The training ground was quiet, steeped in the kind of silence that usually precedes a storm. Mist clung low to the damp earth, disturbed only by the faint rustle of leaves and the soft crunch of sandals on soil. Hatake Kakashi stood at the center of the clearing, his orange book tucked casually into one hand, his visible eye half-lidded in apparent boredom.
But Evan Kamiyo knew better. He could feel the way the air seemed to curve around the Jonin, a subtle distortion of space that spoke of a man who was never truly off-guard. This wasn't casual training. This was a clinical evaluation of Evan's potential.
"Attack me with everything you've got," Kakashi said lazily, his voice muffled slightly by his mask. "I'll decide what to teach you based on your performance. Don't worry about hurting me—I'm harder to break than I look."
The words sounded relaxed, even playful, but the meaning beneath them was sharp. Kakashi wasn't looking for a display of raw power or a lucky hit. He was testing judgment, tactical foresight, and the limits of Evan's composure.
Evan didn't answer immediately. He stood perfectly still, his eyes narrowing slightly as he ran thousands of calculations through his mind. He wasn't just measuring the distance to his opponent; he was measuring the wind speed, the moisture in the mist, and the density of the ground.
Clap.
"Shadow Clone Technique."
Two clones burst from the smoke beside Evan. They didn't pause for dramatic effect or exchange glances. They moved instantly, splitting into a pincer formation. There was no wasted motion, no unnecessary flair. Their coordination was so tight it felt like a single mind operating three bodies.
Kakashi's eye flickered with a sudden, genuine interest. He had seen many geniuses, but most children used clones as meat shields or simple distractions. Evan's clones moved with a specific, geometric purpose. So he's already past imitation-level control, Kakashi thought.
The clones split further—one circling wide to flank, while the other advanced directly with a kunai in reverse grip. Evan himself didn't move an inch. He was the anchor, the strategist watching the board.
"Fire Style: Dragon Flame Technique."
A compressed stream of fire surged forward from the central clone. It wasn't the massive, explosive fireball an Uchiha might favor; it was a thin, high-pressure jet of heat. Kakashi sidestepped it easily, his movements fluid and economical.
However, as he stepped, his feet slowed. He looked down to see the ground beneath him softening unnaturally, turning into a viscous, grasping slurry. Evan had pre-cast a subtle Earth Style trap beneath the cover of the fire's brightness.
"Wind Style: Great Breakthrough."
Before Kakashi could leap clear of the mud, the second clone unleashed a blast of wind. It didn't aim for Kakashi; it aimed for the fire. The wind accelerated the flames, bending their trajectory and turning the jet into a horizontal vortex.
The combined force distorted the mist, slamming into the ancient trees behind Kakashi and tearing the bark loose in scorched strips. It was a textbook elemental synergy, executed with the cold precision of an engineer.
"Well coordinated," Kakashi muttered. He prepared to reposition, but his path was already blocked.
"Earth Style: Mud Wall."
The ground surged upward behind him, three slabs of solid earth forming a U-shaped arena that cut off his retreat. Three elements used in less than ten seconds. None of them were flashy, and none of them were meant to be lethal on their own.
They were deliberate. They were layers of a trap designed to shrink the world until there was nowhere left to stand. Kakashi finally closed his book with a definitive snap and leapt straight upward, narrowly avoiding the closing mud walls as they collapsed inward with a heavy thud.
He landed lightly on the top edge of the wall, looking down at Evan. "So you're building compound pressure instead of relying on raw output. You're trying to drown me in small mistakes. Interesting approach for a child."
Evan stepped forward at last, the two clones dissipating into white smoke. He looked up at the Jonin, his breathing as steady as if he had just finished a light walk.
"I don't have enough chakra to overpower a man of your caliber," Evan replied calmly. "So restricting your movement is more efficient than attempting to strike you. If you can't move, I don't need to be fast."
