You Died Seven Times

Training had been off from the very first day.

Nawaki had eagerly awaited his master teaching him Fire Release: Great Fireball, Shuriken Shadow Clone, and other flashy ninjutsu.

But the first week, he ran laps around the back mountain.

The second week, he stumbled through the woods blindfolded.

The third week, he groped around in the dark, trying to find the exit in an area riddled with traps.

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

Two months, and still nothing.

Three months—

"Master!"

Nawaki plopped down on the grass of the training ground, drenched in sweat, his Forehead Protector askew.

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

Kitahara Kaede leaned against a tree trunk, idly playing with a Kunai.

"I have."

"What have you taught me?! Running laps? Groping around in the dark? Getting chased while you try to cut me down?"

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

Nawaki paused and counted on his fingers.

"...Twice."

"How many on your first day?"

"That's different—"

"Fourteen times."

Kitahara Kaede slid the Kunai back into the Ninja Tool Pouch at his thigh and straightened up.

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

"You call that no progress?"

Nawaki opened his mouth.

Well... that was true.

But he still wasn't satisfied.

"But all the other Genin are learning C-rank jutsu already, and I haven't even learned one—"

"Fine."

Kitahara Kaede cut him off.

"We'll do a different kind of 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 a hand, holding up two fingers in front of his chest.

Chakra burst from him.

Nawaki's smile froze on his face.

The pressure washed over him like a bucket of ice water. It was on a completely different level from their usual sparring.

Killing intent worthy of a Jonin.

"I'll chase you using thirty percent of my strength. Every time I catch you, it counts as one death."

Kitahara Kaede looked at him.

"Begin."

Nawaki took off running.

Twenty minutes later.

He lay facedown on the ground, muddy and trembling all over.

Seven times.

He'd been "killed" seven times.

The first time, he charged straight ahead, only for his escape route to be cut off.

The second time, he hid in a thicket, but his breathing gave him away.

The third time, he thought he'd shaken his pursuer, only to trip over a wire Kitahara Kaede had set ten minutes earlier.

After that, he couldn't remember.

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

"You're dead."

Nawaki sat on the grass, hugging his knees to his chest, head bowed, shoulders still trembling.

Thirty percent strength.

His master had only used thirty percent.

Kitahara Kaede crouched in front of him.

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

Nawaki said nothing.

"You could learn a hundred jutsu, then take a Kunai through the heart from behind and never get to use a single one."

He paused.

"Dead men don't need techniques."

Kitahara Kaede dusted off his hands and stood.

"You have to survive before you can worry about anything else."

Nawaki sat there for a long time.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves, breaking into scattered patches of light that fell across his face.

He lifted his head.

"Master."

"Yeah?"

"Are we doing this again tomorrow?"

Kitahara Kaede glanced at him.

"Do you want to?"

"I do."

Nawaki got to his feet and brushed the grass off his backside, his lips pressed into a thin line.

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

Kitahara Kaede's lips twitched slightly. He turned and headed down the grassy slope.

"Drink some water."

"Okay."

Afternoon.

The two of them sat on the grassy slope beside the training ground, taking a break.

A figure appeared on the distant path.

Tsunade wasn't wearing her hair in a ponytail today. Her long blond hair fell naturally over her shoulders.

She wore a light gray, wide-necked short-sleeved shirt and dark pants, with ninja sandals on her feet and a cloth bag in her hand.

Nawaki turned his head toward her, then back again, pouting.

"Why's Sis here again?"

Tsunade came over and shoved the cloth bag into Nawaki's arms.

"What, am I not allowed to come?"

"You are, but—"

"But what?"

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

"But you've come every day this week."

Tsunade raised an eyebrow.

"I came every day last week, too."

Tsunade's gaze turned half a degree colder.

"And the week before—"

Thwack.

She rapped him on the head.

Nawaki clutched his head and crouched down, yelping.

"Eat your lunch!"

"Ow..."

Rubbing his head, Nawaki opened the cloth bag. Inside were three rice balls and a flask of warm tea.

