Naruto: The Sarutobi Who Can't Spark

Steam rose from the kitchen-stall of 'Ichiraku Ramen' as he saw someone ducking out the familiar cloth banners. The small shop, with its worn wooden counter and cozy atmosphere, had become something of a sanctuary over the past year. The rich aroma of miso and pork bone broth filled the air, bringing an immediate smile on Raijin's face.

"Ah, Raijin!" Teuchi's warm voice greeted him before he'd even taken his seat. "I was wondering when you'd show up." The ramen chef's eyes crinkled with genuine pleasure at seeing his very young customer as his hands moved preparing Raijin's usual order.

"Teuchi-san," Raijin smiled, settling onto his usual stool. "I couldn't think of a better place to spend my birthday."

"Birthday?" Teuchi's eyebrows shot up. "Why didn't you say something earlier?" He immediately began stopping his earlier works, now moving his hands flying over his cooking station with newfound determination. "This calls for something special."

Over the past year, their relationship had evolved far beyond simply exchanging money for meals. What started as polite conversation had grown into a genuine bond, with Teuchi's fatherly warmth making the small ramen shop feel like a second home.

"Extra chashu?" Raijin asked hopefully, already knowing the answer.

"For your birthday? Of course!" Teuchi laughed. He worked efficiently, his movements reflecting years of perfecting his craft. As he worked, Teuchi's sharp eyes caught sight of the bandages wrapped around Raijin's hands. His expression shifted to one of paternal concern. "Those are fresh bandages. Been pushing yourself too hard again?"

"I'm fine, really!" Raijin flexed his fingers demonstratively. "Peak condition, see?" Before Teuchi could press further, he quickly redirected, "How's little Ayame doing?"

The effect was immediate. Teuchi's face transformed like sunny weather breaking through storm clouds, who dotes on his daughter. "You know, Ayame has begun saying simple words." Pride radiated from him like the heat from his cooking pots.

"That's great news!" Raijin beamed, genuinely overjoyed. He had heard so much about Teuchi's daughter over their many conversations, and the news of Teuchi's happiness filled him with warmth. Ayame, being just a few months older than Naruto, was someone he'd heard a lot about over the year.

Teuchi placed a magnificent bowl in front of Raijin—the usual miso ramen, but this time elevated with extra chashu, a perfectly soft-boiled egg, fresh green onions, and what looked like several special ingredients Raijin had never seen before.

"Happy birthday, Raijin," Teuchi said warmly. "This one's on the house."

Raijin hesitated. "Teuchi-san, you don't have to—"

"Nonsense!" Teuchi interrupted, crossing his arms and giving him a look that left no room for argument. "Not every day one of my young customers celebrates a birthday." His stern expression softened into a gentle smile. "Now, eat before it gets cold."

***

Dawn broke over the forest, painting the sky in gentle hues of colors. At precisely 6 a.m., a five-year-old boy stood beneath the mulberry tree, his small hands gripping a dull, adult-sized axe. His knuckles were white with effort as he swung the dull axe against the mulberry tree's base. As he turned it with all his might into the base of a young mulberry tree. The dull thud echoed through the quiet morning with melody.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

"One more swing," Raijin muttered to himself, determination sparkling in his bright eyes. He swung again, then again, the melodious rhythm of the thuds filling the air with each swing. His tiny feet were planted firmly in the dirt, remembering Haruko's lesson about proper stance. His brow furrowed in concentration, and he tightened his grip – just as she'd taught him that proper form mattered more than strength. He gave another go at the tree.

The tree, though small, was beginning to lean and creak with each strike.

Finally, with a sharp crack, the tree toppled, landing with a soft thud on the ground. Raijin stepped back, satisfaction playing across his features as he surveyed his handiwork. The fresh scent of sap lingered in the air. Without pausing to celebrate, he bent down to grab the saw he'd brought from the storeroom, its teeth glinting in the early morning.

He sawed methodically through the trunk, one section at a time until the tree split into manageable logs. The saw's teeth bit into the wood with a buzzing sound, adding another symphony in the forest. Sweat dotted his forehead despite the morning chill, but he didn't stop. He wanted to finish what he had started.

