I made my decision in a heartbeat.
"Screw the test," I muttered, launching myself toward Yuna.
The forest seemed to sense my intentions, branches twisting to block my path. I pushed chakra to my feet and hands, enhancing my speed as I weaved through the wooden maze. A massive root erupted in front of me, but I didn't slow down. Instead, I channeled chakra to my fist and shattered it with a single blow.
"Hold on!" I shouted as I closed the distance.
Yuna's eyes widened as she saw me coming. The wooden tendrils had already wrapped around her torso, slowly crushing her. Her face, usually so composed, showed genuine fear.
"What are you doing?" she gasped. "Only one of us can—"
"I don't care." I sliced through the thickest root with a chakra-enhanced kunai. The wood around us trembled in response, as if in pain.
More branches shot toward us from all directions. My Six Eyes tracked the chakra flow, giving me precious seconds of warning. I grabbed Yuna's arm and pulled her from the loosened grip of the wood, then spun us both away from the next wave of attacks.
"We need to move!" I dragged her toward a small opening in the canopy. Wooden spears erupted from the ground, forcing us to change direction. Yuna stumbled, still weak from the crushing pressure she'd endured.
Without hesitation, I swept her up and leaped onto a higher branch. The wood beneath our feet immediately began to warp and twist.
"I can walk," she protested, but her voice lacked its usual edge.
"Sure you can." I smirked, adjusting my grip to carry her more securely. "But I'm faster."
A massive wooden fist punched through the canopy above us. I dodged, feeling splinters graze my cheek as we narrowly escaped. Yuna's fingers dug into my shoulders, her pride momentarily forgotten in the face of danger.
"Why?" she asked as I landed on another branch, pausing briefly to assess our surroundings. "You could have passed if you'd left me."
I met her gaze, dropping my usual cocky smile for once.
"Because that's not who I am. And I don't think that's what this test is really about."
I set Yuna down on a relatively stable branch, keeping one hand on her arm to steady her. Her breathing had evened out, but I could feel the tension radiating from her body.
"I don't need your pity," she muttered, pulling away from my grip.
"It's not pity. It's called teamwork." I rolled my eyes. "Maybe you've heard of it?"
She shot me a glare that could've melted steel, but something changed in her expression. Her eyes flickered, then transformed—dark irises bleeding into crimson as her Sharingan activated.
"Three o'clock," she said suddenly, her voice sharp.
I ducked instinctively as a wooden spike shot past where my head had been seconds before. The Sharingan gave her perfect tracking of Yamato's attacks, even before they fully formed.
"Thanks for that," I admitted, impressed despite myself.
Yuna's posture shifted. Gone was the injured girl I'd rescued moments ago. She stood tall, her movements precise and controlled as she scanned our surroundings.
"We're surrounded," she analyzed, eyes darting between multiple points. "The chakra flow is concentrated in four main nodes—there, there, there, and directly beneath us."
I followed her gaze, my Six Eyes confirming her assessment. "So what's the plan?"
Her lips quirked slightly at the nickname. "We need to disrupt his chakra network. These wood constructs are all connected to a central point."
"Let me guess—Yamato."
She nodded. "If we can locate him and force him to defend rather than attack—"
"We might stand a chance." I finished her thought, already mapping potential routes through the wooden maze. "I can break through his defenses if you can track his movements."
Yuna reached for her kunai pouch, extracting three blades with practiced efficiency. "I'll provide cover. Your raw power combined with my precision should work."
"Look at us, actually working together." I grinned. "Should I mark this day on my calendar?"
"Focus, Kazami." But there was no real bite to her words. For the first time in years, we were synchronized, our old friendship momentarily resurfacing through the necessity of combat.
I launched forward with Yuna covering my flank. My Six Eyes tracked the chakra flow through Yamato's wooden constructs, allowing me to predict where the next attack would come from. Wooden spikes erupted from the ground, but I dodged them effortlessly, my body moving almost instinctively.
"Three o'clock, high!" Yuna called out, her Sharingan tracking movements I couldn't see.
I ducked as a massive branch swung overhead, missing me by inches. "Thanks!"
We pushed deeper into the forest, moving in tandem. Yuna's precision complemented my raw power perfectly. She identified weak points in Yamato's defenses, and I smashed through them with chakra-enhanced strikes.
"I think I've located him," Yuna said, her voice low. "Two hundred meters northeast, behind that large oak formation."
