Chapter 20 already! I don't even know where all of this comes from.

Somehow I enjoy writing team 11, but don't worry, I haven't forgotten the others either.

To all my readers: Thank you for all your advice! I know it seems like I'm ignoring it, because I don't usually answer every suggestion, but I do take note of it. I'm constantly writing on a fixed version of this that I'll update in one fell swoop, after part I is done.

Lavendor Queen: because Mebuki is a 'caring Mother' type. I needed conflict to drive the story, specifically, to unite the team. And since neither Naruto nor Sasuke have parents to play on, she seemed the obvious choice. I keeping 'Mebuki' would have been nothing but giving her a different name. 'Sayuri' seemed fittingly old-fashioned.

AccidentalSorcerer: since Kakashi was offered a row of teams that he all failed before, I think the whole Naruto and Sasuke thing was somewhat of a lucky accident. After all, he could have failed team 7 too, and simply mentored Sasuke once the Sharingan popped up. But having him lead team 11 too seemed like cheating: early access to fix the next character. Also: Hyuuga. Of course they needed to screw things up:D

Shae Vizla: all doujutsu originate from the Otsutsuki Clan. Even though they probably don't know the specifics, I'm pretty sure the Hyuuga would have some legends about their kekkei genkai and enough capable medics around to come to the conclusion that they had a common ancestor with the Uchiha at one point. Clan medics, in any case, because I also doubt regular ones are allowed anywhere near the Byakugan. For the sake of the story I assume so anyway:)

Hisana can see in Sora's face that he's stifling a whoop of joy. Good boy, she thinks. Don't make him take it back.

"Kohaku-sensei," he ventures instead, cringing away as if afraid he might get hit too, "what was this about?"

"A test," their sensei says, still impassively sipping his tea. "A jounin sensei is allowed to test their team for the character traits he or she thinks most important for a ninja. Does someone know what I consider important?"

It's impossible to tell with his eyes, but Hisana feels as if they are lingering on her. A challenge.

"Trust," she tries after a minute, perhaps too optimistically. "For a ninja it's important to trust your team. You were trying to see how long we would follow your orders without any information to go on."

"How quaint. Not entirely untrue, however."

Heat blooms high on her cheeks, no matter how furiously she tries to suppress it. Her teammates cast her pitying looks. That's two of them who got snubbed. She knows they're probably trying to be supportive, but it only serves to make her angrier.

Maybe, she thinks, Kakashi is the exception. No matter how screwed up he is – possibly because of how screwed up he is – he is the one of rare kind to value teamwork so much.

"Obedience," Mitsuharu finally whispers so quietly she almost doesn't hear him.

"Correct. A ninja has to be obedient. To their Hokage, to their village, to their duty. But obedience is a tricky thing. There are layers upon layers of good intentions, conflicts of interest and misinformation involved. Absolute obedience is foolishness, absolute disobedience is madness. I will teach you when to be obedient and when to question. And most importantly: how to do it."

After that enigmatic pronouncement there is another prolonged silence as they drink tea; Sora even dares to take one of the candies from the china bowl.

"I believe introductions are in order," Kohaku-sensei finally decides.

Both boys stare at Hisana, unwilling to be the first. Cowards, she thinks wryly. The atmosphere is more relaxed now, as if an invisible pressure has been lifted. Her own embarrassment feels a little more distant than before; she tries not to dwell on it.

Kohaku-sensei's expression hasn't changed an iota since he rebuked her, but she thinks there might be a faint softening around his eyes now. Encouraged, she decides to try again.

"Uchiha Hisana," she says, making a conscious effort to keep her voice quiet and even, as not to disturb the faint clang of the shamisen. "My favorite food is strawberry mochi and I want to make tokubetsu jounin before my cousin graduates."

Kohaku-sensei nods slowly.

"Ambitious; we will see if that can be arranged. But it is only a short-term goal."

"I … have very many goals," she settles on. With a pointed look she wills her teammates to change the topic.

"Sone Mitsuharu. I-I like dogs a-and … - "

Mitsuharu's brows furrow; he takes a deep breath and continues slower. "I like dogs and I want to be an Academy teacher."

Sensei considers him for a second before he nods again.

"You lack confidence. That will be corrected."

Mitsuharu squawks before chugging more tea to stifle the sound.

"Straighten up," their teacher instructs, "you are a shinobi. Only less than 40 % of all applicants are allowed to attend the Academy. Of those 40 % only 20 % graduate; even less on the first try. By tomorrow nearly half of them will have to return to the Academy or settle for a long, thankless career in the Genin Corps. You are not one of them."

All this is again delivered in perfectly placid monotone, but it makes the boy suddenly look considerably taller in his seat.

