In the dead of night, Daimaru leaned against the window of his modest apartment, gazing out into the shimmering moonlight that was spread across the quiet village. The gentle night breeze brushed against his skin, providing a fleeting moment of peace.
He absentmindedly picked up the trauma medicine gifted by Miss Saya, feeling the coolness of the bottle against his fingers. With a quiet determination, he peeled off the bandages wrapping his hands, revealing palms marred with an array of small scars—each one a testament to his relentless training.
His gaze turned skyward, pointing with his right hand toward the slanting crescent moon, a silent witness to his struggles. With a deep breath, he formed a hand seal, channelling his chakra through his right palm.
A circle of wind-attribute chakra surged forth, morphing into scattered silver blades that sliced through the air with a sharp, resonant sound—like the clash of steel against steel. Yet, as the blades met, they fizzled and dissipated, leaving behind a series of thin, crimson lines that appeared across his wrist and fingertips.
The sudden sting jolted him, making his hand tremble involuntarily. "I still can't completely control it," he mused aloud, frustration mingling with determination. "But it's barely of practical value."
He then turned his attention to the trauma medicine, gently applying the ointment to his wounds. A cool, refreshing sensation washed over him, spreading from the site of injury throughout his body.
"High-end goods, indeed," he noted, a faint smile gracing his lips. The quality of the ointment promised to expedite his training in Wind Release, a much-needed boost. But as he pondered over Miss Saya's generous gift, he couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty. Had she truly just been kind, or had she somehow sensed the struggles he faced?
The life of a ninja was often a tedious and isolating pursuit. It demanded unwavering commitment, a steady accumulation of skills, and the tenacity to endure both loneliness and pain. The scars on his hands were the physical embodiment of this journey, reminders of his perseverance.
"What a unique skill Wind Release is…" he thought, melancholy sweeping over him. Several years prior, the revelation that his chakra affinity lay with the wind had filled him with exhilaration. He envisioned mastering techniques like Rasengan and Rasenshuriken, devastatingly powerful moves that could turn the tide of battle.
Yet reality quickly set in; as a mere Genin from Sunagakure, aspiring to wield the signature jutsu of the legendary Fourth Hokage, Namikaze Minato, felt like an invitation to disaster.
He recalled stories of Konoha's formidable ANBU, who would not hesitate to unleash their wrath on those who dared overstep their bounds. Furthermore, he realized that techniques like Rasengan required not only skill but also immense speed and precision—traits he lacked in abundance.
Those who wielded such jutsu effectively, like Hatake Kakashi or Uchiha Sasuke, possessed abilities that were almost mythical. Even Uzumaki Naruto, with his legion of shadow clones, used sheer numbers to overwhelm opponents, an approach Daimaru could not emulate with his solitary strength.
And the thought of attempting Wind Release with Spiral Shuriken was an even graver concern. The tale of Naruto, who had barely emerged from his trial with the technique, lingered in his mind. With his smaller physique, the risks felt even more pronounced.
Although he knew of Sage Mode and the potential it offered, he recognized that his current status as a Sand Ninja would preclude any dreams of achieving such power.
Years of dedication had yielded only a smattering of sand jutsu learned from Sunatetsu. While there were masters in the Hidden Sand Village proficient in Wind Release—like Baki, a skilled teacher of the Fourth Kazekage's children—Daimaru felt acutely aware of his isolation in this vast world of shinobi.
"I've spent almost four years practicing the nature change of wind chakra," he reflected, feeling the weight of his struggles. Although he had made significant strides in this endeavor, mastering the manipulation of wind's form remained an elusive goal. His scarred hands were a testament to the cost of self-discovery.
Wind Release was his hidden strength, a trump card he could wield only when the time was right.
Three days later, a furious Miss Saya stormed into his apartment, her expression dark and menacing.
"What is this about? You tricked me, Daimaru! Give me back my trauma medicine!" she demanded, her voice rising with indignation.
Daimaru held up his hands in surrender, trying to defuse her anger. "I've upheld my end. I've done everything I promised, and the medicine you gave me is mine now."
"But you didn't mention that Shira wasn't qualified to take the Chunin Exams!" she snapped, frustration boiling over.
"That's not my problem," he countered, crossing his arms defiantly. "You didn't ask at the time, and the agreement was just to fill numbers."
"Listen, Saya," he began, trying to appeal to her logic. "We both knew that Shira was a long shot. You should have prepared better for the possibility."
Her expression faltered slightly, but she quickly regained her composure. "What do you know about preparation? You just sit in your room practising all day!"
Daimaru winced at her harsh words. "I'm training to make sure I'm ready, just like you should be. This isn't just about you anymore. Shira's counting on you!"
Saya huffed, her eyes narrowing. "You think I don't know that? I'm the one who has to lead this team, and now I'm stuck with some inexperienced rookie!"
"Yeah, but it's your job to help him grow," he pointed out, frustration creeping into his voice. "You can't just run away from the responsibility."
Indeed, they had come to an understanding when he had introduced her to Yome and Shira. The initial meeting had been rocky, but Shira's determination for recognition had ultimately led him to accept the harsh conditions set forth by Saya and her sister, Sana.
Now, with graduation season behind them, Shira had managed to secure his Genin status, albeit with significant hurdles. Daimaru reflected on the complications surrounding their preparations for the upcoming Chunin Exams.
In Sunagakure, Genin were required to complete a specific number of tasks to qualify for the Chunin Exam; Konohagakure mandated eight, while Sunagakure required ten. Shira, being freshly minted as a ninja, had zero completed missions to his name. The pressure mounted, as Team Saya needed to accomplish ten missions in a span of mere months to ensure Shira's eligibility.
Miss Saya's mood soured further. "Low-level tasks don't interest me! Why should I waste my time on D-rank missions?"
Daimaru regarded her thoughtfully, knowing she was in a bind. "What you should do is complete those D-level tasks immediately. It's the only way to increase Shira's task load."
"Two months isn't enough!" she exclaimed, anxiety creeping into her voice. The Chunin Exam traditionally took place in mid-to-late May, and with the desert heat approaching, they had little time to spare.
"Just do your best and accept what fate throws your way," Daimaru offered, trying to reassure her. "Konoha will invite Sunagakure for the Joint Chunin Examination soon. The first exam is scheduled for July 1st, giving you more time than you think."
Saya's eyes widened in realization; ten D-level tasks could still be completed in time.
With a heavy heart, she departed, contacting her teammates and the teacher assigned to lead them. The Sound Wind Team had its own series of missions lined up, tasked with aiding the northern border fortress's defenses. They would embark on a two-month patrol under the local commander's orders, a grueling endeavor that, while demanding, would prepare them for the forthcoming exam.
As Daimaru watched her leave, a sense of determination filled the air. The road ahead might be narrow and fraught with challenges, but the journey was just beginning.