Less than ten days had passed since Naruto threw himself into the new regimen, yet wherever he moved the kunai in his hands and the wind in his breath seemed sharper, cleaner, more obedient to his will. Tree-climbing drills, water-walking repetitions, late-night chakra exercises — every small routine fed into one larger truth: his control of chakra was improving at a pace that surprised even the instructors.
"Asuma," Naruto panted after a long set, sweat stinging the corners of his eyes, "is it really possible to make that much progress in only a week?"
Asuma Sarutobi's cigarette glowed like a tiny ember in the dusk. He watched Naruto with the half-smirk of a man who'd expected the stubborn kid to push through. "You've trained with intent," Asuma said slowly. "It's not just the exercises. You've learned to sense and to apply. That's the difference—control, release, and sustain. With those three mastered, a shinobi can do much."
He leaned forward and tapped the scroll where Naruto had been practicing new Wind Release variations. "Right now you can be considered Chūnin-standard in basic chakra application. If you polish it, the rest will follow."
Naruto's heart leapt. The words tasted like victory. He'd been a knuckleheaded academy kid for so long that any real acknowledgment of progress felt like a physical gift.
Asuma watched him grin and then grow serious. "There's something else. You've shown aptitude with Wind Release: the Storm Palm and Wind Swing: Tornado Fist. Both are exceptional for someone of your age."
Naruto's mind kicked into motion. A thousand little possibilities crawled into the space between his ears, spinning and snapping into ideas. He pictured himself surrounded, not by a single wind-enchanted shuriken, but by a living, whirling wind that clothed his whole body — a kind of Wind Release armor that pushed him forward and sharpened his limbs the instant he charged. He wanted to use wind not only to fling weapons but to change himself.
"Asuma-sensei," he blurted, breathless, "what if I applied Wind Release to my entire body? Think about it — if I coat every cell in wind chakra, what happens? Speed, strength, everything would jump."
Asuma raised an eyebrow. Smoke curled around it like a gray halo. "If you could do that fully — if you develop a Wind Swing Chakra Mode that envelops your body — you would reach levels most youth never touch. But it's far from simple. The technique itself is complex; the chakra cost is enormous. You're not only forcing wind around you; you're activating meridians, unblocking channels, harmonizing every cell to respond. That's not a matter of slapping a jutsu on and calling it a day."
Naruto didn't flinch. He had grown up with impossible goals. If it took months or years, he would grind. But he was not blind to reality. "I know it's hard," he said. "But even a partial version — anything that boosts my speed and makes my taijutsu hit harder — that's worth ten days of sweat."
Asuma's expression softened. He remembered the boy's Tenacity: a stubbornness that refused to yield to failure. It was the same rigid will that had built shinobi legends. He also understood another thing — Naruto had the advantage Asuma did not: reserves of chakra that could be spent without bankrupting an average jonin's stamina.
"I won't lie," Asuma warned. "What you want—enveloping your whole body in Wind Release—has a difficulty level that may reach high-jōnin. The strain is not only on your chakra but on your nervous system. It's one thing to add wind to a shuriken. It's entirely different to make your body be wind."
Naruto's face went serious. The image of Asuma's steady hands, the cigarette glow behind his beard, the look of a teacher weighing the risks — it made Naruto feel strangely grown up. He nodded. "Teach me," he said simply.
Asuma put out his cigarette and stood. "All right. Use the remaining training time. Develop a mode that uses Wind Swing chakra to push the body — a technique that increases movement speed, suppleness, and striking force. Focus on forming a shell of wind that augments your limbs and complicates the enemy's perception."
So the next days were a blur of repetition and small triumphs. Naruto trained with Hinata on the side, giving and receiving corrections. Hinata's steady temperament calmed him when the technique felt impossible. The rest of the time he trained with Asuma, who tailored the exercises to test both chakra reserve and finesse. They worked on breathing, pinpoint chakra pooling, and the subtle timing of release to create micro-currents around the limbs.
Naruto learned to feel the wind as an extension of his pulse. He learned the difference between pushing air and harmonizing his cells with it. The practice was not only physical — it was meditative. He would sit cross-legged beneath a tree, closing his eyes until the wind seemed to wrap him like a blanket, though nothing visible changed. Then, in sudden, explosive bursts, he tested a new micro-rotation of chakra and found his foot move like a stone skipping across water.
Seven or eight days later, Naruto stood in the training yard and barked, "Asuma-sensei, I'm ready."
Asuma watched quietly. He saw the way Naruto's breath measured the air, the way the boy tightened his core, the silence that fell like the calm before a storm. He gave the nod.
