The wind rustled the leaves outside the Academy training yard. Dust kicked up beneath the feet of the students as Iruka-sensei barked instructions.
"Form rows! Shuriken practice next!"
Noir stood near the back of the group, arms crossed, watching silently. The boys in the front jostled for space, eager to impress. A few glared at him—his hair and quiet demeanor had already earned him unwanted attention.
"Bet he can't even throw straight," a smug voice muttered nearby.
Noir didn't respond. The boy—Kenta, he recalled—smirked.
You want a show?
Noir stepped forward when his turn came. The practice board was riddled with holes from years of missed shots. He took a single shuriken and flicked his wrist.
Thunk.
Dead center.
The class quieted.
"Lucky shot," Kenta mumbled.
Noir glanced at Iruka, who raised a brow.
"Try again."
Noir threw three more. Each hit within a finger's width of the center. Not perfect—but calculated. Controlled.
Iruka gave a small nod. "You've got good hand-eye coordination. Keep it up."
A few whispers fluttered through the crowd. Among them were the distinct voices of Sakura and Ino.
"His hair's like snow," Sakura said.
"His eyes are weird, though. Pretty… but weird," Ino replied.
Noir didn't turn around. It didn't matter. Not yet.
He shifted his gaze to the edge of the training yard. There you are again…
Another flicker of movement. Hidden. Watching.
That chakra's too subtle for a student. Definitely ANBU.
They were observing him. Testing him. He needed to stay measured. Ordinary.
---
That night, Noir sat beneath the orphanage's rooftop water tower, legs dangling, hands folded.
He focused his chakra, breathing evenly. The Kuraseigan stirred behind his eyelids like ink in water.
Now.
His amethyst eyes shifted—no longer simply violet. They gleamed like endless space, a swirling galaxy of color. Shapes within shapes. Rings folding into themselves.
The Infinity Glare. That's what he'd started calling it.
He activated it fully.
The rooftop warped—three versions of the future blinked into view:
1. A bird flies over and knocks the water tower lid off.
2. A kunai thrown from a distant rooftop lands inches from his shoulder.
3. Nothing happens.
He focused on the third. Let the other two fade.
Seconds passed. Nothing disturbed the night.
He exhaled. So I can select probable futures, not just view them.
His chakra flickered, and the eye's glow faded. He winced. Still too much strain.
---
A few days later, in class, Iruka called pairs for sparring.
"Noir and… Sasuke."
A murmur rippled across the room. Even Naruto stopped bouncing in his seat.
Noir stood up, rolling his shoulders. Sasuke was already moving toward the center of the ring, his Sharingan still dormant, but his posture calm and proud.
They faced each other. The tension in the room thickened.
"Begin!"
Sasuke moved first—fast, smooth. Noir tilted to the side, dodging a straight punch. The crowd leaned in.
He blocked the next blow, twisting Sasuke's wrist just enough to redirect the force and stepped back.
They exchanged three more blows. Sasuke's strikes were clean. Precise. Noir countered with efficiency, not flash.
Then, for a split second, Sasuke overextended. A moment most wouldn't catch.
Noir's eyes flared into infinity.
The world slowed.
He stepped to the side, slid a foot under Sasuke's ankle, and tripped him mid-turn.
Sasuke landed flat on his back.
"Match—" Iruka started.
Sasuke flipped to his feet immediately, face blank but eyes sharp.
"I slipped," he muttered, brushing himself off.
Noir only nodded and returned to his seat.
From the side, Sakura stared at him. Ino, too. Curious. Interested—but not quite sure what to make of him yet.
Noir didn't return their looks.
They're still kids, he reminded himself. And I'm not.
But the whisper of fate stirred.
Eventually…
---
[End of Chapter 3]