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

The autumn air was crisp and clear.

At the Ninja Academy's training ground.

Aburame Jianxing leaned against a tree trunk, the afternoon sunlight warming his body. Behind his sunglasses, his eyes narrowed contentedly, his long lashes seeming to cradle streams of golden light.

It felt so good he wanted to go: meow, meow, meow.

A handsome black-haired boy squatted beside Jianxing, looking utterly carefree with a blade of grass between his lips, carrying himself with a roguish charm. He held a branch and drew earnestly on the ground.

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. Whatever you think it is, that's what 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 agreed deeply and laughed without the slightest shame. He tilted his head up slightly, and the sunlight fell across him from the side as though he had beauty filters turned up to level ten, drawing shrieks from his female fans.

"He's so handsome!"

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

"Relax, he's looking at me. You can get lost, ugly!"

"..."

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

"Shallow," Jianxing said disdainfully.

"Who? Me or them?"

"Both."

"Blatant Envy." Ryosuke looked at Jianxing