Raizen woke up the next day with something he hadn't felt in weeks.
Excitement.
Not the nervous kind. Not the I hope I don't embarrass myself kind.
The quiet kind—like his body already knew today was a step forward.
He sat up and waited for the familiar complaints.
Ribs—silent.
Shoulder—fine.
Even the bruises that had lived in his bones since sparring with Reina and Samui felt… downgraded. Not pain anymore. Just pressure. Just memory.
Full Body Circulation wasn't just making him stronger.
It was making him harder to stop.
Raizen swung his legs off the bed and moved through his routine without thinking—wash, stretch, then three controlled breaths to lock in rhythm.
In—two—three.
Out—two—three.
The loop answered immediately, subtle under the sternum like a second pulse.
He pulled on his training uniform, tied the sash tight, and strapped his headband on with a little more care than usual—almost ceremonial, like the metal meant something new now.
Then he caught himself in the mirror.
He paused.
The boy staring back didn't match the one who'd first opened his eyes in this world.
His frame had filled out—shoulders broader, forearms corded, posture naturally straighter. His eyes looked sharper, calmer. Even his blind left eye didn't feel like a weakness anymore… just a factor.
A known variable.
He'd learned how to fight around it. Learned how to read space so well it barely mattered what angle he couldn't see.
Then his gaze slid up.
…And he frowned at his hair.
It had gotten ridiculous.
Long enough now to brush past mid-back, and the top still insisted on spiking and twisting like it had a personal vendetta against gravity. He tried smoothing it down with his palm.
It resisted out of principle and sprang back into wild angles.
Raizen stared at it for a beat.
Then sighed.
"Yeah… okay," he muttered. "Do what you want."
One tie wasn't enough anymore. It wanted two. Maybe three. Maybe a seal tag and a prayer.
Still…
He couldn't lie.
The look was kind of cold.
It reminded him of old images he shouldn't even remember—Indra's arrogant storm-hair, only his was white. Sharper. Brighter.
A Tsukihana crown made of bad manners.
Raizen's mouth twitched like he was about to smile.
He stopped it before it turned into arrogance, grabbed his gear, and stepped out into the morning air.
The cold hit his lungs clean.
No drag. No lingering ache.
Just readiness.
He exhaled—slow, steady—and started toward Training Ground Eleven.
Today was going to be different.
And his body already knew it.
⸻
Outside, the morning air was sharp enough to wake up your bones.
Raizen welcomed it.
At the end of the street—before he even hit the first slope—he pressed two fingers to the seal tag under his shirt.
Click.
The world got heavier.
4.2×.
It wasn't dramatic anymore. Not like the first time—when his knees had buckled and his lungs had panicked.
Now it was just… weight.
A constant demand.
His ankles loaded. His calves tightened. The ground didn't change—but it felt like it was trying to hold him in place.
Raizen didn't complain.
Not anymore.
He let the pressure settle into his posture like armor.
Then he slid into Full Body Circulation.
A quiet current spread from his core—sternum first, then out through his limbs in controlled returns. Not crackling. Not leaking.
Just present.
In—two—three.
Out—two—three.
He started jogging.
Not fast. Not yet.
Just steady, letting rhythm do the work.
Each footfall was deliberate. Each breath fed the circuit. The weight seals tried to drag him down and the circulation answered by holding his body together from the inside—like invisible wire reinforcing every joint.
By the time Training Ground Eleven came into view, Raizen realized something:
He didn't feel tired.
He felt… stable.
Like his body had stopped arguing with the grind and started adapting.
Then his nose twitched.
The training ground smelled wrong.
Not bad.
Just… used.
A faint bite of ozone lingered in the air—sharp and clean, like lightning had kissed stone recently. The dirt was torn up more than usual, footprints overlapping footprints. Some deep. Some light. Some that looked like they'd been made by someone who hit the ground hard and didn't care what it did to the earth.
Raizen slowed.
Near one of the posts, half-buried in the dirt, he spotted something that didn't belong.
A few strands of black hair.
He crouched, pinched one between his fingers, and held it up.
Not his.
Not Samui's.
Not Reina's.
