Evan Kamiyo felt a quiet sense of satisfaction settle in his chest as he realized the true nature of the barrier Kakashi had set before him. This was not a primitive test of raw power or a display of destructive capacity. It was a test of endurance—not of the muscles, but of the spirit. It was a question of whether he could withstand the agonizing, friction-heavy process of rapid growth.
Having recently broken through the psychological threshold of one thousand points in his mental attributes, Evan felt as though a veil had been lifted from his eyes. He had awakened a deeper, more visceral perception of reality. His control over chakra had evolved beyond mere technical skill; it had begun to fundamentally reshape how his biological systems responded to external stimuli.
Even without the activation of a bloodline limit like the Sharingan, Evan's dynamic vision and reaction speed had improved to an uncanny degree. He could track the individual flaps of a dragonfly's wings and predict the chaotic drift of falling leaves.
Kakashi, ever the keen observer, did not miss the subtle shift in Evan's presence. He was a man who lived and breathed combat efficiency, and he recognized the "scent" of a predator entering its prime. While he didn't offer open praise—that wasn't his style—he made a silent decision to trust in Evan's untapped potential.
Lightning Style was a notoriously difficult path. Unlike the rhythmic heat of Fire Style or the fluid cutting edge of Wind Style, Lightning placed a brutal demand on the practitioner's chakra transformation and cellular tolerance. To manifest lightning, chakra had to be compressed into a high-frequency state, a process that generated intense internal heat and electrical friction. Most shinobi bodies simply couldn't endure that kind of frequency for more than a few moments without the risk of permanent nerve damage.
When Kakashi prepared to demonstrate the pinnacle of his own research, Evan didn't blink. He focused every ounce of his heightened perception on the Jonin's hand.
Blue-white electricity erupted in Kakashi's palm, a chaotic swarm of energy that sounded like a thousand birds chirping in a frantic, metallic chorus. The arcs of lightning intertwined with razor-sharp strands of chakra, glowing with a brilliance that made the surrounding mist seem dull. This wasn't an explosive force that dissipated outward; it was a concentrated point of absolute penetration.
"This is Chidori," Kakashi explained, his voice calm despite the roaring energy in his hand. "It is a lightning technique that prioritizes two things: penetration speed and destructive accuracy. It turns the hand into an unbreakable blade."
Kakashi raised his hand, pointing toward a distant, ancient oak tree. In a flash that lasted less than a heartbeat, a bolt of white light bridged the gap. The sound of the impact followed a split-second later—a violent, splintering crack. The massive trunk split apart as if struck by a falling star, fragments of charred wood scattering across the damp soil. The radius of the damage was small, but the destruction within that radius was absolute.
Evan absorbed every detail, from the way Kakashi's shoulder pivoted to the specific rhythm of the chakra pulses. His analytical mind worked at a fever pitch. He could tell immediately that the chakra flow within the Chidori was inherently unstable. It was powerful, yes, but it possessed a "wildness" that made it difficult to steer. Even in the hands of a master like Kakashi, the technique carried a lingering scent of risk.
"You try," Kakashi said, the lightning in his hand fading into a faint smell of ozone.
Evan extended his right hand, closing his eyes for a moment to visualize the inner workings of his chakra pathways. He summoned the lightning chakra, forcing it to gather at his palm. The surge was immediate—a sharp, stinging heat—but the moment he attempted to compress the energy into a stable sphere, the current faltered.
The electricity jumped unevenly, crackling with a rebellious energy. Before it could stabilize into a true blade, the discharge dispersed, striking the ground several meters ahead. It sent a cloud of dust and debris flying into the air, but the attack lacked the surgical lethality of Kakashi's version.
It wasn't clean. It was a rough draft.
Kakashi shook his head slightly, though there was no disappointment in his eyes. "Not yet. In the early stages, Chidori is a jealous mistress. Large-scale, wasteful output is common for beginners. The precision—the ability to hold the lightning without letting it bleed away—comes much later."
