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Weeks passed. Slowly, Arai improved. His fire grew sharper, his lightning more precise. Earth walls rose more consistently.
He began learning Uchiha clan tactics, illusions, stealth, and resistance training. His Sharingan gained slight duration.
One evening, Miyako found him asleep in the garden, scrolls scattered around him—battle tactics, chakra theory, sealing basics.
She smiled sadly, brushing his hair.
"He's going to burn himself out," Madara said behind her.
"He's driven. Like you."
"No," Madara said. "He's calmer. More… balanced. But something about him—it's as if he remembers more than he should."
Miyako didn't reply.
They both looked at Arai.
Just four years old—and yet a quiet force of potential, waiting to ignite.
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Three weeks had passed.
The air in the training field now carried a richer, sharper scent—char from scorched bark, crushed earth, and the faint tang of ozone left in the wake of chakra surges. The trees at the edge of the glade bore scars from persistent fireballs and lightning bursts, their bark split and blackened.
Arai stood at the center, a controlled inferno coiling within him. He inhaled slowly, then released his chakra.
"Fire Style: Great Ember Sphere!"
A compressed ball of flame, five meters in diameter, spiraled from his mouth. It blazed across the clearing and smashed into a stone wall Izuna had erected, exploding in a burst of heat and light. The structure cracked, hissed, then collapsed inwards.
Arai dropped to a knee, chest heaving—not from exhaustion, but from focused restraint. His one-tomoe Sharingan flickered active, allowing him to observe the wall's melting pattern, calculating impact spread.
Izuna clapped from the sideline. "That's consistent now. Your control's finally caught up to your chakra output."
Arai didn't reply, though his eyes stayed locked on the flames as they died out.
Later that week, they shifted focus to Earth Release. Izuna had brought him to the northern edge of the compound, where the soil was dense and iron-rich.
"Use the environment," Izuna instructed. "It's not just about raising walls. Earth is strength. Learn to draw from it."
Arai nodded, his hands weaving the necessary seals. He pressed his palms to the ground. "Earth Style: Heavy Core Grasp."
The ground quaked slightly. A portion of the terrain cracked, and from it emerged large slabs of earth, each easily a meter thick. This time, instead of collapsing, the earth retained its structure—thick, dense, and heavy. Arai lifted one slab with his chakra-laced hands, sweat beading at his temples.
Izuna nodded approvingly. "Now that's fortification. Those would stop even enhanced weapons."
Arai let the slab drop with a thud. "The minerals in this terrain help with solidity… if I can focus well enough, I might be able to isolate certain metals."
Madara, who had arrived silently, raised an eyebrow. "Metal extraction?"
Arai turned, voice calm but excited. "If I can locate and manipulate heavy ore within the soil—iron, steel—I can create armor or even construct melee weapons mid-battle. I call it… 'Doton: Kinzokusei Kōkyōkai'—Earth Style: Metallic Resonance Core."
Madara blinked. "That's ambitious."
"It's mentally draining," Arai admitted. "Sifting chakra through the soil to find trace elements… It feels like splitting threads in a storm."
"But if you master it," Izuna murmured, "you'll be a one-man battalion."
Arai allowed a faint smile. "That's the goal."
But Lightning remained elusive.
It danced in his veins, sharp and fast, but untamed. Chakra poured out unpredictably—sometimes striking true, sometimes arcing off in unintended directions.
"Again," Madara commanded. "Focus on the impulse. Direct it, then release."
Arai focused on a straw dummy, channeling lightning into his palm.
"Lightning Style: Static Lance!"
A crackling bolt leapt from his hand—only to veer and strike the side of a tree, singeing leaves.
He growled, frustration bubbling.
"Your chakra still fluctuates mid-cast," Madara observed. "You're cutting the seal too early."
"I'm slowing down too much to aim."
Madara stepped forward. "Then stop aiming. React instead. Lightning isn't something you guide—it's something you unleash when instinct tells you to."
One Tomoe Sharingan – Subtle Mastery
Despite elemental struggles, one success carried him—his improved Sharingan. He could now maintain it for extended periods, using it mid-combat drills without draining entirely.
In one spar with Izuna, he evaded a flurry of shuriken, countered with fire, and deflected a kunai aimed at his flank.
"You're seeing further ahead," Izuna noted after.
Arai deactivated his Sharingan and nodded. "It's still draining, but… I can sense intent now. Like I know what you're going to do."
"Good. Eventually, your Sharingan will evolve past prediction. But that takes… loss."
Arai didn't ask what he meant.
That evening, as he lay under the stars, he turned to Madara, who sat beside him sharpening a blade.
"How's the integration going?" Arai asked. "The Kaguya and Inuzuka under our banner?"
Madara gave a low grunt. "Subordination isn't alliance. They follow now because we've made them realize it's in their interest. But trust? That'll take years."
"They're wild. But effective," Izuna added, joining them. "Kaguya's brutality is hard to rein in, and Inuzuka… they're insular. Still, their sensory skills and close combat ferocity fill gaps we've had for years."
Arai nodded thoughtfully. "It was the right move… I only wish we had more trained sensors. That failed recon could've been avoided."
Madara smirked faintly. "That was your idea, wasn't it? You suggested it during the last clan council. Father was impressed."
Arai looked down, modest. "It just made sense."
Madara's tone softened. "It's knowing what the clan lacks—and compensating."
Days later, Arai returned to his study scrolls with new ideas.
He jotted theories onto parchment, pondering the volatile nature of combining Fire and Lightning—two fierce, unstable chakra natures. Alone, they raged. Together… chaos.
He sketched a diagram: Plasma Release—an experimental idea to create a destructive, high-speed jutsu by compressing fire chakra into a vortex and then triggering it with a directed lightning pulse.
"Too dangerous," he muttered. "But if stabilized…"
"Still awake?" Miyako entered, offering a cup of warm tea.
He smiled. "Just working on a theory."
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