…And not Raitaro's, either.
Raizen's eyes narrowed.
"Someone was here," he murmured.
And not casually.
This wasn't warm-up residue. This was someone pushing hard enough to leave pieces of themselves behind.
He pocketed the thought like a kunai and stood, scanning the treeline.
Nothing moved.
No hidden presence.
No obvious trap.
Still… the air felt like it had been squeezed earlier and hadn't fully relaxed.
Raizen exhaled once, slow.
Focus later, he told himself. Survive today first.
He stepped into the center of the field and waited.
⸻
Samui arrived first—quiet as always, blade wrapped, eyes calm. She gave him a quick nod, then glanced around the ground like she was reading it the way she read people.
Reina came next, stretching her shoulders as she walked. Her gaze flicked up to Raizen's hair and she didn't even try to hide the judgment.
"You're gonna get caught by a kunai one day," she said.
Raizen snorted. "My hair has better reflexes than you."
Reina's eyes sharpened. "We'll see."
The three of them settled into that charged silence that had become normal.
Then—
The air shifted.
Raitaro was there.
No dramatic entrance. No warning. One second the field felt empty, the next he stood on a post like a cat who'd learned human form.
But Raizen noticed something immediately.
A thin trickle of sweat at Raitaro's temple.
Flak jacket collar slightly loose.
Breathing controlled… but not relaxed.
Raizen's eyes narrowed.
Sensei trains too.
Not just staying sharp.
Training like someone who still needed to be stronger tomorrow than he was today.
Raitaro dropped down, landing without a sound.
"Line up," he said flatly.
They did.
Raitaro's gaze swept over them—Samui's calm, Reina's coiled aggression, Raizen's humming stillness.
Then his mouth curled.
"Warmup," he ordered. "Move like you mean it."
Warmups didn't feel like warmups anymore.
They felt like permission for Raitaro to start hurting them legally.
Dynamic stretches until joints stopped whining—hip openers, shoulder rolls, ankle pops—then he snapped his fingers.
"Sprints."
The weight seals turned the first step into punishment.
Raizen's legs hit the ground and the ground hit back.
4.2× made every stride a negotiation—power, balance, breath. He kept the loop tight, forcing his body to stay together instead of peeling apart in pieces.
Reina tried to explode off the line like she always did.
She paid for it on sprint three—overcooked acceleration, toes digging too hard, knees taking the brunt.
Raitaro didn't say slow down.
He just said—
"Again."
Samui ran like water ran: steady, efficient, no wasted motion.
She didn't win the first sprint.
She won the fifth.
Then came strength work.
Pull-ups until shoulders shook. Push-ups until arms trembled. Squats with the seals pressing down like the mountain had decided to sit on their spines.
Raitaro watched their breathing. Their recovery. The way their eyes started to drift when fatigue hit.
Then—
Taijutsu.
He rotated them like chess pieces.
Reina and Samui traded sharp, clean exchanges—parry, counter, reset—Reina always trying to take ground, Samui always refusing to give it.
And Raizen got put in the middle like always.
Because Raitaro liked watching him solve problems.
"Reina," Raitaro said once, not raising his voice. "Stop trying to win the first exchange."
Reina bristled. "I—"
"Win the last one," Raitaro finished.
Then he looked at Samui.
"Samui. You're too polite."
Samui blinked once. "Polite?"
"You keep waiting for permission to end it," Raitaro said. "Stop."
And then his eyes landed on Raizen.
Raizen expected a comment about stance. Spear footwork. His habit of setting traps instead of trading blows.
Instead Raitaro said—
"Raizen. Your body is adapting."
Raizen's chest tightened slightly.
Praise always felt like bait.
Raitaro's gaze flicked down to his sternum, like he could see the circuit working.
"Don't let that make you sloppy," he added. "Sloppy is how talented kids die."
No applause.
No warmth.
Just a warning that landed heavier than the seals.
By the time the last spar ended, all three of them were drenched in sweat, limbs heavy, breath rough.
Raizen expected the usual finish—chakra control drills, precision work, thread manipulation under fatigue.
But Raitaro didn't point them toward the trees.