I nodded, adjusting our course. "On it."
We'd barely changed direction when the ground beneath us liquefied into a swirling vortex of wooden tendrils. I grabbed Yuna's wrist and pulled her up as I leaped to higher ground, but Yamato had anticipated this. The branch we landed on immediately split in two, forcing us apart.
"Yuna!" I shouted as she fell toward another section of the forest.
"Keep moving!" she called back, landing gracefully on a lower branch. "I'll circle around!"
Before I could respond, a wooden wall erupted between us, cutting off my line of sight. Yamato was deliberately separating us, testing whether we'd abandon our teamwork when physically apart.
I smashed through the first barrier, only to find three more had formed in its place. The forest was becoming a labyrinth, constantly shifting and changing to keep us disoriented.
"Can you hear me?" I called out, hoping my voice would carry to Yuna.
"Barely!" Her voice sounded distant. "He's blocking my visual with dense foliage. My Sharingan can't track through it all!"
Yamato was smart—he knew our strengths and was countering them methodically. I needed to think differently.
"Yuna! Remember our academy sparring? Formation Three!"
There was a pause, then: "You're insane!"
I grinned. "Trust me!"
I channeled chakra to my fists and began systematically destroying the wooden barriers around me, creating a pattern that Yuna would recognize from our academy days. If she remembered correctly, she'd be creating a similar pattern on her side.
The pressure intensified as Yamato realized what we were doing. Wooden spears rained down, I had to keep my infinity turned on the whole time with how many times I almost got trapped
I slammed my fist through another wooden wall, splinters flying past my face. My lungs burned with each breath, and sweat dripped into my eyes. The Six Eyes allowed me to see through Yamato's defenses, but my body was starting to fail me.
"Yuna! Status?" I shouted, hoping she could still hear me.
"Still alive!" Her voice came from somewhere to my left. "But barely making progress!"
We'd been at this for what felt like hours. My muscles screamed with each movement, but I refused to stop. This wasn't just about passing some test anymore—it was about proving we could work together despite everything.
"I'm breaking through on my side!" I called out, channeling the last reserves of my chakra into my fist. The wooden barrier before me shattered, revealing a small clearing.
And there stood Yamato, hands formed in a seal, controlling the entire forest.
"Found him!" I shouted triumphantly.
I lunged forward, but my legs wobbled beneath me. Exhaustion was taking its toll. Yamato didn't even flinch as new wooden tendrils shot up to block my path.
"Kazami, left side!" Yuna's voice rang out clearly.
I didn't hesitate, diving left as instructed. A heartbeat later, three kunai whizzed through where I'd been standing, embedding themselves in the wood near Yamato. He had to shift his stance to avoid them, momentarily disrupting his technique.
That tiny opening was all we needed.
I pushed forward as Yuna burst through the foliage on the opposite side, her Sharingan blazing. We converged on Yamato from two directions, perfectly synchronized despite our exhaustion.
"Now!" I shouted.
We both leaped, our final attack coordinated with precision born from years of rivalry and understanding. Yamato's eyes widened slightly—the first real reaction we'd gotten from him.
Just as our hands were about to reach him, a loud bell rang through the forest.
"Time's up," Yamato announced calmly, lowering his hands.
The wooden constructs around us immediately began to recede. I collapsed to my knees, gasping for breath. Across from me, Yuna wasn't faring much better, though she remained standing through sheer willpower.
"So close," I wheezed, pounding my fist against the ground in frustration.
I stayed on my knees, lungs burning with each breath. The forest around us had returned to normal, wooden constructs melting back into the earth as if they'd never existed. My muscles screamed from overexertion, but I managed a weak grin as Yamato approached.
He stood over me, expression unreadable as always. "You had a clear path to the objective, Kazami. Why did you turn back for Yuna?"
The question hung in the air between us. From the corner of my eye, I saw Yuna stiffen, her gaze fixed on me. She probably expected some smart-ass remark about how I just wanted to show off.
I pushed myself to my feet, wobbling slightly before finding my balance. My usual smirk faded as I met Yamato's eyes directly.
"Because it wouldn't have meant anything." My voice came out rougher than I intended, raw from all the shouting during the test. "What's the point of being the only one to pass? Sure, I could've made it through on my own, left Yuna behind, and gotten whatever prize you had waiting."
