited about leading us on a chase."

"Yeah, I'm skipping straight to the ending. You guys win. Congratulations. Can I go now?"

Minato just shook his head, that knowing look in his eyes. Of course he'd understand. That's what I liked about Minato - he got me. Well, sometimes.

"You're impossible," Tsume huffed, her puppy whining in agreement.

The clearing fell silent except for the sound of wind rustling through leaves. Nobody seemed to know what to do with my surrender.

"This is weird," Noboru muttered. "Shouldn't we be fighting?"

"Why fight when you can just hand over the flag?" I reasoned. "I'm helping you out here. Think of all the energy you'll save."

Slouchy scratched his head. "He's got a point. No fighting means no injuries."

"That's the spirit!" I said cheerfully. "Well, you all already know where it is from your maps. I'll just walk back with you to make sure nobody gets lost."

I turned and started walking toward my team's territory, completely unconcerned about the eight ninja potentially ready to attack from behind. Just casually walked away like I was heading to lunch.

"Wait!" Miyabi called out. "You can't just... walk away!"

I glanced over my shoulder with a slight smirk. "But I already did," I replied, giving a lazy wave before turning back around.

The strangest part was that they followed me, like a confused parade of would-be victors. We reached my team's territory in about five minutes. The traps I'd set up earlier were still intact, not that they mattered anymore.

"There it is," I said, pointing to our core flag with its seals keeping it fixed in place. "Help yourselves. Since it's stuck there, you'll have to do the work."

Thirty minutes later, a whistle blew across the forest.

"Times up!" Takada-sensei's voice boomed. "All teams return to the starting point immediately!"

The relief that spread across everyone's faces was almost comical. Exhausted ninjas who'd been chasing each other through the forest suddenly realized they didn't have to do anything else.

…

Ten minutes later, we were all gathered in the central clearing where the exercise had started. Takada-sensei stood there with arms crossed, looking like someone had just told him all his favorite sake bottles were empty.

"Would anyone care to explain," he said slowly, "why not a single team managed to protect their core flag?"

Silence.

"Team 1, your flag?"

Minato cleared his throat like a politician caught lying. "Destroyed, sensei. Team 2 got to it while we were... pursuing other objectives."

"Team 2?"

Shikaku sighed like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. "Gone. Team 3 destroyed it while we were dealing with Team 1's flag."

"And Team 3?"

I raised my hand like an eager student answering a question. "Heroically destroyed. After an epic battle against overwhelming odds—what, eight versus one? They surrounded me, attacked from all sides, and after a valiant defense worthy of legend, I was tragically defeated."

Takada-sensei's eyebrow twitched like an angry caterpillar. Miyabi started coughing like she'd swallowed her tongue, while Minato's mouth twitched like he was fighting off a full-blown smile.

"Team 4?"

Miyabi winced like she'd stepped on a tack. "Also destroyed, sensei."

"Team 5?"

A voice from the edge of the clearing piped up. "Completely destroyed, sensei! Miyabi did it!"

"Let me get this straight," Takada-sensei said, voice dangerously calm like the ocean before a tsunami. "In a test designed to teach you about strategy, teamwork, and defending your objectives... you all failed spectacularly?"

Nobody answered. The silence was so heavy you could feel it in your bones.

"You're all surprisingly talented at offense," he declared, throwing his hands up, "which makes this even more disappointing. You managed to destroy every other team's objective while abandoning your own. A shinobi must balance objectives—not focus on one aspect of the mission while ignoring the rest."

"You're all going to write reports," he announced like he was sentencing criminals. "One page each on what went wrong and how you'll improve. Except you, Shinji. You get two pages on why surrendering is not a valid tactical decision."

I groaned. "Can't I just surrender the report too?"

"No!"

"You're all dismissed. Think about what happened here today. Next time, I expect better."

We started to disperse, and that's when I heard it.

GROWWWWL

The sound rumbled across the clearing like thunder. Kushina's face turned as red as her hair. She clutched her stomach like she was trying to strangle it into submission and looked around to see if anyone else had heard.

