The bell rang just before the horizon swallowed the sun, casting long, bruised shadows across the Academy grounds.
By the time Iruka stepped back into the classroom, his sandals clicking rhythmically on the hardwood, Evan Kamiyo and the others had already returned to their seats. The timing was precise—a surgical execution of punctuality. Iruka paused at the threshold, suspicion flickering across his scarred face like a passing cloud, but the boys were so perfectly still that he had no choice but to continue the final announcements.
When class was finally dismissed, the room exhaled in waves. The heavy, stagnant air of the lecture was replaced by the chaotic energy of freedom. Chairs scraped harshly against the floor, bags snapped shut, and voices rose in a messy crescendo of evening plans and gossip.
Ino stood up first, brushing the dust from her purple skirt with a practiced flick of her wrist. Hinata followed with her usual quiet grace, offering Evan a small, nearly imperceptible nod. By now, the rest of the class had accepted Evan's circle as a fixed law of nature—a constant, silent current flowing steadily beside the main stream of Academy life.
Shikamaru gave a lazy, two-fingered wave and vanished through the door without a single comment, his mind likely already halfway to a nap.
"Sensei didn't say anything while we were gone?" Evan asked, his voice low and calm as he adjusted his medical pouch.
Ino shook her head, her blonde ponytail swaying. "He was irritated, sure, but nothing serious. He's too stressed about the graduation ceremony to play detective. Just… be careful next time, Evan. You're pushing your luck with him."
Evan nodded. That was enough for him. He had spent his afternoon more productively than listening to a lecture on the history of the Land of Fire, and in his world, efficiency was the only true virtue.
They were halfway to the door when the atmosphere in the hallway curdled. Sasuke Uchiha stepped directly into Evan's path, his silhouette framed by the orange glow of the hallway windows.
The air shifted, turning cold and brittle. Sasuke's posture was rigid, his eyes sharp and burning with a feverish intensity. He didn't spare a glance for Ino or Hinata; his focus was a laser, locked entirely on Evan.
"Kamiyo," he said. The name was a rasp, a challenge that had been festering in his throat for weeks. "Fight me."
The classroom quieted almost instantly. Students who were halfway out the door stopped, sensing the sudden spike in tension. Even the birds in the courtyard seemed to fall silent.
Evan studied the Uchiha for a moment. He wasn't annoyed—he was thoughtful. Sasuke's presence had undergone a dark evolution recently. The anger wasn't just a surface flare anymore; it was sharper, more desperate, like a serrated blade grinding against bone in the dark.
"Today," Sasuke continued, his voice tight and vibrating with a suppressed tremor. "End this. No more excuses about 'training' or 'later.' Now."
A few students whispered behind their hands. Sakura froze mid-step, her hand clutched to her chest, clearly torn between the excitement of seeing her idol fight and the sickening anxiety of seeing him wounded.
Evan sighed once, the sound echoing in the quiet hall. He looked at the sky through the window, then back at Sasuke's obsidian eyes. He saw the "Gears of Destiny" turning in those eyes, fueled by a grief he couldn't begin to heal with medicine.
"Fine."
Sakura rushed forward, her face pale. "You can't—this is school grounds—you'll both get in trouble with the instructors!"
Evan didn't even glance at her as he turned toward the training ground, his hands deep in his pockets. Sasuke followed immediately, his steps heavy and purposeful, leaving a wake of silence behind him.
Ten minutes later, the outcome was decided as cleanly as a surgical cut.
Sasuke lay on the dirt of the arena, his chest heaving in jagged, desperate gulps for air. His vision was a blurred mess of orange sky and gray dust. His body responded slower than his thoughts, his muscles twitching in a futile rebellion against the commands he was forcing through his nervous system.
Evan stood a few steps away, his breathing as steady as if he had just finished a light stroll. He hadn't used a single flashy jutsu. He hadn't even broken a sweat.
The difference between them wasn't a matter of raw strength or hidden techniques. It was a matter of timing. Reaction. Absolute, clinical control. Evan moved with the economy of a predator, while Sasuke moved with the frantic desperation of a survivor.
Sasuke slammed his fist into the dirt, the impact sending a small cloud of dust into the air. "Why…?" he hissed through gritted teeth.
He trained every day. He trained harder than anyone in the Academy. He trained until his hands bled and his eyes burned. And yet, the gap hadn't closed—it had widened. It felt as if every step he took forward, Evan took three.
Evan crouched beside him, ignoring the glare of pure vitol that Sasuke directed at him. He reached out and placed a firm hand on Sasuke's shoulder. A surge of chakra flowed from Evan's palm—clean, cool, and frighteningly precise. It began knitting the bruised tissue of Sasuke's shoulder and stabilizing the erratic rhythm of his breath.
A familiar, digital-like sensation passed through Evan's awareness, a byproduct of his unique perception.
[Healing Target: Uchiha Sasuke]
[Spirit +1.3]
[Pure Indra Chakra: Detected]
[Points +10]
Evan's eyes narrowed slightly. So that was it. The resonance he felt from Sasuke wasn't just talent; it was an echo of something ancient and volatile. The "Indra" signature was becoming more pronounced as Sasuke's hatred deepened.
He finished the treatment and stood up, dusting off his pants. "You're improving, Sasuke," Evan said, his voice devoid of any edge or mockery. "Your speed is up, and your hand seals are flawless. You're just not improving fast enough for the ghost you're chasing."
Sasuke clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached, but he didn't argue. He couldn't. The dirt on his face and the lingering coolness of Evan's healing chakra were the only arguments that mattered.
That silence spoke louder than any insult Sasuke could have hurled.
They separated without ceremony. Sasuke returned toward the deserted Uchiha district alone, his shoulders rigid, his thoughts heavier than the sandals on his feet. He walked through the gates of his clan's graveyard, a prince of nothing.
That night, Evan returned home. He stopped at his garden gate, his eyes scanning the property.
The yard was a disaster.
The heavy oak training posts he had installed were snapped like toothpicks. The stone lanterns were overturned, and the ground was scarred with deep, jagged gouges that hadn't been there that morning. It looked as if a small hurricane had been localized entirely within his fence line.
Evan closed his eyes slowly, taking a deep breath of the evening air. "…Kuro."
A low, apologetic bark answered from the shadows near the porch. Kuro, his ninja dog, trotted out, looking far too proud of the destruction he had caused while "practicing" the lightning-pulse Evan had taught him.
Evan exhaled, the tension of the day draining away rather than rising. He wasn't angry. Whoever—or whatever—had done this wasn't an enemy. It was just uncontrolled force. It was potential without a leash.
He turned and walked inside, Kuro following closely at his heels, the dog's tail wagging in a rhythmic thump-thump against the doorframe.
Somewhere deeper in the village, in a room filled with the scent of old parchment and cold shadows, something unseen took notice of the day's events.
It didn't watch with hunger. It didn't watch with malice. It watched with the cold, detached interest of a scientist looking at a new element.
Kamiyo Evan wasn't prey to be hunted. He wasn't a hero to be lauded.
He was a variable. A wildcard in a game that was only just beginning to fill the board.
As Evan sat in the dark of his living room, Kuro resting his head on his knee, he knew the "Pressure Test" of the Academy was over. The real test—the one where the stakes were measured in lives rather than points—was waiting just beyond the graduation gates.