For example, if an average shinobi wanted to exchange for a B-rank jutsu, they'd have to complete at least one A-rank mission—and that was during wartime. In peacetime? Try three or four A-ranks minimum.
But here's the problem:
If they were already weak and lacked connections, the whole point of learning a B-rank jutsu was to get stronger in the first place. Yet without strength, how could they survive an A-rank mission?
It wasn't just a "chicken or the egg" dilemma.
This was about whether ordinary shinobi could break free from their inherent limitations—whether they could overcome the systemic barriers imposed by their lowborn status.
So, many resorted to gambling their lives, taking missions far beyond their level, hoping to force a breakthrough.
If they survived?
The world was theirs.
They'd rapidly advance, achieving what Konoha's higher-ups intended all along.
The only "losers" were the countless grunts who died trying.
And in the eyes of Konoha's leadership?
This policy was a resounding success.
After all, look at the skyrocketing mission completion rates!
Before, high-rank missions were avoided like the plague. Now? Shinobi volunteered eagerly, more obedient than pack mules.
Proof that the system worked.
Any "minor issues" were just necessary sacrifices.
"The leaves dance, and the fire burns eternal."
"Yoru, you're not thinking of trading that S-rank mission record for a B-rank jutsu, are you?"
Seeing Yoru's excitement, Akimichi Torifō adopted a mentor's tone.
"S-rank records are rare. You'll need them later. Don't waste one on a B-rank."
"Sir, all I know are a few low-level water jutsu. I'm desperate for more."
Yoru put on a conflicted expression, though his mind was already made up.
No way was he wasting an S-rank record on mid-tier techniques.
At the very least, he'd hold out for an A-rank.
"Since I've benefited from you lately, I'll teach you a jutsu as compensation. Anything below A-rank or clan secrets—your pick."
Torifō, feeling generous, decided to invest in his subordinate.
He'd completed plenty of high-rank missions himself, with no need to exchange them for jutsu. Teaching one to Yoru was a small price for loyalty.
"Thank you, sir!"
Yoru feigned overwhelming gratitude but quickly added:
"But I can't let you spend your hard-earned mission records. Once our patrol cycle ends, I'll report to Logistics and cover the exchange cost myself."
Konoha strictly forbade unauthorized jutsu transmission.
Unless it was an original creation or clan secret, even teacher-to-student transfers required official mission records and merit points.
"Hahaha! So formal, Yoru!"
"It's only right. I can't accept your generosity AND cost you resources."
"Fine, if you insist."
Torifō felt like he'd scored another win.
Mission records meant little to him—he neither craved high-rank jutsu nor climbed the political ladder. Merit points were far more practical, exchangeable for tools and supplies.
"So, which jutsu do you want?"
"The Shadow Clone Jutsu, sir."
"Shadow Clone, huh?"
Torifō patted Yoru's shoulder, sensing his chakra, then frowned.
"It's useful, but with your reserves… maybe reconsider."
"I know my limits, sir. But after this mission, I plan to exchange for secondary chakra nature development techniques. If successful, my reserves should grow significantly."
Yoru laid out his plan, hoping for Torifō's insight. As an Akimichi jonin, his perspective was invaluable.
"Secondary chakra nature?"
Torifō paused, then looked at Yoru with something like pity.
"You'll be disappointed."
Under Torifō's explanation, Yoru learned the harsh truth:
Unlocking a second chakra nature didn't increase reserves.
It was the other way around.
Only those with ample chakra and potential could awaken additional natures.
"Developing" a second nature was really just unlocking latent affinity—not creating it from nothing.
"Don't lose heart. Theoretically, every shinobi has the potential for all five natures—just in varying amounts."
Torifō tried to soften the blow.
"With enough Nara elixirs to replenish your depleted potential, reaching jonin-level reserves is possible."
"Sir, even basic Nara elixirs cost tens of thousands. Do I look rich to you?"
Yoru sighed dramatically—but inwardly, he remained unshaken.
The Nara drugs were just stopgaps, compensating for past透支.
But medicine had side effects.
What if there was a better way?
Thanks to the Akimichi digestion technique, he could now convert food directly into energy—nourishing every cell, reversing years of damage.
With enough time, his body might even experience a second growth spurt.
The ultimate "dietary therapy."