Konoha was a village built on the foundations of two pillars that had once stood as rivals before becoming the dual hearts of the Land of Fire: the Hyuga clan and the Uchiha clan.
The Hyuga compound, where Evan Kamiyo had frequently escorted Hinata home after their quiet lunches, was situated near the inner circle of the village. Its proximity to the Hokage Building was a testament to its status as the village's "Right Eye"—a symbol of tradition, unwavering stability, and quiet authority.
The Uchiha clan's situation, however, was a stark contrast, painted in shades of isolation and growing resentment.
In the wake of the Nine-Tails Rebellion, fear and suspicion had settled over the Uchiha district like a suffocating shroud. Many villagers claimed to have seen the crimson glint of the Sharingan reflected in the fox's eyes that fateful night. Rumors, fueled by grief and the whispers of the village higher-ups, spread faster than any official truth.
Fugaku Uchiha, the clan head, had initially ordered his people to remain calm. He preached patience, waiting for an official explanation and the return of the Fourth Hokage. But Minato Namikaze never returned. He had died a hero, leaving behind a power vacuum and a village looking for someone to blame.
Sarutobi Hiruzen had been forced out of retirement to reclaim the hat, and with him came a colder, more clinical gaze toward the Uchiha. Under the subtle guidance of the village council and Danzo Shimura, the pressure mounted until the clan was quietly, systematically relocated to the very edge of Konoha—far from the political nerve center and even further from the village's trust.
Shisui Uchiha sat silently on the sloping roof of his ancestral home, his gaze fixed on the moon. It was a silver coin hanging in a sky of velvet ink, indifferent to the turmoil below.
Though he was still young, the weight pressing against Shisui's chest was heavier than most veterans could survive. He was a man pulled in five different directions at once: his duty to the clan, his loyalty to the village, the expectations of the Hokage, the dark demands of Danzo, and the shifting resolve of his own clan chief.
As an elite ANBU operative, Shisui had been handed a mission by Hiruzen himself: monitor Uchiha Itachi. On paper, it was surveillance. In reality, it was protection—an attempt to keep the clan's two brightest stars from burning out in the coming storm.
"Sorry, Shisui-san," a voice whispered from the shadows behind him, as soft as a falling leaf. "Sasuke insisted I follow you. He's... restless tonight."
Shisui didn't flinch. He turned his head and offered a tired, brotherly smile. "Itachi. You really shouldn't sneak up on an ANBU captain like that. It's a bad habit for your heart rate."
The boy standing there was already a paradox. Uchiha Itachi was a child who contemplated the philosophy of life and the nature of war at an age when his peers were still struggling with basic calligraphy.
Shisui had come tonight to gauge the atmosphere of the clan, but the news Itachi brought was bleak. In recent months, the "Hawk" faction—the radicals who demanded a coup to reclaim their dignity—had seized control of the narrative. Fugaku's moderate voice was being drowned out by the roar of the prideful.
"Brother Shisui," Itachi said, his voice devoid of emotion but heavy with certainty. "If this trajectory remains unchanged, the village and the clan will clash. It is no longer a question of 'if,' but 'when.'"
Shisui didn't deny it. He could feel the tension in the very air of the district—the way the guards gripped their weapons a little tighter, the way the children were being taught to view the Hokage with suspicion.
"Don't worry, Itachi," Shisui said, standing up and dusting off his dark trousers. "I already have a solution in mind. Something that can stop the rebellion without a single drop of blood being spilled."
He reached out and gently patted Itachi's hair, a rare moment of tenderness in their high-stakes lives. At that moment, a final, desperate decision solidified in Shisui's heart. He would use Kotoamatsukami—the ultimate illusion—to rewrite the clan's will. He would report his plan to the Third Hokage tomorrow and hope the old man's benevolence was enough to sanction such a drastic measure.
Before he leaped into the night, Shisui paused. "By the way... I met a boy today. Evan Kamiyo. The little doctor people have been talking about."
Itachi's brow furrowed slightly. "The orphan? Why mention him now?"
