Uchiha district.
The bedroom was washed in warm yellow lamplight.
"Alright, Izumi, time for bed."
Uchiha Sakurako tucked her daughter into the futon, smoothing the blanket over the small body.
"Mom," Izumi stuck her head back out of the covers, cheeks puffed, "you still haven't told me why you cried today."
Her mom had clearly cried.
Her eyes had been swollen and red. She just stubbornly refused to admit it.
Sakurako's beautiful face tightened, a flicker of embarrassment surfacing.
She wanted to say: That wasn't crying… that was…
But that kind of thing, she could never explain to her child.
So she could only lie.
"Enough. Mommy just… missed your father a little, that's all."
Izumi's expression firmed in an instant.
"Don't worry, Mom. When I become a real ninja, I'll protect you."
Sakurako's heart twisted.
"Mm. My Izumi is the best."
Her smile was bitter at the edges.
"Close your eyes. Sleep."
She watched until Izumi finally shut her eyes and her breathing began to slow.
Only then did Sakurako lie down on the futon beside her, soreness and exhaustion spilling into her bones.
She was tired. Very tired.
Her body felt like it had been wrung out.
But the moment she leaned back, she bumped into something solid.
Her heart seized.
She almost cried out—
A hand clamped gently but firmly over her mouth.
"Shh. It's me. You'll wake the child."
That low voice—
that she already associated with danger and chaos—
made her whole body tremble.
"E–Evan-sama?"
"It's me, Sakurako," Evan murmured behind her, head resting near her shoulder. "Rough day, huh? I'll rub your shoulders."
"Don't…"
Her protest melted into a sharp intake of breath.
"Evan-sama, I'm begging you… Izumi is right here," she whispered, eyes stinging.
She could feel her thoughts knotting into a mess.
She had no way to stop him. No power to push him out.
Evan's lips curved.
"It's fine. Just keep your voice down…"
Her answer came out as a broken sound that never quite became a word.
The candle flame wavered faintly.
Outside, the night was very quiet.
Inside, between mother, child, and uninvited intruder, something shifted again—
the fragile peace of a widow and her daughter, shattered and reassembled into a shape Sakurako could hardly recognize.
Early the next morning.
Izumi stared at the unfamiliar man standing in her house, brow furrowed.
"Who are you?"
Evan stretched lazily, as if he'd just rolled out of his own bed.
"You could call me… teacher."
"Eh?"
Izumi blinked, confused.
"I'm Evan," he added. "A shinobi. I can teach you swordsmanship."
"Ninja?"
Izumi's eyes lit up instantly.
"A real strong ninja?"
"Of course." Evan smiled. "Very strong."
"When will you teach me? Can we start now?" She practically bounced on her toes.
She'd dreamed of becoming a powerful kunoichi.
First order of business: beat that smug Uchiha Itachi into the ground.
"Now is fine."
Evan walked into the courtyard and found two sturdy branches.
A few quick cuts with a kunai, and they became two simple wooden swords.
He held one out to Izumi.
"Say it properly."
"Teacher!" she chirped, voice milky and earnest.
She didn't know who this weird uncle was,
but he was willing to teach her swordplay, so he was a good person in her world—at least for now.
Under the eaves, Sakurako quietly hung up the damp bedding, fingertips lingering on the cloth.
She'd seen everything from the doorway: her daughter's bright smile, Evan squatting down to adjust Izumi's grip on the wooden sword.
A tall man and a small girl, crossing wooden blades in the sun.
The picture was so warm it hurt—
like watching a scene from some normal family she'd never gotten to have.
She pursed her lips.
This man had barged into her life.
Into her body.
He'd smashed the calm, fragile routine that she and her daughter had painstakingly built.
Her heart was chaos.
Part of her knew this was wrong.
But another part—
the part that remembered the heat, the thrill, the sense of being physically alive again after years of numbness—
had started to fear that she might get used to this.
Might even start craving it.
Which made her feel cheap. Shameful.
But right now, seeing Izumi's happy face, she could only exhale a long, quiet sigh.
From a distance, with the wooden swords crossing in the sunlight, Evan and Izumi truly did look somewhat like father and daughter.
"…Fine," she whispered, looking down.
Since she couldn't stop him…
She might as well accept it.
And if he trained Izumi himself, then her girl would surely become an excellent kunoichi one day.
I'm doing this for Izumi, she told herself over and over.
Only for Izumi.
Somewhere deep in Konoha, in a dim, hidden chamber—
Shimura Danzō sat alone, a scroll in his hand.
His face was shadowed.
"October tenth," he murmured. "What a fine day."
"Hiruzen… did you really think keeping secrets from me would work?"