"Hungry?" I asked, trying not to laugh.

"Starving," she admitted. "I was so focused on the exercise I forgot to eat breakfast, dattebane!"

"Well, I was thinking about cooking something nice for dinner..."

Her eyes lit up like the sunrise over the ocean.

"But after getting chased around by ten vengeful students, I'm not really in the mood to cook. How about I treat you to Ichiraku instead?"

"Ichiraku?" She practically bounced on her toes like a rabbit on sugar. "Yes! Perfect! I could eat ten bowls right now, dattebane!"

"See, this is why I like you. No need to convince you that ramen is worth it."

"Are you kidding? Ramen is life!" She threw her arms up dramatically like a street performer. "I was going to suggest it myself but didn't want to seem greedy."

"You? Not seem greedy? That ship sailed when you asked for five helpings at dinner last week."

"That was legitimate hunger! Growing teenagers need fuel!"

We started walking toward the village. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink that reminded me of her hair. She chattered excitedly about the exercise, dramatically reenacting how she'd body-slammed one of Shikaku's teammates, complete with sound effects.

"You're not upset I just gave up back there?" I asked casually.

She waved it off like swatting away a fly. "Please, I know you. Eight against one is bad odds even for you. No point getting your pretty face messed up for a training exercise, dattebane!"

"My pretty face thanks you for your consideration."

"Besides," she continued with a grin that could light up the night, "I know the real reason you surrendered."

"Oh? And what's that?"

"You were probably tired from all that running and decided nap time was more important than winning."

I clutched my chest like she'd stabbed me. "You wound me! I was making a strategic decision based on—"

"—laziness?"

"—tactical efficiency."

She laughed, bumping my shoulder with hers. "Whatever you say, Mr. Tactical Efficiency."

Then her expression softened, melting like ice cream on a hot day, and she looked at me with a sincerity that made me pause mid-step. "But you know... if this wasn't just an exercise, if it was real... I know you'd find a way. You'd probably save the day with some crazy plan nobody saw coming, then come back to me all victorious like it was nothing."

'Come back to you?' I opened my mouth but found myself completely speechless, like someone had yanked the words right out of my throat.

Here was the girl who beat up her classmates for looking at her hair funny, and now she was looking at me with complete faith in her eyes.

Her face started to turn red. "I-I mean, come back to the team! Obviously! Not me specifically, dattebane!"

I just stared at her, still speechless.

"Stop looking at me like that!" she huffed, turning on her heel and walking faster toward Ichiraku. "You act like no one's ever believed in you before!"

Maybe that was exactly the problem.

We reached Ichiraku with the midday sun beating down on us. The savory aroma of broth and freshly made noodles wafted from the stall, making Kushina's stomach growl all over again.

"Table for two," I told Teuchi, who gave me a bright smile.

As we sat down on the stools, Kushina turned to me with a mischievous grin that spelled trouble. "So, does this count as a date?"

I nearly choked on my own spit, coughing so hard I thought my lungs would fly out. "A date?"

"You know, treating a girl to dinner? That's what people do on dates, dattebane!"

"That's... not... I mean..." I struggled to find words, which almost never happened. Words were supposed to be my thing.

She burst out laughing, the sound filling the little ramen stand. "Relax! I'm just teasing you. Though your face just now was priceless!"

"Two miso ramen," I called to Teuchi, trying to recover whatever dignity I had left.

"Make that six for me!" Kushina added cheerfully.

I raised an eyebrow. "Six?"

"I'm hungry, dattebane! And since you're paying..."

'Well,' I thought, watching her excited expression as Teuchi and his dad started preparing our order, 'I've spent money on worse things.'

Like my sake collection that I never actually drank.

Or those fancy tea cups I bought just to impress someone and never used.

Or that time I bet on the Academy's annual genin race and lost everything because the favorite tripped over his own feet.

Yeah, spending money on Kushina was definitely not the worst thing I could do with my funds. Even if she could probably eat my entire monthly budget in one sitting.

...