The mountains carved the horizon into jagged teeth. Moonlight spilled over their edges, pooling in hollows and running down shale like liquid silver. Kumogakure lay folded into that stone bowl: terraces alive with smoke, lanterns glowing like patient stars, and the low hum of a village that had learned to live with the rumble of war in its bones. At a distance, thunderheads pressed together, as though gathering to eavesdrop. Perhaps it was weather, perhaps fate; neither Kaito nor Soka cared to name the difference.
They moved like phantoms across the rocky approaches. The Transformation Jutsu clothed them as unremarkable, dark-haired strangers. Their steps whispered against stone, inaudible under the mountain wind. Kaito's gaze swept every shadowed ridge, while Soka's senses extended outward with silent precision, mapping intent like threads in a loom. Patrols trudged below with strict postures, and civilians shuffled home under curfews that spoke of authority more rigid than most villages. Kumogakure did not tolerate weakness.
The Uzumakis were not here to test its patience. They sought something buried in shelves and ink — the legacy of thunder.
The Library of the Raikage
The Raikage's library was hewn directly into the mountainside, a monolithic tooth in stone's jaw. Its façade was guarded with black iron doors engraved with storm sigils, and within, the air smelled of dust, oil, and candle smoke — like a forge for knowledge. Every shelf held power bound in scrolls: jutsu handed from one Raikage to the next, secrets of speed, endurance, and lightning's fury.
Kaito pressed his palm against the air and laced it with a web of silent auditory seals. To anyone outside, their footsteps would vanish like rain swallowed by sand. Soka followed close, her breath steady, her chakra signatures muted. Together, they slipped inside — shadows moving among shadows.
The shelves loomed like cliffs. Scrolls wrapped in silk lay in neat lines, their titles painted in ancient hands. Some shelves bore warnings etched in metal, others chained with seals that thrummed faintly if one drew too near. The silence here was alive, humming with the weight of legacy.
They exchanged a glance: Divide and conquer.
Kaito drifted toward a secluded alcove marked by brass trim. His breath caught when he saw it — a solitary scroll tied with deep blue cord, set apart from the others. Its title was written in characters bold yet elegant: 雷気 (Raiki). Beneath, in finer script, the name that had thundered through history: Lightning Chakra Mode.
He didn't touch it at first. The weight of the name pressed against his chest like a challenge. Then, with reverence, he lifted it free.
The Eye of Reality bled into his vision, a prism turning words into living diagrams. In an instant the scroll unfurled within him — not just letters, but cadence, rhythm, and mechanics. Seals, breathing patterns, the exact positioning of chakra nodes along nerve pathways, the violent harmony of using one's own body as a lightning rod. It was like drinking molten glass: searing, dangerous, yet exhilarating.
He absorbed it all in a heartbeat, then rolled the scroll back as though it had never been opened. To any other observer, the shelf remained untouched. But within him, the knowledge burned like a fresh scar.
Lightning Explained
The scroll had spoken with terrifying clarity:
Lightning Chakra Mode was not mere speed. It was transformation. Chakra tuned to the lightning element flooded the body, coating skin, nerves, and muscle fibers in an electromagnetic sheath.
This sheath shortened reflex arcs and accelerated synaptic signals. Muscles contracted with explosive precision, oxygen uptake increased, and every cell in the body ran hotter, faster.
The cloak itself functioned like a capacitor: the user became a living conduit, repelling damage, amplifying speed, and lending weapons conductivity that could cut through armor as though it were paper.
But it came at a cost. Without training, the body overheated, nerves fried, and muscles locked. It was lightning's blessing and curse — power borrowed at the edge of self-destruction.
Kaito closed his eyes for a second, letting the knowledge simmer. He could almost feel the crackle in his own veins, though he hadn't activated it yet. His lips curled into a grin. "Perfect," he murmured.
Soka's Experiment
Across the aisle, Soka traced shelves with her fingertips, her Mind's Eye reading intent as much as ink. None of the scrolls whispered anything she hadn't already surpassed. She exhaled in mild disappointment until her thoughts looped back to what Kaito had found: a cloak that coats the body, a conductor of chakra.
She remembered her chakra scalpel — the medical blade sharp enough to slice cells, honed from pure chakra control. What if she fused that principle with elemental fire, carried inside a conductive sheath similar to Lightning Mode? Could she forge a scalpel not just precise, but burning — cauterizing and cutting in one?
Her eyes glimmered.
She gathered chakra into her palms, shaping the scalpel's edge with surgical precision. Then she whispered the tone of fire into it — hot, hungry, relentless. For an instant the scalpel sputtered, unstable. But she adjusted, envisioning the lightning cloak as a sheath to hold the flame steady. The result was breathtaking.
A blade of incandescent chakra bloomed in her hand. It glowed faint orange at its edges, shimmering with both heat and control. She tested it on a scrap of parchment: the scalpel kissed the surface and sliced a clean line that smoldered at the edges, the air smelling of scorched paper and ozone.
Soka's lips curled into a triumphant smile. "It works."
Kaito glanced at her, eyes flashing with curiosity. "You just invented fire surgery," he teased.
"Or fire butchery," she replied, twirling the blade before extinguishing it. Her tone was light, but inside she felt the thrill of discovery.
The Exit
They returned the scrolls to their places with care, even pressing tiny seals of respect to leave the library undisturbed. For a moment, they stood side by side, sharing the unspoken satisfaction of children who had stolen lightning from the gods.
Then Kaito looked upward. "Shall we?"
Soka smirked. "Doors are boring."
Chakra pooled in their legs. In a thunderclap of motion, they launched themselves skyward, bursting through the library's roof. Beams and shingles splintered, debris cascading like rain. Moonlight flooded the space they left behind, and dust rolled outward in choking waves.
They landed in the village square with a crash that silenced Kumogakure. Civilians screamed, guards shouted, lanterns toppled. Horses reared and bolted, their eyes rolling white. For one suspended moment, the entire village seemed to hold its breath.
Kaito rose slowly, eyes gleaming with the thrill of stolen knowledge. Soka's fingers still tingled with heat from her scalpel. Together, they looked around at the stunned faces.
"Time for chaos," Kaito said, voice smooth as a drawn blade.
Soka's grin was sharp, her chakra simmering beneath the surface. "Let's give them a night to remember."
Shouts erupted. Weapons rang free of their scabbards. Lightning crackled faintly from watchtowers as shinobi gathered. And far above, thunder answered again, as though the storm itself bowed to the two red-haired children who had come to challenge a village of thunder with thunder of their own.
The night was no longer Kumogakure's. It belonged to them.
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Since we reached the amount of 50 power stones, I will do something, now, for an extra chapter, you must give 2 power stones.
I saw that most of the votes were for Kaito to be a villain and to explore the world or form his organization, so I'll do that. I'll see if he will form his organization or not depending on your votes.
If you review or give a Power Stone, I'll give you an extra chapter.
2 Power Stone: an extra chapter.
2 positive review: an extra chapter.
This would help me a lot and would also attract more people, so I'd make more chapters per day.