"Show me," he said.
Naruto launched forward. At first he flicked his wrist, releasing a set of shuriken laced with Wind Swing chakra — Storm Palm. That was his opening gambit. The blades flew true, whistling with sharpened winds, but that was not the point. The true change happened to Naruto's body. He focused on every meridian he knew. He blasted a gust around himself and tensed, then allowed the chakra to spread like a sleeve.
For a split second he felt his body dissolve into motion — like a hand becoming wind. Asuma, expecting the usual performance, blinked. He tried to strike — a feint, a real strike meant to test Naruto's limits — and his blade sank into air.
Naruto moved. He blurred. Where Asuma's eye tried to follow, there was only a pocket of altered air. Naruto's real form had shifted his position a dozen meters away with such speed that the movement looked like teleportation. He appeared behind Asuma, not as a blur but as an impact ready to explode into contact.
"Wind Swing: Gale Palm!" Naruto shouted. He channeled focused Wind Swing chakra through a palm strike that extended like a compressed gale. The shuriken that had been thrown earlier zipped forward and multiplied its force as Naruto struck, becoming an extension of the gale.
Asuma countered with a precise swing of his chakra-infused blade to deflect the shuriken, but he could not anticipate where Naruto's real body had fled. Naruto seized the opening and struck with a close-range technique, his entire arm swallowed in a brittle wind that cut the very molecules of the air — Wind Swing: Tornado Fist.
The impact rocked both of them. Asuma staggered, then grinned, nodding. "Hah. Nicely done." He tested his own blade against Naruto's advancing wind body and both of them recoiled as their powers crashed together. The clashing blast blew dust into the air and left two young men panting on the training ground.
Naruto's chest heaved with heat and exhilaration. He laughed, half in delight, half in relief. "It worked."
Asuma helped him up. "Not perfect," he said, "but you've established the basics of the Wind Body Vibration — a technique category that ranges from simple evasive gusts to devastating body-enhancing modes. With further refinement, your speed and taijutsu will both increase."
Naruto absorbed the praise like sunlight. In the new technique he saw a thousand uses: evasive movement that made him untouchable, the force behind a punch that could crack armor, and the ability to thrust forward like a blade of wind — a technique that would surprise any opponent. He pictured himself slipping past an opponent's guard in a gust of blurred air, only to reappear and strike with a whirlwind punch.
Asuma's voice pulled him back. "There are limits. You used a lot of chakra to maintain that shell. You'll need to conserve and learn the exact timing to release and rebuild it. Don't waste reserves on style."
Naruto nodded. The warnings did not dampen his pride. He felt the technique sink into him like a new tool. He felt his shadow clones in training take up facets of the style too, multiplying his practice.
A little later, Asuma's smile softened. "You've learned enough from me. There's nothing more I can teach you right now. You must practice on your own missions."
The words were both farewell and confirmation. Naruto's chest tightened. "Asuma-sensei… thank you. If you hadn't taught me, I couldn't have reached this level."
Asuma ruffled his hair in that old, distracting way. "You did the work. I only played the teacher. Now go. I leave for missions. Don't go getting yourself killed while I'm gone."
Naruto watched the jonin's retreating silhouette and swallowed. "I won't. I'll make you proud," he said quietly. Then louder: "Good luck, Asuma-sensei!"
Asuma glanced back and gave him the faintest nod. "Be a shinobi who can think for himself."
The village bustled around him. Dealers called out from stalls; the aroma of street food wrapped the alleys; children ran with wooden swords. Summer bleached the edges of the day, and yet Naruto felt a new kind of warmth inside — not just the careless enthusiasm of a boy, but the steady flame of someone who had learned something fundamental. He had new skills, new responsibility, and new targets to chase.
He walked home through the lively streets of Konoha, practicing the techniques in small pulses between vendors. Sometimes a wind would lift a loose scroll; sometimes a nearby boy's laugh would trigger a quick test of movement. The Wind Body Vibration lingered like a second skin. He felt faster, lighter, and more dangerous.
The vacation days dwindled, but Naruto's purpose grew. He had gone to the academy as a prankster, a loud-haired target of scorn. Now he held a technique that could turn the tide of a fight. He walked with more focus toward the next horizon, toward missions yet to come, toward the chance to prove that if you truly worked for it, no title—no mockery—could keep you from becoming the shinobi you wanted to be.
And in the hush between sunset and night, Naruto promised himself one more thing: he would keep training. He would keep improving. One day, when he looked back, he would smile at how far he'd come — and at the teachers and friends who'd pushed him there.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)