The next academy day passed quickly. The Elite Class cycled through more basic lectures, chakra drills, and ended with weapon accuracy practice. By dismissal, Raizen's hands still stung from kunai throws.
When he arrived at Training Ground 3, he found Aika, Mizue, and Daichi already hard at work. Each stood rigid, brows furrowed, leaves trembling against their foreheads.
Raizen watched silently for a moment, not wanting to break their focus. Eventually, Mizue cracked an eye open, spotted him, and nearly dropped her leaf.
"You actually showed up," she said, surprised.
Aika noticed the bruises on his knuckles and smirked. "Looks like you've been training harder than us. Tell us — what's the Elite Class like?"
Raizen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Not as great as you think. Half my classmates spend their time mocking me, the other half pretending I don't exist. My sensei? Lazy. He'd rather be in bed than teaching. Sure, we cover the basics — knowledge, chakra control, weapons, some sparring. But honestly?" His fists clenched slightly. "I'm falling behind. My taijutsu is pitiful right now. If I don't improve, I'll keep losing."
The three exchanged looks, then nodded firmly.
Mizue stepped forward. "So what's the plan, Raizen?"
"I want to simulate high-speed fights. Taijutsu sparring, but with reaction drills mixed in. While I'm fighting, one of you throws a rock when I least expect it. I have to react without breaking focus."
They all blinked at him.
Aika laughed nervously. "You usually train like this? That sounds… insane."
Raizen raised a brow. "That's not insane. That's normal."
The three looked at each other, then shrugged. "Fine," Mizue said. "We'll do it your way."
⸻
For hours they sparred.
Raizen rotated partners every ten minutes, forcing himself to adapt.
• Aika was swift and nimble, darting around him with light steps, almost like a watered-down Reina. Raizen had to guard constantly just to keep her from slipping past.
• Mizue fought tactically, always watching, always probing. She'd use the trees, the ground, even a stray rock to her advantage, and aimed for pressure points with pinpoint strikes.
• Daichi was the hardest. Fast and tactical like Mizue, but with an iron resilience that let him keep coming no matter how many times Raizen landed blows. Every exchange with him turned into a war of attrition.
All the while, rocks whistled in from the sidelines. Raizen's reactions were sloppy at first — he'd dodge too late and take a strike to the ribs, or flinch and get punished by his sparring partner. But little by little, his movements sharpened. His guard flowed faster, his eyes tracked better. His body was learning.
By sunset, Raizen was drenched in sweat and covered in bruises. His arms shook from hours of blocking, his legs heavy from endless footwork. But despite his exhaustion, he felt the faint rhythm of improvement — like a door beginning to crack open.
The others collapsed into the grass, groaning. Raizen stayed on his feet, brushing dirt from his uniform.
"You three did well," he said, voice hoarse but steady. "Your chakra control still needs work, though."
They groaned louder.
Raizen knelt beside them, explaining calmly what Takuma had drilled into him. "It's not just about sticking the leaf. It's about balancing output — steady, like breathing. Too much chakra and it bursts, too little and it slips. Match your exhale with the flow."
They listened, and when they tried again, the difference was obvious. Leaves clung longer, steadier, almost doubling their earlier attempts. Mizue's jaw dropped. "Seriously? That easy?"
"Not easy," Raizen corrected. "Just practice."
⸻
When the others settled back into their leaf exercises, Raizen stepped away. He crossed his legs beneath a tree, closing his eyes, recalling the book Jairo had given him. Its words echoed in his mind: "Lightning is violent, but it is also precise. A flash can split a mountain, or it can guide a needle. Control the spark. Shape it."
He pressed his palms together, drawing chakra into his core. Slowly, he willed it to shift — from neutral warmth to sharp, buzzing energy. His fingertips tingled, then sparked faintly.
The sparks sputtered out almost instantly, leaving smoke curling from his skin. He gritted his teeth, breathing steady. Too much output. Focus, Raizen. Lightning isn't brute force. It's direction. Precision.
He tried again. This time, the faint crackle held for a heartbeat longer before fading.
Raizen opened his eye, staring at his trembling hands. Exhaustion pulled at him, but he smiled faintly.
Not enough yet. But it's a start.
The others laughed in the distance as their leaves slipped and fluttered to the ground. Training ground three smelled faintly of ozone.
Weeks blurred together in a rhythm of bruises, sweat, and sparks. Every day after the Academy, Raizen went straight to Training Ground 3 where Daichi, Aika, and Mizue were already waiting.
They sparred relentlessly — Raizen switching partners every few minutes, fists flying while rocks whistled in from the sidelines. He slipped, stumbled, and sometimes ate dirt, but his reactions sharpened bit by bit. Soon, the rocks no longer surprised him. He could weave, duck, or swat them away without losing focus on his opponent.
The nights always ended with chakra control. Once his friends mastered holding a single leaf, Raizen pushed them further.
"Stick two leaves. Then three."
"Now keep them steady while walking."
"Alright… each leaf rotates a different direction. Control every flow separately."
At first, Aika dropped hers instantly, Mizue's exploded in bursts of chakra, and Daichi nearly tore his sleeve off in frustration. But under Raizen's steady guidance, they improved.
He called it his Leaf Series — a step-by-step ladder for sharpening chakra control. The trio were shocked he had come up with it himself. In whispered moments, they admitted to each other that Raizen wasn't the arrogant brat they thought he was. He was grinding every day like his life depended on it.
"Genius," Mizue whispered once, watching him hold six leaves perfectly aligned across his arms and chest.
"Yeah," Daichi muttered, clenching his fists. "But I'll catch him."
