"Nine hundred and ninety-eight…"
Evan's voice was a jagged rasp, barely audible over the sound of his own pulse hammering in his ears. His vision blurred, the edges of his sight fraying into static.
"Nine hundred and ninety-nine…"
His arms trembled violently. The custom-made stone weights strapped to his wrists felt like tectonic plates, dragging his small frame toward the frost-covered earth. His knuckles were white, his skin stretched tight over bone, and every tendon in his neck stood out like a cord of steel.
"One… thousand!"
With a guttural grunt, Evan released the weights. They hit the dirt with a heavy, satisfying thud, kicking up a small cloud of dust and frozen pine needles. Evan didn't try to stay upright. He let his legs give way, collapsing directly onto the frigid ground of his courtyard.
He stared up at the pale, winter sky. High above, a hawk circled lazily, a speck of dark ink against the washed-out blue. Evan's chest heaved, his ribs aching with the effort of drawing air. Every time he exhaled, a thick plume of steam billowed from his lips, vanishing into the biting December wind.
He was soaked. Despite the near-freezing temperature, sweat poured off him, drenching his training clothes until they clung to him like a second skin.
He didn't move. He simply lay there, feeling the cold earth sap the heat from his back, listening to the frantic rhythm of his heart slowly begin to settle.
More than two weeks had passed since the morning the Doctor's Benevolence System had flickered to life. In that time, Evan hadn't gone looking for trouble. He hadn't tried to find a secret master or sneak into the Hokage's office. Instead, he had turned his home into a private laboratory of physical limits.
He had realized something early on: the System's healing wasn't just for emergencies. It was a catalyst for evolution.
In the ninja world, training was often a balancing act. If you pushed too hard, you tore muscles, damaged joints, or caused internal bleeding that could sideline a ninja for weeks. But Evan? Evan had a cheat code. Whenever his muscles reached the point of mechanical failure—whenever his joints screamed that they were about to snap—he would channel a sliver of that cool, emerald-green Chakra.
Doctor's Benevolence: Cellular Restoration.
The green light would wash over his shredded muscle fibers, stitching them back together faster, denser, and stronger than they were seconds before. It was a cycle of destruction and rebirth that allowed him to pack months of conditioning into mere days. No scars, no hidden injuries, and no long-term fatigue.
"System," he whispered, his voice returning to him. "Show me the progress."
A translucent screen shimmered into existence against the backdrop of the sky.
Character: Evan Kamiyo Age: 4 Constitution: 14.5 (Senju bloodline awakening in progress...) Spirit: 12.5 Chakra: 15.5 (Note: An average graduating Genin standard is 10.)
Skills:
Chakra Refinement Lv.2 (16/100)
Affinities:
WindThunder
Points: 0 Evaluation: Genin-level strength. With your current bloodline advantage, you are capable of defeating a freshly graduated Haruno Sakura in a direct confrontation.
Evan let out a short, dry laugh. Sorry, Sakura. It was a strange feeling. On paper, he was already stronger than a twelve-year-old girl who had spent years in the Academy. But he knew the evaluation was deceptive. Sakura, at that stage, was a civilian-born student with zero combat experience and a weak constitution. Beating her wasn't a flex; it was a baseline.
Still, the growth was undeniable. His constitution had jumped from 6.3 to 14.5. He could feel the Senju bloodline working in the background, like a slow-burning fire in his marrow, constantly optimizing his body. He was four years old, yet he moved with a weight and precision that felt alien to his small stature.
But there was a downside to this rapid ascent.
High-intensity training and a bloodline awakening required fuel. Incredible amounts of it.
His stomach let out a long, rumbling growl that sounded like a tectonic shift. Evan winced, sitting up and rubbing his belly. In the last fortnight, his appetite had become a ravenous, bottomless pit. He was eating enough for three grown men, and his orphan subsidy—a modest monthly allowance provided by the village—was vanishing at an alarming rate.
He stood up, his joints popping like firecrackers. He needed to eat, and he needed to eat now.
He walked back into the house, stripped off his damp clothes, and took a quick, bracingly cold bath to wash away the salt and grime. Once dressed in a clean, dark-blue tunic and a pair of sturdy pants, he checked his coin pouch.
It was heavier than it should have been.
Evan frowned. He had noticed it a few days ago. The Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, was known for his "kindness," but he was also a shrewd politician. Ordinarily, orphans like Evan—those without a clan to claim them—were shuffled into the Konoha Orphanage under the care of Mother Nono.
Yet Evan lived alone in a detached courtyard house. And his monthly allowance hadn't just remained steady; it had quietly increased by thirty percent this month.
My parents, Evan thought as he tied his pouch to his belt. They must have been more than just "average Chunin." He knew there was only one other child in the village who received this kind of "privileged isolation." A blonde boy with whisker marks on his cheeks who lived in an apartment blocks away. The village treated Naruto with coldness, but they also kept him in a bubble. Evan was in a similar bubble, but without the glares and the whispers.
"Well," Evan muttered, "I won't look a gift horse in the mouth. If the Old Man wants to feed me, I'll let him."
He stepped out of his gate and headed toward the commercial district.