"Eguchi Sora," Sora finally says, still wary. He's the only one who hasn't had to take a sideswipe yet. "I like to cook" – here he stiffens as if bracing for a remark – "and I want to be an Anbu."

This is a surprise. Or maybe it isn't; everyone who graduates the Academy has big dreams that survived years of mentally straining work and punches to the face.

Still, she has the sneaking suspicion a putdown is on the way.

"Fifteen minutes and approximately twenty seconds," Kohaku-sensei reminds him gently. "That is how long you were able to sit still before you started fidgeting. Anbu work days, weeks, months sometimes, in undercover missions that require hours of complete stillness at a time."

Sora's shoulders sag but there's a stubborn set to his mouth that Hisana knows all too well; team 7 has mastered it.

"So what?" he grouses "I can learn that."

"You can," Sensei agrees. "You will."

Finally he drains the last of his tea, folds his hands and fixes them with stern eyes.

"My name is Hyuuga Kohaku. My goal is to make you into shinobi beyond reproach."

For the first time the corners of his mouth tilt up into an approximation of a smile. It is not a nice one, but a frosty, brittle thing that gives his white eyes an eerie glint.

"I will work each and every one of you to the very bone; drive you to the edge of what you think you can endure. I will shatter you, and you will like it, because I will remake you into something stronger than what you are now."

Hisana gapes at him.

The strangeness leaves Kohaku-sensei's eyes as quickly as it came and he reaches for one of the colorful candies.

"Tomorrow morning at eight I will wait for you on training ground six. It is entirely your decision if you want to be come. You passed my test; I will train whoever thinks they can entrust themselves to me, even if it is only one of you."

When they leave the teahouse it is early evening and the sun is just starting to set. Kohaku-sensei accompanies them back to the main street and then leaves them to go home by themselves.

There's an awkward moment of silence, in which she's alone with the boys.

"A-are you going to show up?" Mitsuharu asks carefully. "I-I'm not sure what to do."

Sora sputters.

"Of course I'm showing up! He's obviously crazy – do you know who's the best ninjas? The crazies. The Sannin, The Copyninja, The Seven Swordsmen of the Mist – they're all a few sandwiches short of a picnic. If someone can get me into Anbu it's him."

He's … not wrong.

"I'll be there too," she agrees. "Someone told me lately, your genin team is supposed to be family. I don't have enough of that to be picky."

The boys goggle at her, before a startled laugh bubbles out of Mitsuharu.

"Then I'll be there too. Wouldn't want to miss out after all."

"Who is on your team?" Sasuke's voice echoes from the kitchen as soon as she opens the door.

"Hello to you too. Nobody you would know. But my sensei is a Hyuuga."

Sasuke's head emerges in the doorway.

"Hyuuga?"

"Yes; apparently Hyuuga Hiashi pulled some strings and now I'm under his thumb."

She tries to keep her tone light, but Sasuke appears to have become more observant. There's a clatter of dishes in the sink and then he slinks over to her like a cat.

"Indirectly," he says. "Right?"

"Indirectly," she agrees and he sinks down next to her on the couch. She's still taller than him, she realizes smugly. They've both been going through some growth spurts lately, but the top of his head still barely reaches her chin.

"Also, I have the strange feeling Kohaku-sensei likes to see how far he can bend rules and orders. We'll see in how far he actually is a bad thing for us."

"I'm relieved," her cousin admits. "At least they finally did something. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop."

He's right. This doesn't mean they're safe from other underhanded maneuvers that could be in the making right this very second … but that could also be the paranoia talking, so she tries not to think about it. Sasuke's hand grips her shirt.

"The clan is just us now," he says. "They can't make us do anything, they can't hurt us, they can't even talk to us if we don't let them. Everyone knows us. They can't touch us."

He's right, she realizes.

"We don't even have to play their games with them," he continues, "because we don't need them."

We do, she thinks, but I can't tell you that. I can't tell you that a few years from now there will be a war and that the elder council will implode, with Danzo's finger on the detonator.

"No," she says, "we don't need them. But we want them. We can't know what the future brings and you can never have enough allies."

He sighs, as if impatient with her, yet indulgent against his better judgment. It's probably easy to forget how young he is when he acts like this. She can imagine what Kakashi, what everyone saw in him. The genius, their hope for the future. Sasuke is strong, but he is also still a child, not an adult in a child's body. She'll never forget that.

She pinches his cheek, strangely desperate to turn him back into the kid she knows.

"You don't need to worry about that, I have it all under control. If nothing else, Sensei will turn me into a killing machine."

She can't quite keep the humor out of her voice. With Sasuke's face stretched into comical shapes it's easy to forget the shiver of fear that went down her spine not even an hour ago. Fingers dig into her side and she releases his face with a hoot.

"Did your day go better?"

"Please, don't start asking about my day like a mother hen. If something happens, I'll tell you."

