Time passed with the quiet, relentless rhythm of a falling hourglass, and in the blink of an eye, a new year arrived. The winter snow had melted into spring mud, and the Academy walls felt more like a cage than a sanctuary to those with eyes on the horizon.
Inside the Class A room, Evan Kamiyo leaned back in his chair until the wooden legs creaked. He stared absentmindedly out the window at the birds perched along the roof tiles. Their wings fluttered freely, unconcerned with chakra networks, clan politics, or the heavy weight of destiny.
No matter what world it was, or how many special powers were involved, going to school always felt the same. It was an exercise in patience and the art of looking busy while the mind traveled elsewhere.
Shikamaru Nara sat beside him in a nearly identical posture. His chin was propped on his palm, his eyes half-closed, watching a particularly fluffy cloud drift past the eaves. With the warm afternoon sunlight pouring in, he looked like he was seconds away from a deep slumber.
At the front of the room, Iruka Umino was a stark contrast of nervous energy. Sweat dotted his forehead as he paced, chalk in hand. His eyes repeatedly drifted toward Evan and Shikamaru, the two pillars of indifference in his classroom.
These two were undeniably his most troublesome students. It wasn't because they lacked ability—it was quite the opposite. Evan's talent was frighteningly precise, and Shikamaru's intelligence was sharp enough to dismantle most problems before Iruka even finished speaking.
But both shared a singular, frustrating flaw: they were selectively serious. Iruka knew that forcing discipline through pressure alone would fail. To them, a teacher's authority was just another variable to be calculated and ignored.
The chalk snapped sharply against the blackboard, a sound like a small bone breaking. Iruka slammed the remaining piece down with a loud crack, startling a few of the civilian students in the front row.
"Today," Iruka said firmly, his voice vibrating with a rare edge, "I am teaching you two a specific lesson about the reality of being a shinobi. It is not just about raw power."
"As a ninja," Iruka continued, taking a steadying breath, "you must learn to solve problems in the simplest and most direct way. Elegance and efficiency are the markers of a true master."
Evan didn't even blink. He continued to watch the birds. Beside him, however, Hinata Hyuga shifted in her seat. Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for a piece of chalk on her own desk, her lavender eyes flickering with a strange, sudden resolve.
"Iruka-sensei… I think… I think Evan's answer from the homework is incorrect…" Her voice was soft, barely a whisper, yet in the quiet room, it sounded like a thunderclap.
The classroom fell into a stunned silence. Normally, Hinata never spoke up. She was content to sit quietly in Evan's shadow, a gentle observer who rarely raised her hand even when she knew the answer.
But now, she had stepped forward, perhaps sensing that Iruka's frustration was reaching a breaking point. She was trying to deflect the teacher's ire by engaging in the academic debate.
Iruka turned sharply toward Evan, his eyebrows knitting together. "Kamiyo Evan. Stand up and answer the question on the board."
Evan scratched his cheek helplessly. He looked at the blackboard, which was covered in dense formulas regarding the parabolic arc of a weighted projectile and the wind resistance coefficients of a standard shuriken.
"…I don't know," Evan said honestly.
The words were plain. They were also infuriating. To Iruka, it sounded like a blatant lie coming from a student who had already mastered high-level medical theory.
Iruka laughed angrily, a sharp, barking sound. "You don't know?! You, who can identify every nerve in the human body, can't calculate a simple strike?"
He pointed at the board with a trembling finger. "Then tell me—why can a seasoned Chunin throw a kunai with pinpoint accuracy, but can't throw a simple rock with the same lethal force?"
The question hung heavy in the air. The other students leaned forward, even Sasuke's eyes narrowing as he pondered the physics of the riddle.
Evan's expression shifted. He stared at the board, then at the wooden desks, then at the golden light spilling through the window. He knew the answer was about chakra-conductive focus and the internal stabilization of intent.
A Kage-level powerhouse could answer this instantly. But it wasn't something that could be explained cleanly with Iruka's formulas. It was a feeling of the soul aligning with the tool.
"…I don't know how to explain that in words that fit your chalk marks, Sensei," Evan replied, his voice devoid of sarcasm.
Iruka's laughter turned sharp. The defiance, even if unintentional, was more than his patience could bear. "Fine. If the classroom is too small for your thoughts, go find a bigger space. Stand up and get out."
Without hesitation, Evan stood and walked out of the classroom. He didn't look back at the envious or stunned looks of his classmates. He knew exactly what he needed: a place to think.
On the playground, Evan lay beneath a massive, ancient tree. He folded his arms behind his head, eyes half-closed as the leaves swayed in a gentle spring breeze. He wasn't upset; he was relieved.
Iruka couldn't understand yet. This wasn't about physics or mathematics. It was about the structure of reality and how a ninja's will could bend it. Not everything could be taught inside four walls.
He planned to graduate early anyway. In the future, the paths of his classmates would diverge sharply. Some would be weapons. Others would be leaders. He intended to be the one who kept them all alive.
A soft rustle of fabric caught his attention. Evan opened his eyes and looked up. A pair of scarlet eyes stared down at him from atop the stone fence bordering the Academy grounds.
Uchiha Itachi.
Evan froze for a brief second. They hadn't seen each other since the night in the hospital. Itachi's gaze was calm, but there was a profound exhaustion buried in those red depths—a look of a man caught between an immovable object and an unstoppable force.
"I don't know," Evan thought, staring back. "Are you busy saving the village… or are you already trapped in the nightmare?"
Before Evan could form a question, Itachi's presence blurred. With a faint shimmer of the Body Flicker Technique, he vanished into the shadows of the surrounding trees without leaving a single footprint.
Evan frowned. The air felt colder, despite the sunlight. Something felt off. The birds he had been watching earlier had all stopped singing.
The Hokage's Office
That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Sarutobi Hiruzen sat in his darkened office. The only light came from the glowing embers in his pipe. Across from him, hidden in the gloom, stood Itachi Uchiha, kneeling on one knee.
"You've decided?" the Third Hokage asked. His voice sounded older tonight, stripped of its usual grandfatherly warmth.
Itachi nodded, his head bowed. "Yes. The clan's coup is imminent. If I do not act, the civil war will tear Konoha apart from the inside. Other nations will invade. The village will fall."
Hiruzen exhaled a long, heavy cloud of smoke. "Once you choose this path, Itachi, there is no turning back. You will be branded a traitor. You will be hunted by the very home you are trying to save."
"I understand," Itachi replied. His voice didn't waver, but his hands were clenched so tightly his knuckles were white.
Silence followed, a thick, suffocating weight that filled the room. Finally, Hiruzen spoke again, his voice heavy with a grief that words could not fully express.
"If you truly do this… the Uchiha name will become a curse. You will bear the weight of a thousand sins alone. Is it worth it?"
Itachi's eyes remained fixed on the floor. "For Sasuke… for his future in a village at peace… it is enough."
Hiruzen closed his eyes. "You have a heart of gold, Itachi. It is a tragedy that it must be forged in blood."
With a final, silent bow, Itachi vanished. Outside the window, a deep, unnatural night descended over the Hidden Leaf. A storm was coming—one that would wash away an entire legacy in a single night.
And Evan Kamiyo, still lying beneath the tree on the quiet playground, had no idea that the "gears of destiny" he so often thought about were about to grind an entire clan into dust.