The winter air was crisp, and the village was bustling with people preparing for the evening rush. The smell of woodsmoke and roasting chestnuts filled the air. Evan moved through the crowd with a quiet, observant grace, his dark eyes taking in everything. He saw the Genin teams returning from low-level missions, their faces tired but proud. He saw the Chunin patrolling the rooftops, shadows in the peripheral vision of the civilians.
He reached his destination: a small, unassuming shop with a noren curtain that fluttered in the breeze.
Ichiraku Ramen.
To the average fan in his previous world, this was a meme—the home of the "Ramen Guy" who was secretly a god. To Evan, it was simply the best place to get a calorie-dense meal without being judged for how much a four-year-old could shove down his throat.
There was a line forming outside, mostly construction workers and a few Academy students. Evan didn't stop. He walked straight to the end of the counter, ducking under the curtain.
"Excuse me, Uncle!" he called out, his voice bright and practiced.
Teuchi, the owner, looked up from a steaming vat of noodles. His face was weathered but kind, his eyes crinkling into a smile as he recognized the boy.
"Evan! It feels like it's been ages. Where have you been hiding, little man?"
"Training, Uncle," Evan said, hopping onto a tall wooden stool. "I'm trying to grow tall so I can see over your counter without standing on my toes."
Teuchi laughed, the sound booming in the small shop. "Well, you're getting there! You look like you've put on some muscle. The usual?"
Evan shook his head. "The usual... but double. Two large bowls of pork-bone char siu. And extra eggs."
Teuchi's eyebrows shot up. "Double? You sure your stomach can handle that? That's enough to feed a Jonin."
"I'm a growing boy," Evan said with a cheeky grin. "And I'm starving."
"Alright, alright. Coming right up! Ayame, get our favorite regular some tea!"
A young girl, only a few years older than Evan, appeared with a steaming cup. She smiled at him, her eyes curious. "You really look different today, Evan. You look... sharper."
"It's just the winter air, Ayame-chan," Evan replied smoothly, sipping the tea.
He didn't stay long. The ramen was served within minutes—two massive, steaming bowls topped with thick slices of marinated pork, bamboo shoots, and perfectly soft-boiled eggs. The broth was rich and creamy, shimmering with droplets of fat.
Evan didn't just eat; he performed a disappearance act.
He moved with an efficiency that would have impressed a ninja. Chopsticks blurred, noodles vanished, and the broth disappeared in long, deep gulps. It was a meditative experience. Each bite felt like it was going directly to his starved cells, fueling the Senju fire in his veins.
By the time he set the second bowl down, he felt a warm, heavy satisfaction settle in his chest. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and let out a soft sigh of content.
"That," Evan said, "was life-saving."
Teuchi leaned on the counter, watching him with an amused expression. "I've never seen a kid your size eat like that. You remind me of another regular who comes in here."
Evan's ears pricked up. "Oh? Someone as hungry as me?"
"A blonde kid. About your age," Teuchi said, his voice lowering slightly, a touch of genuine sympathy softening his tone. "He's a bit of a troublemaker, but he's got a good heart. He usually comes in when the shop is quieter. Most people... well, they don't give him much of a chance."
Evan nodded slowly. He knew exactly who Teuchi was talking about.
"Maybe I'll meet him one day," Evan said noncommittally.
"I'll introduce you next time," Teuchi promised. "I think you two would get along. He's a bit loud, but he's lonely. You seem like you could use a friend who isn't a training dummy."
Evan smiled, paid his bill—which Teuchi tried to discount, though Evan insisted on paying full price—and stepped back out into the cold.
As he walked away from the shop, he reflected on what Teuchi had said.
Naruto Uzumaki. The "Demon Fox" to the civilians, but the "Prince of the Leaf" in reality. The son of the Fourth Hokage, the jinchuriki of the strongest Tailed Beast, and the focal point of the entire world's future.
Evan knew that interacting with Naruto was a double-edged sword. On one hand, Naruto was the ultimate "patient" for the Doctor's Benevolence System. Healing him or helping him would yield rewards that could catapult Evan into the realm of legends.
On the other hand, Naruto was under constant surveillance. The Third Hokage watched him through his crystal ball. Root agents lived in the shadows near his apartment.
But, Evan thought, a cold, calculating light entering his eyes, I'm just a child. A fellow orphan. A 'Good Boy' who trains hard and eats ramen. Why shouldn't I be friends with him?
The village's elite wouldn't find it suspicious for two lonely orphans to gravitate toward one another. In fact, it might even make the Third Hokage happy to see his "precious tool" forming a bond with a loyal, hardworking villager.
Evan looked at his hands. He could still feel the faint hum of his Chakra.
He wasn't ready to save the world yet. He wasn't even ready to enter the Academy. But the foundations were being laid.
"Six Paths," he whispered to himself, the words vanishing in the winter wind. "It's not just a dream anymore."
He turned toward his home, his mind already calculating tomorrow's training regimen. He needed to push harder. He needed to be ready for the day the "script" truly began.
Because in this world, being a "good child" only got you so far. To survive the coming storm, he had to become something much more dangerous.