The desert sun rose hot and early over the clay towers of Sunagakure, casting long golden rays across the Academy yard. Another year had begun.
But this one was different.
The third year marked the turning point in a student's path. The earlier generalized drills, physical conditioning and chakra control had now been minimized to a small part of the schedule.
Now, specialization began, the real training. For the first time since they had entered, the Academy would be evaluating each student for possible induction into the ninja arts that would determine their future careers: Taijutsu, Ninjutsu, Genjutsu, Bukijutsu, Sensory, Sealing, Medical, or Puppet Mastery.
Though some ninja would focus on one path, others would diversify and merge disciplines. Some good examples, from Konoha, were Kurenai, a Genjutsu expert, and Asuma, who excelled in both Bukijutsu and Ninjutsu.
There was a sense of anticipation throughout the classrooms and training fields, a stillness before a desert storm.
It wasn't just the curriculum that was new, there was also a new student in their class.
Shira's admission into the Ninja Academy came as a surprise to everyone, even to Isan. Though he had his suspicions, the news still caught him off guard. He was glad nonetheless, especially since Shira had been placed in their year and class.
Yet Shira's coming was not rejoiced.
There was no announcement, no introduction, no update to the roster. He was simply told to report at dawn and attend classes with them.
His presence in the room did not inspire a level of curiosity or bring forth a warm welcome, but rather seemed to engender a general feeling of quiet tension. The students and even the instructors, normally more open-minded, reacted to Shira with an unmistakable chill and a tangible scepticism.
No reasonable explanation had been given for his sudden appearance, and in the lack of such knowledge, many were left to leap to negative conclusions: they assumed the worst about him. There was a general feeling among them that he hadn't really earned his place here at all.
Even civilians throughout the village were murmuring about preferential treatment.
Despite that fact, the first day of the third year was a major milestone for the trainees involved.
The teachers called the class together in the shaded and cool area of the training field, where they started the process of handing out thin squares of paper to all the students present. It was Chakra Induction Paper, a paper that allowed a person to learn their elemental affinities through ejecting chakra into said paper.
The instructions given to the students were relatively simple and easy to follow: the students were to focus their chakra into the paper and carefully note the reactions that took place.
What followed was a cascade of reactions, each piece of paper responding to the user's affinity. Some wrinkled, others burned, soaked, split, or crumbled. Each result corresponded to a nature element: Lightning, Fire, Water, Wind or Earth.
Sunagakure's strongest, and most present, element was Wind, but students with other affinities could be redirected to different specialties, such as puppetry or poison.
One student stood out immediately.
Isan.
His paper of chakra had the most extreme response of the day. It cleanly separated in half, one half completely soaked through, the other half crumbling into dry dust.
For several seconds, there was a complete silence through the yard with everyone present not uttering a single word.
Both the students and teachers turned their focus, their eyes locking in tandem. Though it was not unheard of for someone to have multiple affinities, the instances were few and rare. Isan, though, had just shown not one, not two, but three different affinities: Wind, Water, and Earth.
What most didn't know, what only Baki and Temari suspected, was that this could be a sign of something much deeper: the presence of a bloodline limit.
Baki, watching silently from the edge of the yard, studied Isan with new intensity. There was no record of his parentage, no clan ties to check his suspicions. It would be nearly impossible to confirm if Isan carried a bloodline or was simply gifted by chance.
Still, even in the absence of a kekkei genkai, having three elemental affinities was a remarkable boon for Sunagakure.
The real issue, however, was more practical.
Sunagakure's jutsu arsenal was heavily Wind-based with their limited resources stretched thin. Worsened by the fact of the Wind Daimyō's recent favoritism toward Konohagakure had slowed mission commissions and cut funding. Jutsu scrolls for Earth and Water were scarce, although there were still a few of Earth.
Daiana and Temari's tests drew attention as well, though for different reasons.
Daiana's paper soaked completely: Water affinity.
Temari's split cleanly in two, with no further reaction: Wind affinity.
There were a few murmurs of disappointment from students who didn't display Wind affinity, but neither girl appeared fazed.
Temari, obligated by her father's expectations, could have folded under the pressure, but she did not. Her eyes shone with rediscovered determination. She did not require several elements. She would master Wind Release to the point where it could cut through stone.
Daiana mirrored that quiet intensity. Her single affinity didn't discourage her. The fact that she had only one specific affinity did not deter her in any way. On the contrary, it served to sharpen and narrow her focus even more.
But the fact is that the toughest and hardest moment of the whole day did not belong to them.
It belonged to Shira.
He took his place last.
As the paper was given to him, he stalled. His hand clenched. His eyebrows creased. He concentrated with all his might, struggling to infuse chakra into the frail paper.
It twitched.
A spark.
And then, without warning, it abruptly ignited, blazing up in a wild and serrated flame that quickly enveloped the square that he clutched firmly in his hands.
He dropped the smoldering remains and stomped out the ember. Around him, the whispers came quickly.
"Just fire?"
"That's it?"
Shira stood still, fists clenched, lips tight.
No instructor stepped forward to clarify. No one defended him. And so the rumors would continue.
Baki, who was still observing, didn't get involved, but he made a mental note.