Sure enough, the gears of fate had started turning—only this time, they were turning early.
"We've received intelligence. The captured medical-nin have been transferred deeper into the Land of Grass," Sarutobi Hiruzen continued.
"Your mission is to infiltrate the area and rescue the captives. Orochimaru will serve as tactical commander for this operation, but he won't be directly participating in the fighting—he has other duties."
Orochimaru gave a slight nod, his golden pupils sweeping over everyone present.
"I'm very familiar with Mist operations. They'll set layered security, they're skilled at using terrain to plant traps, and most importantly—there's a chance they've placed restraints or tracking seals on the hostages."
"Understood," Kiyohara replied in a low voice.
"Because medical-nin are a special case, we have to move quickly." Hiruzen tapped his pipe.
"You have one hour to prepare. Then you depart immediately. Remember—rescue is the priority. Avoid a direct clash with the enemy main force as much as possible."
"Yes!"
Everyone answered in unison and swiftly left the Hokage's office.
The hallway felt heavy and stifling. Kurenai glanced sideways at Kiyohara and murmured,
"Kakashi is already at the Grass border. He got the message two days before we did… he's probably not in a good state right now."
Kiyohara nodded.
He could imagine Kakashi's mindset—Obito had "died" not long ago, and now Rin had fallen into enemy hands. That kind of back-to-back blow would crush anyone.
In canon, Kakashi spiraled so hard he even read books about suicide.
If the ninja world had psychologists, Kakashi in that period would've absolutely qualified as severely depressed.
In a twisted way, that time in Anbu became an outlet for Kakashi's suffocating repression—so his methods turned cold enough to frighten even his comrades.
It wasn't until he left Anbu and became Team Seven's instructor that he slowly regained warmth.
…
One hour later, at Konoha's main gate.
They were fully geared up.
This time, besides Kiyohara's three-man squad, there were additional shinobi—Might Guy, Ebisu, and others.
Orochimaru had already moved out ahead. After giving everyone brief instructions, he took a different route to the Land of Grass, handling intel gathering and outer support.
Kiyohara checked his gear again.
His thermos had been replaced with a custom gourd that could store more iron sand—a ninja tool he'd bought from a weapons shop.
The gourd was pitch-black with white patterns around its edges.
It was packed with dense iron sand; if Kiyohara swung it like a club, it would crater anything it hit.
He'd replenished his ninja pouch with fresh kunai and explosive tags. His sword had been lightly maintained too.
"Let's move," Kiyohara said once the others finished packing.
This time, he was the leader.
Everyone else was chūnin—he was the only jōnin.
"Yes!"
Genma and Kurenai answered.
The trip to the Land of Grass took four days.
On the fourth evening, when the mountain ranges along the border finally came into view, Kurenai pointed toward a faint camp outline tucked in a valley.
"That's Green Hills Outpost."
Dusk washed over her face like a thin veil of gold.
"Let's go," Kiyohara nodded—and casually plucked a leaf off her hair.
"H-Hey…!"
Kurenai had been bracing herself for him to pat her head again—only to realize he was just removing the leaf.
Watching his back, she muttered under her breath,
"He looks taller again…"
She glanced at Guy and Genma. Kiyohara was a year or two older than them—he'd transferred in back then—so he'd always been taller.
But when their group arrived, what they saw was chaos.
The camp's outer defenses bore clear signs of massive Water Release damage, and new tents had been hastily erected on top of the wreckage.
A chūnin with his arm wrapped in bandages hurried over.
"Are you the reinforcements?"
"Yes. We're one of the reinforcement teams—more squads are coming," Kiyohara said, showing the mission scroll.
"How bad is it right now?"
The chūnin's face twisted bitterly as he shook his head.
"A few days ago we got hit. They had at least ten jōnin-level shinobi—we couldn't hold. After the medical team was taken… there was another attack last night…"
"Where's Kakashi?" Kiyohara pressed.
"He's over there." The chūnin pointed toward a tent deeper inside the camp.
Kiyohara told his teammates to gather details first while he headed for the tent.
He lifted the flap and saw a hunched, exhausted back.
Kakashi sat on a crude field cot, head down, checking his kunai.
His silver hair was a mess. His forehead protector sat askew, covering his left eye, while his visible right eye was bloodshot.
His flak jacket, once neat, was caked with dust, and the sleeves were stained with dried blood.
"Kakashi," Kiyohara said.
Kakashi slowly turned. A flicker of light crossed his eye—then dulled again.
"Kiyohara… you're here."
"I heard you've been searching for Rin."
Kiyohara stepped in and sat across from him.
Kakashi gave a bitter smile, spinning the kunai between his fingers.