He turned and started walking toward the cliffside trail behind the training ground.
A narrow path that climbed up the mountain in uneven stone steps, surrounded by pine and cold rock. The kind of route you took when you wanted to punish someone without calling it punishment.
He stopped at the bottom and pointed up.
Reina wiped her brow, eyes narrowed. "What is this?"
Raitaro didn't look back at her.
"Today," he said, "we break your habits."
Samui's posture shifted. "Habits how?"
Raitaro held up two fingers.
"You can all cast jutsu," he said. "Even if you're not learning new ones yet."
He raised one finger.
"But you cast the same way every time."
Second finger.
"And under stress? You cast worse."
His gaze locked onto Raizen's chest—right where the loop returned.
Raizen didn't speak.
Because he already knew. He'd felt the circulation threaten to spike when a hit landed wrong. He'd caught it—barely.
Raitaro clapped once.
"Exercise," he said.
He pointed at Samui first.
"Water Bullet. Begin the cast."
Samui's eyes narrowed. "Then release?"
Raitaro smiled like she was adorable.
"Then stop," he said. "Halfway. Abort it."
Samui frowned. "That wastes chakra."
"Good," Raitaro said.
He turned to Reina.
"Chakra Flow. Coat. Drop. Coat. Drop."
Reina scoffed. "Pointless."
Raitaro's eyes cut to her.
"You're the one who flares when you get hit," he said flatly. "So no, it's not."
Then he faced Raizen.
"Make lightning," Raitaro said.
Raizen's stomach tightened.
"Not a jutsu," Raitaro added. "Just mold it. Feel the vibration. Hold it stable. Shut it off clean. Do it again."
Raizen exhaled.
Core. Limb. Return.
He formed lightning chakra in his palm—quiet, contained, smooth vibration.
Then he cut it.
Clean.
No sparks.
No leak.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Raitaro watched them for a full minute without speaking.
Then he tilted his chin toward the trail.
"Now," he said, "do it while moving."
Reina stared up the mountain like it had personally offended her.
Samui's eyes narrowed, already calculating footwork.
Raizen stepped forward—seal weight dragging, loop humming—
and caught that ozone scent again, faint on the wind.
Like the mountain itself remembered lightning.
Raitaro's voice followed them, calm as a sentence.
"Start walking."
They took the first steps.
And the habit-breaking began.
⸻
The first hundred steps were easy enough to lie to yourself.
The trail climbed in uneven stone teeth—some wide, some narrow, some slick with mountain dew. Pine needles softened the edges, but the 4.2× seal made every shift of weight feel like you were balancing a boulder on your hips.
Raitaro walked behind them like this was a casual stroll.
"Cast," he said.
Samui began molding water.
Then—
"Abort."
She cut it off mid-shape. The water never formed. Her jaw tightened like she could feel the waste.
Reina coated her blade in lightning.
"Drop it."
She let it go. The crackle vanished. Her eyes flashed irritation.
Raizen formed lightning in his palm.
It hummed—controlled—then he severed it clean.
Again.
Again.
Again.
At first, it felt like drills.
Boring drills.
Then the mountain decided to speak.
A shuriken whistled through the air—sharp, fast, aimed clean.
Reina ducked on instinct, hair snapping across her cheek.
Samui's sword flicked up and—
Tink.
Deflection, quick and precise.
Raizen's head turned toward the sound and for half a heartbeat—
His loop tightened.
Not pain.
Not panic.
Just that microscopic spike that meant: surprise.
He caught it.
Returned the current.
In—two—three.
Out—two—three.
Another shuriken came—low this time, meant to take knees or ankles.
Samui shifted, barely. Reina hopped back, annoyed.
Raitaro's voice drifted from somewhere above them.
"CAST."
Samui began a Water Bullet.
Her hands shaped the seal pattern—
A shuriken sliced past her ear.
She flinched.
Her chakra wobbled.
The water collapsed into mist.
Raitaro laughed like a man enjoying himself.
"Again."
Samui's eyes went cold.
She recast.
Reina coated her blade again—Chakra Flow, clean and sharp—
A shuriken struck her shoulder guard.
Metal clanged.