A faint sneer twisted his lips.
"The Nine-Tails—power like that should be used," he said softly.
"Not locked up and turned into a pet."
"Danzō-sama."
A Root operative appeared silently, dropping to one knee.
"We've completed an analysis of Evan's sword art training."
"Oh?" Danzō's interest sharpened. "Report."
"We followed your instructions," the man said. "Selected Root operatives with strong kenjutsu foundations and had them practice according to the scroll."
He hesitated.
"There was some improvement in their sword skills, but compared to Evan… the gap is still enormous."
"The power is nowhere near what he displays."
"After repeated experiments," he continued, "we discovered there are… certain organs in the body that appear to hinder the deeper stages of the technique."
Danzō listened intently, fingers tapping once against the scroll.
So Evan… lost something on the battlefield, and gained his sword in return?
Without any hesitation at all, Danzō's eyes hardened.
"Have them remove those organs," he said coldly.
"Then try again."
The Root ninja's face twitched almost imperceptibly under the mask.
But he did not argue.
"Yes, sir."
He vanished.
Danzō's expression didn't change.
To him, as long as it led to power, nothing was off limits.
Not even…
He let the thought trail off.
All for Konoha.
In the days that followed, Evan "deeply sympathized" with the hardships of an Uchiha widow's household.
And so he committed himself to a personal "poverty alleviation" project.
Day one: support the widow.
Day two: continue supporting the widow.
Uchiha Sakurako was soon "moved to tears."
At the same time, he squeezed in time to "tutor" Mitarashi Anko as well.
If anyone had asked, he would have said he was working very hard.
Public service, naturally.
Two days passed in a blink.
Konoha Year 48, October 10th.
The air in the village felt different.
To most civilians, nothing had changed.
But to those with sharper senses, there was an invisible tension running beneath the surface, like storm clouds gathering behind a sunny sky.
As the last rays of sunset gilded the rooftops, Evan arrived at Namikaze Minato's doorstep, already dressed for battle.
Beside him stood Hatake Kakashi, mask in place, eye sharp.
After learning the full details of Evan's "prophecy" and the coming enemy, Minato had spent those two days thinking.
And then, in very Hokage fashion, made a decision.
He had chosen to personally go to Kushina's side.
Because as her husband, he had to be there for the birth.
But as Hokage, he also had to protect the village.
Especially with an unknown enemy targeting them.
His answer:
Leave the village in the hands of the one person whose raw combat power was no less than his own.
Evan.
Evan had been speechless.
What a model Hokage, he'd thought dryly.
Still, staying in the village suited Evan's own plans perfectly.
"Evan-kun, I'm counting on you for the village tonight," Minato said now, bowing his head slightly, face open and sincere.
Evan didn't answer immediately.
He looked past him and smiled faintly.
"Don't worry, Hokage-sama," he said at last. "I think it's about time you got going."
Minato nodded, relieved.
"I'll leave it to you."
Konoha's Yellow Flash turned back to his small group.
Kushina was there, belly round, expression tight with a mix of pain and anxiety.
Hiruzen and Biwako stood at her side, acting as escort.
As their eyes met, Kushina's gaze instinctively searched for someone.
When she saw Evan's familiar cold face, her expression twisted into something complicated, almost pleading.
Evan gave her a small smile and mouthed four words.
"I've got this."
She stiffened.
Bit down on her lip.
And then, delicately, she nodded.
Without realizing it, when it came to trusting someone to handle this crisis, her first instinct had shifted.
Not to her husband, the Hokage.
But to the man who had cornered her and forced her to bargain piece by piece.
She didn't notice how wrong that was.
Hiruzen looked over at Evan, the young man's figure framed against the village he'd helped stain with blood.
"Evan," he said solemnly, "the village is in your hands."
"Alright."
Evan watched as Minato, Kushina, Hiruzen, Biwako, and the escort detail slowly faded from sight.
His eyes gleamed.
"Well then," he murmured, turning away.
"Let's get the show started."
He disappeared into the streets.
There was still preparation to do.
Tonight would not be a quiet night.
When the last light dipped below the horizon, darkness swallowed Konoha.
The moon hung hazy and pale, throwing just enough light to outline the world in shades of silver and black.
"Ahhh—! It hurts—!"
A scream, raw and hoarse, echoed inside the mountain cave.
The Anbu guarding the entrance heard it clearly.
But none of them flinched.
They remained focused on the outside world, every sense straining for signs of intrusion.
The sound was trapped within a barrier that wrapped the entire cave, preventing even the faintest echo from escaping.
Inside, candles and lanterns burned bright, chasing the shadows into the corners.
