Three days passed in the rhythmic cadence of a village preparing for a new season. For Evan Kamiyo, the time was spent in quiet meditation and the mechanical efficiency of his shadow clones, but for the rest of Konoha, the air was thick with the scent of fresh ink and new beginnings.
The day finally arrived: the official opening of the Konoha Ninja Academy.
The main thoroughfare leading to the school was a river of color and sound. Parents dressed in their finest ceremonial tunics led their children toward the sprawling Academy grounds. The scene was a chaotic tapestry of human emotion—young boys boasting of their future as Hokage, girls smoothing out the creases in their new outfits, and parents wearing masks of pride that barely concealed their underlying anxiety.
In Konoha—and indeed, across the scorched landscapes of the five great nations—being a ninja was a high-status, high-income profession. It was the quickest path to social mobility and family honor. Naturally, it was also a profession that frequently ended in a name carved into a cold stone monument.
Still, the dream persisted. Even becoming a simple Genin or a mid-level Chunin was enough to pull a civilian family out of poverty and grant them a shield of protection.
Since the end of the Third Great Ninja War, Hiruzen Sarutobi had recalibrated the Academy's admission standards. In the bloody years of the conflict, children had been rushed through in two years to serve as fodder on the front lines. Now, in this fragile peace, the Academy was more inclusive. Anyone with a spark of chakra could enroll. It was a strategic move—it was far safer to screen and indoctrinate potential threats within the village walls than to allow gifted orphans to grow unchecked in the wild.
Evan remembered the history of the village; prodigies like Yuugao Uzuki or even Itachi had entered at an age when they could barely reach the door handles. But those were wartime exceptions. Now, the village preferred a slower burn.
When Evan arrived at the Academy gates, the courtyard was already a sea of people. He didn't bother pushing through the crowd. Instead, he found a solitary spot beneath the sprawling branches of an ancient oak tree. Leaning against the rough bark, he looked detached, perhaps even bored.
In reality, his mind was a high-speed processor. His eyes, sharpened by his rising Spirit attribute and the subtle influence of the Yin chakra he'd harvested, scanned the crowd with clinical precision. He wasn't looking at faces; he was looking at chakra signatures.
And soon, the "Future Strongmen" of the village began to appear.
The "Ino-Shika-Cho" trio was the first to catch his attention. They stood together by habit, a bond forged through generations of clan alliances.
Nara Shikamaru looked as though he were actively trying to fall asleep while standing up. Akimichi Choji was already deep into a fresh bag of chips, his jaw moving with rhythmic dedication. And Yamanaka Ino stood between them, her eyes darting around the courtyard like a hawk hunting for interesting prey.
"Hey, hey! Shikamaru, Choji, look over there!" Ino suddenly whispered, her voice bubbling with the kind of excitement only a six-year-old girl could muster. "That boy... he's actually really handsome!"
She pointed a manicured finger toward the oak tree.
Shikamaru opened one eye lazily, following her gaze. He spotted Evan leaning against the tree, arms crossed, watching the world with an expression that was far too calm for a child his age. Evan noticed the stare and offered a faint, polite smile—the kind of smile a doctor gives a patient he's about to cure.
Ino blushed instantly, waving with exaggerated enthusiasm.
Shikamaru let out a long, weary sigh. "So troublesome…" he muttered. "Why do girls start acting like this before they even learn how to throw a kunai?"
Still, even the lazy genius of the Nara clan couldn't ignore the anomaly. "That kid... his posture is perfect. He's not nervous at all."
Choji didn't look up. He just crunched a chip. "As long as he doesn't try to steal my snacks, he's fine with me."
"Ino," Shikamaru added, rubbing his temples, "do you think he'll be assigned to our class?"
"If he's in another class, I'm filing an official protest with the Hokage!" Ino replied, her competitive spirit already flaring.
Shikamaru shook his head. "Relax. Anyone admitted through a high-level recommendation—like the heirs of the major clans—usually ends up in Class A. It's for 'logistical efficiency.'"
Not long after, the atmosphere in the courtyard shifted. It wasn't a loud change, but a sudden cooling of the air.
Uchiha Sasuke arrived.