Reina hissed.
Her lightning surged too hard in reflex and a small arc snapped off the blade's edge like a firework.
Raitaro's voice cracked down the trail.
"Drop it clean, Reina. You're not a festival."
Reina's teeth clenched.
She forced the chakra to cut off in one hard stop—no spill.
Raizen molded lightning again while stepping sideways across a narrow ledge.
A shuriken came in—fast—aimed at his weapon hand.
His instincts screamed to swat it away.
Instead, he shifted his hip, let the throw pass—
and kept the loop steady.
He cut the lightning off.
Re-formed it.
Held it.
Another shuriken.
This one aimed at his ribs.
His breath tried to hitch.
His chest tried to tighten—
and the circulation responded, ready to surge with him.
He forced the exhale out slow.
Returned the current.
The hum stayed smooth.
The shuriken grazed fabric, not skin.
Raitaro didn't praise.
He just made it worse.
The throws multiplied.
Not lethal.
But hard enough that hesitation meant bruises.
They climbed while casting.
Casting while dodging.
Dodging while aborting casts mid-formation.
They started sweating again—not from running, but from keeping control while their bodies screamed to react.
Reina took a shuriken to the thigh, dull pain blooming.
Her lightning flared reflexively—then she cut it off so fast it didn't even spark.
Samui's second Water Bullet failed when a shuriken clipped her sleeve—panic twitch—then she forced herself still and recast without anger.
Raizen felt his left hand go slightly numb for two breaths from internal vibration.
He didn't chase it.
He didn't try to "fix" it by pushing more power.
He returned the current and kept moving.
By the halfway marker, they weren't walking.
They were climbing.
Feet scraping rock. Hands catching roots. Breath ragged.
Raitaro finally stepped out onto a ledge above them, hands in his pockets like he'd been enjoying the view.
"Good," he said. "Now you're tired enough to learn."
Reina glared up at him, sweat dripping off her chin. "We're already learning."
Raitaro's smile thinned into something sharper.
"No," he said. "You're shedding bad instincts."
He hopped down in front of them, landing light for a man who hit like thunder.
His eyes moved across each of them—slow, clinical.
"Under stress," he said quietly, "most genin do one of two things."
He held up one finger.
"They rush a cast and leak chakra."
Second finger.
"Or they freeze and lose the cast entirely."
He stepped toward Reina.
"You leak."
Reina's nostrils flared.
He stepped to Samui.
"You freeze."
Samui didn't deny it. She just watched him.
Then Raitaro turned to Raizen.
"And you…"
Raizen met his gaze.
Raitaro's eyes narrowed like he was seeing the shape of something.
"You hold it," Raitaro said. "Which means you'll survive."
Raizen felt pride rise like a spark—
Raitaro pointed at him immediately.
"But you'll also get arrogant," he said flatly. "And arrogance makes you spike when something surprises you."
Raizen's jaw tightened.
Raitaro's grin returned, ugly and satisfied.
"Which is why," he said, turning away, "we're done playing with half-casts."
The three of them blinked, fatigue making the words slow to land.
Raitaro looked back over his shoulder.
"Tomorrow," he said, "we start real ninjutsu training."
Reina's eyes sharpened despite exhaustion. "New jutsu?"
Samui's posture lifted slightly, like a commander hearing reinforcements arrive.
Raizen felt his heartbeat settle—loop steady, mind awake.
Raitaro's grin turned dangerous.
"Yes," he said.
Then he pointed down the trail they'd just climbed, voice calm as a verdict.
"And you'll learn them the only way that matters."
He vanished in a flicker of movement, leaving the three of them on the mountainside—bruised, shaking, breathing hard—
and for the first time since becoming genin…
understanding what "ninjutsu training" was going to cost.
⸻
The next morning, Raitaro didn't even pretend they'd earned mercy.
They finished the last set of weighted sprints with their lungs on fire, arms trembling from pull-ups, sweat cooling into an uncomfortable chill under the mountain wind.
Raizen's 4.2× seal made every breath feel earned.
His Full Body Circulation kept him from falling apart—but it also meant he could feel everything with brutal clarity: micro-tears in muscle, bruises blooming, fatigue trying to settle into his joints like wet cement.
