Chapter Text
The bell test begins as it always does, but with a single, crucial difference. When Kakashi gives his standard lecture about coming at him with the intent to kill, he means it as a psychological test. For Naruto, Sakura, and Sasuke, it's simply a statement of fact.
The moment the test starts, the training ground ceases to be a training ground.
Naruto, as the Primordial Inari-Okami, likely doesn't even move conventionally. One moment he's at the treeline, the next he's a blur of divine fox energy, appearing and disappearing around Kakashi with a speed that makes his Sharingan ache. The kunai and shuriken thrown at him are swatted aside by tails of pure chakra that Kakashi can't even properly perceive. The standard Shadow Clone Jutsu isn't just a distraction; it's a legion of solid, fox-eared specters that move with their own terrifying intent, each one radiating a pressure that feels like it's trying to crush his soul.
Sasuke, embodying Raijin, is a storm given human form. He doesn't run, he *strikes*. Each movement is accompanied by the sharp smell of ozone and the crackle of lightning. His taijutsu isn't about gentle fist or precise strikes; it's about overwhelming, percussive force. When his fist connects with Kakashi's guard, the shockwave sends cracks spiderwebbing through the ground for meters. A simple kick to block a leg sweep shatters the rock Kakashi stands on. The Chidori isn't a chirping bird of lightning in his hand; it's a roaring, unstable bolt of divine thunder that threatens to unmake anything it touches.
And Sakura, the Primordial Kōryū, is perhaps the most terrifying of all. She is the calm, ancient center of the chaos. While Naruto is a chaotic storm and Sasuke a focused tempest, Sakura is an implacable force of nature. She doesn't dodge so much as the world moves around her. Kakashi's attacks, whether ninjutsu or taijutsu, simply fail to connect, diverted by an unseen, immense presence. When she moves to take a bell, it's not with speed but with absolute, undeniable authority. Her strength isn't just Tsunade-level; it's the strength of a being that can shatter mountains. When she blocks a punch from Kakashi, the sound isn't flesh hitting flesh—it's the groan of stone and the splintering of earth beneath his feet as he's driven into the ground by a power that dwarfs anything he's ever encountered.
The fight for the two bells isn't a strategic battle of wits and endurance. It's a three-minute cataclysm. The training ground is wrecked: trees are uprooted or shattered, the ground is a cratered, scorched mess, and the three memorial stones are cracked from the sheer ambient pressure. Kakashi, for the first time in his life since his father's death, feels completely and utterly outmatched. He's not fighting genin; he's fighting gods who are barely restraining themselves. The "intent to kill" he demanded is palpable, a divine aura that makes his hair stand on end and his instincts scream at him to flee.
When they finally secure the bells and stand over him, the battle energy vanishes. They're just Naruto, Sakura, and Sasuke again, albeit with a terrifying new depth in their eyes. They ask Kakashi to keep their secret, and he agrees without a moment's hesitation. It's not a choice; it's a necessity. What is he supposed to say? "Hokage-sama, I think my team might actually be the physical manifestations of ancient, world-shattering deities"? He'd be in a straightjacket before sundown.
Later, when he stands before the Hokage and the other Jonin, his subdued demeanor is the understatement of the century. While other Jonin are proudly announcing their passing teams or explaining their failures with a measure of confidence, Kakashi is hollowed out. He's seen things that defy all logic and ninja doctrine. He walks in, his posture rigid, and simply states, "Team 7... passed." His tone is flat, devoid of his usual lazy cheerfulness. He's not just subdued; he's a man who has had his entire understanding of the world fundamentally shattered and is now tasked with guiding three beings who could likely level Konoha on a whim if they were truly angry. The trauma isn't just from the physical beating; it's from the horrifying, mind-breaking realization of what he's actually responsible for.
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The D-rank missions with Team 7 were an unmitigated disaster from the start. Kakashi quickly realized that "mundane tasks" and "restraint" were concepts completely alien to his divine students. Simple missions like weeding a garden became exercises in agricultural devastation when Naruto's Inari-Okami energy caused the weeds to grow back with supernatural vengeance, or when Sakura's Kōryū presence accidentally petrified entire sections of the soil. Babysitting ended with the children being terrified into absolute silence by Sasuke's crackling aura, and dog walking resulted in the poor animals being so electrified by Raijin's presence that their fur stood on end for a week.
But the mission with Tora was the breaking point. The Fire Daimyo's wife's cat was, as always, a vicious little monster. The mission objective was simple: catch the cat and return it. What happened instead was a divine comedy of errors.
Naruto, attempting to use his fox-like stealth to corner the cat, unconsciously radiated an aura of divine authority that caused every stray animal in the district to bow down in worship, creating a chaotic congregation of cats, dogs, and pigeons that blocked the streets. Sasuke, trying to simply grab the fleeing feline, moved with his typical lightning speed. The resulting sonic boom not only terrified Tora into a heart attack-like state (it was fine, just very, very fluffy afterward) but also shattered every window within a three-block radius. Sakura, in an attempt to gently soothe the panicked cat, manifested a fraction of her Kōryū power. The ground around Tora briefly turned to solid, immovable stone, trapping the cat but also cracking the foundation of the Hokage Tower.
The final straw came when Tora, finally cornered by the three gods, hissed with all its might. Naruto, taking it as a personal insult from a lesser fox-spirit, let out a single, commanding bark that wasn't a bark at all. It was a pulse of pure divine will. Tora didn't just stop; it immediately prostrated itself, bowing so low its forehead touched the pavement, and refused to move. It now recognized its true master and would only respond to Naruto's commands, much to Madam Shijimi's horror.
The mission report submitted by a visibly trembling Kakashi cited "gross lack of restraint" and "uncontrollable environmental side effects." The Third Hokage, after reviewing the damage reports—which included structural surveys, noise complaints, and a formal complaint from the Fire Daimyo about his wife's cat now demanding offerings of fish and bowing before portraits of a blond genin—made the executive decision. Team 7 was officially and permanently banned from all D-rank missions. The decree was posted on the mission board as a warning to all future Jonin: "Team 7 is to be assigned only missions where catastrophic collateral damage is an acceptable, if not expected, outcome."