"Watch the leaves," Elder Genzou said, pointing to the golden maple that had been green just weeks ago. "They teach us about change. Nothing in nature forces them to turn color, they simply respond to what the world asks of them."
I nodded, though I wasn't entirely sure what he meant. We stood in the clan's main training courtyard, where autumn had painted everything in shades of gold and red. The air carried a crisp bite that hadn't been there during my summer games with Yuki, Kenji, and Masa.
It had been several weeks since my fifth birthday celebration with the clan, and the autumn season felt different now. More serious somehow, as if the world expected more from me at this age.
"This season, your training will advance again," Genzou-jii continued. "You're ready for more complex exercises now that you've mastered the summer fundamentals."
The autumn training brought new challenges that built on everything I'd learned during the warmer months. We practiced chakra control exercises with fallen leaves, learning to sense the life force that remained even after they'd separated from their trees. The shorter days meant training sessions often continued after sunset by lamplight.
"Feel how the leaves remember their connection to the earth," Father instructed one afternoon as I practiced the leaf-sticking exercise with freshly fallen maple leaves. "Even separated from the tree, they carry the memory of growth and life."
The fallen leaves were much harder to work with than fresh ones. They crumbled more easily and seemed to resist my chakra in ways that living leaves didn't. But when I finally managed to stick a brittle autumn leaf to my palm for nearly two minutes, I felt a surge of pride at the accomplishment.
"Excellent" Genzou-jii observed. "Working with dying materials teaches you to find chakra pathways that aren't obvious. This skill will serve you well in many situations."
As autumn deepened and the temperatures continued to drop, I noticed my civilian friends had less time for afternoon games. The cooler weather meant more indoor work for their families, and the approaching winter required extra preparation.
"My parents need help storing supplies for winter" Kenji explained one afternoon when we met briefly in the market plaza. "But I've been practicing the leaf exercise you showed me. I can almost get it to stick for twenty seconds now!"
"That's really good!" I said encouragingly. "Keep practicing. We're all getting close to Academy age now."
"I know!" Yuki added, pulling her coat tighter against the chill. "Masa's already six, so he'll be starting Academy this spring. The rest of us will have to wait until the following year."
"That's how it works?" I asked, curious about the enrollment system.
"Academy starts every spring" Masa explained proudly. "You have to be six years old by the enrollment date. Since I turned six last month, I get to start this coming spring. But you won't be six until autumn, so you'll start the year after."
The conversation reminded me how fortunate I was to have year-round training with the clan. While my friends had to help with family work and weather preparations, I could focus entirely on developing my abilities. And unlike Masa, who would be starting Academy in just a few months, I still had over a year to prepare.
By late autumn, as the first frost began appearing on the practice stones, Father announced that my winter training would be different from previous years.
"You're old enough now for intermediate cold-weather conditioning" he explained one morning as we watched our breath form small clouds. "What you learned in previous winters was preparation. This year, you'll learn advanced techniques that most Academy students don't encounter until their final year."
The change became obvious immediately. Unlike the basic winter exercises from past years, these new training sessions pushed my limits in ways I hadn't experienced. Instead of staying indoors when temperatures dropped too low, we now trained outside regardless of conditions.
"Breathe slowly" Father instructed one particularly frigid morning as frost covered the practice stones. "Your body knows how to handle cold, but now you must learn to use it as a tool, not just endure it."
I understood the difference quickly. Previous winters had been about learning to function despite the cold. This winter was about making the cold work for me.
"Remember, the ice isn't your enemy" Elder Genzou said during one of our morning sessions, his breath forming small clouds in the frigid air. "Earth and water are cousins. When water sleeps in winter, it becomes something earth can understand."
I crouched beside the frozen training pond, my small hands hovering over the ice surface. Winter training felt completely different from the warm summer sessions with my village friends. The compound's training areas had been transformed by the mountain cold, with icicles hanging from the wooden practice posts and frost coating every stone surface.
"I can feel something," I said, closing my eyes and reaching out with my chakra like Genzou-jii had taught me. The ice felt strange, not quite like stone but not like water either. It held memories of flowing and movement, but also the stillness of frozen earth.
