Konoha was called the Village Hidden in the Leaves for a reason that became visceral the moment one stepped beyond the residential districts.
A large part of the village was surrounded by a sea of dense, ancient greenery, with primary forests covering nearly a tenth of its total territory. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that Konoha was a fortress-city built into the heart of a sentient woodland. The trees here were titanic, their roots twisting like the bodies of sleeping dragons beneath the soil.
At the edge of this vast, emerald woodland, Evan Kamiyo walked with a measured, predatory slowness. A handful of kunai rested loosely in his palm, the cold steel a familiar weight. His sharp eyes scanned his surroundings with a rhythmic intensity, searching for the broken twigs and disturbed earth that signaled the presence of wild beasts.
Just yesterday, a revolutionary thought had crossed his mind—one that could potentially break his training bottleneck.
Healing humans granted him attribute points and skill fragments. That much was proven. But what about the rest of the world? What about the creatures that shared this planet's chakra?
He had first tried a controlled experiment: buying a live fish from the market and "healing" a small nick he made in its side. The result had been a deafening silence from the System. No response. No notification.
But Evan didn't believe in failures; he believed in variables. It was possible the fish—a simple, low-energy organism—was too weak to trigger a meaningful gain. To verify his theory, Evan had come to the "danger zones" of the forest after his shift at the hospital, looking for targets with higher biological density.
There were plenty of wild beasts prowling the outskirts of Konoha. During these times of relative peace, the number of C-rank extermination missions had dropped significantly. The village elders often left a certain population of beasts alive; it served as a natural barrier for intruders and provided the Academy students and Genin with a controlled environment to gain real combat experience. It was essentially killing two birds with one stone.
"ROAR—!"
A thunderous, throat-tearing roar shattered the midday silence, sending a flock of birds screaming into the sky.
Evan's eyes narrowed into slits as a massive brown bear, nearly three meters tall when standing, crashed through a thicket of ferns. Its fur was matted with old blood and pine resin, and its eyes were clouded with the territorial rage typical of a forest king.
Good luck, Evan thought, his pulse remaining unnervingly steady. A perfect, high-vitality test subject.
The moment the giant bear locked eyes with the small human, its expression twisted into raw hostility. It didn't see a child; it saw an intruder. It roared again, a sound that vibrated in Evan's very bones, and charged. The ground literally trembled beneath its multi-ton weight.
If a normal four-year-old—or even a fresh Academy student—were hit by that charge, the result would be a closed-casket funeral.
But Evan didn't move. He stood his ground, watching the distance close: ten meters, five, two.
When the bear's massive, curved claws were only centimeters away from his face—
Swish!
The Body Flicker Technique activated with a whisper of displaced air.
Evan vanished.
The bear staggered, its momentum carrying it forward into empty space. It huffed in confusion, its small brain unable to process how its prey had simply evaporated.
"Stupid animal," Evan's voice drifted from directly behind the beast.
He didn't draw a blade. He didn't use a jutsu. He simply planted his lead foot and snapped his leg forward in a clean, explosive roundhouse kick.
BOOM!
The impact sounded like a sledgehammer hitting a side of beef. The enormous bear was launched into the air, its massive bulk sailing five meters before smashing straight into the trunk of a giant cedar. The tree groaned, but held. The bear crashed heavily to the ground, the wind driven from its lungs in a pathetic wheeze.
Konoha's trees were no joke—twenty meters tall and reinforced by generations of ambient chakra. In his previous life, it would have taken a runaway truck to move a bear that size; here, a child with the right chakra-enhanced strike could do it.
Seeing the bear struggle to rise, its eyes rolling in pain, Evan showed no further aggression. He stepped forward and landed two precise, numbing punches to the base of its skull—not to kill, but to ensure it stayed down for the "procedure."
"Next step—treatment."
With a flick of his kunai, Evan deliberately opened two shallow wounds on the bear's thick shoulder. He then knelt beside the beast, the familiar emerald glow of medical chakra flowing from his palms.
The wounds glowed, the flesh knitting back together in seconds under his touch. As the last of the blood vanished, the screen flickered in his mind.
[Heal Beast: Brown Bear (High Vitality)] [Reward: Constitution +1.3]
Evan's eyes lit up. A surge of warmth flooded his muscles, the phantom fatigue of the day's training instantly replaced by a new layer of physical density.
His guess was correct. The System didn't discriminate by species; it rewarded the act of restoration itself. The more "life force" a creature possessed, the greater the reward.