He was wiping his face when Raitaro stepped out of the shade.
Three scrolls were tucked under his arm like they were nothing.
No ceremony. No speech.
Just business.
Raitaro's gaze swept over them—Samui steady, Reina bristling, Raizen humming—then he flicked his wrist.
The scrolls spun through the air.
Samui caught hers clean.
Reina snatched hers like she was taking something owed.
Raizen caught his half a beat late—paper hitting his palm with an odd sense of weight.
Raitaro crossed his arms.
"Since this is your first real ninjutsu package," he said, voice lazy, eyes sharp, "I'm picking for you."
Reina's mouth opened—
Raitaro cut her off with a glance.
"Defense," he said, holding up one finger.
"Utility," a second.
"And one signature technique—starter or finisher."
He let the words sit long enough to feel heavy.
"In the future, you'll choose based on what fits you," he added. "But right now? You don't know yourselves well enough yet."
Reina scoffed. "I know myself."
Raitaro didn't look at her. "Open them."
⸻
Samui broke the seal first—no drama, no theatrics.
Her scroll unfurled with a soft shhk, and her eyes moved once… twice…
Then she nodded like she'd been expecting it.
"Suiton: Suijinheki," she read aloud.
Raitaro's mouth twitched. "Water Encampment Wall."
Samui lifted her gaze slightly. "Defense. Formation tool."
"Exactly," Raitaro said. "You're the one who keeps people alive. If you can't stop a fatal strike, none of your tactics matter."
Samui scanned down.
"Suiton: Mizu Bunshin no Jutsu… Water Clone."
A faint shift in her expression—interest.
"A clone that bleeds and sells the lie," Raitaro said. "In mist? It'll make enemies swing at ghosts."
Samui rolled her shoulders, already seeing routes, angles, bait lines.
Then she reached the bottom.
"Suiton: Suiryūdan no Jutsu… Water Dragon Bullet."
Reina's eyebrows jumped. "That's not beginner."
Samui didn't smile, but her grip tightened slightly on the scroll.
Raitaro's eyes stayed on Samui.
"You don't win by being the strongest," he said. "You win by ending fights at the right time. Water Dragon is your 'enough.'"
Samui nodded once.
A commander receiving her cannon.
⸻
Raizen loosened his scroll next—then paused.
His first two were normal: tan paper, standard cord, the kind of thing you could find in any village shop if you had the money and clearance.
But tucked under them was a third.
Dark green parchment.
A lavender rope tie.
Neat. Almost ceremonial.
It looked out of place in his hands.
Before he could touch it, Raitaro spoke.
"Raizen," he said, tone shifting. "That last scroll is special."
Raizen blinked. "Special how?"
"It took convincing," Raitaro said, eyes sliding sideways like he could already see the argument replaying in his head. "Chōe does not like sharing her toys."
Raizen perked up at the name.
Chōe—medical class. The woman who treated his ambition like a disease that needed to be managed.
Raizen swallowed and kept his hands on the regular scrolls first.
He unrolled the first.
Lightning Release: Grip Breaker
(雷遁・把断 — Raiton: Hadan) — D-rank
A low-voltage pulse delivered through contact—weapon, wrist, or body—to punish grabs and break holds.
Raizen read it once.
Then again.
And the longer he read, the more his mouth curved.
This wasn't flashy.
This was survival.
A direct answer to the most humiliating weakness in spear fighting: someone smart grabbing the shaft and killing his reach.
Raitaro nodded like he could read the thought off Raizen's face.
"You're going to get grabbed," he said. "By swordsmen. By brawlers. By anyone smart enough to stop chasing the spearhead."
He tapped Raizen's weapon hand with two fingers.
"So your weapon learns to bite when they touch it."
Raizen exhaled, almost grateful. "Clean."
"Good," Raitaro said. "Because messy lightning gets you killed."
Raizen flipped to the second scroll.
Lightning Release: Raijū Shōtotsu
(雷遁・雷獣衝突 — Lightning Beast Rush) — C-rank
A compressed beast-shaped surge fired in a straight line—no tracking—built for speed, impact, and forcing movement.
