Naruto: The Sarutobi Who Can't Spark

INTERLUDE (1.1)

February 14, 2012

Evan never expected his Valentine's Day to be anything special—until it became the most complicated day of his life. A typical high school teen, he was used to being at the center of attention—and honestly, he enjoyed it. His natural charisma and penchant for mischief made him both adored and infamous in equal measures.

But this year? This year was different.

It seemed like all his favorite girls had something special planned for him, and he had no clue how to handle it.

The chaos began when Lyla, the quiet girl from English class, shyly handed him a small card in the hallway, her cheeks burning red. "I thought you might like this," she murmured, avoiding his gaze.

Evan gave her a wink and tucked the card into his bag with a grin. "Thanks, Lyla. You always know how to make my day."

Before he could take another step, his phone buzzed.

Maya: "Don't forget our lunch date at 12. I got you something special."

Evan smirked. Maya was bold and confident—exactly the kind of girl who knew what she wanted. His pulse quickened as he wondered what her surprise might be. Lunch at the café, maybe? Something more? His mind ran wild with possibilities.

Just then, a familiar voice called out from behind him.

"Evan! Wait up!"

Claire, the energetic whirlwind from his math class, jogged up to him, practically bouncing on her heels. She thrust a small bouquet of daisies into his hands. "These are for you!" she said, her bright grin lighting up the hallway.

Evan's best friend, Wixx, who had been watching the scene unfold, let out a dramatic sigh. His heart raced—not out of jealousy, but out of sheer dread. How many girls had Evan unwittingly led to believe that today would be just for them? Did he even realize the tangled mess he had created?

Wixx knew Evan's charm had somehow turned Valentine's Day into a festival of expectations. At least for him.

Or worse—did he know exactly what he was doing? Wixx's eyes narrowed with suspicion before he let out another deep sigh.

Evan knew.

By noon, Evan was juggling three dates, each more complicated than the last. First, there was Lyla, who had gifted him a homemade bookmark with a quote from his favorite novel. The thoughtfulness of the gift made him feel a twinge of guilt—he hadn't exactly prepared anything meaningful for her in return.

Then came Maya, waiting at the café with a warm smile. She handed him a neatly wrapped box of chocolates and a note that promised "something exciting" after lunch.

Hot Wheels? he mused jokingly, though something told him Maya's idea of excitement wasn't toy cars.

And finally, there was Claire, who had dragged him into an impromptu ice cream date, giggling as she whispered about a secret hideout she wanted to show him—somewhere they could just be themselves, away from prying eyes.

By mid-afternoon, Evan was starting to feel the weight of his decisions. Each girl had her own idea of what this day meant, and he was caught in the crossfire, trying to keep everyone happy without letting his carefully constructed house of cards collapse.

It wasn't until dinner that things really started to spiral.

Unbeknownst to each other, all three girls had planned a romantic evening at the same restaurant.

Reservations made. Expectations set.

It was a catastrophe in the making, a disaster waiting to explode in a flurry of crushed hopes and hurt feelings.

Evan was no stranger to chaos—if anything, he thrived in it.

Known throughout the school for his pranks and mischievous antics, he had left a trail of havoc in his wake. Even the teachers gave him some leeway, hoping it would prevent him from pulling another prank. His charisma gave him a free pass that most students could only dream of.

Anyone who interacted with Evan left with a good impression. He often joked around—sometimes harshly—but meant no harm. He was always in a good mood.

Quick to make friends, Evan was also the first to lend a hand when someone needed it.

Pranks? Well, each day, Evan brought a new stunt that tested the limits of both his friends and teachers. From setting off firecrackers in the hallway to rigging the principal's office with a dozen whoopee cushions, his tricks were infamous.

There seemed to be no line Evan wouldn't cross for the perfect laugh. Even in class, he'd manage to sneak notes or create distractions, leaving a trail of chaos in his wake.

One day, he hacked into the morning announcements and, without anyone knowing, played a pre-recorded message of him impersonating the principal's voice. It was just him reading a completely absurd list of "mandatory" new school rules—like no one was allowed to wear shoes with laces or that pizza Fridays would now be a vegan-only event. The chaos that followed was priceless.

And then there was the ultimate stunt —The Post-it Note stunt. He'd spent weeks carefully placing transparent sticky notes all over the school—on doors, windows, desks, and even the principal's car. When the students arrived the next morning, the entire school was covered in neon yellow post-its, making the building look like a giant puzzle. Evan, of course, claimed it might just be a "School-wide Motivational Campaign."

Suspended eight times, and reported to his parents more times than he could count. Yet what more could they do? He was a star athlete, the driving force behind the school's dominance in table tennis and football, and an academic prodigy who consistently ranked at the top of his class. An irreplaceable asset.