⸻
Daichi pushed the hardest. He was the only one who could match Raizen blow for blow in sparring, his resilience and raw strength forcing Raizen to think on his feet. When Raizen trained, Daichi trained harder. When Raizen improved, Daichi chased him like a shadow, grinding alone late into the night. A rivalry was forming — sharp, unspoken, but undeniable.
⸻
Meanwhile, Raizen's lightning training progressed in secret.
At first, every attempt left him smoking — sparks sputtering uncontrolled, stinging his skin, even singeing his sleeves. But each day he recalled the words from his father's book: "Lightning is violent, but it can be shaped. Command it, and it obeys."
He learned to compress the wild chakra until it no longer lashed out. Slowly, the sparks gathered where he wanted them.
One evening, sweat dripping from his brow, Raizen sat cross-legged with his palms facing each other. A crackle of white-blue light flickered to life between them. It hissed and popped, threatening to burn him.
"Steady," he whispered. "Listen to me."
The sparks steadied, forming a tight arc of energy that danced from palm to palm. For the first time, he held lightning without it exploding.
He stared into the glow, heart pounding.
Finally. It listens.
⸻
By the end of those weeks, Raizen could feel it — his body sharper, his reactions faster, his chakra control precise, his lightning no longer wild. Whoever he faced in the next Elite Class spar would not just meet the boy they mocked.
They would meet fists fueled by weeks of silent grind, and the spark of something greater beginning to awaken.
A few months slipped by in a blur of repetition, sweat, and bark splinters. Every day Raizen arrived early, half-expecting Takuma to announce a sparring day. Every day, he was disappointed.
Instead, their sensei drilled them relentlessly in chakra control.
It started with tree walking, step after step until their soles ached. Then Takuma spiced it up — throwing pebbles and clumps of dirt while they climbed. "Don't fall," he muttered lazily, hands in his pockets.
To his quiet surprise, Raizen adapted fastest. He learned to deflect the pebbles with quick flicks, dodge them with sharp head tilts, even snatch them from the air without breaking stride. Takuma's half-lidded eyes never showed much, but the faint lift of his brow said enough. The brat's focus and reflexes are growing.
Soon tree walking became wall races. The six students started sideways along the Academy's outer wall, sprinting through an obstacle course while Takuma peppered them with projectiles. At first, they all stumbled — Reina cursed, Karui snapped, Omoi overthought every step, Tetsuo slammed into a tree, and even Raizen lost footing. But day after day, their balance sharpened. By the end of the month, they weren't just enduring the course — they were competing for first place.
From there, Takuma moved them to water walking. Calm at first, then with heavy training packs strapped to their backs. Many of them plunged into the lake repeatedly, dragged down by the weights. Karui roared every time she fell. Samui adapted quickly, calm even as her legs trembled. Raizen fell often, but each time he clawed back up, staying longer and longer until the water finally stilled under his feet.
Then came the candle flame drill. A candle balanced on their foreheads or palms while they performed basic katas. If the flame wavered or went out, Takuma only muttered, "Start over." Hours passed under flickering light, forcing every muscle to match their chakra's rhythm.
Finally, the multi-point focus. Leaves and coins plastered across their bodies — forehead, shoulders, chest, hands. Walking was easy. Fighting while keeping them in place was not. Day after day, they lost their focus. Day after day, Takuma made them restart.
By month six, their chakra control was leagues beyond the general students. Takuma demanded nothing less than perfection. "Comfortable isn't enough," he'd say, yawning between words. "If you can't do it without thinking, you're dead."
⸻
But chakra wasn't the only subject.
Weapons:
Takuma drilled them daily with kunai and shuriken. At first, Raizen lagged behind, his throws clumsy and scattered. Reina mocked him, Karui laughed, even Tetsuo landed better shots without trying. But repetition carved progress. Raizen learned to angle his stance, to breathe before every throw. Weeks later, the motions became second nature. He still wasn't a natural like Tetsuo, but he was no longer falling behind.
Academics:
Between training, Takuma piled them with scrolls and exams. Basic math, physics, science, biology — the fundamentals every shinobi needed. "Know the weight of your weapon, the angle of a fall, the fracture of bone. Knowledge kills as surely as steel," he'd mutter. Omoi thrived in these lessons, Samui stayed steady, while Karui nearly tore her hair out.
History & Tactics:
Takuma lectured lazily about old Kumo campaigns, battles won and lost. He'd assign them to redraw strategies on maps or point out mistakes generals had made. "Learn from the dead. If you repeat their mistakes, you'll join them." Reina excelled here, sharp eyes and sharper questions. Raizen, with his father's books in his head, often recognized patterns others missed.
Physical Conditioning:
Endless laps, pushups, and weighted carries. "Don't ask why," Takuma would say, smoking under the shade. "The battlefield doesn't care if you're tired."
⸻
Half a year in, the six weren't just students anymore — they were sharpening into weapons. Rivalries burned hotter, friendships strained, but they were all undeniably stronger.
One afternoon, as they collapsed after another round of water-walking drills, Takuma finally spoke without his usual yawn.
"Midterms are coming."
The group looked up, startled.
"You've had six months to get comfortable," he continued, eyes flicking over them one by one. "Now you'll prove it. Chakra control. Weapons. Taijutsu. Theory. Survival. A full evaluation. And don't think being in the Elite Class means you're safe."
Karui smirked, Reina straightened, Tetsuo grinned. Omoi muttered nervously. Samui's eyes sharpened. Raizen clenched his fists, determination burning.
Takuma stretched his arms overhead, turning toward the mountains. "Let's see which of you deserves to stay in this class… and which of you doesn't."
Thunder rumbled faintly in the distance, a storm gathering for their first true test.