Kakashi's Wallet Bleeds Dry

On the training ground, the wind swept over the scorched earth, stirring up a few wisps of smoke that had yet to disperse.

Kakashi stood where he was, his gaze slowly passing over the three young shinobi before him.

His silver hair was flecked with bits of grass and mud, and his dark-green Jonin vest had several creases blown into it by the blast waves. Though he was not really injured, compared to the relaxed way he had arrived, leisurely reading his book, he did look somewhat disheveled now.

Especially the two bells at his waist, which rang crisply in the wind, as if reminding him of what had just happened.

"An Explosive Tag costs two thousand ryo—"

Kakashi murmured under his breath, raising his right hand to adjust the Konoha forehead protector he wore at an angle with a faintly helpless air.

There was no anger in his eyes, only a complicated mix of surprise, admiration, and a faint exhaustion.

That battle just now had already shown him a lot.

Naruto's absurd number of Shadow Clones was nothing like the amount of chakra a normal Genin should have.

Hinata's Byakugan insight, her precise Kunai throws, and her perfectly timed tactical positioning had already far surpassed the level of an ordinary Genin.

And then there was Menma, who had seemed excessively calm from beginning to end, with taijutsu so solid it was startling and tactical thinking so clear it was almost frightening.

More importantly, there was the way they worked together.

From the opening sea of Shadow Clones tying him down, to the Kunai coordinated with Explosive Tags forcing him to take things seriously, then to Menma's close-quarters entanglement, and finally Hinata's Shadow Clone decoy exploding—

each link followed the next.

Every step had been part of the calculation.

If