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

"You're obviously just coming to see..."

He spoke quietly enough for just the two of them to hear.

The tips of Tsunade's ears turned red.

She sat beside Kitahara Kaede, leaving a fist's width between them, and took out a rice ball to offer him.

She didn't look at him.

"Eat."

Kitahara Kaede took it.

"Thanks."

The three of them sat on the grassy slope, with the broad training ground before them and the three faces on Kage Rock clearly outlined in the afternoon light.

Nawaki ate 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.

"For how long?"

"Twenty minutes. He caught me seven times."

"At thirty percent strength?"

Kitahara Kaede nodded.

Tsunade thought for a moment, then looked back at Nawaki.

"Lasting twenty minutes against thirty percent strength isn't bad."

Nawaki nearly choked on his rice ball.

"Really?!"

"Really. When your master had just become a Genin, Teacher Hiruzen chased him using thirty percent strength, and he only lasted—"

She paused and glanced at Kitahara Kaede.

"How long was it?"

"Forty-five minutes."

Nawaki's face fell.

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

Tsunade laughed and slowly poured herself a cup of tea.

The wind blew over the slope, bending the weeds, and the blond hair scattered across Tsunade's shoulders swayed with it.

Nawaki finished his last bite of rice ball, then flopped onto his back in the grass, hands behind his head.

"Master."

"Yeah?"

"I got a mission."

The rice ball in Kitahara Kaede's hand stopped.

"What kind of mission?"

Nawaki propped himself up, his eyes shining.

"C-rank! A reconnaissance mission! A four-man squad!"

He said it all in one breath, barely able to contain his excitement.

"We leave next week. We're going to the west of the Land of Fire. They said there's been some unusual activity, so we're going to check it out."

Tsunade turned her head.

"Who approved it?"

"It was on the roster, and the official mission order came through."

Nawaki took a folded sheet of mission paper from his waist pouch and handed it over.

Tsunade unfolded it and skimmed the contents.

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

She didn't know the Jonin in charge very well, but he was definitely an officially assigned squad leader.

She frowned and handed the mission slip to Kitahara Kaede.

Kitahara Kaede took it and scanned it.

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

--C-rank.

It was just a standard mission slip.

But Kitahara Kaede frowned. He couldn't put his finger on what was wrong.

He remembered how Nawaki had died. The time, place, and people involved didn't match anything written on this slip.

And yet, this perfectly ordinary mission slip had made something inside him tense.

He folded the mission slip and handed it back to Nawaki.

Tsunade noticed his expression.

"What's wrong?"

Kitahara Kaede raised his eyes.

"Nothing. I was planning to teach him how to set traps this week. This'll throw off the training schedule a bit."

Tsunade glanced at him but didn't press.

"It's Nawaki's first trip away from home." She stood up and picked up the empty cloth bag. "I'll go ask Teacher Hiruzen about the Jonin leading the team."

Her tone was casual, as if it had just occurred to her.

"It can't hurt to ask around. It'll put my mind at ease."

With that, she left.

Kitahara Kaede watched her walk away without a word.

"Sensei?"

Nawaki was still sitting where he was, tilting his head as he looked at him.

"It's my first C-rank mission, and you don't look too happy about it."

Kitahara Kaede turned his gaze back to him.

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

He patted the grass beside him.

"We have five days left. There's plenty we can work on."

Nawaki blinked, then suddenly grinned.

"So—we're adding extra training for the next five days?"

"Don't you want to?"

"I do!"

Nawaki sprang up and brushed the grass off his backside.

He patted his chest.

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

He paused.

"Come back alive."

Kitahara Kaede looked at him.

When he smiled, he looked a lot like Tsunade.

"Yeah."

He stood up.

"Come on. This afternoon's lesson is setting and disarming traps."

"Starting already?"

"You said you were willing."

Nawaki followed him, grumbling about how saying he was willing and starting right away were two different things. His voice gradually faded as the wind carried it toward the training ground.