When Evan stepped out of the warm, steam-filled sanctuary of Ichiraku Ramen, he realized the world had quietly changed while he was buried in his bowl.
The sky had bruised into a deep, heavy violet, and the air had turned needle-cold. But it was the silence that struck him first. The usual evening bustle of Konoha had been muffled, replaced by a soft, rhythmic shushing.
Snow was falling.
Small, intricate flakes drifted down from the heavens, settling gently on the curved rooftops, the skeletal branches of the winter trees, and the empty cobblestone streets. Within minutes, Konoha was being draped in a thin, shimmering layer of silver. The yellow glow of the streetlights reflected softly against the whitening ground, giving the village a dreamlike, ethereal quality.
From this distance, even the Great Hokage Rock seemed transformed. The stern stone faces of the past leaders were muted and pale beneath the white dusting, looking more like ancient guardians of a frozen kingdom than mere monuments.
Evan paused, watching his breath bloom in a thick, white fog before him.
The first snow, he thought, pulling his collar tighter against his neck. The temperature is going to plummet tonight. Winter isn't just coming; it's here.
He thought of his traditional courtyard house. It was a sturdy inheritance, but it lacked the modern insulation and heating systems of the newer apartments. If he didn't want to wake up with frost on his blankets, he'd need charcoal—and plenty of it.
With a focused nod, Evan turned away from the main road and toward the commercial district, taking a familiar shortcut through a quiet, wooded path that skirted the edge of the residential zone.
The woods were beautiful in the snow, but the tranquility didn't last.
Faint, discordant sounds reached his ears, cutting through the muffled silence of the snowfall. There was the sound of rhythmic sobbing, high-pitched and fragile. It was punctuated by the harsh, jagged laughter of older children—the kind of laughter that held no joy, only the cruel thrill of dominance.
Evan's pace slowed. His jaw tightened instinctively.
"Your eyes are disgusting!" a voice sneered, the words sharp and ugly.
"Are you even human? You look like a monster!"
"Look at her! White-eyed freak! Why don't you say something?"
"Ahahaha! Look, she's shaking!"
Evan stopped dead in his tracks. A cold, heavy weight settled in his stomach—a mix of recognition and a very adult sense of disgust. He turned toward the source of the noise, pushing through a screen of frost-covered bushes.
In a small clearing, a young girl stood hunched over, her small frame trembling violently. Short, dark hair framed a face that was unnervingly pale, and her eyes—pure, milky white and devoid of pupils—were wide with a mixture of terror and deep, soul-crushing humiliation. Tears streamed down her cheeks, some freezing against the biting air before they could even fall.
Hinata Hyuga.
The Heiress of the most powerful clan in the village, reduced to a target for street urchins.
In front of her stood three boys. They were older, perhaps five or six, and they looked emboldened by their numbers and the girl's silence. They circled her like clumsy predators who had never been taught that actions have consequences.
Evan exhaled slowly, a long plume of white steam escaping his lips.
"I really, really hate scenes like this," he muttered to the empty air.
He didn't yell. He didn't give a warning. He simply stepped forward into the clearing.
One of the boys, the tallest of the three, sensed movement and began to turn around, a sneer still plastered on his face. "Who the—"
Boom!
Evan's fist, backed by the raw, explosive vitality of his Senju-tempered muscles, smashed straight into the boy's nose.
There was a sickening crunch. The boy didn't just fall; he flew. He was lifted off his feet, his body arching backward before he crashed into a deep snowbank several feet away.
"AAAH—! My nose! It hurts! It hurts!"
The other two bullies froze. The transition from laughter to sheer terror was instantaneous. For half a second, the world was silent except for the wailing of their leader. Then, the shock broke.
"Damn it! He attacked first!" one yelled, his face twisting in a mix of fear and anger.
"Get him! He's just a little kid!"
They rushed him together, their forms clumsy and their punches wide and desperate. To an ordinary four-year-old, this might have been a threat. To Evan, who had spent the last month refining his body and mastering his motor skills under the system's guidance, they moved like they were underwater.
Evan ducked under the first wild swing, the air of the punch whistling harmlessly over his head. He stepped inside the boy's guard, his movement fluid and economical.
Boom. A left hook to the ribs. Boom. A right hook to the jaw.
He didn't use his full strength—he didn't want to kill them—but he used enough. Both boys collapsed into the slush, clutching their injuries and bursting into loud, frantic tears. The "predators" had become the prey in less than ten seconds.
Hinata remained frozen, her milky eyes wide as she stared at the boy who had appeared like a ghost from the snow. She didn't move, her breath hitching in her throat, until Evan turned and walked toward her.
He stopped a few feet away, his expression softening.
"You okay?" he asked gently.
She blinked, the tears still clinging to her lashes. She looked at him—really looked at him—and a flicker of recognition crossed her face.
