Chapter 4:
The training ground was abandoned.
Not officially—nothing in Konoha ever was—but no one came here anymore. The trees were scarred, the earth uneven, the air still carrying faint traces of chakra from battles long past.
Kakashi stood barefoot at the center of it.
Morning fog clung to the ground, thin and cold. He closed his eye and exhaled slowly.
Feel first. Shape later.
He let his chakra circulate without forcing it—no hand seals, no intent. Wind chakra flowed naturally, light and responsive. Lightning followed, sharp and precise.
Normally, they repelled each other.
Today, they listened.
The spiral returned.
Not violent. Not wild.
Controlled.
The fog shifted.
Leaves lifted from the ground, rotating lazily around him in a widening ring. Kakashi felt it clearly now—the Typhoon Bloodline wasn't about dominance. It wasn't about overwhelming force.
It was about balance under pressure.
He raised one hand.
Wind chakra compressed along his palm, forming a thin, curved edge. Lightning didn't strike—it threaded itself through the wind, stabilizing it, giving it structure.
The air sang.
"Typhoon Release…" Kakashi murmured, eyes still closed.
He slashed.
The blade didn't cut the air.
It erased it.
A clean, curved line carved through the clearing, splitting a boulder in half without scattering debris. The lightning followed the cut a heartbeat later, crackling softly as it dissipated.
Kakashi opened his eye.
No recoil.
No chakra backlash.
No burn in his muscles.
"…Efficient," he said quietly.
He moved next.
Not running.
Riding.
A step forward, and the wind bent beneath his foot, launching him sideways. Another step, another redirection—each movement precise, effortless.
Gale Step wasn't speed.
It was permission—allowing the storm to move him instead of resisting it.
He appeared behind a training post and struck with two fingers.
The post collapsed inward, crushed by sudden pressure rather than impact.
Kakashi frowned.
"Too much."
He reset.
Again.
And again.
Hours passed unnoticed.
By midday, sweat slicked his skin, but his breathing remained steady. The storm chakra no longer felt foreign—it circulated like it had always belonged there.
He sat beneath a tree and pulled out a small notebook.
Observations:
Wind acts as flow control
Lightning acts as anchor
Overuse causes atmospheric instability, not internal strain
Chakra recovery rate increased in high-pressure environments
He paused.
"…Interesting."
Clouds had gathered overhead.
Not thick. Not dark.
But responsive.
Kakashi looked up slowly.
"You're reacting to me," he said.
The wind answered, cool and sharp.
He stood.
Hands moved—not in seals, but in guidance.
The pressure dropped.
The storm deepened.
Rain fell.
Not heavy.
Not violent.
Controlled.
Kakashi lifted his face, letting it soak his hair and skin. His chakra extended outward, threading through the rain, the wind, the charged air.
For the first time, he felt it clearly—
The storm was not external.
It was shared.
A presence stirred far away.
Kakashi felt it like a ripple through his marker.
Naruto.
The baby's chakra pulsed once—uneasy—then settled.
Kakashi exhaled and reined the storm back in.
The clouds thinned. The rain faded.
He stood alone again in the clearing, soaked, calm, and sharper than he had ever been.
"This changes things," he murmured.
From the shadows at the edge of the training ground, a masked figure observed silently.
ANBU—or ROOT.
Kakashi didn't turn.
He already knew.
"Tell Danzo," Kakashi said, voice carrying easily through the damp air, "that storms don't belong in cages."
The presence vanished.
Kakashi looked down at his hands—steady, scarred, capable.
Minato's student.
Naruto's guardian.
The storm's apprentice.
Training had begun.