The smell of old chalk and ink filled the classroom as Iruka scribbled another line of complex ninjutsu formulas on the board. Akio sat in his usual seat, not at the front or the back, but by the window — where the sun wouldn't hit his eyes and no one could sit behind him.
It wasn't out of paranoia. Just habit. The kind you develop when you're used to watching everything at once.
Outside, students' shadows stretched along the courtyard, passing like clock hands across the tiled walkways. Inside, the air buzzed with the low energy of half-focused minds. Most of the class was paying some attention to the lesson. Most.
Akio's pen moved smoothly over the page. The ink never hesitated. His notes were cleaner than the board.
From his peripheral vision — which was, of course, absolute — he watched Naruto tapping his foot under the desk, clearly ready to burst. Across the aisle, Sasuke sat perfectly upright, jaw tight, eyes scanning the formulas like he was memorizing them with sheer willpower. Behind him, Ino had taken to resting her chin on her palm, sneaking occasional glances at Akio. She didn't bother hiding it anymore.
He didn't react. He rarely did. But even when his expression didn't change, he always noticed.
Every twitch. Every movement. Every shift in chakra.
That was just how his eyes worked now.
Not that anyone knew.
He kept his posture relaxed, pen steady, eyes half-lidded. Even if the soft glow of the tiny star in each iris caught the light now and then, no one had asked questions — not yet. Most people probably assumed it was a clan trait, like his white hair or the way his clothes never seemed quite of this world.
He made sure never to mention the eye. Not even to Riku.
That wasn't secrecy.
It was caution.
At the front of the class, Iruka turned and slapped a new sheet on the board. "Alright, today's written evaluation will be timed. You'll have twenty minutes to complete your responses. No chakra usage allowed. No talking. Begin."
A rustle of paper filled the room as quizzes were passed back.
Akio finished his in eight minutes. He spent the next twelve pretending to read over it.
By the time the bell rang, he was already packing his things.
"Man, that was rough," Naruto muttered beside him, stretching as he stood. "How do you always finish so fast?"
"I don't waste time," Akio replied.
Naruto squinted at him. "Seriously, are you like… part robot or something?"
"No."
"Then how come you always act like everything's boring?"
Akio slung his satchel over one shoulder. "Not everything is boring. Some things are just predictable."
Naruto groaned, clearly ready to launch into another round of banter, but Iruka called him back to help collect papers. Akio made his exit before anyone else could pull him into another conversation.
The corridor was cooler than the classroom, the stones underfoot still holding the chill of early morning. Akio walked in no particular rush, hands in his pockets, mask hanging just under his chin.
He only wore it when he didn't have time for makeup. Today was one of those days.
Not that it helped much.
Two second-year girls passed him by the stairwell and glanced back — one tried to whisper something, the other giggled.
He kept walking.
Down the side path toward the west training field, he found his usual corner beneath the tall shade tree. The breeze here carried the smell of damp leaves and clean steel. Most students didn't bother with the auxiliary field. That made it perfect.
He knelt and pulled out a chakra suppression scroll from his bag.
Even though chakra control had become routine, he still practiced — and more than that, refined.
Today's exercise was silent pressure-point projection. No visible movement. No hand signs. Just raw chakra control, funneled precisely into designated tenketsu.
He extended his hand. A faint tingle passed through his palm. Then, slowly, he directed a miniscule thread of chakra toward the outer tips of his fingers. Not enough to spark a glow — just enough to feel.
A stone shifted twenty feet away.
Akio opened his eyes again.
Someone was watching.
"Troublesome place to practice," came a voice from above.
Shikamaru stood on the branch of the tree behind him, arms draped lazily over a limb, expression unreadable.
Akio turned his head slightly. "You followed me?"
"Nah. Just happened to be walking the same way. Saw a starry-eyed ghost moving into the woods."
Akio raised an eyebrow. "You saw the star?"
Shikamaru shrugged. "You know how many people in the village have pure white hair and eyes that glow? Not many. Doesn't take a genius."
He dropped from the branch, landing beside Akio with minimal effort. His hands were in his pockets too.
"I'm not gonna ask," he said.
Akio tilted his head. "About the eye?"
"Yeah. Or the whole 'emotionless prodigy who disappears during lunch' thing."
"Good."
They stood there for a while, not talking.
Eventually, Shikamaru sighed and leaned back against the tree.
"I told my dad about you," he said.
Akio blinked. "Why?"
"Because I was curious. And he knows things."
Akio's hand lowered, chakra threads retracting. "…And?"
Shikamaru's eyes narrowed a fraction. "He said your clan's dangerous. That they're too close to the Uchiha."
That wasn't a surprise.
"Do you believe him?" Akio asked.
"I think my dad's smart. I think you're smart too."
"That doesn't answer the question."
Shikamaru closed his eyes. "I think people fear what they can't predict."
A beat of silence passed between them.
Then Shikamaru opened one eye and added, "But I'm lazy. So if you ever go rogue, give me a heads-up so I can stay out of it."
Akio almost smiled.
Back at the Tengetsu compound, the halls were unusually quiet.
Not peaceful quiet. Heavy quiet.
Akio knew the difference now.
He passed through the inner walkway, brushing his fingers briefly over the polished wood of the frame. It was a grounding habit, something Riku-sensei had taught him.
Inside the family room, he found his grandfather seated by the low table, a sealed scroll resting on the mat in front of him.
"Akio," the old man said. "Sit."
Akio obeyed.
The silence lingered.
Then the elder spoke again.
"You're progressing faster than expected."
"I'm not rushing."
"I didn't say you were. But others are watching."
Akio's posture didn't change, but his pulse shifted slightly. He was used to being observed — he relied on observation.
But this was different.
"Do they know?" he asked.
"No. But they suspect. Your appearance draws attention. And your results are… consistent."
The old man tapped the scroll once, fingers calloused with age and discipline.
"The elders have agreed to limit further Academy interference. You're to continue blending. No showcasing. No risks. The clan's future depends on it."
Akio nodded once. He expected this.
But it still left a sour taste.
He left the room not long after. No sparring today. No meditation.
Instead, he wandered through the side garden, past the koi pond and the wind chimes, all the way to the rear wall — the boundary where the Tengetsu compound met the rest of Konoha.
He stopped there, resting a hand on the stone.
Somewhere beyond that wall, people were talking. Planning. Preparing.
And somewhere in the village, a group of masked shinobi had just received a new scroll.
Target: Akio Tengetsu.
Status: Watch only.
Risk level: Unknown.