To five-year-old Deva, the world was a constant, deafening roar.
It wasn't the normal sounds of the village. It was a noise underneath all that, a pressure wave that only he could feel. Every person was a source of this chaos. They didn't just walk; they buzzed with a unique energy.
Most civilians had a gentle, low hum, like a soft vibration in the air. But shinobi were different. Their energy was sharp and loud. Some felt like a high-pitched ringing in his ears, others like a deep thrum that vibrated in his chest. Each one was a distinct, painful frequency that scraped at the inside of his skull.
He and his mother, Shiori, were walking to the market. For her, it was a simple errand. For Deva, it was an ordeal. He kept his silver eyes on the ground and covered his ears with his hands, but it did no good. The noise was inside his head.
A Jonin with gray hair flashed past them. He was a sharp spike of static that felt like lightning, making Deva flinch and cry out.
"Deva? What's wrong?" Shiori's voice was calm and kind, the one sound that never hurt him. Her own energy was a soft, steady warmth.
He couldn't explain, so he just shook his head and hid behind her leg. How could he tell her that the people were too loud? That the other children at the orphanage were like buzzing, chaotic hives of energy he couldn't get close to without feeling sick?
There was one boy, with bright yellow hair and whisker marks on his face, who was the worst of all. His energy roared like a chaotic, uncontrolled storm. The power coming off him was so immense and wild it felt like it could shatter stone. Deva had learned to run away whenever he sensed that boy coming.
His mother worried about him. He could see it in her eyes when he wouldn't play with the other kids, when he just sat by himself in a corner. The orphanage matron called him a "sensitive child." That didn't even begin to describe it. He felt like an open nerve in a world of raw power.
That afternoon, Shiori took him to the Academy training grounds. It was quieter there. A few older students were practicing. Shiori sat with him under a big tree.
"See them, Deva?" she said, pointing to a girl trying to stick a leaf to her forehead. "They're using their chakra. It's the energy we all have inside us. You have it too."
Deva knew. He could feel the unsteady pulse of energy flowing from the girl to the leaf. It was weak and kept breaking. He felt the instructor demonstrate it perfectly. A smooth, controlled river of power made the leaf stick to his forehead instantly.
Deva tried to copy what he felt, to push his own energy out. But when he focused, the whole world rushed in. The instructor's calm hum, the girl's sputtering static, the jarring vibrations of a dozen other shinobi—it was too much at once. A sharp pain shot through his head. He cried out and squeezed his eyes shut.
"Deva! Hey, look at me."
Shiori's hands were on his shoulders. Her voice, her presence, her calm, warm energy, was a safe space. He leaned into her, desperate.
"It's too much," he whispered, his silver eyes filling with tears. "It's too loud."
Shiori looked confused but fiercely protective. She didn't understand what he meant, but she understood his pain. She pulled him into a tight hug, her hand resting on the back of his head.
Suddenly, something changed.
Her calm, warm energy washed over him like a gentle wave. As it surrounded him, it started to muffle the outside world.
The roaring storm of the whiskered boy in the distance became a dull tremor. The sharp, high-pitched frequencies of the other shinobi softened into low, distant hums. The painful pressure of the world faded away. For the first time, his head was clear.
His breath hitched. The pain was gone. He could still sense everything, but it was distant and orderly. He realized his mother's energy was acting like a shield.
He held onto her tightly, focusing all his thought on her soothing, warm vibration. He found that if he focused on her, he could ignore the others. It was like finding a quiet room in the middle of a loud concert.
He wasn't sick. He just needed to find his own quiet.
Deva lifted his head and gave his mother a real smile. Shiori's eyes widened, and a tear of relief ran down her cheek. She didn't know how, but her son had found a moment of peace. And for now, that was enough.