Obito used to live in the basement. A kind of house arrest. Half a year ago, Fugaku decided to move him upstairs. Now his room was on the second floor—complete with a soft bed, a bookshelf, a simple but comfortable desk, and a carpet on the floor. However, the curtains remained closed at all times. No one outside the Uchiha family was supposed to know Obito was alive.
Fugaku stopped at the doorway. The room was filled with the quiet clicking of wooden shogi pieces. Obito sat cross-legged on the bed, hunched over the shogi board. Across from him, sitting in the same posture, was Sasuke. They were playing—and though the match was clearly nearing its end, the scene looked almost peaceful.
"On our last mission at sea, a giant squid attacked me!" Sasuke was saying with enthusiasm, not yet noticing his father's presence. "It jumped out of the water, waving its tentacles, trying to sink the ship. But I didn't panic—I hit it right in the face with a fireball! Boom—and that was it, grilled squid."
Obito smirked. Ten years of isolation had taught him to forget how to smile sincerely, but now the corners of his mouth twitched slightly.
"And then?" he asked lazily.
"Then our team roasted it and ate it!" Sasuke added proudly. "Honestly, I've never eaten anything better in my life!"
"Don't say that in front of Uruichi," Fugaku said from the doorway, leaning against the frame. His voice was as calm as ever, but his gaze keenly tracked his son's reaction. "She cooks for us every day. She puts effort into it. Your words might hurt her."
Sasuke turned and flashed a wide grin.
"I meant there's nothing better than fish you catch yourself!" he said, wriggling out with the grace of a fox, quickly getting to his feet. "I'll head out, Obito. Looks like you and Dad need to talk alone."
"Don't forget to come back, runt," Obito stretched and carefully moved the shogi board to the desk. "I hate unfinished matches."
Halfway to the door, Sasuke turned back and nodded. Then he slipped out, leaving the room in silence.
Fugaku stepped inside and sat down on the chair by the desk. Obito remained on the bed but straightened up. The air in the room grew heavier.
Fugaku didn't rush to speak. He studied Obito, as if truly seeing him for the first time. The reckless, idealistic boy was long gone. In his place sat a man crushed by his own decisions.
"Did you check everything I gave you?" Obito was the first to break the silence. His voice was controlled, but Fugaku didn't miss the tension beneath it.
"I did," Fugaku replied quietly. "I went through every hideout you described. Disarmed every trap you marked. I found it. The White Zetsu army. Thousands of bodies, sleeping underground. Unstoppable, capable of perfect camouflage and phasing through solid matter. They obey anyone with the Wood Release. A dangerous combination."
Obito bit his lip.
"They were the backup plan," he said, forcing the words out. "If Madara hadn't found me... if I had died before gathering all the tailed beasts... the Zetsu were supposed to finish what I started. By force."
Fugaku let out a short huff.
"Then the world got lucky he chose you. And not someone more... committed."
"You say that like I'm innocent."
"I say what I see. You're not Madara. But you helped him for far too long to pretend it never happened."
A short pause followed. Obito lowered his gaze.
"I spoke to Konan," Fugaku continued evenly. "In prison."
Obito's head snapped up.
"How is she?!" His voice brightened, more alive. "She's not guilty, you understand? I used her. Lied to her. Hid behind the mask. She... she doesn't deserve to be locked up."
Fugaku nodded, but his expression remained unchanged.
"Perhaps you're right. After Nagato's death and Akatsuki's collapse, she lost all purpose. It doesn't matter to her whether she's free or imprisoned. She has nothing left to fight for. No will to live."
"Then—" Obito began, but Fugaku raised a hand, cutting him off.
"But she talked. A lot. About you. About 'Madara.' About how you recruited new members to Akatsuki. How you manipulated. Pressured. Convinced. Lied. All in the name of the plan."
"I had no choice!" Obito burst out, pain flickering in his voice. "Zetsu was always behind me! Pushing! I was just going along with the current and trying to leave signs when I could—"
Fugaku stayed silent. His eyes remained dark, unreadable.
