The sky cracked open with a sharp morning light, but the air itself seemed alive. Static prickled across Keiji's skin before he had even reached the Uchiha side training fields. The smell of ozone carried on the breeze, as though a storm loomed just beyond sight.
This day would not be fire. Not the merciless inferno of his father.
Today would be lightning.
Standing in the center of the field was Izuna Uchiha, armored but unhelmed, his dark hair tied back neatly. His eyes carried a strange duality—gentle warmth for his nephew, and the honed sharpness of a blade seasoned by blood.
"You survived Father's flames," Izuna said with a faint smirk, folding his arms. "Good. That means you can endure mine."
Gengar floated beside Keiji, its mischievous grin unusually cautious. The ghost Pokémon's aura seemed wary of the static in the air, as if it recognized lightning as a rival element.
Keiji straightened his posture, fists tight. If I falter now, Madara's eyes will burn holes through me. And Uncle Izuna… he's no less dangerous.
---
The Spark of Instruction
Izuna lifted one hand, palm open. "Lightning is unlike any other nature. Fire devours. Water erodes. Wind slices. But lightning…" A hum of energy built in his hand, coiling into threads of azure light. "Lightning pierces. It is speed given form. It is inevitability."
The crackle of blue grew louder, sharper. With a snap, Izuna lashed his palm forward. A jagged bolt tore across the training ground, carving a blackened scar into the earth. The smell of burning stone filled the air.
"This is Raiton: Denkō Sutoraiki—Lightning Strike. Basic, but the foundation. Without control, speed, and direction, lightning will betray you before it harms your enemy."
Keiji inhaled deeply, lifted his hand, and focused. Sparks jittered across his palm—weak, unstable, and gone within seconds.
"Too shallow," Izuna corrected, stepping closer. "You scatter your chakra. Compress it tighter. Condense until it screams to be released."
Nodding, Keiji tried again. His arm tingled, the sparks lasting longer this time before sizzling out. His muscles spasmed, leaving him clutching his wrist.
Izuna's lips curved into something almost approving. "Better. Don't shy from the sting. Pain is lightning's first gift."
---
Lightning Flow
Hours of drills passed. Keiji's palms were red, skin raw, chakra running ragged. That was when Izuna unsheathed his sword.
"Fire runs like heat through steel. Lightning flows like current through wire. With it, you can strike faster than eyes can follow."
He pressed his hand to the hilt. Blue sparks raced down the blade, wrapping it in a crackling sheath. The hum was low, dangerous. Izuna swung once.
Shhhk!
A massive boulder, taller than Keiji, split perfectly in half. The stone edges glowed faintly, smoking as if freshly carved.
"This is Raiton Chakra Flow," Izuna said. "A technique that burns into your weapon. Few master it. Fewer survive it. Now—you."
Keiji accepted a training tanto, heart racing. He drew in chakra, forced it into the steel. Sparks flickered across the blade, leaping chaotically. He swung against a wooden post—
Crack! The wood smoldered, scarred, but intact. The blade sizzled unevenly, blackening near the edge.
"Unstable," Izuna muttered. "Direct it. Make steel and current one."
Keiji's jaw clenched. He tried again. Then again. And again. Each attempt left his arm trembling harder, his nerves frayed like torn wires.
By midday, his hand shook uncontrollably. Still, he pushed forward.
---
Personal Techniques
Izuna finally lowered his sword, eyes narrowing. "Enough. Watch closely."
Weaving seals at blinding speed, his hand lit with a piercing glow. A concentrated lance of lightning surged from his palm, vibrating with lethal purpose.
He dashed forward. His speed blurred beyond Keiji's sight. The thunderclap came a heartbeat later as the strike obliterated the earth, dust and debris exploding outward.
"This is my Raiton: Ikazuchi no Yaiba—Thunderclap Blade. With it, I pierce any defense."
Keiji's breath caught. His uncle's precision was terrifying. Yet within Keiji's mind, fragments stirred—memories from past life. Purple Lightning. Chidori. Lightning Blade. Techniques that could shape destiny itself.
If Uncle Izuna held this foundation… maybe, just maybe, Keiji could nudge him toward those very paths.
---
Indirect Hints
The next time Izuna told him to practice forming lightning in his palm, Keiji forced himself to sound casual.
"Uncle… what if lightning could be refined? Not just blue, but something denser, darker. A violet current. Sharper. More precise. Wouldn't that reduce the strain?"
Izuna's hands paused mid-adjustment. His Sharingan eyes glimmered faintly. "Violet lightning?" he repeated. His expression gave little away—but his curiosity was undeniable.
Later, while they drilled body flicker maneuvers, Keiji added carefully: "What if lightning could be channeled inward? Into your muscles. Bursts of acceleration sharper than the Body Flicker. Like… vanishing in a blink."
Izuna stopped moving. For a heartbeat, silence. Then he smirked. "Interesting thought."
Evening neared when Keiji planted one final seed. "And lightning doesn't have to be just a strike. What if it could be shaped… into a thrust so sharp, it tears through anything? A spear of lightning. Or a blade of it."
Izuna tilted his head, thoughtful. "Like… a thousand birds screaming at once?"
Keiji's chest tightened. He's close. He's so close. He dared not say the name. But perhaps, one day, his uncle would forge it. And perhaps, history would bend.
---
Harsh Training
But Izuna gave no leniency. If anything, the drills grew crueler.
Again and again, he ordered Keiji to channel lightning into steel until his muscles twitched uncontrollably. His hands blistered, skin raw from repeated shocks.
"Again!" Izuna barked.
Keiji staggered upright, forcing sparks into the tanto. He swung—the current sputtered. He dropped to one knee, panting.
Izuna's blade slammed into the ground beside him, humming with controlled electricity. "The enemy won't let you rest. You stop when I say."
Keiji's teeth ground together. His body screamed. Yet he rose again.
What kept him moving wasn't pride. It was the whisper of hope: If Izuna learns those jutsu… maybe he won't die to Tobirama. Maybe fate can change.
That hope burned brighter than the lightning itself.
By nightfall, Keiji collapsed flat onto the dirt, chest heaving, body twitching with leftover current. Sparks flickered across his skin like dying embers.
Izuna sheathed his blade. For a moment, his gaze softened. "You did well today."
But then his voice hardened, a sharpness like thunder. "Remember this, Keiji. Lightning is not mercy. It is judgment."
He crouched low, Sharingan gleaming, eyes sharp as blades.
"If you face a Senju… do not hesitate. Do not think. Kill—or be killed. That is the law of war."
The words struck like lightning through Keiji's chest. His breath hitched. The weight of fate pressed heavier than ever.
From the shadows, Gengar's glowing eyes flickered, eerily watchful—as if even it sensed that destiny had inched closer.
---
End of the Chapter
---