"Three days. I tracked down three possible hideouts. Every time it was either a trap… or an empty camp they'd already abandoned. The Mist bastards are slippery. They're deliberately stalling. Like they're trying to set something up."
Kiyohara could hear the self-blame in his voice.
Kakashi had promised Obito he'd protect Rin—and now it felt like he'd broken that promise again.
"Don't rush," Kiyohara said.
"The more you're in a situation like this, the more you have to stay calm. If Mist took medical-nin, they have a specific purpose. They won't harm hostages casually—at least not before they get what they want."
Kakashi looked up, staring straight at him.
"You're right. But every time I come up empty, I can't stop thinking… if Obito were still alive… if I'd been stronger back then…"
"The past can't be changed," Kiyohara cut in.
"But we can control what happens now. Tell me everything—your latest intel."
Kakashi took a slow breath before speaking.
"Based on the traces I found yesterday, they may have moved the hostages north. The terrain there is nasty—lots of caves, easy to defend, hard to assault. But I'm worried it's another lure."
Kiyohara quickly ran the timeline in his head.
From Land of Rain back to Konoha, his training time, then the march to Grass—too much time had already passed.
And his next "will and ashes box" wasn't far away either.
If they stalled a bit longer, the next future inheritance might trigger.
Mist probably can't transplant the Three-Tails into Rin that fast, Kiyohara reasoned.
Sealing a tailed beast was no small matter.
If the beast rampaged, anyone without Kage-level power would die to a Tailed Beast Bomb.
And sealing required both powerful fuinjutsu and a container strong enough to hold it.
Kiyohara didn't know Rin's aptitude; in canon she only briefly became the Three-Tails' jinchūriki before dying by Kakashi's hand.
She never displayed tailed-beast power, so it was hard to judge how suitable she really was.
This timeline is already different. Earlier timing means Madara and Mist might not be fully ready.
Was this because of his butterfly effect?
Either way—as long as Kakashi hadn't been forced onto the "stage," the play hadn't reached its climax yet.
Rin should still be alive… for now.
"We rest tonight," Kiyohara said, patting Kakashi's shoulder.
"Tomorrow at dawn, we move."
His mission was to rescue the captured medical-nin.
"Okay." Kakashi glanced at him, and some tension eased from his chest.
Over these months, Kiyohara had grown steadily stronger.
He'd even started developing a name of his own—"Magnet Release Kiyohara."
War was the fastest way for someone to rise.
A breeze begins as a ripple in grass; a wave begins as a tiny swell.
Now, Kiyohara felt… reliable to Kakashi.
...
At the same time—Graveyard of Mountains.
Deep within the underground cavern, the elderly Uchiha Madara sat on a massive wooden chair.
He watched Obito sleeping in deep slumber. At this point, even if they discussed anything, Obito wouldn't notice.
"Madara-sama."
A white humanoid figure slowly rose from the ground.
"The Mist side reports the sealing formula still needs time."
Madara opened his eyes, Sharingan fixed on the White Zetsu.
"How long?"
"About five days," White Zetsu answered.
"The Three-Tails' chakra is more unstable than expected. Mist's sealing team needs extra time to adjust the formula."
"Five days… that's fine. It'll make the plan cleaner, with fewer traces."
Madara's hand rested on his scythe as he asked,
"And Obito?"
"Still recovering," White Zetsu replied.
"Rehab is going well. The fusion with Zetsu cells is higher than expected."
A second White Zetsu chimed in.
"He asks every day when he can return to Konoha. How his teammates are doing. His body is basically healed, and with Kiyohara's 'stimulus,' he's grown stronger than before."
"That child can't even endure this much," Madara shook his head.
"That little fool still clings to 'teammates'… still believes in those fake bonds. It doesn't matter. Reality will teach him."
Compared purely in mentality, Obito was completely outclassed by the Kiyohara Madara disliked.
But Obito carried Uchiha blood, while Kiyohara didn't.
That alone made Obito more valuable.
"Do we tell him about Rin now?" Zetsu asked.
"Not yet." Madara waved him off.
"Let him stew in the dark longer. When hope shatters completely… despair tastes sweeter."
Zetsu added,
"Based on Mist intel and other Zetsu reports, Konoha has already sent a rescue squad."
"Kiyohara…" Madara repeated the name.
Lately, Kiyohara's information had reached him too.
The closer it got to the critical moment, the more details Madara collected.
To be honest, the kid's growth rate was impressive.
But if he wasn't Uchiha, he wasn't worth real attention.
Madara's goal had never changed: cultivate a successor worthy of inheriting everything before his life ran out.
Everything else was irrelevant.
"Do we interfere?" Zetsu asked.
"Guide Kiyohara and Kakashi toward the stage," Madara said.
"Yes."
"For now, keep Obito in the dark. Once the timing is right, let him 'coincidentally' learn that his comrades are in danger."
