"Evan Kamiyo."
Iruka's voice echoed through the classroom, sharp and laced with a visible, biting irritation. The usual hum of morning chatter—the shuffling of bags and the squeal of chairs—died instantly.
Iruka held a single exam paper in his hand. His fingers tightened around the edges of the parchment until it crinkled. "Tell me," he said, his voice dropping to a cold, clinical tone, "what exactly are you trying to do here? Your score is technically passing, but it's barely higher than Naruto Uzumaki's—yet every single answer feels like it was written by someone looking down on the exam itself from a great height."
A few students shifted uncomfortably. They looked at the paper, then back at Evan, who sat with a posture so relaxed it was almost an insult to the stress of the week.
Iruka slapped the paper lightly against the wooden podium. The sound was like a small whip crack. "And explain this. Why did you provide complex answers to questions that weren't even asked? Why complicate the simple?"
Whispers rippled across the room like wind through dry grass. Even some of the students who usually respected Evan's quiet strength felt a twinge of resentment. If he possessed the knowledge to answer like that, why was he playing the role of a "dead last" alongside Naruto?
Evan stood up calmly. He felt the small, trembling hand of Hinata on his sleeve and gently loosened her grip with a reassuring pat before stepping into the aisle.
"Sensei," he said, his voice as steady as a deep well, "I believe my answers are fundamentally correct. If the curriculum is built on half-truths, I see no reason to repeat them."
Iruka narrowed his eyes, his scars twitching. "Then explain them. In front of everyone. If you're going to be a genius, be one out loud."
He held the paper up for the class to see. "First question: Describe the origin of chakra. The textbook states it is a natural energy refined within the body. You wrote—and I quote—'Chakra was a gift inherited from the Sage of Six Paths.'"
Laughter burst out from the back rows immediately. Inuzuka Kiba nearly fell off his seat, while even some of the civilian students giggled behind their hands.
"A legend!" one cried out. "What's next? Is he going to say he saw a dragon in the forest?"
Iruka scoffed, though his eyes remained sharp. "That's folklore, Evan. That belongs in a storybook, not a formal academy paper."
Evan met Iruka's gaze without flinching. "History and folklore only diverge when people forget the source to make themselves feel more in control. Chakra theory itself assumes an origin point—a singularity. Denying the Sage because he sounds mythical doesn't make the answer incorrect; it just makes the questioner narrow-minded."
The classroom fell into a suffocating silence. Even Shikamaru opened his eyes fully, staring at Evan's back with a newfound intensity.
Iruka hesitated, the weight of the boy's conviction momentarily stalling his rebuke. "…Continue," he muttered.
"The second question asked why shuriken trajectories curve," Evan said, stepping closer. "The textbook answer is 'the thrower's wrist flick.' I answered using parabolic motion, drag coefficients, and air resistance. If thrown with sufficient chakra rotation, the curve isn't a mystery—it's a predictable mathematical certainty."
Shikamaru slowly lifted his head, a small, tired smirk touching his lips. Troublesome… but he's right. He's looking at the world through the eyes of a scientist, not just a soldier.
Iruka pressed on, his frustration mounting as he felt the authority of the textbook slipping. "Then why did you write combat probability formulas in the margins? This was a history and theory test!"
"If I throw a weapon," Evan replied, his voice dropping an octave, "I don't aim just to throw. I aim to hit. If the probability of a hit is less than eighty percent, the move is a waste of energy. Probability determines efficiency. Efficiency determines survival."
No one laughed this time. The cold, mechanical logic of the statement sent a chill through the room. It was the voice of someone who didn't play at being a ninja, but understood the grim reality of the trade.
Iruka exhaled sharply and turned away, rubbing his temple. "Enough. Evan Kamiyo, your thinking is… unconventional. To say the least." He paused, then added in a quiet, almost defeated tone, "But there is no technical error. Sit down."
