Rain tapped softly against the Hokage's Tower.
Inside a war room buried beneath the main chambers, tension curled in every corner.
A large map of the Land of Fire lay sprawled across the table. Red pins marked locations of known skirmishes. Yellow ones marked sightings. Blue?
Unconfirmed chakra surges.
Tsunade pointed to one near the southern border.
"This village was wiped off the map four days ago. No survivors. Not even ash left behind. And the only thing anyone reported before the silence…"
She turned the map slightly.
"…was a thunderclap from a clear sky."
Kaito stood at the edge of the room. Rei beside him, arms crossed. Hinata, quietly analyzing. Takeshi flanked them — jaw tight, silence heavy.
Shikamaru placed a dossier on the table.
"ANBU has confirmed sightings of two individuals. Both masked. One appears to match the chakra signature we encountered in the shrine. The second… younger. Rougher. Same stormlight — but unstable."
He looked to Kaito.
"Like he was built… not born."
Kaito's stomach turned.
"You think they're cloning stormline chakra?"
"No," Shikamaru said. "Worse. I think they're activating it. Using whatever fragment remains in the bloodlines scattered after the purge."
Tsunade took a long breath.
"This isn't just about Kaito anymore. It's about what he represents. There could be others out there. Unstable. Unaware. If they're triggered the wrong way…"
She let the thought hang.
Later that evening in the training fields, the rain finally broke.
But Kaito didn't stop.
His hands were blistered. His shirt clung to his skin. Each breath came ragged — not from exhaustion, but resistance. The storm within him was no longer just energy. It had weight. Like dragging a current through his bones.
He slammed his palms into the ground.
Lightning crackled, then splintered out in multiple arcs — not just along the surface, but beneath it. The earth rippled. Trees groaned.
He was learning. Fast.
Too fast.
"Again," he muttered, raising his hands.
"No," Takeshi said, stepping in. "That's enough for tonight."
"I'm not done."
"You are."
Kaito turned, frustration in his breath. "You don't get it—"
"I do," Takeshi interrupted, voice calm but firm. "I watched my best friend burn out chasing a kekkei genkai he didn't understand. You keep forcing it like this, and it's not the enemy that will kill you — it's your own chakra."
Kaito's jaw clenched. "Then teach me."
"I am," Takeshi said, softer now. "By telling you when to stop."
Silence stretched.
Kuro padded over and nudged Kaito's hand. The contact grounded him — a small pull back from the storm.
That night, Kaito didn't sleep.
He stared at the ceiling, replaying every word from the war room. Every memory of the shrine. Every flicker of power that hadn't belonged to him — and yet had responded like it knew him.
In the corner of his room, the scroll Tsunade had given him sat unopened. The one labeled Raijin: Fragment Alpha.
He reached for it.
The seal resisted him at first. Then parted.
Inside was a single page.
And on it, a name: Katsuro Shiden. The last confirmed stormbearer before the purge. Designation: "Subject 0".
A photo paperclipped beside it showed a boy no older than 14.
With Kaito's exact eyes.
Elsewhere, in the mountains beyond the Fire Country border, the masked figure stood overlooking a valley.
Dozens of figures trained in the rain below — each radiating faint arcs of electricity. Some collapsed. Others screamed. One exploded into raw chakra and vanished.
The younger masked boy knelt beside him.
"How many more do we need?"
"As many as it takes."
The boy turned slightly. "He's getting stronger."
"I know," the masked man replied.
He reached into his cloak and pulled out a small scroll.
"He's waking up too fast. So we accelerate the fracture."
He placed the scroll on the ground and activated it.
Far away, a seal pulsed — embedded beneath Kaito's skin.
Back in the Leaf, Kaito's body tensed violently.
His breath caught. A pulse of heat surged through his spine — not pain, but pressure. His chakra roared. The ceiling cracked from the discharge.
Then — darkness.