Raizen's pulse jumped.
Another Lightning Beast.
Different purpose than Raijū Tsuiga.
Tsuiga chased.
This one commanded space.
His mind immediately built scenarios: shove an enemy out of cover, split a formation, drive them into threads, force a dodge into spear range.
Raitaro's eyes gleamed slightly.
"That's your 'move them' jutsu," he said. "Not your 'kill them' jutsu."
Raizen looked up. "So it's pressure."
"It's a command," Raitaro corrected. "You win fights by deciding where people are allowed to stand."
Raizen nodded slowly.
Controller.
Then his fingers hovered over the dark green scroll.
Lavender rope. Neat edges.
It felt wrong in the same way a weapon felt wrong when it was too expensive for your hands.
Raizen loosened the tie carefully and unfurled it like it might explode.
The title stared back at him.
Mystical Palm Technique
(掌仙術 — Shōsen Jutsu) — C-rank
Medical ninjutsu: high-precision chakra control used to heal tissue and stabilize internal damage.
For a second, the training ground noise fell away.
Raizen's eyes widened so fast it almost hurt.
Reina leaned in automatically, reading over his shoulder.
"…You got that?" she muttered, half disbelief, half annoyance.
Samui's eyes narrowed—impressed despite herself.
Raizen didn't even hear them properly.
Because his mind snapped backward, straight into the medical classroom.
Chōe's voice.
Her fist.
Her threads.
Mystical Palm isn't a worksheet jutsu, brat.
It's a surgery jutsu.
Raizen stared at the scroll again, throat tight.
Raitaro watched him—no grin, no teasing. Just… weight.
"This," Raitaro said quietly, "is not a toy jutsu."
Raizen swallowed. "I know."
"Good," Raitaro said. "Because if you can learn it, you stop being just a fighter."
He nodded toward Team Eleven.
"You become the reason your team walks away."
Raizen's grip tightened like it was an oath.
"…Thank you," he said, voice low.
Raitaro's grin returned.
"Don't thank me yet," he said. "You haven't tried it under stress."
⸻
Reina finally exhaled and looked down at her own scrolls.
She read the titles once, quickly.
Then again, slower.
And when she spoke, her voice was controlled—almost pleased.
"Lightning Release: Lightning Clone."
A pause.
"Lightning Release: Shock Discharge."
Another pause.
Then, with a faint tightening in her eyes:
"Lightning Release: Four-Pillar Bind."
Reina lifted her gaze to Raitaro.
For a moment, she didn't say anything.
Then she nodded once.
"…I see what you did."
Raizen couldn't resist. "Yeah? Enlighten us, Captain."
Reina rolled the scrolls back up and tucked them under her arm with care.
"Lightning Clone is standard Kumo doctrine," she said. "Misdirection. Pressure. Making someone swing at the wrong body."
Her eyes flicked to Raizen. "And jumping someone who thinks they've already won."
Raizen grinned. Samui stayed quiet, but her attention sharpened.
"Shock Discharge is close-range insurance," Reina continued. "If someone breaches my sword distance, I don't trade—I break their rhythm and take it back."
She tapped the final scroll against her palm.
"And Four-Pillar Bind…" Her gaze narrowed. "That's not for killing."
Raitaro's mouth twitched.
"It's for ending fights," Reina finished. "Lock one target down. Force their team to react… or hold them still long enough for Samui's Water Dragon to do the talking."
Samui inclined her head once. "Efficient."
Reina looked back to Raitaro.
"You didn't give me flash," she said. "You gave me control."
"Flash gets you killed," Raitaro replied.
Reina smiled faintly.
"Good," she said. "I wasn't planning on dying."
⸻
Raitaro clapped once.
"Alright," he said. "You've got your jutsu."
His gaze slid over them, sharp.
"You have a couple weeks. Get proficient."
Raizen blinked. "Sensei—are you going to teach us how to learn and use them properly?"
Raitaro's expression turned thoughtful for half a second.
Then he shrugged.
"…Nah."
Reina's eyes widened. "What?"
Raitaro raised two fingers in a lazy salute.