"What does it tell you?" Father asked from where he stood nearby, monitoring my progress.
"It's waiting," I said slowly, trying to put the sensation into words. "Like it wants to move again but needs permission."
"Excellent understanding," Genzou-jii nodded approvingly. "Your sensitivity to materials has been growing stronger. Given how you've connected with the memorial stone and forge tools, let's see if that gift extends to ice. Gently, see if you can convince it to change shape."
I pressed my palms against the ice, channeling chakra carefully through my hands. For a moment, nothing happened. Then I felt something shift, a tiny response to my energy. The ice under my palms began to soften slightly, forming shallow impressions where my hands rested.
"I did it!" I exclaimed, opening my eyes to see the handprints I'd left in the surface.
"Remarkable," Father said with pride warming his voice. "Your material empathy is even stronger than we thought. This confirms your bloodline includes unusual elemental sensitivity."
"Does this mean I have different affinities than other clan members?"
Genzou-jii stroked his beard thoughtfully. "It means you understand how elements connect to each other. That's rarer than simply having multiple affinities. You see relationships others miss, just as you did with the memorial stone."
The winter training continued for several weeks, with each session teaching me new ways to interact with the cold environment. I learned to sense the difference between natural ice and ice that had been reinforced using chakra techniques, practiced maintaining my body temperature through controlled breathing, and discovered that my chakra could make even frozen ground more stable underfoot.
---
By late winter, as the mountain snow began to show the first hints of eventual thaw, I was eager for a break from the intense cold-weather conditioning. When Father announced that we would be visiting the Academy for their annual public demonstration, I could barely contain my excitement.
"The Academy holds a winter exhibition each year," Father explained as we walked through the village toward the Academy district. "It lets families see student progress and helps younger children understand what they'll learn when they're old enough to enroll."
The Academy building looked even more impressive up close than it had from a distance. Multiple stories carved directly into the cliff face, with large windows overlooking terraced training grounds. Students of various ages moved between different areas, some carrying practice weapons, others focused on written materials.
"Look at all of them," I breathed, watching a group of older students practice kata in perfect synchronization.
"The Academy serves students from age six to twelve," Father said, pointing to different training areas. "Students enroll each spring if they've turned six by enrollment day. You'll be starting in the spring after next."
We joined a crowd of other families gathering around the main demonstration area. I recognized several faces from the market district, including Yuki and her parents, Kenji with his family, and Masa's parents watching proudly as their older son prepared to participate in the exhibition.
"There's Masa's brother!" I said, pointing to a boy of about ten years old who stood with the advanced students.
"His name is Kenta," Father informed me. "He's in his fourth year and considered one of the most promising students in his class."
The demonstration began with younger students showing basic techniques. Six and seven-year-olds performed simple taijutsu forms, demonstrated leaf-sticking exercises, and recited Academy principles. Watching them, I felt confident that my clan training had prepared me well for these foundational skills.
"I can already do most of that," I whispered to Father.
"Good," he replied quietly. "But watch how they work together as a class. Individual skill is only part of what the Academy teaches."
As if to prove his point, the next group performed coordinated exercises that required precise timing between multiple students. They moved through formation changes that would have been impossible without complete trust in their teammates' abilities and positioning.
The older students' demonstrations were truly impressive, though I noticed clear differences in skill levels. Some students executed their techniques with fluid precision, while others showed the concentration and effort that came with still mastering these abilities. I watched in fascination as they performed the basic Academy techniques: transformation, substitution, and clone jutsu. The best students made them look almost effortless, while others managed solid but clearly practiced attempts. A few students had to retry their transformations when the technique flickered or didn't hold properly.
"Someday that will be you," Father said, noticing my rapt attention.
"I can't wait," I said honestly.
"Another few months," Father replied.
The demonstration's climax came when the fourth-year students, including Masa's brother Kenta, engaged in actual sparring matches. These weren't the careful, controlled exercises I'd seen earlier, these were real fights with Academy instructors serving as referees to prevent serious injury.
"Will I have to fight like that?" I asked, watching two students clash, one wielding a wooden practice sword while the other fought with kunai and precise taijutsu strikes.
