Obito didn't let on that he was aware. He continued playing the part of an eager genin, training harder than before, pushing himself to his limits under Minato's guidance. But behind that mask of determination, his mind worked tirelessly, trying to figure out *who* was watching him and *why*.
If it was Root, they wouldn't hesitate to make a move the moment they deemed him a threat. Danzo didn't waste resources on simple observation. If he had sent someone, it meant there was a purpose behind it—either to recruit him or to eliminate him.
Neither option was acceptable.
So Obito did what any shinobi worth their salt would do—he set a trap.
It was subtle, nothing too obvious. A few extra laps around the village, a shift in his usual training route, a carefully placed clone to move through areas he wasn't actually in. If they were tracking him, they'd have to adjust.
And eventually, they did.
It was a small thing. A flicker of movement in his peripheral vision, just for a second. Most people wouldn't have noticed it, but Obito wasn't *most people*. Not anymore.
*Got you.*
He didn't react. Not outwardly. But the next time he trained, he made sure to veer toward the outskirts of the village, where there were fewer prying eyes. A place where, if someone *did* decide to follow him, they'd be forced to show themselves.
He felt the presence again, closer this time. Watching. Waiting.
Obito adjusted his stance, gripping a kunai loosely between his fingers. He wasn't foolish enough to think he could take on an experienced shinobi—not yet. But he didn't need to *fight* them. He just needed to confirm their identity.
So, he did something reckless.
He let his kunai slip from his fingers, allowing it to clatter loudly against the ground as he feigned surprise.
It was a test. A trap wrapped in clumsiness.
And it worked.
A tiny disturbance—just the faintest rustle of fabric against a tree branch. A moment of hesitation. A mistake.
Obito pivoted sharply, his Sharingan flaring to life.
For a split second, he saw them—just a shadow, a flicker of movement retreating into the tree line.
But it was enough.
A masked figure, clad in dark gear, with the telltale insignia of Root stitched onto their arm.
*Danzo.*
Obito clenched his jaw. He had been right. They *were* watching him.
But why?
His grip on the kunai tightened. He had no love for Root, but he wasn't stupid enough to provoke them head-on. Not yet.
Instead, he forced himself to relax, feigning ignorance. He picked up the kunai, dusted it off, and resumed training as if nothing had happened.
If Root thought he hadn't noticed them, they might get careless.
And when they did—when they made their move—*he would be ready.*
**
Days passed, then weeks. Minato's training pushed him harder than he ever thought possible, and with each session, Obito felt himself growing stronger. His chakra control sharpened, his taijutsu refined, his instincts honed.
But it wasn't enough.
Because no matter how much he trained, no matter how far he pushed himself, the future loomed over him like a storm cloud.
The Kannabi Bridge mission was drawing closer.
And *he* wasn't the only one preparing.
One evening, as he made his way back from training, he caught a glimpse of Kakashi standing alone near the village gates, staring out into the fading sunset. His posture was rigid, his hands clenched at his sides.
Something was wrong.
Obito hesitated for only a second before approaching. "Hey," he called. "What are you brooding about now?"
Kakashi didn't look away. "The Hokage just gave me a promotion."
Obito blinked. "A promotion?"
There was a pause before Kakashi finally turned to face him. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—his *one* visible eye—held something heavy.
"They made me a Jonin."
Obito stared. For a moment, he didn't know what to say.
Kakashi had always been a prodigy. It wasn't surprising that he had risen through the ranks so quickly. But this… this was *too* fast.
He knew what this meant.
The mission was close.
The gears of fate were turning, dragging him toward the inevitable.
But this time…
This time, *he would not let history repeat itself.*
Obito forced a grin. "A Jonin, huh? Guess I'll have to work even harder to catch up."
Kakashi didn't respond right away. He just studied Obito, as if trying to see through him. Finally, he exhaled. "You've already been training harder than usual."
Obito shrugged, keeping up the act. "Well, someone's gotta keep you on your toes."
Kakashi hummed noncommittally, but there was something about his gaze—sharp, calculating.
He *knew*. Maybe not everything, maybe not *why* Obito was pushing himself so much, but he had noticed.
And Kakashi wasn't the kind of person to ignore something once he noticed it.
Obito turned toward the village, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Come on, we should head back before Minato-sensei sends a search party."
For a moment, Kakashi didn't move. But then, he fell into step beside him, and the two of them walked back in silence.
Obito tried not to let his unease show.
Kakashi's promotion meant things were accelerating. The Kannabi Bridge mission was no longer a distant event waiting on the horizon—it was *imminent*.
And Root was still watching.
Which meant he was running out of time.
**
That night, Obito didn't sleep.
He lay awake, staring at the ceiling, his mind racing through every possible scenario.
He had already decided—he *wasn't* going to let things happen the way they had before.
He refused to let Rin die. He refused to let himself be manipulated into becoming the monster Madara had shaped him into.
But the problem was *how*.
He didn't have the power to change things outright—not yet. Even with Minato's training, he wasn't anywhere near strong enough to fight the people who would stand in his way.
If he made a move too soon, he'd only make things worse.
Which meant he had to be smart.
He had to *plan*.
Obito sat up, rubbing his face. He needed information. He needed to know who was watching him, how much they knew, what they were planning to do.
And there was only one way to find out.
**
The next evening, after training, Obito slipped away from the village.
Not far—just to the outskirts, to a small grove where he had *felt* the presence watching him before.
He crouched low, masking his chakra as best he could. He had learned enough from Minato to know that suppressing his presence wasn't foolproof, but if Root was being subtle, they wouldn't expect him to pull something like this.
And sure enough—within minutes, they arrived.
A single figure, perched in the trees, motionless.
Waiting.
Obito felt a rush of cold anger.
*They aren't even trying to hide it anymore, huh?*
He could ambush them. Try to fight.
But he wasn't stupid.
Instead, he pulled back before they could sense him, retreating toward the village with a single thought burning in his mind.
If Root was this interested in him now, it meant they had a reason.
And if he wanted to survive long enough to change fate—
He needed to figure out *what that reason was*.
Before they decided to do something about it.