Obito Uchiha raced through the forest, a streak of black and orange. White Zetsu's guidance pulsed in his mind, a relentless pull toward the one spot that mattered—toward Rin.
"Obito," White Zetsu's voice slithered into his thoughts. "A fight's coming. Soon. There's something I should say first."
"What?" Obito snapped, not breaking stride.
"Your combat skills… they're inferior to mine. And right now, my bulk is wrapped around your little, battered body. Protecting you." The words were casual, probing.
All Obito could think of was the distance closing between him and Rin. "Get to the point!"
"I think it would be better if I took control during the fight."
"No!" Obito's voice was a raw scrape. "I have the Sharingan now. My power surpasses yours! I'll protect Rin myself!"
"Hmm. Perhaps. Your body now holds Hashirama's cultivated cells. The union of Uchiha and Senju… it might awaken something unprecedented."
Obito didn't answer. He suddenly looked up. A fine mist of droplets kissed his face.
Rain?
He stopped on a high branch, scanning ahead. Not rain. The air shimmered with chakra-born moisture. A battle. A big one. The distant clash of steel and crackle of jutsu echoed through the trees.
His gut tightened. "I thought it was raining. So that's it."
"My comrade sends word," White Zetsu murmured. "It's there. Right ahead."
Obito's jaw clenched. "Let's go."
He pushed faster. With every leap, the dread in his chest grew heavier, a cold stone sinking through him. His heart thrummed a painful, frantic rhythm.
Almost there… Almost… Don't think. Just run!
He burst from the tree line into a clearing.
And the world shattered.
He saw Rin. Saw her two teammates, their blades plunged deep into her chest.
Her last breath was a whisper carried on the wind. Two names. "Obi…to… Kaka…shi…"
She fell.
Obito stopped. The forest, the noise, the world—it all dissolved into a silent, screaming void. All he saw was her small form on the ground.
Around her, Mist ninja seethed with fury. "Damn it! The Konoha dogs got her!" "After all the trouble we went through…"
Their voices faded into static.
A furnace ignited behind Obito's right eye. Heat. Pain. Then… clarity. A new pattern spun to life within his iris—a jagged, tri-bladed pinwheel. The Mangekyō Sharingan.
White Zetsu's flesh surged, encasing half his face, his skull.
A roar tore from Obito's throat. Not a scream. It was the sound of the earth splitting open. "AAAAAAAAHHH—!"
Sharp, splintered wood erupted from the right side of his body, piercing through flesh and cloth.
A dizzying doubt clawed at the edges of his mind. This place… What is this place?
The Mist ninja finally noticed him. "Who's that?" "Reinforcements?" "Idiot! It's just one man!"
A shuriken barrage whistled toward him. Obito didn't move. The metal disks passed through him as if he were smoke.
He spoke, the words a low, broken chant. "I don't accept this. This reality."
The Mist ninja stared, stunned. "What was that?" "Did he… dodge?"
"I WON'T ACCEPT IT!" Obito roared. He lunged.
A Mist ninja intercepted him, blade flashing. "Don't underestimate the Village of the Bloody Mist!"
Obito's palm slammed into the man's stomach first. A second later, jagged wooden spikes erupted from the ninja's own torso, ripping outward in a grotesque fountain of blood and splinters.
Obito moved. He kicked another ninja down, planted a knee on his chest, snapped off a bloody wooden shard from his own arm, and drove it home.
Four more descended from above, swords aimed at his heart. Their blades passed through his ghostly form—and buried themselves in their own comrade beneath him.
Obito spun in the air. Four kicks. Four bodies crumpling.
Panic spread through the Mist ranks. "What is he?!" "What kind of technique is that?!" "At least retrieve the woman's body! Don't let the enemy have it!"
Obito streaked toward Rin. Kunai, shuriken, water needles—all phased through him. "He really can't be touched!"
One ninja dove for Rin's body. Obito's hand flicked. A wooden spike shot through the air like a bullet.
Hand seals. A flash. The ninja's body convulsed. Wood exploded from within.
White Zetsu's voice held a note of awe. "Wood Release: Cutting Technique. Used instantly. Obito… now I see why Madara chose you."
Another ninja reached for Rin. Obito's hand clamped on his head, smashing it into the dirt. He hurled the man up, caught him again, slammed him down. Then his fists rose and fell. Once. Twice. A wet, rhythmic pounding until the skull beneath was pulp and fragments.
The remaining Mist ninja froze, horror dawning.
Obito stood up, drenched in blood not his own. He looked at them, his single visible eye a bottomless black hole.
"Wood Release: Rampage of Hell!"
The ground trembled. Thick, twisted trunks burst forth, studded with thorns like barbed wire. They spiraled upward, a raging vortex of wood and death, engulfing the clearing, the screams, everything.
When it stopped, the silence was absolute. The ground was a red slurry.
Obito stood in the center of the carnage, painted in crimson. He looked at Rin's still form.
He finally understood. "I see now," he breathed, the words tasting of ash and blood. "I… am… in hell."
He walked toward her, a puppet with cut strings. Fragments of Madara's voice, of White Zetsu's taunts, echoed in the hollow of his skull. The longer you live, the more you realize reality is nothing but pain, suffering, and emptiness…In this world, wherever there is light, there are also shadows. Causality. Inseparable.Escape the troubles of the real world. Flee to a dream full of happiness…Even reviving the dead is possible there.A world of only winners. Only peace. Only love.
He knelt. Gathered her cold, limp body into his arms. He held her tight, his shoulders shaking with silent, wrenching sobs.
Minutes passed. An eternity in that red clearing.
When he raised his head again, the tears were gone. Burned away. Only a glacial certainty remained in his eyes. "Rin," he said, his voice flat, final. "I will… create a new world. A world where you exist. I will… sever the bonds of this cursed reality."
He returned to the cave. To the darkness. To the ancient presence waiting on the stone throne.
"That is why I have returned," Obito stated, his voice devoid of all warmth.
Across from him, Uchiha Madara looked at the boy drenched in blood and resolve. For the first time, the ghost of a true smile touched his lips. "Were you seen?"
White Zetsu oozed from the wall. "Only by me. Obito killed everyone else. It's fine."
Obito's gaze was fixed on some distant, invisible point. "I don't care about anything in this world anymore." A flicker of something—not hope, but fanatical conviction—lit the deadness in his eye. "In the world I am about to create… Rin will be there."
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