The exam papers were collected in a heavy silence. Iruka didn't stay behind the podium. "Today's lecture is over. Everyone to the training grounds. We're moving to practical application."
The Training Ground
The students lined up under a wide, pale sky. The training ground was a dusty circle of earth, baked hard by the sun and scarred by the footprints of generations of shinobi. This was their first real combat-oriented exercise since the "Blood Moon" incident.
Iruka glanced at his roster, trying to clear the tension from his mind. "First match: Ino Yamanaka versus Choji Akimichi."
The two entered the ring. It was a brief, awkward exchange. Choji, ever the gentle soul, didn't want to hurt his friend, and Ino was too focused on her form. Choji eventually conceded after a few light strikes, citing a sudden lack of energy.
Iruka nodded, jotting down notes. "Second match." He looked down at the paper, his eyes flickering. "Hinata Hyuga versus Sakura Haruno."
Hinata stiffened. Her fingers went to her chin in her characteristic nervous gesture. Sakura stepped forward with a determined look, her pink hair fluttering in the breeze.
Evan turned slightly. "Hinata," he said quietly, loud enough only for her to hear. "Don't force the Gentle Fist. Focus on your balance. Protect your wrists and let her momentum do the work."
She nodded, her lavender eyes clearing of doubt. She stepped into the ring and took a focused stance.
The match began. Sakura lunged with a straightforward punch, but Hinata's footwork was clean. She moved like water, sliding past the strike and delivering a precise, light tap to Sakura's shoulder. It wasn't a bone-breaking blow, but it was perfectly timed. Sakura tried to keep her distance, but she lacked the physical conditioning to outpace a Hyuga. The bout ended quickly, Hinata winning without using any excess force.
Iruka studied Hinata carefully. The Hyuga really are different. Even the shy ones have a core of steel.
Hinata stepped back, her cheeks faintly red as she caught Evan's brief nod of approval. He didn't cheer. He didn't clap. He just gave her that look of quiet acknowledgment that meant more to her than a stadium of applause.
The Name That Changed the Air
Iruka inhaled slowly, sensing the atmosphere of the playground sharpening. The wind seemed to pick up, swirling dust around the feet of the students.
"Final match," he announced, his voice carrying a weight that made everyone stand a little straighter.
"Evan Kamiyo… versus Sasuke Uchiha."
The training ground went silent. It was as if a vacuum had swallowed the sound of the nearby forest.
Sasuke's eyes lifted. They were cold, sharp, and focused with a terrifying intensity. Since the night his clan was erased, Sasuke had become a ghost in the classroom, a boy made of jagged edges. He stepped forward, the heels of his sandals clicking against the hard earth.
Evan stepped forward with a contrasting calmness. He didn't look like he was going to a fight; he looked like he was going to a consultation.
Sasuke spoke first, his voice a low rasp. "You."
There was no rage in his tone. Rage was for those who still had something to lose. This was pure, undiluted intent.
"You talk too much in class," Sasuke continued, his dark eyes locking onto Evan's. "You hide behind your big words and your theories. I'll prove today that your answers were a mistake. Real power doesn't need formulas."
Evan didn't respond with words. He simply shifted his weight, taking a loose, unconventional stance that left his vitals guarded but his movement free.
Around them, the students held their breath. Naruto watched with wide eyes, his hands gripped into fists. Ino and Hinata stood side-by-side, their faces pale.
Two different paths were meeting in that circle. Two different pillars of the new generation. One was driven by the crushing weight of loss and the fire of revenge. The other was driven by a cold, clinical understanding of the world's mechanics.
As they faced each other, Sasuke felt something he hadn't felt since the night the blood moon rose—a strange, prickling sensation on his skin. It wasn't fear. It was pressure. The kind of pressure one feels when standing before a mountain that refuses to move.
Evan's eyes remained unreadable, reflecting the pale sky. The "Gears of Destiny" were about to engage, and for the first time, Sasuke Uchiha wasn't sure he was the one turning them.