"You've said that already," he noted calmly.
"Then... damn it," Obito exhaled, clenching his fists. "There has to be something that proves my version. You verify everything. Down to the last detail. What did you find?"
Fugaku slowly sat up straighter.
"I always investigate thoroughly. I don't work with guesses. Only facts. In your case... I found a witness."
"A witness?" Obito leaned forward. "Who?"
"Uchiha Madara."
Silence fell over the room like a heavy shroud. Obito went pale. His shoulders tensed. His body instinctively recoiled, as if struck.
"But he… he's dead…"
"There are techniques that can bring back the dead," Fugaku began quietly. "They're semi-forbidden. They require more than just chakra... they need sacrifice. And blood."
He slowly raised his eyes to Obito.
"For the ritual, I used Madara's blood. A few drops—preserved under seal by our clan, part of the relics from the founding era. And… one prisoner from death row. Madara didn't return in full form, nor with full strength. But enough to speak. I applied a fūinjutsu to suppress his will. He couldn't lie. Couldn't resist."
Obito stared at him without blinking. A chill crept slowly down his spine.
"And what did he say?"
"Everything," Fugaku replied. "I learned how he obtained the Rinnegan, how he cheated death, how he controlled you. He described in detail how he found you on the verge of death, how he healed your body, and how he set you on the path of war. And how he orchestrated Rin's death to break you."
Obito closed his eyes. His breathing grew unsteady.
"I knew," he said hoarsely. "Even back then, deep down… it all happened too perfectly. Too precisely."
Fugaku nodded.
"You notice patterns. That's a good trait." He leaned forward slightly, fingers steepled in front of him. "I didn't come just to report the results. I came to ask: what are you planning to do next?"
Obito was silent for a long time. He looked up at the ceiling, as if searching for an answer there.
"Once," he began at last, slowly, "I dreamed of returning to Konoha. Walking the streets. Dropping by the ramen stand. Sitting under the tree where Rin and I used to play… I wanted to be part of the village again. But now..."
He turned his head toward Fugaku. There was only emptiness in his eyes.
"Now I understand—I don't deserve that. I have no right to ask for forgiveness. All that's left for me is to disappear. Become a hermit. Avoid people. Make no attachments. Vanish. And then—die somewhere in the mountains. Quietly. Alone."
Fugaku didn't respond immediately. He studied Obito's face, as if trying to make sure it wasn't a ruse. Then his voice cracked the silence like a whip:
"So you've decided to run away."
Obito flinched.
"What…?"
"You call it 'hermitage,' but in truth—you're trying to escape again. Escape guilt, consequences, responsibility." Fugaku stood up. His height, enhanced by Venom, commanded both respect and fear. "You think if you crawl off to die in some cave, that'll make up for what you've done? While you meditate in the shadows, the innocents you killed rot in graves. Their families cry at their tombstones. And you—our tragic hero—sit under a tree feeling sorry for yourself?!"
He clenched his fists sharply. His voice turned into a low, thunderous rumble:
"You think you deserve that kind of ending? A peaceful death, with birds singing? After everything you've done?!"
"No..." Obito's voice shook. "No, I don't deserve it. But… maybe prison—"
"That's a coward's answer," Fugaku barked. "You want to get locked in a dark cell and call it justice? Have a trial, get scolded, and then what? No more obligations? Life sentence isn't redemption. It's just another hiding place. This time behind bars."
Obito recoiled, as if struck. He shrank back into the corner of the bed like a beaten stray. He didn't know how to look at the man in front of him.
Fugaku stepped closer. His voice lowered, but carried even more weight:
"Anyone else… I would've already killed."
Obito froze.
"But you're a special case. Over these past six months, I haven't just studied your crimes. I studied you. I observed. I listened. Compared. You're not the psychopath I first imagined. You feel guilt. You're capable of remorse. That means you can take the next step."
