Now that I was cooling down and the adrenaline was fading, I shuddered at how easily the wind slipped past my t-shirt, chilling me to the bone. I rose slowly, feeling every muscle strain at the most basic movements. It was a slow process, but the soreness was invigorating; thanks to that pain, I could feel just how much I was progressing with each training session.

“Let’s call it a day here,” said Asuma, looking like he hadn’t fought me for forty minutes straight. He snorted at my struggles to sit up. “I need to increase your endurance training. If you’re this spent after a spar, I’m scared to imagine what’ll happen in the field.”

“I’m this spent because of that endurance training you put me through before the sparring, or have you forgotten about it?” I hissed, partly out of pain but also because of how damn smug he sounded.

“Hmm…” He fingered his ear. “All I’m hearing are the complaints of a scrub.”

The heat in my chest swelled, but I stopped myself from saying something that would have the man tease me endlessly. Asuma was a great teacher, but he was also childish, petty, and a sloth dressed as a human being.

“Since you haven’t made a smart-ass remark yet, I’m guessing you agree. Great!” He took a seat in front of me, crossing his legs in the grass.

“Wait,” I said, adjusting myself so I was cross-legged too, “I’ve got a question: why are low-ranked wind jutsu so weak? Like, not that it’s not. Blunt force is great when you’ve got massive chakra reserves, but on average, low-rank wind jutsu aren’t all that damaging.”

“That’s a loaded question.” I tilted my head in confusion and he raised a finger. “Ninjutsu aren’t assigned ranks based solely on their strength; there are some pretty powerful D and C-ranked jutsu, after all. Strength aside, there are a few other factors that contribute to a jutsu’s overall rank: the raw chakra requirement, the degree of chakra control, the jutsu’s difficulty—which can be because of the previous two factors, but also the number of hand signs—and lastly, its actual strength.

“Also, I’m gonna caveat this by saying we’re talking strictly about offensive jutsu. Other ninjutsu categories have their own criteria. Low-ranked wind jutsu are weak because they use wind pressure. That's not an inherent weakness, mind you, but because they’re low-ranked, the pressure they exert isn’t all that damaging.”

“Are the other nature-releases the same?” I asked. “You can make low-ranked wind jutsu more powerful by using more chakra than the activation amount, but I’m not talking about that.”

“What do you mean then?”

I scratched my head. “...I guess I’m trying to ask whether or not the other low-ranked nature-release jutsu are also weak.”

“Yes and no. They counter one another regardless of rank. See, nature-releases inherently lean more toward offence or defence. Fire and lightning are the most offensive, while earth is the most defensive. Wind and water are more neutral and are equally good at both. That said, that doesn’t mean offensive or defensive elements can’t be used oppositely either. All low-ranked jutsu are lowly ranked because they’re easier to use than, say, a B-ranked jutsu.”

“Huh.” I shrugged and sighed disappointedly. “I guess having wind as my primary affinity was a case of real bad luck, eh?”

“Woah.” Asuma frowned. “Wind is perfectly good at what it does. Especially once you get out of scrub territory.”

“Really?” I grinned. “Because all I’m hearing are the complaints of a scrub.”

It took a few moments for the joke to land, and I saw it in the way his expression collapsed into this one dry stare. “Ha, ha. Very funny, kid.”

“I try.”

“All nature-releases are dangerous. In the end, whether or not they’re initially better at offence or defence doesn’t matter.” Asuma shifted so that he was sitting more comfortably. “Right, let me paint a picture for you. Nature-releases have their entry-level status, right? Wind knocks things back but loses power as you go out of range; earth is only good for defence because it's slow and rigid and so on.

“But none of that matters once you master an element. I’ll start with wind since we’ve got the same primary affinity. The reason why low-ranked wind jutsu use wind pressure is because it’s just easier to do when you’re unskilled.” He spun one of his trench knives around a finger. “Once you get the cutting factor down, it’s lethal.”

His explanation made sense. Even in situations where an opponent’s element countered another’s, mastery of your element could mean the difference between life and death—especially in situations like that. “What about the other elements, then?”

“Water’s basically got the same deal as wind, it’s just more… solid, which comes with its ups and downs. Earth lets you manipulate its consistency, lightning shocks less and pierces more, and fire… well, it gets hotter.” Asuma could see the smile crawling across my face. “If I hear another word about me being a scrub, I’ll make you do super-sets next week. Fire’s plenty cool, Naruto. Like the other nature-releases, there are visual tells to see whether your opponent’s mastered it. Regular orange flames turn white-hot, and beyond that, a little bit blue.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Blue flames, eh.” I blinked as an interesting detail came to mind. “The Jinchuriki of the Two-Tails, Yugito Nii.”

“What about her?” Asuma asked.

“Her flames are blue. That mean anything?”

It was only for a moment, but the playfulness vanished from his eyes. His usually amused brown eyes were cautious, but I stared back completely unfazed. I understood why he was being careful, but my question was completely genuine.

…Plus I couldn’t reveal that I knew I was a Jinchuriki because where would I have got that knowledge? Blaming the villagers would be a big leap since there was no way for me to verify that information.