As the last remaining pride of the Uchiha clan after the "incident" with Shisui, Sasuke carried a heavy mantle. He was dressed in high-collared blues, his face a porcelain mask of stoicism. Every step he took drew whispers. To the villagers, he was a tragic prince; to the students, he was the mountain to be climbed.
Evan observed him closely. Even at this age, Sasuke's combat instincts were leagues ahead of the commoners. His chakra was cold, dense, and exceptionally refined. It was the chakra of Indra, beginning to stir in the vessel of a child.
Itachi Uchiha had personally escorted his brother to the gate. The sight of the two brothers—both geniuses, both carrying the weight of the red eyes—caused a stir among the parents.
After the official roll call, the students began to file toward their assigned rooms. As Shikamaru predicted, the elite heirs and the recommended prodigies were clumped together. Evan found himself walking toward Class A.
As the crowd thinned near the doorway, Itachi placed a hand on Sasuke's shoulder, guiding him toward Evan.
"Mr. Kamiyo," Itachi said. His voice was calm, but there was an unspoken depth in his gaze—a reminder of the night in the hospital. "Please take care of Sasuke in the future. He can be... headstrong."
"Nii-san?" Sasuke frowned, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "Why would you say that to him? I don't need anyone to take care of me."
Itachi didn't answer. His eyes lingered on Evan for a moment longer before he turned and vanished into a swirl of leaves—the Body Flicker technique executed with effortless grace.
Sasuke turned his gaze toward Evan. It was no longer a look of curiosity. It was a look of sharp, crystalline hostility. In Sasuke's world, Itachi's attention was the ultimate currency. To see his brother—his idol, his god—acknowledge a stranger with such gravity was an insult to his pride.
Kamiyo Evan. The name burned in Sasuke's mind.
So this is the 'genius' Nii-san mentioned. He looks like a medic, not a warrior.
Sasuke clenched his fists. The competitive streak inherent to the Uchiha bloodline flared up. Instead of a friendly greeting, Sasuke stepped into Evan's personal space, his eyes boring into Evan's.
Let's see who really deserves that look from my brother.
Evan blinked, genuinely confused for a moment. He hadn't expected to trigger a "Brother Complex" on the very first day of school. He could practically feel the Indra chakra radiating off Sasuke—an intense, volatile energy that fed on emotion.
Is this what they call the Curse of Hatred? Evan wondered. Even at six, it's already so sharp.
Instead of retreating or offering a placating word, Evan simply met Sasuke's gaze with his usual clinical detachment. It was the look of a scientist observing a particularly interesting specimen.
Sasuke's jaw tightened. He turned on his heel and walked into the classroom without another word.
Evan didn't follow immediately. He felt another presence approaching—one that felt like a gentle breeze after a summer storm.
Hyuga Hinata walked toward the gate, accompanied by her father. She looked small in the shadow of the massive estate gates, her fingers twisting nervously in the hem of her jacket.
Hiashi Hyuga stood like a statue of ice, his Byakugan-enhanced eyes scanning the perimeter. When his gaze landed on Evan, he didn't move, but the air around him seemed to grow heavier.
Evan didn't approach. He knew the rules of this game. He simply stood his ground and met Hinata's eyes. He gave a single, slow nod—a silent promise that he was there, and he wasn't going anywhere.
Hinata's shoulders dropped. The tension left her frame, and she returned the nod with a tiny, flickering smile that was for him alone.
Hiashi's clenched fist, hidden in his long sleeve, slowly relaxed. He watched the interaction with the cold calculation of a patriarch. This wasn't the frantic, messy infatuation of a child. It was something far more dangerous: Restraint.
To see a five-year-old boy exercise such poise under the crushing gaze of the Hyuga Head was... unsettling.
He knows his place, yet he doesn't fear it, Hiashi thought.
Hinata walked past Evan into the school, her steps finally certain. Evan followed a few paces behind, his mind already shifting gears.
The Academy had begun. The future of Konoha—the legends, the traitors, and the heroes—were all gathered in one room.
Evan stepped over the threshold, a faint smile playing on his lips.
Let the harvest begin.
Author's Note:
Thank you for your continued support! Every Power Stone helps us dive deeper into the lore.