Obito materialized atop a distant rooftop, breath ragged. His cloak flapped in tatters, and fragments of his mask crumbled at his feet. For the first time in years, his face was fully exposed—one Sharingan flickering violently, the other burning with unnatural crimson.
Across the ruined district, Kaito stood tall under moonlight. His Mangekyo Sharingan pulsed like a cursemark etched into time itself.
"Izanagi?" Kaito sneered. "How desperate."
He didn't bother attacking. Not yet. He knew the truth—Obito was immortal for the next few minutes. Izanagi ensured that. No point wasting energy.
Obito stared at him, panting. "That technique… It can't be Flying Thunder God…"
He shook his head like a man denying reality.
"No… that jutsu was never taught to an Uchiha!"
Kaito smirked. His right eye—Divine Presence—flared with light. Obito had it wrong. This wasn't Minato's legacy. It was something more terrifying.
Instantaneous movement anywhere within his line of sight. No seals. No delay. No cooldown.
A perfect predator for a man who relied on phasing.
"They say fools learn from mistakes," Kaito said. "But you? You just keep making them."
Obito's eye widened. "How do you know the exact duration of Izanagi?!"
Only Minato had ever figured that out.
The implication sank like lead in Obito's gut.
This boy wasn't just powerful. He was dangerously informed.
A true Kage-level threat.
For the first time in the battle—Obito considered retreat.
Kaito tilted his head. "Running already? What happened to Madara Uchiha, the ghost of the Fourth War?"
Obito's jaw clenched.
He had seven minutes left. He'd test the boy's limits. And if no solution came? He'd vanish.
"You've surprised me," he said through gritted teeth, summoning his twin chain-scythes. "But don't mistake this for victory."
Kaito activated his Mangekyo again, its spinning glyphs glowing red-hot.
Obito froze.
"So you've awakened both eyes…" he whispered. "Then that spatial technique…"
Kaito didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
And that silence—chilled Obito more than any words.
He was fighting an enemy who knew his secrets… and had kept his own hidden.
Obito moved first.
He lunged.
And the rooftop became a battlefield of flashing steel and warping space.
Kaito's bladework—honed by system-enhanced training—forced Obito onto the defensive. Each time the masked man phased to avoid a blow, Kaito vanished using Divine Presence—appearing mid-swing, blade already following.
Obito began leaning on Izanagi.
Every time he was struck down, he resurrected.
But the intervals were getting tighter. He was losing time.
His stamina began to fray. Kaito didn't slow. He never slowed.
In the shadows…
From the treeline, hidden beneath genjutsu and distance, Danzo Shimura observed in silence.
Only his eye moved, tracking every clash.
"So the masked one claims to be Madara," he murmured. "And the other… that Uchiha boy."
He gripped his cane tighter as Kaito's Mangekyo spun again.
"Another one awakened…"
The boy's power was undeniable.
But more dangerous was the discipline.
No arrogance. No hesitation.
Just efficient, targeted destruction.
Danzo's lips curled.
"The Uchiha clan keeps producing monsters," he said. "This confirms the necessity of tonight's purge."
Obito's weakness was now obvious—he had not accounted for another Mangekyo user, let alone one with greater field control.
Danzo leaned forward slightly as Kaito vanished again.
And this time—he appeared behind Obito, blade already piercing through the older man's chest.
The sound of impact cracked the night.
Obito's body froze.
And then—
It dissolved.
He reappeared twenty meters away, panting, chest heaving.
"Izanagi…" Danzo muttered.
To force a technique of that caliber, from a man like him…
Danzo narrowed his eye.
This changed everything.
Even with his own stolen Sharingan, Danzo had never dared challenge the masked man directly. But this boy—
This child—was matching him blow for blow.
No. Surpassing him.