You Died Seven Times

Training had been wrong from the very first day.

Nawaki was full of anticipation, expecting his master to teach him cool ninjutsu like the Great Fireball or Shuriken Shadow Clone.

The result? The first week was spent running laps around the back mountain.

The second week, he ran through the woods blindfolded.

The third week, he had to find his way out of a trap-filled zone in total darkness.

A month passed, and he hadn't learned a single jutsu.

Two months, still nothing.

Three months—

"Master!"

Nawaki plopped down onto the grass of the training ground, drenched in sweat, his forehead protector skewed to one side.

"When exactly are you going to teach me ninjutsu?"

Kitahara Kaede leaned against a tree trunk, idly flipping a kunai in his hand.

"I already have."

"Taught me what?! Running laps? Wandering in the dark? Being chased by you with a blade?"

"How many of my traps did you trigger today?"

Nawaki paused, counting on his fingers.

"...Two."

"How many on the first day?"

"That's different—"

"Fourteen."

Kitahara Kaede sheathed the kunai into the Ninja Tool Pouch on his leg and stood up straight.

"Three months ago, you couldn't even react when you stepped on the first tripwire. Now, you can roll out of the kill zone within 0.3 seconds of triggering one."

"You don't call that progress?"

Nawaki opened his mouth.

It seemed... he was right.

But he still wasn't convinced.

"But the other genin are already learning C-rank ninjutsu, and I haven't even—"

"Fine."

Kitahara Kaede cut him off.

"We're changing the training today."

Nawaki's eyes lit up.

"Really?! What are we learning?"

"You run. I chase."

"...That's it?"

"The rules are simple."

Kitahara Kaede raised his hand, two fingers held upright before his chest.

Chakra surged forth.

Nawaki's smile froze on his face.

The pressure felt like a bucket of ice water dumped over his head—it was on an entirely different level from their usual sparring.

It was the killing intent of a jonin.

"I'll use thirty percent of my strength to chase you. If I catch you once, that counts as one death."

Kitahara Kaede looked at him.

"Begin."

Nawaki took off running.

Twenty minutes later.

He lay sprawled on the ground, face covered in mud, his whole body trembling.

Seven times.

He had been "killed" seven times.

The first time, he charged head-on, and his retreat was cut off immediately.

The second time, he hid in a bush, but the sound of his breathing gave him away.

The third time, he thought he had shaken his pursuer, only to step on a tripwire Kitahara Kaede had set ten minutes prior.

He couldn't remember the rest.

He only remembered that every time Kitahara Kaede's finger tapped the back of his neck, he said the same thing.

"You died."

Nawaki sat on the grass, knees pulled to his chest, head bowed, his shoulders still shaking.

Thirty percent.

His master had only used thirty percent.

Kitahara Kaede squatted down in front of him.

"Enemies on the battlefield won't use only thirty percent. They won't tell you the rules, they won't give you twenty minutes, and they won't send just one person."

Nawaki didn't say a word.

"You could learn a hundred ninjutsu, but if a kunai pierces your heart from behind, you won't be able to cast a single one."

He paused.

"The dead don't need techniques."

Kitahara Kaede brushed the dirt off his hands and stood up.

"Only by staying alive do you earn the right to talk about anything else."

Nawaki sat there for a long time.

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, shattering into patches of light that fell upon his face.

He looked up.

"Master."

"Yeah."

"Are we doing this again tomorrow?"

Kitahara Kaede glanced at him.

"Do you want to?"

"I do."

Nawaki stood up, brushed the grass off his pants, and pressed his lips into a firm line.

"Next time, I'll last thirty minutes."

Kitahara Kaede's lips twitched slightly as he turned to walk toward the grassy slope.

"Drink some water."

"Oh."

Afternoon.

The two sat on the grassy slope by the training ground to rest.

A figure appeared on the path in the distance.

Tsunade wasn't wearing her ponytail today; her long, golden hair hung naturally over her shoulders.

She wore a light gray, wide-collared short-sleeved shirt, dark trousers, and ninja sandals, carrying a cloth bag in her hand.

Nawaki turned his head to look, then turned it back, his mouth curling downward.

"Why is Sis here again?"

Tsunade walked up and shoved the cloth bag into Nawaki's arms.

"What, I can't come?"

"I mean, you can... but—"

"But what?"

Nawaki shrank his neck, but couldn't help himself.

"But you've been coming every single day this week."

Tsunade raised an eyebrow.

"I came every day last week, too."

Tsunade's gaze cooled by half a degree.

"And the week before—"

Thump.

A sharp flick landed on his forehead.

Nawaki clutched his head and crouched down, howling in pain.