With the logs cut into several pieces, Raijin's eyes settled on the thick rope that was thick and sturdy. He scooted over to the pile of rope, pulling it toward the logs, and with practiced movements, he began looping around it around one of the cut logs. Raijin began binding the logs together, initially attempting to secure five at once. Though his extraordinary strength allowed him to lift them, his legs trembled with effort, and the rope creaked ominously under the strain. He reduced his load to three logs – still an impressive feat for one so small.

The rope creaked as he hoisted the bundle onto his back, adjusting the makeshift harness across his shoulders with the expertise of someone who had done this many times before. The rough bark pressed against his spine through his thin shirt, a reminder of the weight he carried. Small pieces of bark and wood chips clung to his clothes, but he paid them no mind.

He stood up straight, legs sturdy, his back hunched a little to place logs onto, he then gripped the rope tight and began his step toward his house. Reaching his house, he undid the loop of the rope of three logs and carried the rope again into the forest for other logs.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of slow, laborious steps, Raijin completed hauling logs from the forest to his home. It took him about five times to carry and bring all the logs from the forest. Sweat poured down his face, and his breath came in sharp, exhausted gasps.

It was now 9 a.m., and his backyard was filled with carefully stacked logs.

After completing his physical training by hauling the logs and having a meal, he began crunching leaves using a change in chakra nature to lightning. His plan was simple but ambitious – master the change in chakra nature to lightning through the traditional leaves exercise which involved crunching leaves and later potentially crunching the logs. He'd start with leaves first – the standard point for chakra element training.

Drawing from his past life's knowledge of electrical conductivity, he understood that wood's natural resistance made it an ideal training medium – if he could affect non-conductive material with lightning chakra, conductive targets would be even easier.

In the quiet hall inside of his house, Raijin focused his lightning chakra into a leaf. To his surprise, the leaf responded within three minutes. It didn't just crinkle; microscopic arcs of blue-white chakra danced across its surface before the entire leaf compressed and darkened.

"The leaf's cell walls," he muttered, examining the result. "Lightning chakra must be disrupting them at a microscopic level."

Raijin spent the entire five days crunching the leaves instantly upon their contact with lightning chakra, taking brief rests in between to replenish his chakra. He discovered that by maintaining a specific frequency in his lightning chakra, he could more efficiently affect the leaf's structure.

Then came the true challenge, the logs.

The following five days, he planned to practice 'crunching' the log that was half of his height and wider than his body. Noticing it was seemingly impossible for him to crunch the log literally bigger than him, he methodically cut it into sections twice the size of the leaves he'd been practicing with.

Hours of channeling lightning chakra into a piece of cut log yielded no visible results - no crunching, no splintering, not even a scorch mark. Yet he continued even after days, sensing an increment in his chakra slightly (only a 0.05% increment).

This attempt drained his chakra and with each recovery, he felt chakra reserves growing larger. While his chakra reserve increased (with a very small amount), it was draining and a very long process, gobbling the time of his training. So, rather than dedicating specific times for crunching the cut logs, he incorporated the said exercise into his daily routine - practicing while reading, during meal preparation, grocery shopping, strolling, and on his walks.

Day after day, he poured his chakra into the stubborn wood. The lack of progress with the lightning transformation frustrated him but what other choice does he have? The wood became his constant companion.

One month of continuous pouring of lightning chakra into the piece of log proved his effort brought results. Instead of trying to affect the entire piece at once, he focused on a single point, imagining his chakra as a lightning bolt seeking the path of least resistance through the wood's cellular structure.

Suddenly, with a soft crackling sound, a thin line of char appeared along the wood's surface, following a perfect dendritic pattern – like lightning captured in wood. Not the dramatic splintering or crack or crunch he'd initially sought. Looking closer, Raijin noticed something fascinating: the char line wasn't random but followed the wood's natural grain.

"Lichtenberg figures," he whispered, remembering the term from his past life. These were the distinctive patterns of electricity left when passing through resistant materials.

"This is real progress."