This discovery changed everything.
Ninjas were absurd existences—capable of leveling mountains with a gesture—but their durability often lagged behind their destructive power. Evan's chakra reserves were already growing at a terrifying rate, but his physical body was still the bottleneck. This "Beast Grinding" method was the key to forging a body that could actually handle the strain of the Sage Body's eventual completion.
That afternoon, Evan moved through the woods like a ghost, treating three more bears and two massive wild boars. By the time the sun began to dip, he felt stronger than he had in months.
Just as he finished healing a particularly stubborn boar and prepared to head back for dinner—
Whoosh!
A kunai, whistling with a distinct, high-pitched hum, flew toward his head from the canopy.
Evan's instincts, honed by his improved Spirit attribute, screamed a warning. He reacted instantly, drawing his own kunai and preparing to intercept—
But before the blades could collide, a blur of motion flickered in his peripheral vision. A figure appeared mid-air, a foot snapping out to smash Evan's kunai away before it could clash with the first one.
"I'm sorry," a calm, melodic voice said from the shadows of the branches. "I didn't mean to spy on your training. I was simply patrolling the perimeter and became worried that a civilian child had wandered into a predator's territory."
The man landed softly on a branch, then hopped down to the forest floor. He made no hostile moves. Instead, he bowed slightly in a sincere, humble apology.
Evan studied him carefully, his mind instantly cross-referencing the man's appearance with the history he knew.
Short, curly black hair. Calm, deep-set eyes that seemed to carry the weight of the entire world. A gentle, disarming smile that felt entirely genuine. He wore the standard high-collared Uchiha tunic, but carried none of the arrogance usually associated with the clan.
So that's him...
The strongest illusionist of the Uchiha. The man whose name made enemies flee on sight. The future tragedy.
Uchiha Shisui.
"It's fine," Evan replied, sheathing his kunai and keeping his tone level. "This is just my personal training. I didn't realize I was being watched."
Seeing that the "child" had no intention of throwing a tantrum or crying, Shisui visibly relaxed. However, the curiosity in his eyes didn't fade. He had watched this boy kick a bear into a tree and then, bizarrely, spend his chakra to heal the animal.
Swish!
In the next instant, Shisui vanished. It wasn't just a Body Flicker; it was a mastery of movement so refined it looked like a glitch in reality. He reappeared directly in front of Evan, not a hair out of place.
Evan's pupils shrank. What terrifying speed...
"Hello," Shisui said with a warm smile, extending his hand. "My name is Uchiha Shisui. I'm a Jonin of the Leaf."
Evan shook his hand without hesitation. The grip was firm and honest. "Kamiyo Evan."
Shisui didn't look down on him. In fact, his expression grew more thoughtful as he looked at Evan's hands—hands that were steady and marked with the subtle callouses of a medic.
"Konoha's little genius doctor," Shisui said cheerfully, his tone lightening. "I've heard the rumors at the station. Some say you might even surpass Lady Tsunade someday."
"I'm just a student," Evan replied modestly, adopting the persona of the humble prodigy. "Tsunade-sama is the goal of every medic. Comparing me to her is... well, it's flattering, but far from the truth."
Shisui laughed, a genuine sound that echoed through the trees. He liked this kid. In an era where every young genius was arrogant and loud, Evan was a breath of fresh air.
However, Shisui's gaze shifted slightly, his trained eyes landing on a subtle, dark stain on the side of Evan's own tunic—not bear blood, but something older. He also noted the way Evan favored his left side ever so slightly.
"You look like you're carrying a few injuries of your own," Shisui noted.
Evan paused, then looked Shisui up and down. He activated his diagnostic vision, his chakra sensing picking up a chaotic, fluctuating rhythm in Shisui's own chest. Shisui was hiding it well, but he was exhausted. The tension between the Uchiha and the village was eating him alive, and he had likely been pushing himself through endless "peacekeeping" missions without rest.
"And you look like you haven't slept in three days, Shisui-senpai," Evan said suddenly, his tone turning clinical. "If you don't mind... I can treat you. It's the least I can do for a protector of the village."
He smiled—a soft, earnest, and expectant look that made it very hard to say no.
Shisui blinked, caught off guard by the child's boldness. Then, he let out a soft sigh and smiled back, his shoulders finally dropping an inch.
"Well," Shisui said, sitting down on a mossy log. "Who am I to refuse the village's rising star?"