"Figure it out," he said.
And then he was gone—Body Flicker, no warning, leaving only a faint ripple in the air and the smell of ozone that didn't belong to the wind.
For a full second, none of them moved.
Wind slid through the trees.
A bird called once.
Raizen stared at the empty spot.
"…This guy can't be serious."
Reina didn't look up from her scroll. "He's serious."
Samui rolled her scroll tighter and tucked it under her arm like she'd accepted the rules of the universe. "He wants to see what we do without him."
Raizen exhaled through his nose. "That's insane."
Reina finally glanced up—eyes sharp, mouth faintly cruel in that way she got when something felt like a challenge. "It's Kumo."
That was the entire explanation.
Samui stood. "We're wasting time."
Reina was already moving. "I'm starting with Lightning Clone. If it's going to betray me, I'd rather it do it now."
Samui headed for the water channel. "Suijinheki first. Defense comes before ego."
Raizen was left standing alone with three scrolls and a truth that didn't feel good:
Raitaro wasn't abandoning them.
He was putting them in the situation they'd be in on a real mission.
No teacher.
No hints.
Just consequences.
Raizen clicked his tongue and headed for open dirt—where there was room to make mistakes without taking someone's eye out.
He knelt, laid the scrolls out, and untied the first cord.
Lightning Release: Grip Breaker.
Utility. Anti-grab. Close range.
Low voltage pulse. Contact delivery. No outward sparks.
Which meant—
No intimidation.
No show.
Just function.
Raizen's fingers flexed around the haft of his spear.
He could already see it: enemy closes, hooks the shaft, clamps down hard, tries to yank him off balance—
If he panicked and spiked output, he'd cook his own grip and lose the weapon anyway.
If he stayed too gentle, they'd take the spear and his whole fighting style would collapse.
He had to find the exact middle.
A bite.
Not a blast.
Raizen inhaled.
Core. Limb. Return.
The circuit hummed beneath his skin—not loud, not aggressive, just present.
He guided a thin ribbon of lightning chakra down his arms—not into the air—into his palms.
He pressed it into the spear.
Nothing visible happened.
No crackle.
No sparks.
Just… a tighter feeling in the wood.
Raizen narrowed his eyes.
"Alright," he murmured. "Let's see if you bite."
He wedged the spear under a heavy training post and wrapped both hands around the shaft like an enemy would—tight, brutal, trying to control it.
Then he pulsed.
For a heartbeat, nothing.
Then his hands jerked open on instinct.
Not because it hurt—because his nerves flinched.
Like touching an electric fence that wasn't trying to kill you… just warn you.
Raizen blinked.
He reset his grip.
Pulse again.
This time he held longer—forced his hands not to release.
The sensation sharpened into a hard buzz that crawled up his forearms.
Not enough to burn.
Enough to make the body reconsider.
Raizen nodded slowly.
"Okay," he said quietly. "That solves one problem."
He flipped the scroll and saw the warning.
Warning: If applied with unstable lightning, Grip Breaker can rebound into the user's own joints, causing temporary numbness or grip failure.
Raizen grimaced. "So if I'm sloppy, it punishes me."
Kumo teaching style.
He rolled the scroll back up and reached for the second.
Dark parchment.
Beast technique.
Raijū Shōtotsu.
Even the title felt heavier.
He read the diagrams—compression rings, forward surge vectors, "do not overcompress" warnings like they'd been written by someone who'd learned the hard way.
He could feel his excitement trying to rise.
A straight-line lightning beast he could fire from range.
A way to force movement without needing threads everywhere.
A way to pressure an enemy before they ever reached spear distance.
But—
Daigo's voice slid in like an old scar.
Hesitation weakens it. Fear fractures it.
Raizen exhaled and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"This one's going to be annoying," he muttered.
He stood, stepped into the open lane of dirt, and planted his feet.
Not spear stance.
Not combat.
Just stable.
He didn't form hand seals yet.
First he found the loop.
Core. Limb. Return.
Then, carefully, he peeled a portion of chakra out of that flow—enough to shape, not enough to destabilize the entire circulation.
Lightning chakra—compressed, accelerated.
