"Kakashi! Rin! Run!"
Obito shot awake, heart pounding in terror—only to be slammed by a pain so raw it felt like his body was being torn apart all over again.
Where… where am I?
He blinked, trying to make sense of his surroundings. It was a cave, dimly lit, shadows curling along rough stone walls. He could make out the space, but everything felt cold, unfamiliar.
He looked down, and panic spiked through him—his body was wrapped in some kind of white "skin," an IV drip stuck in his arm.
"You're awake!"
Obito flinched, eyes snapping up to see a bizarre figure—half its face black, half white.
"Who are you?" Obito managed, voice shaky.
"Me? I'm Zetsu. I saved you."
"Are you… with the Hidden Mist?"
"No."
"What happened to me?"
"You?" Zetsu let out a twisted chuckle. "You got blown to pieces. I picked you up—bit by bit." He mimed sweeping up trash with a dustpan.
Obito tried to sit up, but agony lanced through his body. Zetsu pressed him down.
"Don't move, kid. You might fall apart again."
Obito forced himself to breathe, to calm down. "Thanks for saving me. Where am I?"
Zetsu glanced around, grinning. "This is the old man's secret base in the Hidden Mist. Very secret."
Only then did Obito realize—there were actually two of them. Two "half-people," each side a different color.
But this world was full of strange things; Obito was surprised, but not shocked.
"My friends!" Obito blurted, sudden memory stabbing at his heart. "Where are Kakashi and Rin?"
"Friends?" Zetsu shrugged. "No idea. When we found you, you were just… pieces. No one else around. Maybe they abandoned you?"
"Abandoned me…" Obito repeated, voice hollow. A cold ache settled in his chest.
I'm such an idiot. With everything going to hell, I blew up the wall with explosive tags. In Koharu's eyes, how could I have survived? They had to save Rin, escape the Mist ninja. Who had time to care about a 'dead man' like me?
Wait—Zetsu said only I was there. That means the battle's over. Was Rin rescued? Did they make it?
Obito tried again to sit up, but Zetsu stopped him, almost gentle.
"Seriously, kid, don't move. You'll split open for real."
"Yeah, yeah, and then we can't sew you back together," the other half chimed in.
Zetsu pulled out a syringe, jabbed it into Obito's arm. "You need more sleep."
Obito wanted to protest, but the world spun, and he crashed back into unconsciousness.
"What a foolish kid," Black Zetsu muttered, pulling out the needle and shaking his head. "You two—watch him. Don't let him move."
"Yes," replied two White Zetsu clones, melting out of the shadows.
"How's he doing?" Madara asked, not looking up from the test tube in his hand.
"He'll live," Black Zetsu replied, "but…"
"But what?" Madara pressed.
"That kid's… a little naive," White Zetsu piped up.
"Naive?" Madara's lips curled with interest.
"Yeah! Blew himself to bits, and still worried about his friends," White Zetsu said.
Madara paused, then let out a bitter smile. "Every generation, the Uchiha produce a few idealistic fools. When they finally see how cruel the world is, that's when they truly change."
He put away his smile, turning serious. "What's the situation with the Three-Tails?"
Black Zetsu replied, "Koharu's successfully rescued the Three-Tails jinchūriki. They should be almost ashore."
"Good. That buys Konoha more time, keeps the war going a little longer. You know, that kid from the Sand—he's played this game beautifully. In just a few battles, he wiped out years of Konoha and Mist's hard-earned strength. If he'd been born in the Warring States era, his legacy wouldn't be limited to just Sunagakure."
Black Zetsu didn't seem interested in Madara's musings.
"Do we need to intervene in this war?"
Madara thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No. The situation's perfect. That kid's sharp, ruthless. I paid a steep price to escape—I can't risk drawing his attention again. Patience. Let others do the heavy lifting. Look—without us lifting a finger, the most troublesome Nine-Tails is already sealed in the Demonic Statue of the Outer Path. Saved us a world of trouble."
Madara tapped his pale eye. "That's true."
Black Zetsu looked oddly pleased, though about what was anyone's guess.
"By the way, how's the Nine-Tails sealing going?" Madara asked.
"Should be done in the next couple days," Black Zetsu answered.
"Let him keep the statue for now. Maybe he'll gather a few more tailed beasts—saves us the effort."
"Got it. What about that blond kid?"
"Leave him be for now. Might be useful down the line. How is he?"
"I've got two White Zetsu watching him. He's in a nutrient tank, kept alive by machines—like a living corpse."
Madara snorted. "Tobirama's jutsu—never anything normal. Souls aren't toys. Keep him stable."
"Finally… we're home!"
Koharu stared at the towering faces carved into Konoha's mountain, tears stinging her eyes.
It had been hell to get here.
Of the original dozen in the delegation, only five survived—including Rin, now the Three-Tails jinchūriki.
The bloodshed in Mist was bad enough. But escaping to Konoha was its own ordeal—Koharu had steered their tiny boat through a storm-ravaged sea, dodging Mist pursuers and monstrous waves that nearly smashed them to pieces.
They'd left in such a rush, there hadn't been time to pack enough food or water. If not for the rainwater caught on deck and Kakashi's expert fishing, they'd have starved before the Mist even caught up.
But they'd made it.
As soon as she entered the village, Koharu knew something was wrong. The air was thick with defeat—everyone wore the same hollow expression, heads bowed, spirit broken.
We haven't lost this war yet—how can everyone be so beaten down?
Urgency surged in Koharu's chest. After handing Rin off to the waiting ANBU, she grabbed Kakashi and Uchiha Fugaku and stormed into the Hokage's office.
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