Uzumaki Kushina lay on the stone bed, red hair plastered to her cheeks with sweat, face contorted in pain.
Thick blankets cushioned her back and covered her body.
Her cries came in ragged waves, leaving her throat raw.
The cave had been carefully prepared in advance.
Everything was dry, clean, and sealed tight.
Minato knelt beside her, expression grim.
His hand rested firmly on Kushina's swollen belly, chakra pouring steadily into the seal.
Sweat dripped from his temples and soaked the front of his cloak.
He couldn't stop.
He wouldn't stop.
Maintaining the Nine-Tails' seal took everything he had—but Kushina's screams were like knives in his chest.
"Lady Biwako," he said tightly, "how much longer?"
"I've never seen her in such pain…"
Biwako examined Kushina with practiced professionalism, jaw tight but eyes calm.
"Minato, focus on the seal," she said. "That's all you need to worry about."
"For the sake of the child, a mother's strength will always exceed what you imagine."
Her tone left no room for argument.
Minato could only grit his teeth and nod.
He had no other options.
All he could do was trust.
Trust that Kushina and the baby would pull through.
Trust that the arrangements he and Hiruzen made would hold.
Trust that Evan's warning hadn't come too late.
Even as he maintained the seal, part of his mind remained alert.
The enemy described by Evan possessed bizarre powers.
He couldn't afford a single lapse.
Outside, at the edge of the barrier.
A figure in a black cloak and an orange spiral mask rose silently from a pool of water.
The nearest Anbu immediately noticed and barked a warning.
"Who goes there?!"
Blades rasped free of sheaths.
In an instant, several Anbu had surrounded the intruder, points of steel aimed at his throat and heart.
The masked man stood perfectly still.
He made no attempt to move, no motion to attack or defend.
Which only made the tension worse.
The Anbu captain's knuckles tightened around his sword hilt, blue chakra coating the blade.
"State your identity," he demanded.
"Now."
The masked man didn't answer.
He might as well have been a statue.
He simply lifted his gaze, slowly, over the circle of steel and masks, toward the cave entrance behind them.
The captain's heart lurched.
His target… is the Nine-Tails.
At that moment, they all saw it clearly:
The single eye visible through the hole in the mask.
A blood-red Sharingan, spinning quietly.
"Sharingan…"
"Is he an Uchiha?!"
The captain's instincts screamed at him.
"Attack!"
The command was barely out of his mouth before steel flashed.
Several Anbu rushed in simultanously, blades thrusting straight through the masked man's torso.
And then—
They passed right through him.
As if he weren't there at all.
Their bodies struck only air.
They stumbled, thrown off balance.
"What—an illusion?"
No one had time to answer.
Outside the cave, within the reflection of the dark water, a one-sided slaughter silently began.
Konoha Prison.
"Beautiful moon tonight," Evan mused, looking up.
"The wind's gentle too…"
The same orange, spiral-patterned mask covered his face.
A black cloak draped over his shoulders, hem stirring even in the still air.
Behind him, over a hundred prisoners knelt on the cold ground.
Their faces were twisted, streaked with dried blood.
Fear shone in every eye.
The memory of that thin, icy needle stabbing into their flesh was burned into them—
the sensation of countless ants devouring them from the inside, of wanting to die and being unable to.
They had no idea who this masked man really was.
But they knew one thing:
If they disobeyed him, they wouldn't even have the luxury of dying cleanly.
"Alright," Evan said quietly. "Time's just about right."
His voice had changed.
It was lower now, rougher—a gritty, ghostlike tone.
His chakra had shifted too, growing colder, more sinister.
He turned his masked face slightly.
"Remember your targets?" he asked the prisoners, voice barely above a whisper.
"Y–Yes…!"
"We… we remember…"
"Find the great clans of Konoha… and kill them… all…"
"Kill them… all of them…"
They stammered their replies, each tripping over the other to speak first, terrified of even a heartbeat's delay.
Going back to prison meant waiting for Evan the executioner to get bored and "experiment" again.
Going forward—
at least there was a sliver of hope.
And the masked man had made them a promise:
Do as he said, and if they survived, they'd get the antidote.
And their freedom.
Evan's lips curled under the mask.
"Good," he said softly.
"Then go."
The mass of prisoners surged to their feet like a dark tide and scattered into the village.
Evan watched them go, the village lights flickering in the distance.
"Now then, Konoha," he murmured.
"I hope you enjoy this little gift."
The moonlight gleamed faintly on his mask.
In another part of the forest, another masked man walked toward a cave and a crying newborn.
Tonight, the stage was set.
Every piece was moving.
The curtain had finally risen.
To read advanced Chapters, head over to p@treon:
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