His mischief was an open secret, his pranks 'legendary', but he was meticulous—never leaving behind a shred of evidence. Still, suspicion clung to him like a shadow. Teachers whispered, and students exchanged knowing glances, but in the end, the school couldn't afford to lose him. No matter the stunts, no matter the chaos, Evan remained untouchable.

He walked a fine line between being a menace and an asset.

Besides, this was his final year. One last year of putting up with him couldn't hurt… right?

Evan's mischievous antics escalated so much that only Wixx could rein him in—often by physically knocking some sense into him. They were both brilliant, and exceptional, but in completely different ways.

It was a strange dynamic between them. They could easily joke around one moment, but the next, Wixx was the one who had to put Evan in his place.

Wixx had been Evan's closest friend since childhood, and because of that, he was the only one who could truly keep Evan's wild behavior in check. When Evan's pranks went too far or his stunts started to cause real problems, Wixx was always there, ready to step in.

They had a bizarre friendship. While Evan thrived on chaos and attention, Wixx was more grounded, the calm to Evan's storm. Wixx was the opposite of Evan in almost every way. While they both were best at school, Evan was well known for his social skills.

Evan's mischievous antics escalated so much that only Wixx could rein him in—often by physically knocking some sense into him.

Wixx would often find himself dragging Evan out of situations that could have spiraled out of control, even if it meant tackling him and physically pulling him away from the latest mess he'd gotten into. It wasn't always pretty, but it worked.

As Evan's charm effortlessly pulled three girls into his orbit, Wixx couldn't even get the courage to ask one girl out. He was hopeless when it came to relationships, watching as Evan—who'd spent more time pulling pranks than worrying about girls—found himself at the center of a romantic whirlwind.

Wixx, on the other hand, wasn't in Evan's shadow—he simply had no interest in the spotlight. He was just as sharp, just as accomplished, but a lazy and unenergetic fellow. He couldn't fathom how his best friend could balance it all.

Now, Evan stood in front of the mirror, getting dressed with a grin plastered on his face, his favorite song blasting in the background. He was excited, brimming with the kind of joy that only came from having not one, but three girls vying for his attention.

Three girls and a single date? Well, he'd just have to see how it all played out.

And that was the horror of it…

As he stepped into the restaurant, the tension was immediate. Evan scanned the room, quickly spotting Lyla at a table near the window, nervously twisting a napkin in her hands. A few feet away, Maya sat confidently, scanning the menu with a knowing smirk. And at the other end of the restaurant, Claire hummed a tune to herself, completely unaware of what was about to unfold.

Evan gulped. There was no way he could make it through the night without someone realizing what was going on.

Wixx, who had been dragged along as an unwilling accomplice, sighed. "Dude, this is going to end badly."

"Relax," Evan whispered, straightening his jacket. "I have a plan."

Wixx raised an eyebrow. "Your plans usually end with detentions or fire alarms."

Evan flashed a grin. "Exactly."

Evan spent the next hour bouncing between tables, making up excuses, slipping in and out of different conversations like a spy on a high-stakes mission—offering quick-witted remarks on one table, flashing a charming smile onto another table here. He complimented Lyla's dress with just the right amount of sincerity, laughed effortlessly at Maya's jokes, and nodded along with unwavering interest as Claire recounted a childhood story about her beloved cat. It was a balancing act like no other.

Meanwhile, Wixx occupied a table Evan had reserved beside a window, but unlike his friend, he had no date. He ordered without hesitation, selecting dishes and fine wine with a connoisseur's taste. As Evan danced through the chaos, Wixx sat back, savoring every bite of his meal. And he was enjoying a different kind of entertainment—watching Evan stunt the room, effortlessly balancing charm and deception.

Sweat formed at the back of Evan's neck as the complexity of his web grew. Every move had to be precise. He couldn't let any girl catch him glancing at another table, couldn't let his stories contradict, and absolutely couldn't afford to repeat a compliment he had just used five minutes ago. The pressure was immense, but Evan thrived in chaos.

He wove through conversations with practiced ease, switching tones, expressions, and mannerisms like a performer switching masks. But the more time he spent here, the more delicate his balance. One misstep, one tiny inconsistency, and the whole thing could come crashing down.

However, disaster struck sooner than expected.

A waitress, looking frazzled as she carefully balanced a tray of drinks, stopped near Evan's table with Maya. Her brow furrowed as she glanced at the small notepad in her hand, then at him.

"Sir, are you Evan?"

Evan wiped the sweat from his neck with a practiced motion, slipping into his usual effortless smile. "Yes, dear?"

The waitress hesitated, shifting her weight slightly, her fingers tightening around the notepad in her hands. "Mr. Evan, there's been some confusion—three different servers have placed orders under your name. Are you sure that's correct?"