In a moment, his Wind could carry him faster than sound. In an instant, his Wind could kill a hundred enemies. The Wind was the perfect blade: quick, clean, thorough, sharp, which Naruto could control in the twitch of a finger, the blink of an eye. Sooner than thought.
But when it came out, the Wind became a roaring Fire, consuming everything in its path. A ravenous inferno unable to quench its thirst for destruction. Cackling with malicious intent it set forth with reckless abandon. It tortured, it razed, it burned, never differentiating between friend and foe. And Kyuubi laughs.