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"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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Sparring with Madara
The sun hovered low in the sky, casting long amber shadows across the scarred landscape of the southern dojo. Charred stumps, overturned earth, and shattered stone walls bore witness to countless battles and drills. Today, it was Arai's proving ground.
He stood across from Madara, his posture honed, eyes active with a faint red glow—one tomoe spinning slowly in each iris.
Madara cracked his neck. "Father says you've come far. Let's see if you can back that up."
Arai exhaled steadily. His heart pounded, but not from fear—from readiness.
"I'm not going to win," he said calmly. "But I will make you move."
Madara's lips curled upward. "Good. Confidence without delusion."
Without warning, Madara vanished.
The clash began.
Arai's Sharingan flared, tracking the flicker of motion—he twisted, barely dodging a downward axe kick. Dust exploded from the crater Madara left in the stone tile. Arai retaliated with a burst of fire.
"Fire Style: Ember Sphere!"
The five-meter ball shot forward with a roar—but Madara simply weaved through it, unharmed, his body flickering with sheer speed.
"Faster," he murmured, appearing behind Arai.
Arai spun, Earth chakra surging into his limbs.
"Earth Style: Ironroot Grasp!"
Pillars of dense soil burst upward, trying to trap Madara's limbs—but he leapt clear, tossing a barrage of kunai mid-air. Arai countered with a thin bolt of lightning, striking one kunai and causing the others to scatter off-course.
The Uchiha elite raised an eyebrow. "That's new."
Arai landed on a rock, panting lightly. "Redirecting lightning through metal… not precise, but effective."
Madara didn't reply. He dashed forward.
The flurry of blows that followed tested every inch of Arai's reflexes. His Sharingan tracked each strike, parried some, dodged others—but still, Madara's strength was immense. One kick sent Arai sliding back, crashing into a stone pillar.
Arai rose slowly, blood trickling from a split lip. His chakra flickered erratically.
Still, he smiled.
"You're holding back."
Madara's eyes narrowed. "And you're getting arrogant."
"I need your best."
Madara didn't speak. He lifted his hand—and a seal formed in an instant.
"Fire Style: Dragon Flame Bullet."
The wave of fire came like a living serpent, curling through the air, heat blistering.
Arai didn't hesitate.
"Earth Style: Metallic Resonance Core!"
His palms slammed to the ground—and a crescent wall of dense, iron-rich stone erupted in front of him. The fire collided, splitting around the metal, steam erupting violently.
But Madara was already in motion.
He burst through the mist, striking low.
Arai responded instinctively. He pushed lightning into his limbs—speed, precision.
He ducked under the punch and thrust his palm forward, chakra sparking wildly.
"Lightning Style: Static Lance!"
The bolt struck Madara directly in the chest.
For a split second—he landed it.
But Madara's body flickered, then disappeared.
Shadow clone.
The real Madara dropped from above, kunai ready.
Arai's eyes widened—he'd miscalculated. Too slow.
The blade stopped just at his throat.
Silence.
Madara stepped back.
Arai dropped to his knees, gasping.
"I was close," he muttered.
Madara sheathed the kunai. "You were. You're not there yet. But you've learned to read. Predict. Adapt."
He turned to walk away, then paused.
"That lightning redirection was clever. Dangerous, though. Try using iron sand next time—it'll ground the current better."
Arai wiped the sweat from his brow. "I'll refine it."
Madara glanced back, a flicker of pride in his eyes. "You've got the spark, Arai. But don't chase power for the sake of it. Chase clarity."
Arai nodded, feeling the burn in his muscles and the sharper burn in his chest—the need to reach higher, to fight beside him, not beneath him.
Uchiha Compound – War Room
The wooden floor creaked beneath Arai's sandals as he stepped into the war room, still sore from the spar with Madara. Tajima stood by the window, hands behind his back, gazing out toward the distant ridgelines where battles were often fought and forgotten.
"You requested me, Father?"
Tajima turned slowly. His expression was unreadable, stern as always, but there was something beneath the surface—an impression of contemplation.
"I watched your spar. Madara pushed harder than usual."
Arai bowed his head slightly. "I'm grateful for the challenge."
"You defended. You countered. You improvised. And you endured."
Tajima stepped forward, his dark eyes narrowing.
"You're not just training anymore. You're entering the world of shinobi. From today, you'll accompany Madara on minor operations. Observation, support, cleanup."
Arai's eyes widened slightly. He straightened. "I'm ready."
Tajima's gaze hardened. "No. You're not. But you need to be. This is not training, Arai. You'll face real men. With real weapons. You may have to kill."
A pause.
"I understand."
Tajima studied him for a moment longer. "You'll start with a bandit extermination squad—small group harassing our allied trade routes near the southern forest. Low-tier threats. But they kill without hesitation. Don't romanticize this. Killing is not glorious. But hesitation will get you killed—or worse, others."
Arai clenched his fists. "I won't hesitate."
"You will. Everyone does, the first time."
Tajima's voice softened just slightly.
"The key is what you do after."
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