That answer earned him a longer, more contemplative look. Kakashi hopped down from the wall, his slouch disappearing. For the first time, he looked like the "Copy Ninja" the Bingo Books feared.
Kakashi attacked.
He didn't use ninjutsu or weapons. He used pure Taijutsu, but he moved with a speed that made the mist swirl in his wake. It wasn't an attack meant to kill, but it was fast enough that a single moment of hesitation would result in a broken rib or a heavy bruise.
Their exchange was brief and incredibly sharp. Evan didn't try to "win" the trade. He blocked where he could, using the minimum amount of force. He evaded where he had to, using the smallest possible movement to let the strike pass by.
Most importantly, he disengaged the moment the pressure exceeded his margin of safety. When Kakashi slipped past his guard and tapped him on the shoulder—a move that would have been a kunai through the heart in a real fight—Evan absorbed the impact and retreated ten feet instantly.
No pride kept him in the pocket. No panic caused him to over-swing. He was perfectly aware of the gap between them. Eventually, Kakashi stopped, his hands returning to his pockets.
"That's enough," Kakashi said.
Evan lowered his guard immediately, his hands falling to his sides. Silence settled back over the training ground as the dust began to clear. Kakashi studied the boy, his eye squinting in thought before he spoke in a rare, serious tone.
"You're not strong," Kakashi said bluntly. It was a harsh truth, but Evan didn't flinch. He didn't need to be told he was still a child.
"But," Kakashi continued, "you understand the mechanics of strength. You understand how to apply leverage to reality."
He gestured vaguely at the scorched trees and the collapsed mud walls. "Your chakra control is refined beyond your years. Your transitions between elements are clean, lacking the usual friction. And most importantly—you know when to stop. You don't let your ego dictate your movements."
That was the rarest quality in a prodigy. Most geniuses died young because they believed their own legend. Evan looked at himself like a tool to be optimized.
"Tell me," Kakashi asked, "what ninjutsu do you want to learn? I have a thousand in my head. Pick one."
Evan didn't hesitate. The answer had been decided the moment he realized his own limitations. "Lightning Style."
Kakashi raised an eyebrow, his slanted headband shifting. "Not Fire or Wind? Your chakra nature is already better suited for those. You have the heat and the cutting edge down perfectly."
"I know," Evan said. "That's why I want Lightning. It's the element I understand the least because it's the most volatile. Fire and Wind are about output. Lightning is about the absolute synchronization of spirit and body."
Lightning required a level of precision that made other elements look like blunt clubs. Any waste of energy became a backlash. Any hesitation became a catastrophic failure. It was the perfect discipline for someone who sought total control.
Kakashi stared at him for a long moment, perhaps seeing a reflection of his own younger, more arrogant self—or perhaps seeing something entirely different. "…Troublesome kid. You're picking the hardest path for the sake of the challenge."
Then he sighed, his shoulders drooping back into their usual slouch. "Fine. If the Hokage wants me to teach you, and you want to play with high-voltage, I'll play along. But understand this—Lightning Style isn't about power. It's about control under extreme pressure."
"If you fail to harmonize your chakra perfectly," Kakashi warned, "the technique will turn on you. You'll injure your own nervous system before you ever touch an enemy. It's not a toy."
"I accept that risk," Evan replied.
Kakashi nodded slowly. "Good. Then I'll start with the fundamentals. No Chidori. No lightning bolts. Just pure control and conductivity."
He turned away, waving a hand over his shoulder as he started to walk back toward the village. "Come back tomorrow. Same time. Bring your own bandages—you're going to need them."
As Kakashi walked off, his voice drifted back through the mist, devoid of his usual humor. "And Evan—don't rush. People who try to outrun lightning are usually the first ones to get struck by it."
Evan watched the silver-haired Jonin vanish into the gray. He didn't feel intimidated. He felt a cold, focused excitement. Lightning wasn't just fast; it was the ultimate expression of precision. And for a doctor of the soul, that was exactly what he needed to master.
.