The moment class ended, I shot up from my seat so fast it startled the shrimp. She blinked at me, but before she could open her mouth, I was already gone.
I was excited for what came next.
Ever since I arrived in this world, I'd been working off memory. Some lucky guessing, a bit of logic, and a lot of trial and error. Chakra control? Chakra reserves? You don't need a lot of resources for that. Just pain, boredom, and stubbornness.
Yeah, I watched the anime. A lot. But that was ages ago, and then my life turned into a revenge-fueled spiral before ending in a high-voltage grand finale. A lot of that old knowledge got fried along with me.
But here, I had something precious. Something powerful.
A freeeeeee library.
Let me say that again. A free, open, shinobi Academy library. With scrolls. With diagrams. With actual explanations for how not to accidentally electrocute yourself while trying to weaponize your chakra. It was beautiful.
I had already decided. This first year, I was focusing on chakra nature, ninjutsu, and fuinjutsu. I had time. Academy life gave me a great chance. Years of training space before graduation. I was going to make every second count.
I stepped inside the library and nodded at the librarian, who looked older than Ryusaku-sensei. Which was terrifying. Living this long in the shinobi world had to mean one of two things. you're either immortal, or too dangerous to die. I gave him a respectful nod and walked in.
The library looked like it had been rebuilt not long ago. Clean walls, polished floors, fresh paint that hadn't even started peeling yet. You could still smell wood shavings and fresh ink. There was an odd stillness to it, like the whole building was holding its breath, pretending it hadn't almost been leveled not long ago.
You could tell they cared. because they had to. After the Nine-Tails attack, the village realized that they couldn't afford to lose knowledge. Not just the students, but the teachings too. The rebuilt library was quiet, sturdy, and serious. Knowledge wasn't just power here. It was armor. Insurance. A way to make sure the next generation didn't crumble.
The shelves were tall. Too tall for most kids to reach without help. Some of them were old and worn like they'd survived more wars than the walls. Others were new, shiny, almost out of place. Everything was labeled with careful handwriting. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to keep this place alive.
I made a beeline to the chakra theory section right away. The first scroll I grabbed was written in handwriting so small it could've been inked by ants.
It explained that nature transformation is the process of converting raw chakra into one of the five elemental types. Basically, chakra is like water in a river. Alone, it just flows. Nature transformation is like throwing a flavor packet into that river. You could turn it into tea, soup, poison. depending on the element and how badly you screw it up.
Lightning Release, specifically, was described as "a focused, high-frequency vibration of chakra that produces a piercing, high-speed current. The most difficult to control among the basic five. Incorrect application may result in nerve damage or severe internal injury."
Great. Just what I wanted. Instant brain-frying if I mess up.
Turns out, to use lightning chakra properly, I'd have to vibrate my chakra through my entire network at insanely high speeds. Not just strong control but also precise control. Like surgery-level precision is needed to utilized lightening release. One wrong pulse and I'd zap myself.
I flipped to another scroll. There was a diagram showing how Lightning Release worked. The chakra didn't flow like a stream. It stuttered. Pulsed. Like a thunderclap trying to echo inside your veins. Fun. That brings some not so pleasant memories.
After skimming enough to fry a few brain cells, I found a section for higher-level methods. There were easier beginner techniques, of course. But easy was for suckers. I wasn't like the other kids. Not smarter than everyone, but definitely smarter than most. I went straight to the advanced stuff.
Step one: Focus chakra into the fingertips. Not to stick, like in tree-walking, but to hum. Like static electricity. It should feel like a faint shiver, not a punch. If it burned? Too much. If it exploded? Definitely too much.
Step two: Transition from treating chakra like a stream into pulses. Quick, sharp vibrations. Like tuning a fork and vibrating it at the exact pitch for optimal damage—and minimal self-immolation.
Step three: Focus it to a point. Like a needle, not a hammer. Speed and precision, not brute force. That meant control. Refined, razor-sharp control.
Most scrolls suggested starting with a practical test: drip water onto a leaf, then try to vibrate the surface without touching it. If the ripples scatter cleanly, you're on the right track. If the water evaporates, you overdid it. If the leaf explodes? Congratulations, you now owe the medic ward a visit.
Thinking of Ayaka's face and the inevitable lecture, I promised myself I'd be extra careful.
After hours of reading, and thirty minutes spent staring at a chakra diagram that looked like a spider had tried to draw a subway map, I leaned back and exhaled.
Alright. That's the theory. Time to test it.
There's a reason most ninja take a long time to master their elemental nature. It's like learning a new language. with a side of electrocution. But if there's one thing I've proven good at handling, it's pain.
And if fate was gonna stick me with lightning after frying me once already?
Then I was going to learn how to make it dance.
I carefully returned the scrolls to their place. The librarian watched me leave like he half-expected me to be on fire or have a scroll secretly tucked into my pants. I gave him a polite nod. Not today, old man.
As I stepped outside, the sky had gone golden-orange. Sunset had painted the rooftops in light.
The theory was done. Now came the first part of the puzzle was done. Now came the hard part. training.
Let's see if I can make lightning dance without sending myself to a different world again.