"He healed me today," Shisui replied, his voice tinged with lingering awe. "I had a jagged wound from the border mission. He closed it in seconds. No scars, no chakra exhaustion, no cellular backlash. I've seen Tsunade-sama work during the tail end of the war... and honestly, Itachi, this child's touch is cleaner."
Itachi remained skeptical. He believed in hard work and the absolute limits of biology. "Medical ninjutsu is bound by the patient's own vitality. It cannot be 'cleaner' than the body allows."
Shisui laughed, a sound of genuine amusement. "If I hadn't felt it myself, I wouldn't believe it either. But my instincts are screaming at me: Evan Kamiyo is the most dangerous kind of genius. He doesn't just fix the body; he restores it."
The next morning, at the Konoha Hospital, Evan Kamiyo's Shadow Clone was busy processing the usual influx of morning patients. The real Evan was currently deep in the forest, practicing the Great Breakthrough technique, but the clone was perfectly capable of handling the "Little Genius Doctor" duties.
The door to the private treatment room opened, and a boy with long black hair and deep stress lines beneath his eyes walked in. He moved with a grace that suggested he could kill everyone in the room before they could blink.
Uchiha Itachi.
"So," the Evan-clone said, not looking up from his ledger. "Shisui-senpai actually convinced you to come?"
Itachi stopped, his eyes scanning the room for traps out of habit. "He said your medical ninjutsu was... unique. He insisted I have my respiratory system checked."
Evan gestured to the stool. "Sit. I don't care who you are or what eyes you have. In this room, you're just a patient with a heartbeat that's too fast for your age."
Itachi sat, surprised by the boy's bluntness. Evan placed his palm against Itachi's chest. For the first time, the System took a significant amount of time to process. The green glow of Evan's chakra delved deep, encountering the specialized, high-tension pathways of the Uchiha's spiritual energy.
Two minutes passed in total silence.
[Ding!] [Target Healed: Uchiha Itachi (Spiritual Exhaustion and Early-Stage Respiratory Strain Detected)]
[Reward: Spirit +1.5] [Reward: Fire Attribute Nature Transformation +3.5] [Reward: System Points +8]
The healing pulse was profound. Itachi felt a sudden, sharp clarity wash over him. The chronic tightness in his chest—a result of overusing high-level Fire Style and the sheer mental burden of his double-life—evaporated.
"You're healed," Evan said, withdrawing his hand and wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. "But your condition isn't just physical, Itachi. You're burning your candle from both ends and the middle. Take care of your body, or your eyes won't be the only thing that goes dark."
Itachi stood up, flexing his lungs. He felt lighter than he had since he was five years old. "I understand. Thank you, Evan-kun."
"Don't thank me. Just pay the receptionist," the clone replied dryly.
Later that afternoon, the original Evan was relaxing on the porch of his home, enjoying a bento prepared by Hinata. He felt the memories of his clones flowing back to him—the thrill of the hunt in the forest and the clinical satisfaction of treating Itachi.
He had two clones working now—one at the hospital accumulating points and chakra, and another in the forest grinding beast-constitution. It was perfect efficiency.
As for Itachi... Evan stared at the blue sky, his eyes thoughtful. He had seen the "storm" inside the boy. It wasn't a physical ailment; it was the rot of a destiny that demanded he choose between his blood and his home.
"Am I alright?" Itachi had asked before leaving.
"Physically? You're perfect," Evan had told him. "But your problem is your heart. You're trying to carry a village that doesn't want to be carried."
Evan shook his head. He had no intention of getting tangled in the Uchiha coup. He found the "sacrificial hero" trope to be a tragic waste of potential. Shisui would eventually give his life for a peace that wouldn't last, and Itachi would stain his hands with the blood of his kin to protect a brother who would grow up hating him.
To Evan, power was meant to protect life, not erase it for the sake of a "greater good" dictated by old men in a tower.
"If they want to destroy themselves, that's their choice," Evan murmured, taking a bite of a perfectly seasoned tamagoyaki. "I'll just be here to stitch up whoever is left standing."
But as the sun set, Evan felt the Yin chakra he had taken from Shisui hum in his veins. The gears of destiny were grinding, and whether he liked it or not, the "Little Genius Doctor" was becoming a name that both the light and the dark were beginning to rely on.