"What step?" Obito asked in a barely audible whisper. His voice trembled between hope and fear.
Fugaku looked him straight in the eyes.
"You can stop others. You can prevent the same kind of crimes you committed. You know how terrorists think. How manipulators operate. How hidden networks are built. You can dismantle them before they strike. You can be a weapon against chaos. Under my supervision."
He paused. And then said:
"I'm offering you the position of Konoha's head of counterintelligence."
Obito froze.
"What?"
"You'll hunt threats. Expose them. Manipulate them. Turn them on each other. You know how—it's what you've done for years. Only now, not to save yourself, but to save lives. All of it will be under my direct control. You'll have no power—only tasks. And minimal casualties."
"I… I'll stay in Konoha?"
"Yes. We'll restore your identity. You'll live with me. For now—under supervision."
Obito took a deep breath, as if trying to convince himself this wasn't a dream.
"And… the others? The family. Won't they… be against it?"
Fugaku gave a faint smirk—cold, but not hostile.
"Shisui and Sasuke already think of you as an older brother. You've played with them, talked, laughed—and they believed in you. Reibi…" She shook his head. "He's obsessed with the taste of your Mangekyō chakra. Flies to you every evening. I think she considers you his pillow."
Obito gave a faint smile.
"Hikari is grateful to you. After we implanted Zetsu cells, her vision returned. She no longer lives in darkness. To her, you're the one who gave her back the light."
"And Itachi?" Obito asked carefully.
Fugaku nodded.
"He's studying the Zetsu. Trying to apply them to medicine. That doesn't mean he's forgiven you. But for the sake of science—he's willing to tolerate you. Itachi is rational. If you're useful, he won't waste energy on hatred."
"Mikoto…" Obito whispered. "She—"
Fugaku exhaled heavily.
"Mikoto will never forgive you for Kushina. They were close. But Mikoto knows what it's like to live under someone else's control. She knows what it means to have another will in your head. And because of that… she's willing to give you a chance. One. Final."
Obito lowered his head. His shoulders trembled. He exhaled—unevenly, almost soundlessly.
"I don't deserve this..."
Fugaku stepped closer. His shadow fell over Obito.
"I'm not saying you deserve forgiveness," he said harshly. "I'm saying you owe it—to earn it. With actions. With choices. With the decisions you make from this moment until your last."
He extended a hand.
"So? Are you coming—or running away again?"
Obito took his hand and rose from the bed.
"If my actions can redeem even a fraction of my guilt," Obito said firmly, "then I'll protect Konoha until the end of my life."
Fugaku nodded with satisfaction, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small glass vial. Inside, suspended in clear fluid, slowly rotated Obito's Sharingan.
"This is the beginning of your new path," said Fugaku, placing the vial on the desk. "To do your job, you need to be at your best. I'll fully restore your body. With Zetsu cells. No scars. No deformities. Everything will be rebuilt with cutting-edge science."
"New tech?" Obito raised a brow slightly, eyeing Fugaku's face with suspicion.
The Hokage merely shook his head, as if the matter had already been closed before it was asked.
He had no intention of saying he'd used biotechnology inherited from Poison Ivy. That he had enhanced the Wood Release genome so thoroughly, his entire family could now grow a forest from barren land in minutes. That regeneration happened at staggering speed, and every vital function in his family had been massively enhanced. That their lifespan now tripled the human norm.
No—those details weren't for discussion. Not now.
"You're on probation," Fugaku said coldly and clearly. "Which means you'll wear this."
He reached into his pocket again and pulled out what looked like a simple ring. It was black, smooth, with fine sealing script carved along the band.
Before Obito could ask, Fugaku stepped closer and slipped the ring onto his finger.
"It's a fūinjutsu transmitter," he explained calmly, watching Obito rotate his hand to examine the artifact. "I'll always know where you are. And… inside is a seal similar to the one Minato used. I can summon you anytime. Even from Kamui."
