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They don’t get the bells.
Kakashi dismisses them and disappears into the shrub. The two boys glare at little Sakura as if she’s personally responsible for their failure, one stare cold, the other burning. Sakura stares them down with an unwaveringly polite smile, all teeth. He makes a split-second decision. Their teamwork was atrocious, but he knows who to blame, and it’s not the girl who blackmailed her teammates into giving a damn.
He snaps his book shut and follows her. She is, by all means, more than qualified.
Sakura stops by the Academy first. She hands her headband in, gets a few pats on her back by her friends, jokes around and unceremoniusly drops down next to a blonde girl. Sakura steals her lunch, and he files away what he observes. She hovers over her protectively until the bell signals the end of lunchbreak. Like a proper gentleman, Sakura walks her to her classroom. They hug. Kakashi approves. Yamanaka are great in bed.
From there on Sakura heads straight home, disappearing into the unassuming building. It’s a peaceful civillian neighbourhood. The lawns are freshly mowed and all he can spot as far as training goes is a thoroughly abused old pole. There is only one other house facing Sakura’s garden, he notices.
Kakashi decides to settle on her roof. Soon enough, Sakura opens her window and carefully balances the windowsill. Like a cat she silently leaps onto her neighbour’s balcony, pulling herself up in the glass door’s blindspot. She presses her hands to the floor and mutters a false surroundings Jutsu. Visibly satisfied, Sakura drops into her small backyard.
She aggressively pummels her fists against the training log over and over again, the tank-top she changed into showing off her muscle. Unlike the calamity and precision he’s seen her exhibit in combat, she grunts and groans and yells at the pole. Yet even her loss of control is kept tightly under wraps. She stops without warning and without escalating.
He smiles fondly. His student knows her breaking point. What a well-adjusted way of venting frustration.
She continues her training regimen, practicing a step sequence with a bundle of sticks, an improvised bokken. He makes note of getting her equipped with a sword.
Sakura doesn’t show any more of her tricks, instead going for full-on physical exhaustion.
As a former member of Anbu Kakashi is conditioned to wait for long periods of time, so he doesn’t mind holding out for her, even if it’s a rather boring watch. He’s got Icha Icha with him, after all.
When she’s done, he hands her a towel and her headband. She looks at him like he’s a ghost.
“It’s just you and me but...” He trails off, stumped by how difficult words are. “Welcome to Team Seven,” he finishes. It feels foreign in his mouth, like he has no right to this statement.
Something twists in his gut. He ignores it.
“Why me?” She bites her lips nervously, hands white-knuckling around the hilt of her kunai. She inches forward, legs quivering. Annoyance flashes across her face. Sakura is exhausted, but she refuses to admit weakness. He can respect that.
Kakashi nods curtly, acknowledging her question. He pauses, thinking. “You’re like me,” he says eventually.
She stares at him, at a loss for words. He tries to make an encouraging smile work, but he knows it comes off as more of a grimace. “Welcome to Team Seven,” he repeats like a broken record.
Sakura looks like she might hug him. He pulls a face and dodges her attempt.
Before he takes off, Kakashi dumps Pakkun in her arms, trusting him to take care of human interaction. Lord Hokage knows his ninken is better at it than him.