Evan nodded, staring at his palm. He wasn't frustrated. On the contrary, he was encouraged. Despite the technical failure, his body hadn't rejected the transformation. His chakra pathways, reinforced by his high attributes, had endured the electrical stimulation without tearing. He felt a strange, humming sensation in his limbs. His movement speed increased subtly as the lingering lightning chakra continued to stimulate his muscle fibers.
That alone was proof of his compatibility.
Evan suddenly dashed forward in an experimental sprint. The obstacles in his path—the protruding roots, the low-hanging branches, the uneven rocks—all seemed to move in slow motion. The enhancement wasn't dramatic, but it was profoundly real. It was as if he had stepped into a world where time had been stretched thin.
Lightning Style, he realized, was a gift to the reflexes long before it became a weapon for the hands. A fallen tree lay directly in his path. Without thinking, Evan adjusted his trajectory with a micro-movement of his ankle, weaving past the obstacle without losing a fraction of his momentum. His breathing remained as steady as a clock.
Kakashi's brow furrowed. He hadn't expected Evan to adapt to the "Lightning Body" sensation this quickly. He remembered his own struggles, the months spent falling over his own feet because his brain couldn't keep up with his accelerated body.
"It took me months of grueling training just to stabilize the foundation of this technique," Kakashi said quietly, almost to himself. "And even then, I required the guidance of the Fourth Hokage to make it viable in combat."
"How long did it take me to achieve this foundation?" Evan asked, stopping his sprint and turning back toward the Jonin.
Kakashi paused, looking at the stopwatch in his mind. "…Less than ten minutes."
That was the realization that bothered Kakashi. Chidori was more than just a technique; it was a philosophy of motion and an extreme demand on one's biology. The fact that Evan could grasp its structural foundation so rapidly meant that his elemental affinity and his internal chakra control were more than just high—they were perfect.
"This technique is extremely practical," Kakashi continued, recovering his composure. "It has high lethality, certainly, but its true value lies in its room for derivative development. As long as you don't rush the process, you can build safer, more versatile variations that don't require the same level of reckless speed."
Evan understood perfectly. He wasn't obsessed with the Chidori as a name or a legacy. He saw it as a gateway. He was interested in mastering the element of Lightning itself—the pure, raw logic of the strike.
"When power is temporary or inconsistent, it's meaningless," Evan said, his voice reflecting a maturity that often unsettled those around him. "But when power is reliable and mastered, it becomes a permanent part of who you are. I don't want a trump card. I want a tool."
Kakashi looked at him for a long moment, the wind ruffling his silver hair. He felt a sudden, strange pang of empathy for the boy. "…You're thinking too much like an adult, Evan. You should try being a child once in a while. It's less exhausting."
After saying that, Kakashi didn't wait for a reply. He activated the Body Flicker Technique and vanished in a swirl of leaves. "If I stayed any longer," Kakashi muttered to himself as he reappeared blocks away, "I'd start questioning my own sanity. That kid is a monster in a white coat."
Evan didn't pursue the Jonin. He didn't feel the need for more words. He remained on the training ground, his silhouette lonely against the darkening forest. He practiced the controlled circulation of lightning chakra, feeling the arcs dance across his skin, until the sun dipped below the horizon and the first stars began to peek through the canopy.
As the cool air of dusk settled over Konoha, the heat of the day finally faded. Only then did Evan stop his practice. His hands were slightly numb, but his mind was on fire.
He knew that Chidori was still far from complete. True mastery would require a much deeper nature transformation, a more refined shaping of the chakra, and the hard-won experience that only comes from combat pressure.
But the path was no longer a mystery. The map was drawn.
Evan walked through the quiet village streets on his way home. He didn't feel the burning impatience that usually drove young prodigies toward their doom. He felt focused. He felt a sense of inevitable progress.
For the first time since he had opened his eyes in this world of ninjas and shadows, he felt that his growth was no longer a theoretical dream or a set of numbers on a screen.
It was an absolute certainty.