"That's it… that's the feeling."
Amamiya Raizen closed his eyes, sensing the steady pull of natural energy bleeding in from the world around him. Flecks of light drifted toward his skin — particles so faint they could've been dust motes in sunlight. They sank into him, merging, until the air itself felt alive beneath his skin.
When he opened his eyes, crimson markings had formed like warpaint at the edges — eyes of a predator and priest all at once.
He clenched his fists, and a wave of raw energy rippled through his body. Muscles tightened, chakra roared, and his skin briefly took on the rough, mottled look of a toad. It was ugly… and beautiful.
"Good!" shouted Fukasaku-sama, his voice booming across the waterfall. "You've already reached the first step — faster than anyone I've seen."
Raizen didn't respond. He was too focused on the buzzing under his skin — wild, primal, and barely under control.
There were two things needed to even attempt Sage Mode:
a massive chakra reserve to keep natural energy from overwhelming you,
and an iron will that doesn't break, even when your body begs you to move.
Raizen had both — the hard way.
"Well then, little Raizen," Fukasaku said with a grin, "try lifting that stone statue."
Raizen walked up to the enormous toad-shaped boulder beside the pool. It looked like something that would crush three men — but he planted his hands, inhaled, and heaved.
The statue rose like a feather.
Fukasaku blinked. "Hmph. Children of this era really are monsters. You've been raised in war, haven't you?"
Raizen just gave a tired smirk. "Guess war's a decent gym membership."
At eight years old, his body was already trained like tempered steel — not from talent, but from survival.
"Well then," Fukasaku said, hopping ahead, "let's move to phase two of your training."
He led Raizen to a field of razor-like stone spires jutting toward the sky — a jagged forest of pain.
"The next step," Fukasaku said, pointing at the peaks, "is balance. You'll sit atop that slab on the narrowest cone you can find. You can't fall — not even once. Stay still, no matter what happens."
Raizen raised an eyebrow. "So… meditation on a spike. Love that."
Without further complaint, he formed a hand seal.
"Shadow Clone Technique."
Four copies of himself appeared, each carrying a stone slab as they sprinted up separate spires. Once seated, the Raizens closed their eyes and went completely still.
Minutes passed. Then hours.
Whenever a stray thought crossed his mind — hunger, exhaustion, or "Why am I doing this?" — his balance faltered.
He fell.
He climbed back up.
He fell again.
And again.
"You must become one with nature, boy!" Fukasaku barked from below.
"Easier said than done when nature's trying to yeet me off a cliff!" Raizen snapped back.
But the days turned into weeks, and little by little, the falls stopped.
Wind, rain, even the rumble of thunder couldn't shake his focus now.
Fukasaku watched with a mix of awe and disbelief. "In just a month… he's stabilized. Incredible."
On the tallest spire, Raizen sat unmoving — every breath slow, every heartbeat deliberate. He could feel it now: natural energy flowing through him like a living current, colliding with his chakra and his spirit in a delicate, volatile dance.
Three forces — body, mind, nature — clashing, merging, stabilizing.
Until finally, they balanced.
Raizen opened his eyes.
Crimson markings flared to life around them, sharp and feral. His body hummed with terrifying stillness — a perfect equilibrium.
"Sage Mode."
He rose from the slab. Not a wobble. Not even a tremor.
The air around him pulsed.
"Little Raizen," Fukasaku said softly, "you've done it."
The statues of failed sages that littered the area — frogs turned to stone mid-transformation — seemed to stare in silence. Raizen, barely nine, had succeeded where full-grown shinobi had fallen.
Raizen grinned, flexing his hand. "Heh. This power… yeah, this hits different."
If before, his strength had relied on clever tricks and the Flying Thunder God, now it was something else entirely. He could feel it — raw, crushing power that made even elite Jōnin feel mortal.
Fukasaku hopped closer, eyes glinting. "Then let's move to the third and final phase — battle training. You'll learn to fight while maintaining Sage Mode."
Raizen nodded, wiping the rain from his face. "Alright, sensei. Try not to die."
The old toad snorted. "You first."
They squared off in a clearing. Fukasaku's tone grew serious.
"Whenever you're ready."
"Coming right up."
In an instant, Raizen vanished. The ground where he'd stood cracked open from the burst of force.
A blur. A flicker.
Then — BOOM!
His fist slammed into the earth, sending shards of rock exploding outward. A crater formed beneath him.
"What power…" Raizen muttered, flexing his unscathed arm. He felt unstoppable — like his body had turned into a weapon forged by the storm itself.
He raised his left hand. "Chidori!"
Lightning roared to life, shaped and amplified by Sage Chakra. What once was a bird's chirp now howled like a beast's scream — a sphere of destruction glowing in his palm.
He swung it downward; the ground split apart like paper.
Then he lunged, dragging the crackling Chidori across the battlefield toward Fukasaku.
The toad laughed. "Applying Sage Chakra to Ninjutsu already? Impressive."
But Fukasaku had seen centuries of war. He dodged cleanly, his body moving with supernatural ease.
They clashed again and again, thunder against flesh, storm against age-old wisdom.
And as the battle raged, Raizen realized something:
Fukasaku wasn't fighting to win — he was testing how long Raizen could hold Sage Mode under pressure.
The old sage's strength was terrifying — Kage-level, easily — and every blow pushed Raizen closer to his limit. But even through exhaustion, he refused to let the balance break.
He would master this power — even if it broke him first.