Alright, she thinks. Just food then. That she can do.

She spends the rest of the day describing the test and her teammates in excruciating detail, relishing in her cousin's child-like amusement. If she embellishes at points, it is for purely artistic reasons.

The next morning starts deceptively normal: she wakes up at six, showers, kicks Sasuke out of bed, throws together breakfast and packs their lunchboxes with the rest of last night's dinner. In fact it's so normal, that she almost follows Sasuke all the way to the Academy, until he reminds her that she needs to be almost across town in about twenty minutes.

She barely manages to be there on time.

Kohaku-sensei and Mitsuharu are already there. They wait in silence. At 8:15 on the dot their sensei turns towards them.

"It appears we will be on our own."

"No, no wait!"

Sora is racing their way, sweat beaded on his forehead.

"Wait for me! I'm here!"

"You are late," Sensei remarks, "We will have to curb this particular habit as well."

Training is … something else. For as long as she's capable of intelligent thought, and not only the base instinct of runrunrun she falls into after the third hour of suicide runs through the woods, she thinks of Gai's training regime and what he would think of this. If he would think this youthful. Every once in a while she swerves to avoid a kunai aimed at her or to pick up one of her stumbling teammates. Every so often, someone picks up her.

"There are several things we need to work at to build a solid base," Sensei said earlier that morning. "You need endurance – practical endurance, no ninja spends hours running on straight, paved ground – and, as Hisana-san pointed out, you need to trust each other. Teamwork."

Watching out for others becomes instinct as some point. There are two shapes moving next to her, in front of her, sometimes behind her. If one of them stops moving, she picks them up until they start running by themselves again. Sometime during the later hours, long after the adrenalin has set in, she feels something strange in her leg; it buckles under her. Someone grabs her under the arm and just keeps dragging her along.

"That's enough."

Kohaku-sensei materializes in front of them. For a second she wants to lash out; 'enemy' her jittery body says and her brain isn't working properly. Two of their sensei's fingers dig into the side of her neck and she spasms. It's as if suddenly the world comes back into focus. Next to her Sora makes a noise, caught somewhere between a yelp and a snarl. She jerks away from him, startled.

"What's going on?" she whispers, confused by her own hoarse voice. "What was that?"

Was that the Juuken?

"Merely a shock," Kohaku-sensei placates her. "To call your brain to order."

Mitsuharu emerges from the tree line. There's a hunted look in his eyes. When she turns back to Sora, she can see the same one on his face. His eyes flicker back and forth between her and their teacher but there is little recognition there; the lights are on but nobody's home.

"Give him a moment," the jounin instructs. It only takes a minute until her teammate's erratic breathing calms. When Mitsuharu inches closer it finally returns to normal.

"Whoa," he breathes, "that was intense."

As if on cue, his legs give out.

"That," Kohaku-sensei informs them, "is what happens if your body is driven to the brink. Seasoned shinobi are able to control themselves even during these extreme circumstances. As you have undoubtedly realized, differentiating between friend and foe in this state is instinctual. You were unable to recognize each other, and yet you were ready to attack me when I detained one of you. Your response was learned during the last hours. In the future you might have to recognize fellow leaf ninjas merely by their hitai-ate. That also can be learned."

Right now she finds that hard to believe. All she remembers is fear. She can't even properly express why she felt compelled to help her teammates; doing anything more complex than running in that state …

"Your adrenalin high will ease very quickly now. Hisana-san, your leg needs tending to. I will accompany you all to the hospital."

At once she remembers the strange, numb feeling in her leg, and suddenly it's not so numb anymore.

There's a kunai sticking out of it.

"Oh," she croaks.

It's only a flesh wound that's bandaged quickly, but it annoys her the whole half-hour walk to the hospital. The rest of her team is also limping and stumbling, so she can at least confidently ignore the looks they get.

Dirty, beat up ruffians, accompanied by a completely unaffected Hyuuga. No, they are not under arrest, this is official business. If she didn't feel as if she had been put through the meat grinder, she might have felt like laughing.

The medics are exceptionally nice to them. In fact, they continuously cast dark looks at Kohaku-sensei, while a bunch of nurses fusses over them.

Healing chakra does indeed have a cool, minty feeling to it, Hisana finds. Clean, as if she just brushed her teeth. The newly healed flesh continues to tingle long after the session is over.

Like the day before, Kohaku-sensei accompanies them to the main street, before leaving them to their own devices. It's still light outside, but during this time of the year that doesn't mean much. She can't even tell what time it is anymore.

She barely manages the way home. Sasuke is already at the door, anxiously awaiting her return.

"Oh thank god," she croons and collapses onto him. "Bed please."

"Food first," he insists, but his protest falls onto deaf ears. Hisana's already fallen asleep.