Konoha, Year 42.
Shisui had already entered the Academy.Ryuken, however, turned inward—toward his body, his mind, his chakra.
Night belonged to training.Shuriken practice until his fingers bled.Taijutsu until his limbs trembled.Kenjutsu until the blade felt like an extension of his hand.
Daylight was for watching.Observing.Learning.
He wasn't the prodigy Shisui was—but he didn't need to be.
Precision.Patience.Subtlety.
That was Ryuken's strength.
The death of their grandmother had shifted something inside him.
His Sharingan had awakened—not with one tomoe, like Shisui's, but with two.
He didn't know whether it was grief that triggered it.It didn't matter.
Training came first.Survival came first.
Outside, the clouds of war gathered once more.The Third Great Ninja War—dangerous, merciless, inevitable.
Ryuken placed his trust in no one.Not Shisui.Not the clan.Not the village.
Only himself.
By Konoha Year 43, Ryuken was six.
He passed the Academy entrance exam without effort.On the first day, Shisui walked beside him, pride and warmth in every step.
Ryuken's expression was cold, calculating.He had one goal—to finish the Academy as quickly as possible,avoid the battlefield,and follow his own path.
All the new students gathered in the courtyard.The morning sun gleamed on metal headbands and hopeful faces.
Then the Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, stepped forward.His voice carried easily through the air, smooth and practiced.
He spoke of the Will of Fire,of loyalty to the village,of protecting comrades,of nurturing bonds—words meant to inspire,to unite,to control.
Ryuken didn't listen.
Arms crossed, eyes half-lidded, he studied the people instead.He saw the cracks.
In the stone.In the teachers.In the eager children who still believed in fairy tales.
Manipulating them with fire and will… pathetic.
The other kids cheered, eyes wide with devotion.Ryuken simply watched.
He saw everything—the cracks, the lies, the illusions holding the village together.
His classmates came from the Hyūga, Inuzuka, Nara, and lesser-known clans.Good.None close enough to notice him.
He blended in deliberately.Not the best.Not a prodigy.Just average.
But that was the point.
Average was invisible.Average could strike unseen.Average could survive.
Small moves.Precise moves.
Sometimes, they hit harder than brute force.
And so, Ryuken's path began—quiet, calculated, and patient.
He waited for the moment when he would truly awaken.