Eternal Yujin
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TCoH—Chapter 2.11 (21)
🕑 Added 2024-05-03 16:46:51 +0000 UTC- - -
Chapter 2.11 [21]
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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?”
“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.”
“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. I spent the rest of the evening paying said bills, cooking dinner, and cleaning the house.
At school, I mostly found myself zoning out, through no fault of the actual Academy, but after a couple of lessons from Asuma, I just couldn’t look at it with any real degree of seriousness anymore. Perhaps that was a good thing: it helped me not take things so personally because I’d gone right back to where I was at the beginning of the first year. I wasn’t unbeatable, and my classmates weren’t weak, but I had a few more tools under my belt that let me breathe a little easier.
I realised halfway through history that this is probably what life was like for the clan kids and grinned… until I realised Sasuke could probably still beat me and he’d been training alone since he was seven. Oddly enough, I didn’t mind so much. Finding a source of knowledge had put my mind at ease because my growth was assured now. Whether or not Sasuke beat me didn’t matter anymore because it was never really about him.
So imagine my surprise when the opportunity to do so fell right into my lap on the first sparring session of that week. A good dozen or so matches had gone by when Iruka called Sasuke and I to the stand. The class seemed pretty excited because apparently, he’d gone on a week-and-half-long win streak that had irritated everyone who wasn’t his unwanted fan club.
He walked slightly ahead of me as we moved away from the class. I hung back, squeezing through the crowd that had formed away from the fan club while I figured out how I’d approach the spar. Enhanced strikes were completely off the table; I wasn’t strong enough to regulate them to non-lethal levels. However, that didn’t mean I was completely helpless. Knowing Sasuke, he wasn’t one to take things easy.
“Right, this will be the final spar of the day. Are you two ready? ” Iruka asked, raising his arm high. “Begin!”
I didn’t want to deal with his shurikenjutsu—ninja wires were a given with him—so I threw aside all subterfuge by moving into a drop step and blasting forward. My chakra control hadn’t changed much in two weeks, but the way I went about using chakra repulsion couldn’t be more different.
Sasuke was surprised but gathered himself quickly enough to dodge my attacks. I braced myself, anticipating his first strike, but he launched into a series of rapid punches rather than just the one. I weaved and dodged, feeling the wind from his fists grazing my skin. Finding an opening, I countered with a swift jab to his shoulder. He was quick to deflect, smoothly transitioning into a low sweep that caught me off guard.
I stumbled, regaining my footing just in time to block his follow-up kick and lunged forward, aiming a roundhouse kick at his head. Sasuke ducked beneath the blow, his movements fluid as he countered with another sweep. I fell into a backwards roll and retaliated with three kicks that I used to return to a standing position.
Sasuke reached into his back pouch and I made the split-second decision to throw a kunai at him. He hopped back and it hit the ground, having struck nothing, but it bought me time. He was going for his pouch again, and while he’d managed to pull out a shuriken, he didn’t have enough range to throw it, making the weapon more of a liability than anything else. I aimed almost exclusively for the left side of his body and he was forced to take more than a few hits to keep the shuriken in his hands.
Stupidly, though, I’d fallen into a rhythm that Sasuke figured out after a few exchanges. That particular mistake earned me a fancy, one-armed backflip kick to the face. I ran my tongue along my teeth licking the thin blood trail across my bottom lip.
“Great,” I muttered, springing forward to dodge the metal star.
Landing atop my kunai from earlier, I pulled it off the ground and rolled to the side, standing slightly askew. Sasuke threw another kunai after me and reeled in the ninja stars but instead of backing away, I ran towards him.
He stared incredulously, only making me grin. Once he realised I wasn’t going to stop, he discarded the ninja wire and threw a handful of shuriken that he multiplied with the Shuriken Clone Jutsu, stopping me in my tracks. I jumped out of the way, letting the weapons pass and resumed my run. When I looked back, Sasuke was winding up to throw what looked like way too many wire-guided shuriken, his small smirk growing into an excited grin.
I planted my feet and smiled back, watching the spinning metal race towards me and worked through a little under a dozen hand seals, dragging in as much air as I could. My lungs expanded and I felt like I’d burst at any moment, but I held it in: the chill of the air in my lungs, the warmth of my chakra, the anticipation, all of it.
With my chakra control, learning jutsu wasn’t difficult. I was sure that would change depending on the chakra control requirement, but I was never going to be known for my chakra control anyway. No, my problem was always finding someone willing to teach me jutsu. Thanks to Asuma, that wasn’t a problem for me anymore.