He felt the vibration build in his palms.
Hand signs.
The air tightened.
Raizen pushed the chakra forward.
For one heartbeat, it looked perfect—
A beast outline trying to form.
Then the vibration wobbled.
A flicker of fear—what if it rebounds?
The shape fractured.
A violent pop snapped between his hands.
Raizen hissed and staggered back, shaking his fingers like he'd slapped a hot pan.
Not burned.
Just stung.
Like the jutsu had barked at him for doubting.
"Yeah," he breathed. "Okay. I get it."
He looked toward the trees.
Reina was a blur of movement between posts—testing clone angles, forcing herself to strike without overcommitting, getting shocked by her own mistakes and refusing to react like it hurt.
Samui's water wall had formed once—clean, controlled—but the second attempt collapsed halfway, misting the dirt and making her jaw tighten.
None of them were failing quietly.
They were failing loudly.
And learning anyway.
Raizen flexed his hands again, then set his jaw.
"One more time," he told himself.
He reset.
Feet stable.
Breath even.
Circuit humming.
He built the lightning again—slower, tighter, compressed.
Hand signs.
Release.
This time, he didn't try to force the beast.
He committed to the line.
The chakra surged forward in a clean, brutal rush—less "animal" and more "impact," like a half-formed lightning hound made of speed and intent.
It tore through the air and slammed into the far training post with a sharp crack, splintering bark and kicking dirt outward in a ring.
Raizen stared.
Then he grinned.
Not proud.
Satisfied.
"Pressure," he whispered.
He could work with that.
His fingers brushed the lavender cord of the third scroll.
Dark green.
Mystical Palm.
His smile faded.
That scroll didn't feel like a weapon.
It felt like responsibility.
Raizen hesitated, then slowly untied it.
He read the first paragraphs—
and his throat tightened.
Because it wasn't just heal injuries.
It was chakra control so fine it could separate tissue layers without tearing them.
Output so steady it could repair instead of harm.
The kind of technique that punished arrogance harder than any lightning jutsu ever could.
Raizen glanced up and saw Samui rubbing her forearm where the wall had backfired.
He saw Reina shake out her wrist after Shock Discharge bit too hard.
He imagined a C-rank mission with real blades and real blood.
He looked back at the scroll.
Then rolled it up carefully like it was fragile.
"Not today," he murmured.
He tied it tight and tucked it away.
Because Raitaro was right.
You didn't learn this like a party trick.
You learned it like a vow.
Raizen stood and looked at his teammates.
Reina—sweating, eyes bright, refusing to slow down.
Samui—steadying her breathing, rebuilding the wall again, stubborn as stone.
Raizen lifted his spear, feeling the hum under his skin and the new weight of two lightning techniques sitting in his pouch like sleeping beasts.
He exhaled once.
"Alright," he said softly. "We're doing this."
And for the first time since becoming Team Eleven—
it felt like they'd stepped into the part of shinobi life where you either adapt…
or you get someone killed.
⸻
Later that night.
Raizen lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, the quiet pressing in around him.
Then the thought hit him—sudden, electric.
His eyes snapped open.
"Zabuza."
He was out of bed before his heart finished its first hard beat.
Raizen slipped from his room without a sound, bare feet carrying him through the dark halls until he reached his father's study. Moonlight spilled through the window, pale and cold, illuminating the shelves.
The Bingo Book rested where he remembered.
He pulled it free and flipped through pages quickly, skimming past names that didn't matter. Missing-nin. Bounties. Rumors.
Then—
He stopped.
Zabuza Momochi — Deceased.
The word hit harder than the name.
Raizen's chest tightened. His breath caught halfway in, refusing to move. For a moment, he could hear nothing but his pulse, loud in his ears.
So it's happened.
Team Seven was back.
Canon was moving again.
Which meant…
His window was shrinking.
Raizen closed the book slowly, fingers curling until the cover creaked under pressure.
"…Soon," he whispered into the empty room.
Not a promise.
A certainty.
He slid the Bingo Book back into place and stood there a moment longer, moonlight tracing sharp lines across his face—
before turning and disappearing back into the dark.
⸻