Deva's world was the small apartment above his mother's flower shop. He woke each morning to the faint, sweet scent of lilies and lavender wafting up from downstairs. "Shiori's Blooms" was their home and his sanctuary.
The shop was his training ground. While his mother arranged bouquets and tended to the plants, Deva would sit quietly behind the counter. Her calm, warm energy was his anchor in a world of noise. The slow, steady stream of customers was his daily practice. He learned to differentiate the gentle hum of a happy customer from the agitated buzz of someone in a hurry. He was no longer drowning; he was acclimatizing, learning the rhythm of the people who walked in and out of his life.
One evening upstairs, after a simple dinner, his mother spoke as she cleared the table. "You've been much calmer lately. Happier."
"The people are still loud," Deva replied, his silver eyes thoughtful. "But I'm used to the shop. You're quiet, Mom. You make the loud quiet."
Shiori smiled, a familiar, gentle expression. "You've always been special, Deva. Even the way you got your name was special."
Deva's curiosity was piqued. "You didn't name me?"
She shook her head. "I was... very hurt after the Nine-Tails attack. I was unconscious for a long time. The Third Hokage himself came to see us in the hospital. He saw you, a tiny baby who had survived against all odds, and he was the one who named you."
Deva's eyes widened. The Hokage? The old man whose presence felt like the sun itself?
"He named you 'Deva'," Shiori continued softly. "It's an old word, for a divine or heavenly being. I think he saw you as a sign of hope, a special blessing after such a dark night. It's a heavy name for a little boy, but you'll grow into it."
He thought about the name. It wasn't about power or being a great ninja. It was a weight of expectation, a hope given to him by the leader of the village. He cared little for the village itself, but he cared for his mother, and the name seemed to make her happy. That was enough.
A year later, at six years old, it was time to enter the Ninja Academy.
Shiori walked him to the large gates, beyond which lay the Academy's open playground. It was packed with children and their parents. The combined energy was a dizzying, chaotic hum that made the air feel thick.
"I can't go past here," she said, kneeling to face him. "Can you be brave for me?"
He looked at the sea of noise. This was not the gentle stream of the flower shop; this was a roaring ocean. But he had practiced. He took a deep breath, focusing on the memory of his mother's warmth, wrapping it around his mind like a shield.
He gave his mother a determined nod. "I can be brave."
She hugged him tightly and let him go. Deva walked into the crowd alone. He found a spot near the back, away from the others, and stood perfectly still.
Suddenly, the crowd hushed. The Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen, had appeared on the main building's balcony. His energy was immense, a vast, warm presence that dwarfed everyone else's, calming the chaotic noise just by being there.
The Hokage began his speech, his voice carrying over the playground. Deva didn't listen to the words. For him, this was the ultimate test. While everyone else looked at the Hokage, he focused on the world. He let his senses expand, using the Hokage's massive, stable energy as a new anchor.
He could feel the sharp, precise thrum of the ANBU guards hidden on the roofs. He could feel the hundreds of small, buzzing energies of the children, each one unique.
And among them, two stood out like mountains. A roaring, uncontrolled storm of raw power from the blond, whiskered boy, and a cold, sharp, focused spike of energy from the dark-haired boy standing aloof near the front.
"When the tree leaves dance, one shall find flames," the Hokage's voice boomed, reaching the climax of his speech. "The fire's shadow will illuminate the village, and once again, tree leaves shall bud anew!"
The parents applauded. The children fidgeted. But Deva was perfectly still, his silver eyes wide with focus. He had not heard a single word of the famous speech. He had been too busy mapping the battlefield of his new life. His attitude was simple: he would care for his mother, and he would observe everyone else.
They were just frequencies, after all.
And he was beginning to learn the music.