Gifted almost got expelled on his second day at the academy.
Kelvin Stone would later insist—very loudly and very often—that this achievement deserved some kind of record.
It happened during afternoon practical drills, under a sky so clear it felt like mockery.
The instructions had been simple. Painfully simple.
"Basic chakra flow," the instructor had said, voice firm, eyes sharp. "No jutsu. No enhancements. No creativity."
Gifted had nodded.
Gifted had smiled.
Gifted had immediately ignored half of that sentence.
The explosion came without warning.
A violent BOOM ripped across the training field, shaking dust from nearby rooftops and sending birds screaming into the sky. A wooden training post disintegrated into splinters and smoke, leaving behind a shallow crater and the faint smell of burnt ambition.
Every head turned.
Kelvin slowly lowered his hands from his ears.
"…Please don't tell me that was—"
"Yes," someone whispered.
In the center of the chaos stood Gifted.
His clothes were singed. His hair smoked faintly. His hands still glowed with unstable chakra, and his expression was one of pure, innocent curiosity—like a child who had just discovered fire was, in fact, hot.
Kelvin stared.
"What," he said calmly, "did you do?"
Gifted blinked. "I wanted to see if I could compress it."
Kelvin gestured at the smoking hole. "You compressed the rules."
Before Gifted could respond, three instructors appeared around him in blurs of motion. One grabbed his shoulder. Another stamped out lingering flames. The third looked like he was deciding whether to scream or cry.
"ON YOUR KNEES," the proctor roared.
Gifted dropped immediately.
Kelvin, standing off to the side, covered his mouth, shoulders shaking.
Don't laugh. Don't laugh. This is serious. Don't—
"Stone," an instructor snapped without looking at him. "If you make a sound, you'll be kneeling too."
Kelvin failed spectacularly.
He bent forward, wheezing, clutching his stomach as laughter tore out of him.
"ALL BRAWN, NO BRAIN!" he shouted. "FORTY-NINE MY FOOT—YOU'RE FORTY-NINE HEAD INJURIES AWAY FROM GENIUS!"
Gifted turned his head just enough to glare. "I will remember this betrayal."
"You won't," Kelvin shot back. "You'll forget it during theory class."
That earned him a hard knock on the head from an instructor.
Gifted, meanwhile, was receiving a lecture that sounded dangerously close to a funeral speech.
"This academy is not a playground," the proctor barked. "You endangered students, destroyed property, and demonstrated a terrifying lack of self-preservation."
Gifted bowed repeatedly. "Yes sir. I'm sorry sir. It felt right at the time sir."
The word expulsion was spoken.
Out loud.
Twice.
Gifted's smile vanished.
Kelvin sobered instantly.
In the end, mercy won—but only barely.
"Probation," the proctor said coldly. "One more incident and you're gone."
Gifted bowed so hard his forehead nearly kissed the dirt. "Thank you thank you thank you—"
As they walked away later, Kelvin slung an arm around his shoulder.
"So," Kelvin grinned. "Rank forty-nine. All that talent just to get kicked out for being stupid."
Gifted sighed. "I was experimenting."
"You were experimenting with your future."
"…Worth it?"
Kelvin laughed despite himself. "Idiot."
Gifted smiled—embarrassed, sheepish, but still smiling.
******
Night crept in quietly.
Too quietly.
Kelvin was finishing evening drills in the training ground near the village gate when the village gates stirred unnaturally. Guards snapped to attention. Lanterns swung. Voices rose.
Then someone shouted—
"MEDIC!"
Kelvin turned.
A man staggered through the gates, barely upright.
Burned clothes. Torn armor. Blood dark and fresh.
Kelvin's heart dropped into his stomach.
That walk.
That posture.
Even though barely alive he will recognize it anywhere.
"No…" he whispered.
"Dad?"
Thomas Stone collapsed before he could take another step.
Kelvin ran.
"Dad!" He caught him just in time, though they both fell to the lawn, Kelvin arms shook as blood soaked into his clothes. "What happened?!"
Thomas forced a weak smile, eyes half-lidded. "Hey… champ."
That smile hurt more than the wounds.
Medics swarmed instantly, pulling Thomas from Kelvin's grip.
"Infirmary—now!"
Kelvin followed helplessly, hands red, chest tight.
Inside the infirmary, controlled chaos ruled. Bandages were wrapped. Salves applied. Quiet voices spoke of burns, cuts, chakra exhaustion.
Two other figures were brought in beside Thomas—the woman and child Kelvin recognized immediately.
Their eyes were hollow.
Their hands trembled even while healers worked.
"Severe trauma," a medic whispered. "They'll need long-term therapy."
Kelvin swallowed.
This wasn't training.
This wasn't academy nonsense.
This was the real world.
THE HOKAGE'S OFFICE
High above the village, the Hokage sat alone.
His office was that of a scholar, not a king.
Bookshelves crowded every wall, packed with scrolls, records, and ancient texts sealed with warnings. Ink stained the desk. Maps lay half-unrolled.
On one side of the room hung five portraits.
The past Five Kages.
Watching.
Judging.
The current Hokage leaned back in his chair, hair loose and wild, dark circles etched deep beneath sharp eyes. Sleeplessness screamed across his face—yet his presence alone felt like a battlefield waiting to happen.
Files lay open before him.
Stamped in red.
THE FIVE GREAT HANDS
Lightning.
Water.
Fire and wind.
Genjutsu and taijutsu.
Earth and kenjutsu.
His jaw tightened.
A sudden flash.
A ninja appeared instantly, kneeling.
Grey sweatpants. Green jacket tight across his chest. His face hidden behind a snake-headed mask, carved unsettlingly real.
"Hokage-sama," the ninja said. "Thomas Stone has returned."
The Hokage's eyes snapped up.
"…Already?"
"Yes," the ninja replied. "And—he is injured."
The chair scraped violently as the Hokage stood.
"He wasn't meant to return unless—"
"—Unless it was urgent," the ninja finished. "He's admitted in the hospital."
Silence.
Then the Hokage exhaled.
"I'll go myself."
______
He chose not to flash-step.
Instead, he walked.
Through lantern-lit streets. Past closing shops. Over bridges reflecting moonlight. Children laughed as he passed, and tired parents bowed respectfully.
At the orphanage, small faces lit up.
"Hokage-sama!"
He smiled softly. "Did you eat?"
"Yes!"
"Did you train?"
"…A little."
He chuckled, ruffling hair.
This, he thought, is why I don't sleep.
He walked quietly towards the road leading to the hospital. The building loomed in distance, enlarging in the horizon with each steps he took.
He got to the entrance and took a deep breath then he opened the door.
The hospital smelled of antiseptic and pain.
Thomas lay propped up, wrapped in bandages but alert.
The Hokage entered.
They locked eyes.
"…You look terrible," Thomas said dryly.
The Hokage smirked. "You always say that when you almost die."
They exchanged nods—soldiers acknowledging survival.
The hokage looked at the medical ninjas present. "Thank you for your care, please give us a few minutes alone." He told them smiling warmly.
They stammered while blushing wildly and then rushed out leaving only the veteran war ninja and the hokage.
His face turned serious and look at Thomas fragile figure.
"What happened?!"
Thomas told him everything.
The village.
The massacre.
The survivors.
The fight.
The mysterious tailer.
Everything—
Except one thing.
He did not mention what the man said about Kelvin.
The Hokage listened silently, expression darkening.
"This is bigger than we thought," he said finally.
Thomas nodded.
Outside the room, unseen—
Kelvin sat against the wall, fists clenched.
Listening.
And somewhere far away, something smiled.