Leaning over, I released a focused gust, destroying the shurikens’ momentum. They clattered uselessly to the ground in front of me, and while he was staring at me in open-mouthed shock, I blasted off the ground and punched Sasuke squarely in the jaw, holding a kunai over his throat. Surprisingly, he looked far from pissed at the loss and even let me help him up.
“I suppose you haven’t been slacking,” he grunted.
“Nope,” I replied. “So, what did you think about the new jutsu? Pretty cool, right?”
He picked up all his shuriken and secured the ninja wire. “So, your affinity is wind.”
“My primary is. I don’t know what my others are. Chakra paper’s a gimmick that shinobi peddle to rich people to make some money. It only shows your primary affinity and there are better ways of finding out your affinities, but as far as time and money go, it’s not bad.”
“My clan, they… I watch over one of those training sites.”
“The Temple of Fire, right? Is it true that the fires there are always burning?”
A dark look flashed across his face. “...Yes. It’s an Uchiha’s responsibility to keep them alight using the Fireball Jutsu.”
“Do you know it?”
Sasuke scoffed, but there wasn’t any malice behind it. “Step aside.”
I gestured, giving him a wide berth to demonstrate the Fireball Jutsu. He stood straight and started to gather chakra through the Confrontation Seal, but that was as far as he got.
“Wait!” Iruka came running across the field, stopping directly in front of Sasuke and I. “Stop, you two. It’s wonderful that you’re both capable of nature-release ninjutsu at your age, but you’ll demoralise your classmates if you go any further. Let’s call it a day, yeah?”
Scoffing again, Sasuke started to walk away but stopped abruptly.
“What’s the matter?” Iruka asked.
He looked at me, looking like he wanted to say something. I squashed the urge to shake my head and smiled. “It was a good spar, Sasuke.”
He nodded and continued walking away.
“Naruto,” said Iruka after a moment. “Where did you learn that jutsu?”
Whatever lie I was going to tell would have to be good—and the best kind of lies were those that had a little bit of the truth. “I was training in a park during my week off and a shinobi happened to see me. I dunno who she was, or what rank she was because she was in casualwear, but we made a bet. She lost, so I made her teach me a jutsu—she didn’t actually think I’d be able to do it, though.”
Iruka wasn’t a genius, but he wasn’t an idiot either. He looked suspicious of my excuse, but still sent me away without pushing further. On the walk back, I enjoyed the class’ reactions a little more than I should have. Tomio looked like he wanted to eat a hat and Sasuke’s fan club was torn between singing his praises for accepting defeat so gracefully and staring at me as if I’d dropped out of the sky.
“Naruto!” Ino bounded towards me as we all walked out of school that afternoon, falling into step to my left while ignoring the glares from Sasuke’s fan club. “That was amazing!”
“Thanks,” I smiled, mind racing for the best way to end our conversation.
“You know nature-release ninjutsu. I don’t think there’s anyone in our class who does!”
I scratched the back of my head. “...Sasuke does.”
“Which one?”
“The Fireball Jutsu.”
She blinked before slapping her palm against her forehead. “Duh. I forgot he’s an Uchiha. Damn it, now Sakura won’t ever shut up.”
“That’s pretty cold of you, princess. I know he’s the last of his clan and all but damn.” Shikamaru glanced over at us, focusing on Ino as opposed to me.
“I’m sorry, Naruto,” said Ino with a forced smile on her face. “But I’m going to go deal with him.”
I smiled back. “Feel free.”
Nodding as if my blessing counted as permission to go and argue with him, she marched away, rolling up her sleeves. Not too long after that, someone tapped my shoulder. I turned, expecting it to be him, but it was Hinata instead.
I smiled. “Hey, there. It’s been a while.”
Hinata didn’t smile back, which threw me off a little. She led me away from the class to Choji, who looked… unhappy, to say the least.
“What’s wrong with you two?” I asked.
“What’s wrong?” Choji asked, sounding hurt. “You avoid us for ages, and then ask us what’s wrong?”
…He had a point, one that I was beginning to grasp, but it was too little too late now. They were already upset, but I couldn’t go back in time and un-panic myself to hang out with them.
“This is going to sound bad, but bear with me,” I said. “I didn’t avoid you guys—”
“—On purpose?” finished Hinata, folding her arms. “We realised.”
Choji frowned. “And it doesn’t matter. Our point is that this isn’t the first or even the third time you’ve done this. We always come second to your training. It makes us feel unwanted, o-or that we exist as your friends only when you want us around. It’s not fair!”
“No, it’s not, and I’m sorry I hurt you guys, but believe me, I had an actual problem to deal with last week. It might look like I was avoiding you just to train, but it wasn’t that either. Or else why would I have stopped coming to school?”
