The trajectory of fate quietly shifted.
The cold edge of the sword descended like judgment from the heavens.
Obito lay sprawled across the forest floor, body battered, chakra depleted, and soul on the brink of surrender. Kagero's bloodlust loomed over him, his blade flashing under the broken moonlight.
Obito's limbs wouldn't move.
His chest heaved weakly, lungs burning, vision blurring.
So this is it… I really am going to die here…
His eyes began to close.
But then—like a whisper through the darkness—
A voice.
Soft.
Familiar.
"Obito… You promised you'd become Hokage one day, didn't you?"
The world froze.
His breath hitched. His mind, clouded in despair, was suddenly pierced by a memory:
[FLASHBACK – WARM SPRING AFTERNOON]
Rin stood in the sunlight, her hands clasped behind her back, a warm smile on her face. They were by a small riverbank, just outside the village. Her voice was full of quiet conviction.
"You're always getting left behind, Obito… But that doesn't mean you're weak."
Obito scoffed, cheeks flushed. "It means I'm not strong enough…"
Rin shook her head gently, stepping closer.
"No. It means you haven't given up."
She placed a hand over his chest.
"Your heart is strong. Stronger than anyone I know."
[PRESENT – BACK TO THE FOREST]
The blade was inches away now.
But her voice…
It was louder than the wind.
"So please… don't ever give up. I believe in you, Obito!"
Something shattered.
Something burned.
Something awoke.
Snap!
Obito's eyes shot open—now no longer dull and lifeless, but glowing crimson. The tomoe swirled into place, one… then two… spinning with a fierce light.
Sharingan.
His world changed in an instant.
The descending blade of Kagero, once impossibly fast, now appeared as if in slow motion. Every muscle twitch, every flicker of chakra, every movement—he could see it all.
His heart thundered back to life.
His limbs responded.
Not yet.
Obito rolled to the side—barely—the blade slashing past his shoulder, missing his vital point.
Kagero's eyes widened in shock.
"You—?!"
Obito's fist clenched into the earth as he pushed himself up, breathing raggedly but with purpose.
"I'm not dying here."
He looked up, those glowing Sharingan eyes burning.
"Not before I keep my promise to her."
Just as Obito was about to be struck down by Kagero, a chilling rogue shinobi, a miracle occurred—born from his deep unwillingness and desperation. At that critical moment, Obito awakened the unique bloodline of the Uchiha clan: the Sharingan.
As the scarlet tomoe spun to life in his eyes, time seemed to slow. The movements of Kagero, once too fast to track, now appeared sluggish and predictable. Driven by a primal thirst to live, Obito forced his battered body to move. Twice he shifted—barely—just in time to avoid the fatal blow that had seemed unavoidable mere seconds earlier.
"How is this possible…?"
The blade missed. Kagero's expression twisted in disbelief. His prey, who had seemed mere inches from death, had dodged him—in that state?
"Brat, you—!"
Raising his head, Kagero's eyes landed on Obito's face—and froze. The boy's once pitch-black pupils had transformed into a pair of glowing red chakra eyes.
Those eyes… No mistake.
They were Sharingan.
Kagero's face darkened. A mixture of greed and malice sparked in his gaze. As a shinobi, he was all too aware of what the Sharingan represented—not just its famed insight and copying abilities, but its value. He knew that the eyes of the Uchiha clan could be transplanted—and wielded—by outsiders.
And now, before him was a defenseless Uchiha… a perfect opportunity.
"Brat," Kagero sneered, his voice low and dripping with greed. "I've changed my mind. Hand over your eyes willingly, and maybe—just maybe—I'll let you live. Life or death… the choice is yours."
Obito's face twisted in rage and defiance. He didn't even need to think.
"Don't kid yourself. I'd rather die than let a monster like you have my Sharingan!"
Kagero snorted coldly. "So you choose death. Fine."
Forming a rapid series of hand signs, he barked, "Shadow Clone Jutsu!"
Poof! Poof!
Two identical figures appeared on either side of him—Kagero's shadow clones. His real body narrowed his eyes.
"You brought this on yourself," he hissed.
"Get him!!!"
At his command, the three Kageros dashed forward. The real body took the lead, his clones flanking to attack from the sides. They moved like a deadly triangle, closing in.
The forest exploded into action. Sword-light flickered through the trees, leaves scattered, and chakra stirred the wind. Obito did all he could—dodging, weaving, striking—but his body had long since passed its limit.
And then—a scream.
A thin figure crashed from mid-air, slamming into the forest floor with a sickening thud.
"Damn it… Is this the end?"
Lying motionless, Obito stared up at the sky. His strength was gone. His chakra reserves were nearly zero. Even moving his fingers felt like lifting mountains.
This… this can't be it…
Kagero landed softly in front of him, followed by his clones.
"Well, looks like you've reached your limit, runt."
His voice was calm, almost amused. His clones moved in, grabbing Obito's weakened arms and pinning him down. Kagero crouched beside him, reaching out and lifting Obito's head by the chin.
"Tch… So this is the Sharingan up close? Beautiful. Rare. Priceless."
Obito stared at him, eyes burning with rage, even if his body couldn't fight .
"Peh!!!"
He spat in Kagero's face.
Even now, with nothing left—he didn't flinch. He didn't plead. He was Uchiha.
Kagero's smile vanished. He wiped the spit off his cheek slowly, then slapped Obito's face—once, twice.
"You little rat… you've got guts, I'll give you that."
Then his expression twisted into something colder—something surgical.
"But I'm done playing games. Your Sharingan… I'll be taking it now."
With a final, cruel grin, Kagero reached for Obito's eyes.