"Understood."
The Zetsu sank back into the stone. The cave returned to silence.
Madara leaned back against the chair.
Finally… it had reached this point.
Even with his iron will, a ripple of emotion surfaced.
The Eye of the Moon Plan.
Infinite Tsukuyomi.
A dream world with no war, no pain, no loss—an eternal peace.
For that, no matter how many had to die, no matter how much blood stained his hands, it was worth it.
"Hashirama…" Madara murmured, touching his chest.
"The peace you wanted was always illusion. Only my way can bring true, eternal tranquility."
...
Madara slept for three hours. Obito finally woke and resumed his rehab training.
Bare-chested, sweat ran along the lines of his tightened muscles.
His right half was now white all over—and he had a full white arm.
He did push-ups using that white arm.
After receiving Hashirama's cells, not only had he survived—his physical performance was even stronger than before.
The cell fusion granted him abnormal recovery and chakra reserves.
But Obito felt no joy.
All he could think of was Rin.
"Nine hundred ninety-seven… nine hundred ninety-eight… nine hundred ninety-nine… one thousand!"
After finishing the last set, he collapsed onto the ground, panting.
His eyes stared blankly at the cavern ceiling.
How many meters of rock were above him?
To escape, he'd have to break through all of it.
He bitterly regretted not learning more Earth Release.
If he knew "Earth Release: Subterranean Voyage," he'd have surfaced long ago.
"Spacing out again?"
A voice chimed.
A white face appeared on the cavern wall, then the whole body crawled out—Zetsu, the one assigned to watch over Obito.
"Your training today was great! At this rate, in two weeks—max—you won't feel any discomfort at all!"
Obito didn't respond. He just stared at his right hand.
The white fingers clenched and relaxed, smooth and natural—almost identical to his original arm.
But it wasn't truly his flesh.
"White guy," Obito said suddenly.
"When can I go back?"
Zetsu tilted his head theatrically.
"Go back? Back where?"
"Back to Konoha." Obito turned, the two-tomoe Sharingan faintly red in the dark.
"My teammates are waiting. Kakashi's definitely talking trash again, and Rin must be worried… and that Kiyohara—he keeps bothering Rin. If I don't go back soon, I can't rest."
Zetsu blinked nonexistent eyes.
"But Madara-sama said going back now is pointless."
"What do you mean?"
"Your place has already been replaced!"
Zetsu said something cruel in a sing-song tone.
"Konoha's hero is Hatake Kakashi. Everyone calls him a genius. As for you… they'll pity you for a few days, then forget you!"
Obito shot to his feet.
"You're lying!"
"I'm not!"
Zetsu hopped up the wall like a gecko.
"Ask Madara-sama if you don't believe me! He said the ninja world is that cruel—people without value get forgotten fast. Even if you saved someone once, so what? Who remembers after time passes?"
Obito's fists tightened until they cracked.
He wanted to argue—say Kakashi wasn't like that.
Say Rin would remember.
Say Kiyohara, Guy, Kurenai… everyone wouldn't forget him.
But the words wouldn't come.
Because that scene—Rin smiling at Kiyohara in a way he'd never seen before—still echoed in his mind.
In Konoha, he really had been dead last.
Bottom of the class in theory. Only practical work was decent.
And even that was because Uchiha naturally had more chakra than average.
His ninjutsu was slow. His taijutsu was mediocre. The only thing he could do was Fire Release—and he often botched it and burned himself.
Without the Sharingan, what was he?
A plain Uchiha—an ignored nobody on the clan's edge.
"No…" Obito shook his head, as if trying to convince himself.
"Kakashi promised he'd protect Rin. Rin said the three of us would become great ninja together. They won't forget me. They won't…"
Zetsu jumped down and patted Obito's shoulder.
The touch made Obito feel a wave of nausea—the hand looked human, but clearly wasn't.
"Alright, alright. Don't overthink it. Train more. Once you're strong enough, you can go anywhere."
Obito started training again in silence.
But this time, every punch and kick carried vented frustration.
In the deep shadows, Madara watched it all without expression.
From time to time he had Zetsu bring up Kiyohara—just to poke at Obito's darkness.
"The stage is built," Madara thought.
"Now all that's left is for you to step onto it, Obito."
In two weeks, he would arrange the play.
Obito's debut.
Obito, of course, knew none of this.
He just clenched his teeth and repeated the basics over and over, chanting in his mind:
Get stronger faster.
Get back sooner.
Kakashi, Rin—wait for me.
And when I'm back, I'll tell that bastard Kiyohara to stay away from Rin.
He even remembered Rin's birthday.
When he returned, he'd make it up to her—give her a birthday present.
Obito made that promise to himself.