Raizen woke early the next morning, his body sore and heavy from the previous day's tests. Every muscle ached, but instead of resting, he pushed himself up, lit a small lamp, and set a notebook on his desk. With ink and brush in hand, he began to write.
First came his weaknesses: lack of accuracy, poor blind-side awareness, and shaky chakra control. Then his strengths: unusual stamina, resilience, and raw physical strength far beyond other children his age. Finally, he began crafting something new — a structured training guide designed to give him the best chance at passing the academy's entrance exam.
⸻
Raizen's Two-Week Training Guide
(6:00 AM – 3:00 PM Clan Grounds, evenings at home)
Morning Block (6:00 AM – 8:00 AM)
• Cartography & Map Skills: Drawing maps of the compound, streets, and terrain.
• Theoretical Study: Mathematics, history of Kumogakure, shinobi etiquette.
• Begin memorizing hand seals.
• Focus practice through silent reading.
Midday Training Grounds (8:00 AM – 10:00 AM)
• Strength Training: Push-ups (200+), sit-ups (300), squats (400), pull-ups (75+).
• Speed Drills: 10m–100m sprints, shuttle runs, tree climbing races.
• Endurance: 1–2 km runs with rests.
Late Morning Block (10:00 AM – 12:00 PM)
• Accuracy Training: Stones → kunai → shuriken, increasing from 5m to 15m.
• Chakra Control: Leaf concentration drills (single → moving → multiple leaves).
Afternoon Training (12:30 PM – 3:00 PM)
• Integrated Drills: Tree climbing with chakra, sprinting accuracy throws, shadow sparring.
• Cooldown: Stretching, breathing, reflection on progress.
Evening Routine (After 3:00 PM)
• Study history, cartography practice.
• Backyard accuracy drills (20 throws before dinner).
• Journaling progress.
Weekly Goals
• Week 1: Accuracy 1/20 → 8/20 at 10m, leaf sticking 3s → 30s.
• Week 2: Accuracy 8/20 → 15/20, leaf balance with 2 leaves.
⸻
Raizen leaned back, satisfied. "If I follow this to the letter, I'll pass for sure," he muttered proudly.
Then he nearly fell out of his chair.
Hovering upside down from the ceiling beams was the face of his father, Jairo, studying him like a hawk.
"AHHH!" Raizen let out a scream so shrill even he winced. He scrambled backward, only to see Jairo land silently on the floor, one eyebrow raised.
"Hm. And what do we have here?" Jairo said, casually picking up the training guide. He flipped through it slowly, his expression unreadable. Finally, a faint smile tugged at his lips.
"So… you've begun to notice it. Our clan's body—stronger than most, gifted with resilience. And you've already found room to grow. Excellent."
Raizen swallowed, still shaken. "Uh… yeah, I have."
Jairo studied him with a curious intensity. This boy was not the same loud, arrogant child he had avoided before. Something had shifted. Finally, Jairo placed a small stack of books on the desk.
"I brought the texts you requested from Taro," he said. "And a few more that I believe will serve you well."
Before Raizen could thank him, Jairo flickered away in a blur, leaving only the scent of storm-charged air in the room.
Raizen stared at the books, wide-eyed. His father had personally delivered them — something he would never have bothered with in the past. He reached out, fingers brushing over the covers:
• The Art of Aether Lightning
• Foundations of Shinobi Strategy
• The Way of Breath and Body
• On the Balance of Yin and Yang
• Legends of the Cloud
• The Principles of Sealing
His own requested texts were tucked neatly to the side. But these additional volumes… they carried weight. Just reading the titles sent a ripple of excitement through him.
One in particular called to him: The Art of Aether Lightning.
⸻
Raizen opened the book carefully, the faint scent of old parchment filling the room. The first page was inscribed with flowing script: "Lightning is not only destruction, but also breath, rhythm, and balance. Aether Lightning is the soul of the storm made flesh."
He leaned in, his pulse quickening. The text described three paths of Aether Lightning — Yang Lightning, raw destructive force like black lightning that scorched the air itself; Yin Lightning, precise and subtle, able to pierce through defenses and even absorb weaker jutsu; and Sensory Lightning, a rarer branch that spread Raizen's awareness like static across the battlefield, allowing him to feel movements and chakra signatures as if the air itself whispered them to him.
Each path had warnings. Yang burned its wielder if pushed too far. Yin risked collapsing under its own stillness if not controlled. Sensory required the calm of a monk — overstimulation could break the mind.