Thankfully, it was just for a moment. Asuma leaned back on his palms. “It’s an ability of the Two-Tails, also known as the Blazing Hell Cat. Its command of flame is second to none in the entire world—human or otherwise—and that extends to its Jinchuriki.”

“Cool,” I replied.

I wanted to enquire about the other Jinchuriki, if only to make sure they were still alive, but that would be pushing it. Asuma was a good teacher, and I enjoyed being around him. Asking for too much too soon would only make our training sessions awkward and risk scaring him away. It wasn’t like he didn’t know my identity, so there’d be a better time for questions like that.

The clearing only grew colder as the sun continued to set. I felt the moment come to an end and stood up, brushing grass off my trousers. “I’m gonna head home. I need to be up early tomorrow.”

“Oh,” said Asuma. “I forgot that you’ve got school.”

“Wow.”

He rolled his eyes. “Come on, you're the one who chose to play hooky for a week.”

“Because they couldn’t teach me the things I wanted to learn!”

“You’ll have to go back eventually, kid.”

I sighed. “...Yep.”

Asuma snorted and cleared the ground, landing on a thick branch and giving me a lazy salute. “By the way, next week’s session won’t be on Saturday. It’ll be on Sunday instead. I’ll see you then—and you better have returned to school.”

“What happens if I don’t?” I asked, more to be petulant than anything else.

He vanished, bursting out of the top of the tree moments later and blending with the forest in no time. I started the lonely trek home, crossing the river, and exiting the park. My limbs were deadweight, requiring twice the effort to move. At the same time, I felt weightless. It was the strange kind of paradox that occurred if you waited long enough after doing something physically intense.

Landing on the rooftop of my apartment complex, I scaled the railing attached to its side, stopping just before the drop to my door. There was a man in front of it, but because of the angle, I couldn’t see his face. His hair was tied back, and he was at least a chunin based on his vest.

“Who are you and what are you doing in front of my house?” I asked, still suspended from the balcony.

“Naruto?”

The man looked up and I almost released the grip I had on the railing. “Iruka-sensei?”

“Come down from there, please. I’d like to talk to you.” He smiled, crinkling the faded trail of the scar on his nose.

“Why don’t you come in?” I asked, unlocking the door. “Can I get you anything? Tea, water, orange juice?”

Iruka shook his head. “No, it’s late and I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“If you say so.” I stopped halfway across my apartment’s threshold, backtracked, and closed the door. “Not to be impolite, but why are you here, sensei?”

“I’m here to talk about your attendance.” He nodded pointedly at my grimacing. “You’ve been gone for almost two weeks and as your homeroom teacher, I’ve come as the bearer of bad news.”

“A week and a half.” I gave him a tight-lipped smile. “And yeah, that’s fair.”

“Before I deliver the bad news, is there anything I should know about? Some kind of extenuating reason that I can give you a pass for?”

“...No, not really,” I replied. “I took time off school. I wasn’t sick, stressed, and definitely didn’t have a family emergency.”

My joke didn’t lad, making Iruka frown instead. “Why’d you do it then?”

“Skip school?” I shrugged. “It was getting to a point where all the sparring drama was becoming too much so I decided I wanted out for a bit.”

“What about all the schoolwork you missed?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Sensei, we both know classwork is the least of my worries. I could probably do the end of year exams now and pass.”

“Even then, you can’t just pick and choose when you attend, Naruto. The Academy is a commitment and privilege. Each year, hundreds of kids fail to pass the entrance exam and, if offered, they’d take your spot in a heartbeat.”

“I know,” I said. “Really, I do. But would you believe me if I told you this week has been more useful for my growth than the last couple of months?”

His lips formed into a small frown that pulled down at the corners—yet I could see the conflict in his eyes. “...This won’t become the norm, will it?”

I shook my head.

“I’m serious. I’m not sure you’ll be eligible for Rookie of the Year if your attendance takes another hit like this. You’ve already been docked a few points off your final grade.”

“How much?”

“We’re deducting five points off whatever you get at the end of the year—that could be an entire grade.”

His words were almost enough to make me laugh—almost. I never really cared about the title or the marks in the first place. Still, I stood straight and nodded firmly. “I promise, sir. You’ll see me once the weekend’s out.”

Iruka looked me over like he was probing for weakness, searching for a chink in my armour to exploit. When he didn’t find one, he pushed off the railing and placed a hand on my shoulder. “I hope so. Here’s the work you missed; I expect it on my desk a week from now. Enjoy the rest of your weekend, Naruto.”

I didn’t enter my house until he walked onto the street three storeys below my apartment and vanished around a corner. The envelopes containing the amount I owed for gas and electricity lay on the welcome mat on my feet. I leaned down and picked them up with a grimace, laying them atop the folder Iruka had given me.

The village—in other words, Lord Third—only gave me the money for my monthly expenses, but I didn’t have to pay any rent and wouldn’t until I became a genin. Thankfully, with my monthly wage and the money Lord Third delivered personally on the first of every month, living expenses weren’t worrying.

That said, the sight of bills never failed to annoy me, and I spent the rest of the evening paying said bills, cooking dinner, and cleaning the house.