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The year 45 of Konoha, on the eve of the Third Shinobi World War.

The crisp autumn air was invigorating.

At the Ninja Academy's training grounds.

Aburame Jianxing leaned against a tree trunk, basking in the warm afternoon sunlight. Behind his sunglasses, his eyes narrowed contentedly, his long lashes seeming to cradle the golden gleam.

It was so comfortable that it made him want to: meow, meow, meow.

Beside Jianxing squatted a handsome black-haired boy with an indifferent expression, a blade of grass hanging from his mouth. He had a roguishly handsome air as he diligently drew on the ground with a twig.

Hyuga Ryosuke, a member of the Hyuga Branch Family and one of Jianxing's few friends, possessed a pretty face and a completely unreliable soul.

"What are you drawing?" Jianxing asked curiously.

"Can't you see for yourself?"

"I did. I asked because I couldn't understand it."

Ryosuke stared at the drawing on the ground and pondered for a moment. "Sorry, it's too abstract. I can't understand it either. It can be whatever you think it is."

That was just how unreliable he was!

"Becoming a ninja is such a waste of your artistic talent," Jianxing said sincerely.

"I think so too."

Ryosuke deeply agreed, then laughed without the slightest shame. He tilted his head slightly, and the sunlight fell across him from the side as if he had maxed out a beauty filter, drawing waves of screams from his female fans.

"So handsome!"

"I'm dying! I'm dying... He looked over here!"

"Relax, he was looking at me. Get lost, ugly!"

"..."

Ryosuke put on a troubled look, though inwardly he was thrilled. Two words described him perfectly: secretly