Raizen's hand trembled slightly as he turned the page. The book spoke of advanced applications too: lightning arcs chaining across multiple foes, surges that drowned enemy chakra flows, and atmospheric shifts where each strike thinned oxygen, strengthened soil, and bent nature itself. Aether Lightning was not just an attack — it was an ecosystem, reshaping the world in the user's image.
His eyes widened. So this is our clan's secret…
For a moment, he simply sat there in silence, the enormity of it pressing against his chest. He wasn't just training to pass an entrance exam. He was walking the first steps of a legacy — a storm handed down from the heavens themselves.
Raizen closed the book softly, his reflection staring back at him in the polished wood of the desk. His blind eye throbbed faintly, as if it too had felt the words.
"Then I'll master this," he whispered. "No matter what it takes."
Raizen packed up the stack of books and made his way toward the training ground Taro had reserved for him. The crisp morning air bit at his lungs, but he welcomed it — a reminder that every breath meant another chance to grow stronger.
He started with the strength drills. Push-ups, sit-ups, squats, pull-ups — he ran through the cycle with single-minded focus. By the time he finished his endurance runs, sweat poured down his back, his arms and legs burned, and his chest heaved. Yet instead of slowing, he pressed harder, recalling every dismissive glance, every whispered doubt about him. That weight pushed him farther than fatigue ever could.
When the physical training ended, Raizen shifted to accuracy practice. He began at three meters, timing his throws with the rhythm of his breath, tilting his head so his good eye aligned with the target. This time, he struck true more often — 12 out of 20 hits. Encouraged, he collected heavier stones, reasoning that if he trained with weight, the kunai would one day feel light as feathers, carrying greater force. Slowly, he increased the distance to six meters, then ten, then twenty. Each step back made the strikes harder, but he learned to steady himself — to breathe, to angle, to commit to every throw. He even forced himself to train from his blind side, each clumsy miss sharpening his determination to turn weakness into weapon.
Once satisfied, he moved on to chakra control. He sat cross-legged, pressed a leaf to his forehead, and concentrated. The first attempt barely lasted five seconds — but instead of frustration, he paused to feel how his chakra had flowed, replaying the sensation in his mind. On the next try, seven seconds. Then longer. Each repetition layered onto the last, his control growing steadier, his focus sharper. By the end, he managed to hold the leaf for nearly forty seconds — already surpassing his own weekly goal.
Grinning, he decided to raise the bar. This time he pressed leaves to both palms, reasoning that not only would it prepare him for future ninjutsu, but also mimic the chakra control needed for jutsu like the Rasengan. His control through his hands was easier, almost natural, and he began to test how many leaves he could balance at once — but the sharp ring of the training ground's alarm cut him short. His session was over.
Back home, Raizen wasted no time. He dove into his studies, brushing through mathematics and science with ease; they mirrored what he already knew. History, too, was largely familiar — except for key differences. The Second Raikage, for instance, wasn't the man he remembered from the series. That small change nagged at him, sparking an unsettling thought: What else was different in this world? What clans, what powers, what dangers never appeared in the story I once knew?
⸻
Raizen was still mulling over the differences when a gentle knock tapped against his doorframe. He looked up, surprised — his mother rarely disturbed him while he worked.
She entered quietly, her presence commanding without being loud. Tall, graceful, with the same silver eyes his clan was known for, she carried herself like someone who saw more than she ever spoke aloud. A faint smile tugged at her lips as she glanced over the open books scattered across his desk.
"You've grown more serious," she remarked, her voice calm but edged with curiosity. "Yesterday you were still my little boy shouting at shadows. Today you look like someone preparing for war."
Raizen flushed and sat straighter. "I just… don't want to waste time. If I'm going to enter the academy, I need to be ready."
She studied him for a moment, then reached out, brushing a hand against his hair. "Your father sees numbers and drills. I see something else — resolve. Don't forget, Raizen, strength without resolve is nothing. Even your strange eye will mean nothing if you don't have the will to use it."
Her words landed heavy, but not unkind. For the first time, Raizen realized how much his mother noticed, how deeply she understood the changes in him.
"I'll remember," he said, his voice firmer than before.
⸻
That night, Raizen lay awake staring at the ceiling, his mind replaying his training, the books, and his mother's words. For the first time, the path ahead felt real, not just some distant dream.
Two weeks. That was all the time he had before the entrance exam. He closed his eyes, willing himself to rest — but his thoughts refused to still.
Somewhere in the village, other children were preparing too. Some would fail. Some would pass. And only a few would rise.
Raizen clenched his fist under the sheets. I won't be the one who fails.
The sound of thunder rolled faintly over the mountains outside.