The days blurred together as Obito adjusted to his new-old life. He trained, went on missions, and kept up his usual antics, but beneath it all, he was always thinking, always planning. Every laugh, every argument with Kakashi, every moment spent with Rin—it all felt surreal like he was walking through a dream he had already woken up from once before.
And maybe, in a way, he had.
But no matter how strange it felt, one thing was clear: this wasn't a dream. This was real. And if he had truly been given a second chance, he couldn't afford to waste it.
The problem was, he was still just a kid. Weak, inexperienced, and nowhere near strong enough to stop what was coming. The Uchiha Massacre, the Akatsuki, the war, *Madara*—all of it loomed over him like a storm he wasn't ready to face.
And that terrified him.
So, he did the only thing he could do—he worked. He trained harder than he ever had before, pushing his body past its limits, and forcing himself to grow stronger, faster, *smarter*. Minato noticed almost immediately.
"You've been working hard, Obito," he said one evening after their mission, his sharp blue eyes studying him. "I don't think I've ever seen you this focused."
Obito forced a grin. "Well, someone has to keep up with Kakashi."
Kakashi scoffed, arms crossed. "Good luck with that."
It was their usual banter, but even Kakashi seemed to realize something had changed. Obito was getting better—faster than he should have been. He wasn't just a goofball who barely scraped by in training anymore.
But it wasn't enough.
No matter how strong he became, he knew he was running out of time.
**
One evening, as Obito walked through the Uchiha compound, the quiet of the streets pressing in on him, a chill ran down his spine.
Someone was watching him.
He stopped, pretending to adjust his sandal, and listened. The air was still, the night silent—but there. The faintest shift in the wind, the feeling of something just out of sight.
He forced himself to keep moving. If it *was* Madara, or someone connected to him, then acting suspicious would only make things worse.
But inside, his thoughts were racing.
*They're already watching me.*
He needed to act. Soon. Before it was too late. It
Obito forced himself to walk normally, his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel the weight of the unseen presence lingering, just out of reach. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to *run*, to *fight*, to *do something*—but he wasn't ready for that. Not yet.
So, instead, he *waited*.
He yawned loudly, stretching his arms as if he hadn't noticed anything, then turned toward home at a leisurely pace. If whoever was watching him thought he was oblivious, they might get careless.
As he rounded the corner, he felt the presence fade. Gone.
He let out a slow breath, his fingers twitching at his sides.
*Who was that?*
Madara? No. That didn't seem right. If it had been Madara, he would've done more than just watch. The old man had been manipulative, yes, but he had also been direct when it mattered.
So, if not Madara… then who?
Someone from the Uchiha? ANBU? Root?
The thought of Danzo's people sniffing around made his stomach turn. He had no idea how early they had started monitoring the Uchiha, but if Root already had an eye on him, that was a problem.
A *big* problem.
He needed to be more careful. If he drew too much attention, he'd be a target long before he was strong enough to do anything about it.
Obito exhaled, rubbing his face. It was exhausting—pretending to be a clueless kid when every instinct told him to prepare for war.
But he had no choice.
For now, he had to play the fool.
**
The next morning, he was back at the training field before the sun had fully risen. His body ached from the previous day's training, but he ignored it. Pain meant nothing.
If he wanted to stand a chance when the time came, he had to be *better*.
So he ran. He threw kunai until his fingers were raw. He drilled his chakra control relentlessly, forcing himself to hold it longer and mold it faster. He knew he had the potential—he had *felt* the raw power of his Mangekyō in his past life. The trick was finding the fastest way to reach it again.
"You're up early."
Obito turned, wiping sweat from his brow, and found Minato watching him with quiet amusement.
"Sensei," he greeted, catching his breath. "Thought I'd get a head start."
Minato tilted his head, studying him with that sharp, unreadable gaze of his. "You've been working hard lately."
Obito forced a grin. "Figured it was time to stop slacking."
"Mm." Minato didn't look convinced. "Obito, I've been a shinobi long enough to know when someone is pushing themselves *too* hard. What's going on?"
Obito hesitated. *What could he say?* That he was trying to rewrite the future? That he needed to be strong enough to change fate?
That if he failed, *everyone* he loved would die?
"...I just want to be stronger," he said finally. It wasn't a lie, just not the whole truth.
Minato studied him for another long moment, then sighed. "Alright. If you're this determined, how about I help?"
Obito blinked. "...Help?"
Minato smiled. "You've been training on your own, but without guidance, you might develop bad habits. If you're serious about this, I can give you extra lessons after missions."
Obito stared at him. He hadn't expected that. Minato *offering* to personally train him? That was a chance he couldn't afford to waste.
He straightened immediately. "I won't let you down, Sensei!"
Minato chuckled. "Good. But don't forget—strength isn't just about power. It's about *control*."
Obito swallowed. The words hit deeper than they should have.
Because in his past life, he *had* been powerful. He had wielded abilities that most shinobi could only dream of. But he had lost himself in it.
This time… he had to be better.
He clenched his fists. "I understand."
Minato smiled, but there was something in his eyes—concern, maybe. Like he could sense that Obito was carrying something heavier than he was letting on.
But he didn't press. Instead, he simply nodded. "Then let's get started."
**
The next few weeks were brutal.
Minato didn't hold back, and Obito quickly learned that being *willing* to train hard wasn't the same as *knowing how to train smart*. Under Minato's guidance, he refined his taijutsu, improved his chakra efficiency, and learned techniques far beyond what a Genin should have been capable of.
Even Kakashi started to notice.
"You're keeping up better than usual," he remarked one day, arms crossed as they finished their drills.
Obito smirked. "Maybe you're just slowing down."
Kakashi snorted. "Doubtful."
But there was something else in his tone—something almost *curious*. As if he wasn't quite sure what to make of this new, determined version of Obito.
Rin, as always, was encouraging. "You're getting better, Obito!" she said with a smile. "At this rate, you'll catch up to Kakashi in no time!"
Obito laughed, though there was a lump in his throat. *If only you knew.*
If only she knew how much he was fighting for this.
How much he was fighting for *her*.
But it still wasn't enough.
Because even as he trained, even as he improved, the future loomed closer with every passing day. The Kannabi Bridge mission was coming. His so-called "death" was coming.
And *they* were still watching him.
He could feel it.
Some nights, he lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling that same unsettling *presence* lingering just out of reach. Whoever it was, they weren't making a move yet. But they were there.
Waiting.
For what, he didn't know.
But he sure as hell wasn't going to wait to find out.
If they were watching him, then it was time he started watching *them*.