“Then why?” asked Hinata. “We’re your friends, aren’t we? You’re supposed to come to us if you have a problem so we can solve it together.”
Choji nodded. “You don’t have to be alone, man.”
Instead of making me feel relieved, their words had almost the opposite effect. The sentiment was nice, and nothing either of them had said was wrong.
I enjoyed the brief respite of hanging out with my friends, but to be friends with someone required more than just spending time together. It required honesty, loyalty, and the willingness to speak uncomfortable truths. Were these two ready for all the uncomfortable truths?
No. I doubted they’d ever be, but if I never gave them the opportunity and kept soldiering on by myself, what point was there in calling them my friends?
I was tired of dealing with everything alone. Any time something went wrong, I had no one to turn to because my problems were always things the people I cared about had no business knowing: Obito, Orochimaru, the Akatsuki, the Fourth Shinobi World War. More than that, I was tired of defending myself against these two, who were too immature to understand that maybe my reasons for not being there were more than just being a training addict.
But maybe… they could learn. Not the whole truth but part of it… maybe.
“Fine,” I frowned and took a deep breath and picked up the pace. “Come with me.”
They looked at each other but followed me deep into the nearest park. I walked far enough that we passed by all the kids rushing home after the school day, deeper and deeper until I was satisfied.
“Hinata, look around with you Byakugan, please; is there anyone nearby?”
She took a moment to gather chakra and when she opened her eyes, they glowed with an otherworldly light, veins bulging across her face. “No, there’s no one except us.”
I swallowed, noticing my throat was uncomfortably dry.
“You guys want the truth?” A wan chuckle escaped from my throat. “Truth is: I’m a Jinchuriki, a living sacrifice, basically. I have been since the day I was born. I lied to all of you; my birthday isn’t October 9th, it’s October 10th, and the last thing the Fourth Hokage did before dying was seal the Nine-Tailed Fox inside of me.”
“That’s…” Choji trailed off, mouth open.
“Insane, right?” I sighed, hating the bitterness charging my words but not moving to stop it in any way. “My childhood sucked, you two. Before leaving the orphanage I had to fight with kids almost weekly because they’d heard whispers from adults about me being a monster. Of course, that only made things worse and Lord Third ended up giving me an apartment to stop them from bothering me.
“Except,” I chuckled, “that didn’t happen. The point is, I’m tired of pretending my life’s okay. It’s not. Things are better now, but that doesn’t erase the years that weren’t. You two are both clan heirs so you wouldn’t understand. Whenever you have a problem, you can go right to your parents, or some elder to help. Me? I’m that one monster the village hates without parents or siblings. Everything I’ve learned, I learned on my own.
“You can attest to that, can’t you, Hinata?”
I looked the girl in the eye until she looked away. Sure, I felt bad about weaponising what were otherwise really heartwarming moments between us where we developed the beginnings of my chakra enhancement, but I had to make sure she understood—that the both of them did.
After hiding or avoiding voicing my thoughts for so long, just this small grain of truth felt liberating. There was something nice—even with the circumstance—about having people to voice the truth to.
I’d been alone for so long I’d forgotten how it felt.
“Quite frankly, you guys are being selfish,” the words continued pouring out of my mouth, and I had no desire to stop. “Friendship’s a two-way street. You want me to share my problems—cool, but now that you know them, what the hell can either of you do to make them better?”
As expected, they couldn’t reply. I’d already made things better, but this was something they needed to hear. Maybe they’d also stop being my friends as Shikamaru had, but I’d at least imparted a meaningful lesson to them on my way out.
“Listen,” I said, sighing, “I’m not asking you guys to change the village for me or anything like that. It’s not your responsibility but… you guys said I’m not sharing my problems, so here I am—sharing.”
If I said anything else, I’d only devolve into vitriol over my treatment at the hands of the village or potentially reveal things I shouldn’t so I took the white-hot negativity and shoved it back down.
I stuck my hands in my pockets and started to walk away. Was it cowardly to run away before seeing their reaction? Probably, but I had no desire to face more rejection and fear.
Not from people I counted as friends.
“...N-Naruto!” It was Choji who had yelled. His face was twisted with indecision for a short moment, but he shook it off. “Come to my place on Saturday morning. We’ll have an answer for you then. But this… thing between you and Shikamaru? It’s gone on for too long.”
“You’ve caught us in between the both of you,” said Hinata, she looked away for a moment, and when her eyes returned to me, they didn’t waver. “What you revealed to us was something, but if there’s one thing that we can help you with, it’s this.”
I stopped for a moment and thought the offer over. “...Fine. I’ll be there.”
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