"Eventually," Father nodded. "Combat training is essential for all shinobi. But given your current skill level, you'll likely advance to sparring matches faster than most students."
The first sparring match was between two boys who seemed evenly matched in size and skill. They moved with remarkable speed for their age, striking and blocking, advancing and retreating in a constant flow of motion. The sword-wielder had reach advantage, but his opponent's agility and close-combat techniques kept the fight even. Neither could gain a decisive advantage until the taijutsu specialist managed a perfect feint that slipped inside his opponent's guard for a clean strike to the torso.
"Good match!" the instructor called out, and both boys placed their fists together briefly before bowing to each other and leaving the ring.
The second match featured Masa's brother Kenta against a girl who favored precise, defensive techniques. She fought cautiously, using accurate strikes and superior positioning to avoid Kenta's more aggressive attacks. The fight lasted longer than the first, with both students demonstrating impressive stamina and tactical thinking.
Finally, Kenta managed to catch his opponent off-balance during one of her defensive maneuvers and scored a clean victory with a perfectly executed throw. The watching crowd applauded appreciatively, and I felt proud knowing that this skilled student was the older brother of my friend.
"That was amazing!" Yuki said excitedly as the demonstrations concluded and families began to mingle. "I want to learn to fight like that!"
"Me too," Kenji agreed, his eyes still wide from watching the sparring matches. "Kenta-kun made it look so easy."
"It's not easy," Masa said proudly, approaching our group with his parents and older brother in tow. "Kenta practices every day, even at home."
Kenta himself looked tired but satisfied as he joined us. Up close, I could see the family resemblance between the brothers, though Kenta carried himself with the confidence that came from years of Academy training.
"You're Tetsuya, right?" Kenta said, bowing politely. "Masa talks about you all the time. He says you're from a shinobi clan?"
"Sakamura clan," I replied, returning his bow. "That was really impressive fighting."
"Thanks," Kenta grinned. "Are you planning to attend the Academy?"
"Yes I am," I confirmed. "I can't wait."
"The Academy is great," Kenta said seriously. "Hard work, but worth it. You learn so much more than just fighting. Strategy, history, teamwork, leadership. And you make friends from all over the village."
"Like civilian kids and clan kids together?" I asked, though I already knew some of the answer from my friendships in the village.
"Exactly," Kenta nodded. "Some of my best friends are from merchant families. It doesn't matter where you come from, what matters is how hard you're willing to work. Though I'll warn you, some clan kids think they're automatically better than everyone else."
"That's not how my clan teaches it," I said firmly.
"Good," Kenta smiled. "You'll do fine then."
---
As we walked home through the village, I found myself thinking about everything I'd seen. The Academy students had demonstrated skills far beyond what I could currently achieve, but they'd also shown that those skills were attainable through dedicated training and practice.
That evening, as our family gathered for dinner, I excitedly described the Academy demonstration to everyone. Mom listened with interest, Elder Hana nodded approvingly from her seat by the fire, and even three-year-old Haru seemed to pay attention to my animated descriptions, especially when I mimicked the sparring movements.
"The most important thing you observed," Genzou-jii said when I finished my account, "wasn't the techniques they demonstrated. It was how they supported each other, even during competition."
"What do you mean?"
"Did you notice how the sparring partners bowed to each other? How the watching students cheered for good techniques regardless of who performed them? That's the spirit the Academy tries to instill, competition that builds everyone up rather than tearing others down."
Later that night, I lay in bed thinking about the day's experiences. The demonstrations had shown me that while I might be ahead in some areas thanks to clan training, there was still much to learn about working with others and applying my skills in new situations.
Outside my window, the first hints of spring were beginning to show as the harshest winter cold gradually loosened its grip on the mountain. Soon, the frozen training pond would thaw, the icicles would disappear from the practice posts, and a new season of growth would begin.
I pulled my blankets closer and smiled as I drifted off to sleep, dreaming of sparring matches and perfectly executed jutsu, of Academy classmates who would become lifelong friends and allies, and of the day when I would finally walk through those Academy doors as a student.