Konoha was vast. Though historically and politically termed a "village," its actual scale rivaled that of a bustling metropolitan city. It stood as the second largest population center in the Land of Fire, surpassed in density and grandeur only by the capital where the Daimyo resided.
With thousands of active shinobi returning from missions and an even larger civilian population providing the infrastructure they required, the gears of commerce here never stopped turning. Where ninjas gathered, wealth inevitably followed. High-ranking shinobi were exceptionally well-paid, and even Genin received a stable, state-guaranteed income.
Consequently, Konoha's economy was a diverse, layered beast. It was quietly ruthless beneath its peaceful, tree-lined surface. It was a place where reputation was a currency just as volatile as the Ryo in one's pocket.
Evan Kamiyo walked through these busy streets with calm, observant eyes. He had long understood a dark truth that most children his age were too shielded to recognize: a world that justifies sending five-year-olds to a front line is a world that is already fundamentally broken.
Because of this realization, Evan didn't bother pretending that purity or absolute justice existed in the cracks of the village. He saw Konoha for what it was—a beautiful, lethal machine.
The Weight of Silence
The sudden break in his thoughts came in the form of a familiar, strained voice. "Let go! Let go of me!"
It was Naruto. Evan turned the corner and found a scene that was as common as it was cruel. Two older boys, likely Academy students a few years senior, had grabbed Naruto by his orange jacket sleeves. They were lifting him partially off the ground, laughing as the boy kicked helplessly in the air.
"Still playing ninja games, demon brat?" one of them sneered, his face twisted in a mock snarl.
"Maybe he thinks he's strong now because he passed a spar," the other mocked, shaking Naruto roughly. Naruto struggled, his face red with effort, but he was physically outmatched by the older teenagers.
The most telling part of the scene wasn't the bullies, but the people passing by. Some looked away instantly. Some pretended to be very interested in a nearby shop window. Others simply adjusted their pace to stay as far from the "trouble" as possible.
Evan felt no explosive rage. He didn't feel a heroic impulse to "save" the day. He felt only a cold, logical confirmation of his worldview. This, too, was the Will of Fire's shadow.
"Drop him."
The voice was not a shout. it was calm, flat, and carried an eerie lack of emotion. The two boys stopped laughing and turned, expecting to see a teacher or a meddling adult. Instead, they saw Evan standing a short distance away, his expression as unreadable as a mountain.
One of the boys scoffed, trying to regain his bravado. "And who are you supposed to be, kid? His little bodyguard?"
He didn't finish the sentence. Evan stepped forward once. Just once. There was no visible burst of chakra, no dramatic battle stance, and no verbal threat. Yet, something about the way Evan moved—his eyes fixed on their vitals, his timing perfect—triggered a primal, instinctive fear in the older boys.
Their survival instincts, buried deep in the amygdala, screamed that a predator had just entered their space. The grip on Naruto's jacket loosened involuntarily. Naruto fell to the cobblestones with a thud.
The boys stepped back, looking confused by their own fear. They didn't understand why their hearts were suddenly racing. Without another word, and without Evan having to lift a single finger, they turned and left in a hurried, awkward walk.
Pressure and Persistence
Naruto stared at the retreating figures, breathing hard, his face a mix of confusion and relief. He scrambled to his feet, dusting off his worn jumpsuit. "…Why are you here?" Naruto asked after a moment of silence.
Evan studied the boy. He saw the bruises and the dirt, but more importantly, he saw the spark in Naruto's eyes that refused to go out. "Shouldn't I ask you that?" Evan replied.
Naruto scratched the back of his head, forcing a shaky grin. "I was training. I'm gonna be Hokage, ya know? Can't let some big-mouthed jerks stop me."
Evan nodded slowly. "Then train smarter. You have energy, but you lack presence."
Naruto blinked, tilting his head. "Presence? Like… being loud?"
Evan turned away, starting his walk again. "Strength isn't just about the force of your fists or the complexity of your jutsu. It's about how people respond to you before you even act. It's about the pressure you exert on the world around you."
Naruto didn't fully grasp the philosophy—not yet—but he remembered the feeling. He remembered how the air had seemed to get heavy when Evan spoke. It wasn't about power. It was about an undeniable weight of intent.
Patterns of Growth
As the weeks at the Academy turned into months, a new pattern emerged. The social hierarchy of the class was shifting around Evan like iron filings around a magnet.
Sasuke Uchiha challenged Evan repeatedly. Every afternoon, the two would meet in the sparring ring. And every time, Sasuke lost. It wasn't an overwhelming defeat; Evan never crushed him or humiliated him.
In fact, Evan won by margins so thin they felt intentional. He was like a wall that grew just an inch taller than whatever ladder Sasuke brought to climb it. Evan noticed that the system—the village's observation network—responded differently to this.
He wasn't showing raw dominance. He was building influence. By being the "unbeatable wall," he was forcing the elite of the class to revolve around his pace.
Naruto was changing too. Even without the direct influence of a master, Naruto's persistence was legendary. He lost often, but he never stayed down. Evan watched carefully and realized that the "System" of the world rewarded that persistence just as much as it rewarded genius.
Persistence was a form of chakra refinement in itself. Evan stored this observation in his mental archives. Everything in this world—power, luck, and even destiny—was a pattern that could be mapped.
The Copy Ninja's Lesson
That Saturday, following a direct and cryptic instruction from the Third Hokage, Evan walked toward Training Ground No. 1. It was a neat, isolated patch of forest and dirt, tucked away from the more public sectors.
Only one person stood there. He was leaning against a wooden post, his silver hair defying gravity, his face half-covered by a mask and a slanted headband. He was reading a small, orange book with a very questionable cover.
Evan paused at the edge of the clearing. "…Kakashi-senpai."
Hatake Kakashi glanced up, his visible eye crinkling into a closed-eye smile. "Oh? You know me already? I thought I was being discreet."
"I know of Konoha's top technician," Evan replied, his tone respectful but direct. "The man of a thousand jutsu. Copy Ninja Kakashi."
Kakashi closed his book with a soft thud. "Straight to the point, huh? No childhood wonder? No asking for an autograph?"
"I want to learn ninjutsu," Evan said. "Specifically, I want to understand the architecture behind them."
Kakashi tilted his head, his gaze sharpening. "The Hokage told me you were a prodigy, but you're a bit of an odd one. You already know more than most Chunin. Why come to me?"
"Because I'm not interested in power for the sake of power," Evan replied, taking a step forward. "I am interested in control. I want to see how you bridge the gap between intent and reality."
Silence stretched between them. A bird chirped in the trees above. Kakashi stared at the boy for a long moment, looking for the arrogance usually found in young geniuses. He found none—only a terrifyingly clear sense of purpose.
"…That's dangerous thinking, kid," Kakashi said faintly. "Wanting to see the gears of the world usually leads to trouble."
"I know."
Kakashi sighed and pocketed his book. "Fine. If the old man insists, I suppose I can spare some time. But I'm not a gentle teacher." He settled into a loose, deceptive stance. "Show me what you can do. Give me a reason to keep my mask on."
The air shifted. The ground beneath Evan's feet felt tense. The real lesson—the one that would define the next decade—was about to begin.
End of Chapter