Obito blinked. The way Fugaku orchestrated every step—both rescue and control—filled him with equal parts fear and respect.
"And that's not all," said Fugaku.
He unfastened the belt across his back and pulled out a scroll. Unrolling it, the parchment opened wide. It already bore signatures—his own, Shisui's, Sasuke's, Itachi's, Mikoto's, Hikari's. Even a tiny paw print in ink from Reibi.
"This is the bat contract," Fugaku said. "You'll be bound to them now. Especially to Reibi. Even if you lose the ring—or end up in another dimension—she'll be able to find you and send me your location. Or, if needed, extract you."
He handed Obito a small cutting blade.
"Sign in blood," he commanded.
Obito didn't argue. He made a small cut on his finger and left a print. The seal on the scroll flared, as if accepting him.
"Absolute betrayal insurance," Obito muttered, lowering his hand. "And I'm guessing every family member is bound the same way…"
Fugaku rolled up the scroll and slung it over his shoulder.
"I always prepare for the worst," he said, already heading for the door. "That's my strength. And my curse."
///
A week had passed.
Obito had been restored. His new body wasn't just strong—it was perfect. No signs of old injuries, no scars, no flaws. He could fight again, run, use Kamui, sense chakra.
That day, Fugaku gathered everyone in Konoha's central square. Beneath the village flags, he stepped up to the platform, stood tall, and looked out over the crowd as he began to speak. His voice, amplified with chakra, carried clearly to even the farthest districts of the village.
He spoke of how, using special abilities, he had located and destroyed the Akatsuki's hideout. How a prisoner, long believed dead, had been found there. And how that man, at great personal risk, had provided critical intelligence—helping to prevent terror attacks, save dozens of lives, and ultimately bring about the final destruction of the organization.
The crowd erupted. People shouted, clapped, cheered. Dust rose into the air, swirling with the noise and celebration.
But amidst all the joy, Fugaku noticed something else: in the third row of the crowd, at the very edge of the square, Kakashi's face had gone pale. His shoulders were tense, fists clenched. He could barely stay still, as if every nerve in his body was screaming—telling him to break through the guards, step forward, shout something.
Fugaku wasn't even surprised when, upon returning home, he found Kakashi waiting at the gate.
"I believe you two have things to discuss," he said, opening the door and stepping inside—leaving Kakashi and Obito alone. Though he remained by the window to watch.
Obito came out and sat on the bench in front of the house. Kakashi sat down beside him, but didn't speak right away.
"Is it really you?" he asked hoarsely, staring at the familiar face—now older, stripped of youthful carelessness.
"It's me," Obito nodded. Slowly. Calmly. "Everything the Hokage said… about the captivity… how I survived…" He looked at Kakashi. "All of it is true."
Kakashi turned his gaze away. His lips trembled, but he held it in.
"I thought he… the Hokage just took your eye out of pride. For the clan. I was furious. For over a year, I refused to speak to him… And he was… trying to save you."
He clenched his fists tightly.
"Tell him… I'm sorry. Please."
"I will," Obito nodded.
A heavy silence settled between them. Deep and quiet. At last, Kakashi spoke again:
"I… didn't keep my promise. I swore I'd protect Rin. And I failed. I let you down."
Obito looked at him for a long time. Then shook his head.
"It wasn't your fault. I know the truth. Fugaku showed me the full reports. Rin… was used as a bomb. Her death saved Konoha. You did what no one else would have dared. You saved lives. Even if it cost you part of yourself."
"But I should've been better. I should've—"
"We all should've been better," Obito said softly. "But now… at least we can try to become better. Konoha isn't a perfect place. But it's a chance. And while we have that chance—we have to take it."
He smiled slightly. Just a little. But that smile meant more than a thousand words.
Kakashi didn't reply. He just remained seated beside him. And for the first time in years, the crushing weight of guilt began to lift from his shoulders.