"Just eat your food!"

"It hurts..."

Nawaki rubbed his forehead and opened the bag, revealing three rice balls and a flask of warm tea.

He took one, feeling aggrieved, and muttered under his breath.

"It's obviously just to come see..."

His voice was very low, just quiet enough for the two of them to hear.

The tips of Tsunade's ears turned red.

She sat down next to Kitahara Kaede, leaving a fist's width of space between them, and pulled out a rice ball to hand to him.

She didn't look at him.

"Eat."

Kitahara Kaede took it.

"Thanks."

The three sat on the grassy slope, facing the vast training ground, the three faces on the Hokage Rock in the distance standing out in sharp relief against the afternoon light.

Nawaki ate the fastest, his cheeks bulging like a squirrel's.

"Master let me experience what it's like to be hunted by a jonin today."

Tsunade turned to look at Kitahara Kaede.

"How long?"

"Twenty minutes, caught seven times."

"Thirty percent strength?"

Kitahara Kaede nodded.

Tsunade thought for a moment, her gaze returning to Nawaki.

"Twenty minutes at thirty percent strength isn't bad."

Nawaki nearly choked on his rice ball.

"Really?!"

"Really. When your master was a genin, he was chased by Hiruzen-sensei using thirty percent strength, and he only lasted—"

She paused, tilting her head toward Kitahara Kaede.

"How long was it?"

"Forty-five minutes."

Nawaki's expression collapsed.

"...Sis, could you not bring that up."

Tsunade chuckled and poured a cup of tea, sipping it slowly.

The wind blew, bending the weeds on the slope, and the golden hair scattered on Tsunade's shoulders swayed along with it.

Nawaki finished the last bite of his rice ball and lay back on the grass, hands cradling his head.

"Master."

"Yeah."

"I got a mission."

Kitahara Kaede stopped with his rice ball.

"What kind of mission?"

Nawaki propped up his upper body, his eyes shining brightly.

"C-rank! Reconnaissance! Four-man squad!"

He said it all in one breath, unable to suppress the excitement in his voice.

"We leave next week for the western side of the Land of Fire. They said there's abnormal activity, and we're going to check it out."

Tsunade turned her head.

"Who approved it?"

"It was on the roster; the official mission order is already out."

Nawaki pulled a folded mission paper from his pouch and handed it over.

Tsunade unfolded it and scanned it.

C-rank reconnaissance, four-man squad, western border of the Land of Fire, estimated mission duration five to seven days.

She wasn't very familiar with the name of the jonin leading the team, but it was indeed an official assignment.

She frowned and handed the mission paper to Kitahara Kaede.

Kitahara Kaede took it, his gaze sweeping across the page.

Western border of the Land of Fire, investigate abnormal activity.

--C-rank.

It was just a standard, ordinary mission paper.

But Kitahara Kaede's brow furrowed slightly; he couldn't put his finger on what was wrong.

He remembered the cause of Nawaki's death, and the time, location, and people involved didn't match anything written on this paper.

Yet, this very ordinary mission slip made the string in his heart tighten.

He folded the mission paper and returned it to Nawaki.

Tsunade noticed his expression.

"What is it?"

Kitahara Kaede raised his eyes.

"Nothing. I was planning to teach him how to set traps this week, so this will disrupt the training schedule a bit."

Tsunade glanced at him but didn't press the issue.

"It's Nawaki's first time traveling far." She stood up and picked up an empty cloth bag. "I'm going to find Hiruzen to ask about the jonin leading the team."

Her tone was casual, as if she were just mentioning it in passing.

"It's always more reassuring to ask a few questions."

With that, she left.

Kitahara Kaede watched her back as she walked away, saying nothing.

"Master?"

Nawaki was still sitting where he was, tilting his head to look at him.

"It's my first C-rank mission, you know? You don't look very happy."

Kitahara Kaede withdrew his gaze.

"It's not that I'm not happy."

He patted the grass beside him.

"There are still five days left. There's plenty we can practice."

Nawaki blinked, then suddenly grinned.

"So—extra training for the next five days?"

"Are you not willing?"

"I am!"

Nawaki sprang up and brushed the grass off his backside.

He tapped his own chest.

"Master, I haven't forgotten a single thing you've taught me."

He paused.

"I'll come back alive."

Kitahara Kaede looked at him.

The way he smiled was very much like Tsunade.

"Mm."

He stood up.

"Let's go. This afternoon's subject—setting and disarming traps."

"Starting now?"

"You said you were willing."

Nawaki followed after him, shouting something about how "being willing and starting immediately are two different things," his voice gradually carried away by the wind toward the training grounds.