[Honō Kojirou]

Another day at the training yard, another day closer to the Chūnin Exam.

Bukijutsu, the Ninja School of Swinging Weapons Around Like A Pro, was on full swing in the brain of Honō Kojirou, the simple Grasshopper hailing from Kusagakure. Usually, back home at the village, he’d train Bukijutsu half-naked due to the circumstances of the temperature around his clan’s stronghold, but the temperature was much colder up in the northern Land of Earth, so he wore his blood-red haori. It was a simple design, but it was magnificent fabric – just like most of Kusagakure, he appreciated the traditionalistic taste of fashion for shinobi.

There were two Kojirou’s, actually; one of them had moved away from him, holding on their person a small scroll. It was an alternative to another, very widespread long-range weapon, but he was too embarrassed to bring that to light. "... Okay, that’s far enough! Just get ready to send them my way,” Kojirou spoke to his clone, aware that the clone knew exactly what its caster was planning to do – merely talking to clones often came as comfortable to him, especially with no one else around at the time.

The clone nodded as if a naturally different person from him, then opened the scroll. Immediately, three shuriken-sized fires emerged and traveled his way-

...

A while later, Kojirou was calling out around the yard: "A-Anyway got some spare shuriken...?” His voice was calm, but he had gotten bruised from a close call with the fireballs from earlier. Apparently, it was harder to cut through fire than he thought – who would’ve thought?