"…Evan?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"You remember me?" he asked, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.
Hinata nodded quickly, her face instantly flushing a deep, vivid red that stood out against the pale snow. "Th-thank you… for… that."
Evan sighed, reaching out to brush a stray snowflake from her hair. "Crying doesn't suit you, Hinata. Don't do it next time. If someone bites, you have to bite back."
The words were blunt, almost harsh, but his tone was like a warm blanket.
He had met her once before, a year ago. She had sneaked out of the stifling Hyuga estate and gotten lost in the winding streets of the village. Evan had found her then too—crying under a streetlamp—and had walked her all the way to the massive gates of her clan's compound.
"My father… he hasn't let me go out since then," Hinata said softly, her fingers nervously poking together in front of her chest. "I'm sorry I didn't come to find you. I… I was scared."
Evan understood. He knew the timeline. The "Cloud Incident"—the attempted kidnapping of the Hyuga heiress and the subsequent sacrifice of Neji's father—had happened. Hiashi Hyuga wasn't just being a strict father; he was a man haunted by the reality that his daughter was a walking target.
Before he could respond, the wailing from the three bullies grew louder, their cries echoing through the quiet woods.
"I'm bleeding! I'm gonna die! I'm telling my mom!"
Evan's eyes narrowed. He looked over his shoulder at the three heaps of shivering children. "Wait here," he told Hinata.
He walked back to the bullies. They tried to scramble away, their faces masks of pure terror.
"Stop crying," Evan said flatly. His voice wasn't loud, but it held a cold, predatory edge that made the boys choke on their sobs. "Or I'll give you a real reason to."
They immediately shut up, trembling so hard their teeth chattered.
Evan didn't want them going home and telling their parents that a "demon child" had broken their noses. That would bring the authorities—or worse, curious ninjas—to his door. He needed to erase the evidence.
A soft, emerald-green glow gathered in his palm.
Doctor's Benevolence: Minor Restoration.
He passed his hand over their faces. To the boys, it felt like a cool breeze washing away the fire of their pain. The bleeding stopped instantly. The swelling faded. The bruises vanished back into pale skin.
"I'm letting you go," Evan said, his voice dropping to a whisper that only they could hear. "But listen well. If I ever catch you bullying her—or anyone else—again, I won't be this gentle. Do you understand?"
"We—we're sorry!" they stammered in unison. They scrambled to their feet, bowing clumsily to Hinata before sprinting off into the darkness, tripping over their own feet in their haste to escape.
A familiar, crystalline chime rang in Evan's mind.
[Healed Targets: 3] [Reward: Constitution +0.3]
It wasn't much. It was a pittance compared to the bloodline potion. But the efficiency? It was staggering. He had spent a few drops of Chakra and ten seconds of effort to gain permanent physical growth.
Evan turned back to Hinata. She was standing exactly where he had left her, gripping her sleeves so tightly her knuckles were white. The snow was falling heavier now, turning the world into a blur of white.
"Come on," Evan said, tilting his head toward the village. "I'll walk you home. It's too cold to be standing out here."
She nodded immediately, her movements stiff with shyness.
They walked in silence through the whitening woods. Hinata stayed half a step behind him, her small feet carefully landing in the deep prints he left in the snow, as if she were trying to follow his path exactly.
When the high, imposing white walls of the Hyuga estate finally loomed out of the snow, Evan stopped. The guards at the gate were already alert, their pale eyes narrowed.
"Go inside," Evan said. "Don't make your family worry. And Hinata?"
She looked up at him, her breath hitching.
"Try to stay warm."
He turned to leave, his hands in his pockets.
"Evan…!"
He stopped and looked back. Hinata had stepped forward, gathering every ounce of her courage. Her face was so red it looked like she had a fever.
"Can I… can I come play with you sometime? I… I know where you live now."
Evan looked at her—this small, fragile girl who would one day stand before a god to protect the person she loved—and he smiled. This time, the smile was real.
"Of course. Just know that I train a lot. If I'm not home, I'm probably at the training grounds. But you're always welcome."
He gave her his specific address, watched her commit it to memory, and then waved a lazy hand as he walked away into the storm.
Hinata stood at the gates, watching until his silhouette was swallowed by the white blur of the snow. A shy, happy smile finally broke across her face, radiating a warmth that the winter couldn't touch.
Neither of them noticed the figure standing on a nearby rooftop.
An old man, dressed in simple robes, watched them through the swirling snow. He held a long wooden pipe, the embers in the bowl glowing a soft, dull orange. Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage, let out a long puff of smoke that vanished into the cold air.
He looked at the footprints in the snow—the heavy, deep prints of the boy and the light, hesitant prints of the girl following in his wake.
"A medical touch… and the strength of a Senju," the old man whispered to himself, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of curiosity and hope. "Interesting. Very interesting."