The change was gradual, a slow tide rising within him. After the day he copied Naruto's blueprint, every day Deva woke up with a little more energy, a little more stamina. His body, once average, was steadily reforging itself into something more. He had the physique, the raw potential of an Uzumaki, but he still had the fighting skill of a civilian-born child who had never thrown a real punch.
He learned this quickly in taijutsu sparring. He would lose to Kiba's feral style and get thrown by Sakura's surprising strength. But where they would tire, he would simply get back up, his breathing steady. He lost fights, but he never ran out of energy, exactly like Naruto.
In chakra exercises, however, he was a monster. His oversensitivity and his now-growing chakra reserves were a perfect combination. He mastered every technique Iruka taught on the first try, his control absolute.
This created a strange reputation. He was a prodigy in one area and a novice in another. Sasuke Uchiha, who excelled at everything, couldn't make sense of him. He saw Naruto as dead-last. But he saw Deva as a rival, a bizarre one. How could someone with such flawless chakra control be so clumsy in a fistfight?
One night, Shiori was tending to a small cut on Deva's cheek from that day's sparring. They were in their small apartment above the flower shop.
"You seem to be fighting a lot at the Academy," she said gently, dabbing the cut with antiseptic.
"It's just practice, Mom," Deva said, his silver eyes watching her.
"With your friends?" she asked hopefully.
Deva considered this. "With my rivals," he corrected. "Naruto and Sasuke."
Shiori paused. She was a civilian, but you couldn't live in Konoha without knowing those names. She thought of the recent, horrifying news of the Uchiha clan, of a single boy left alive. And she thought of the lonely, whiskered boy she sometimes saw being ignored in the streets. They were just children, like her Deva. Orphans, too.
A quiet resolve formed in her heart.
The next morning, she handed Deva a bento box that was far larger and heavier than usual. It was a three-tiered box, packed with enough food for three growing boys.
"What's this?" Deva asked.
"For you and your rivals," she said with a soft smile. "No child should have to eat alone. If they're good enough to be your rivals, they're good enough to share a meal with. You can share with any friends you like."
Deva, ever logical, saw no reason to disobey a direct wish from his mother. At lunchtime, he found Sasuke sitting alone under a tree, picking at a small rice ball. Naruto was on the other side of the playground, sitting by himself on a swing.
He approached Sasuke first. The Uchiha looked up, his expression guarded and suspicious. Deva said nothing. He simply knelt, opened the bento box, placed a generous portion of rice, fish, and vegetables on a separate lid, and set it down on the grass beside Sasuke. Then he stood up and walked away.
Sasuke stared at the food, then at Deva's retreating back, a flicker of confusion on his face.
Next, Deva walked over to Naruto. The blond boy's eyes lit up as Deva approached.
"Hey! What's up?"
Again, Deva was silent. He placed an equally large portion of food in Naruto's waiting hands. Naruto stared at the delicious-looking meal, then back at Deva, his mouth agape.
"For... for me? Really?"
Deva just nodded, then walked to his own quiet spot in the shade. From a distance, he watched. After a moment of hesitation, Sasuke began to eat. Naruto was already devouring his portion with gusto.
It became a daily ritual. A silent pact. Deva would deliver the food, and the three of them would eat, separate but together.
The entire Academy was baffled. The three most powerful, most isolated boys in their class had formed a strange, silent lunch club. The other kids would whisper and stare. Iruka watched from his classroom window, a deep, relieved smile on his face. He didn't know how it had started, but he was just happy that Naruto and Sasuke were no longer completely alone.
The development was so unusual that it even reached the Hokage's office. An ANBU reported on the strange bond forming between the Jinchuriki, the last Uchiha, and the anomaly he had named.
Hiruzen Sarutobi looked out his window towards the Academy, a puff of smoke leaving his pipe. A simple bento box, an act of kindness from a civilian florist, was forging a bond between the three boys who held the future of the village in their hands. The fire's shadow, he thought, could indeed be found in the most unexpected of places.