I glanced at Yuna, who was watching me with an intensity that reminded me of the friend I'd known before the massacre.
"But that's not strength," I continued, turning back to Yamato. "That's just selfishness dressed up as success. I didn't come here to be the ninja who abandons her comrades for personal gain."
I squared my shoulders, ignoring the trembling in my legs. "Maybe in some people's books that makes me weak or foolish. But in my book, true strength is being able to protect the people around you, not just yourself. So yeah, I turned back. And I'd do it again."
The forest fell silent after my words. Even the birds seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for Yamato's response.
I held my breath, waiting for Yamato's verdict. My muscles ached from the intense battle, but I refused to show weakness now. Beside me, Yuna stood equally exhausted but dignified, her eyes fixed on our sensei.
Yamato's stern expression suddenly cracked, a small smirk forming on his lips.
"Congratulations. You pass."
I blinked, certain I'd misheard him. "We... what? But we didn't complete the objective. The time ran out."
"The objective was never about reaching me or defeating me within the time limit," Yamato explained, his voice softening. "It was about how you approached the challenge."
Yuna stepped forward, her brow furrowed. "You were testing our teamwork."
"Precisely." Yamato nodded. "Many genin fail because they prioritize individual success over the welfare of their teammates. When faced with the choice between personal achievement and helping a comrade, they choose themselves."
I exchanged a glance with Yuna, a silent understanding passing between us.
"Your father once taught me something valuable, Kazami," Yamato continued, his eyes distant with memory. "When we served together in the Anbu, Kakashi told me words I've never forgotten: 'Those who abandon their missions are scum, but those who abandon their comrades are worse than scum.'"
The weight of those words settled over me. My father—the distant, often emotionally unavailable Kakashi—had been the source of such profound wisdom. I'd never heard him express anything like that to me directly.
"You two demonstrated the core of what makes a true shinobi," Yamato said. "Not just power or skill, but the understanding that our strength lies in protecting one another. When you chose to rescue Yuna rather than secure your own success, Kazami, you embodied that principle."
I felt my cheeks warm at the praise, unaccustomed to such direct acknowledgment of my choices rather than my abilities.
"And Yuna," Yamato turned to her, "when you coordinated your attacks to complement Kazami's strengths rather than competing with her, you showed true teamwork. Together, you nearly succeeded where individually you would have certainly failed."
Yuna's posture relaxed slightly, the faintest hint of pride visible in her eyes.
"From today forward," Yamato declared, "you are officially Team 8. Your training begins tomorrow at dawn."
I trudged home, muscles screaming with every step. The test had drained me completely, but a strange sense of accomplishment warmed my chest despite the exhaustion. As I approached our apartment, I couldn't help but wonder if my father had known all along what Yamato's real test was about.
The door creaked as I pushed it open. Dad sat at the kitchen table, his face buried in that stupid orange book as usual. He didn't look up when I entered, but I knew he was aware of my presence.
"So," I said, dropping my gear bag loudly on the floor. "Passed the test today."
He turned a page lazily. "Congratulations."
I crossed my arms, staring at him until he finally glanced up, his visible eye betraying mild curiosity at my stance.
"Those who abandon their missions are scum, but those who abandon their comrades are worse than scum." I quoted the words Yamato had shared. "Sound familiar?"
Dad closed his book, setting it on the table. "Ah. So Yamato told you."
"Why didn't you?" I demanded, frustration bubbling up. "You knew exactly what the test was about, didn't you? You could have given me a heads-up instead of letting me go in blind."
"Would that have helped you?" His voice remained infuriatingly calm.
"Of course it would have helped! I wouldn't have wasted time trying to figure out what the actual objective was!"
Dad leaned back in his chair, studying me with that unreadable expression of his. "And would the lesson have meant as much if I'd simply told you the answer?"
I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it again. The memory of choosing to help Yuna, of the genuine teamwork we'd formed under pressure, flashed through my mind.
"Some lessons," Dad continued softly, "have to be learned firsthand. No amount of preparation or forewarning can replace the understanding that comes from making that choice yourself."
I sank into the chair across from him, suddenly too tired to maintain my indignation. "You could have at least hinted."
The corner of his mask twitched in what might have been a smile. "And rob you of your moment of revelation? What kind of father would I be?"
"The helpful kind?" I muttered, but without real heat.
Dad reached across the table, ruffling my hair in a rare gesture of affection. "You found your own way. That's what matters."