Konoha Village.
Inside a modest room, a boy sat cross-legged on the floor. Loose strands of black hair clung to his forehead.
His eyes were shut in deep concentration, hands fixed in the Ram seal as he refined chakra.
Minutes slipped by. Beads of sweat rolled down his temple, and faint wisps of blue energy could be seen leaking from his skin—a sign of insufficient chakra control.
An hour later, his eyes opened. Pitch-black pupils glinted in the dim evening light, carrying a maturity far beyond his age.
"It seems this is the limit of what I can control for now," Obito muttered, letting out a low breath as he felt the chakra in his body. It was quite abundant, incomparable to what a ninja his age should possess.
At a thought, a shimmering blue display unfolded within his consciousness.
Name: Uchiha Obito
Age: 7
Physique: 6
Spirit: 10
Bloodline: Sharingan (One Tomoe)
Chakra: 2504/5015—>5016
SKILLS
Chakra Refining: Beginner (22/100)
Chakra Control: Beginner (19/100) —> Beginner (20/100)
Cloning technique: Intermediate (3/500)
Substitution Technique: Intermidate (1/500)
Transformation Technique: Beginner (94/100)
Kenjutsu: Beginner (11/100)
Taijutsu: Beginner (16/100)
Hand seals: Beginner (30/100)
Hisgaze lingered on the chakra bar. Noticing that the upper limit had only increased by one point since the morning, a hint of relief washed over his face.. "So the burst period is almost over…"
He wasn't originally from this world, having crossed over from Earth.
Back then, perhaps his soul and body had been out of sync. He temporarily fall into coma, and spent an entire week in Konoha Hospital before regaining awareness.
When he finally pieced together the fragments of memory inherited from this body, realization struck him like a thunderclap.
He had transmigrated into the world of Naruto. Worse still—he was now in the body of a six-year-old Uchiha Obito!
Moreover, He found out he had a system! Although it was just a down out version which only displayed his stats and skills, it could be considered a...little golden finger.
Transmigrating into an anime with a golden finge? Wasnt that a common trope? How did it suddenly happen to him!?
He had always thought of himself as strong-willed. But facing this...even he felt a bit overwhelmed.
Although he was just a reclusive developer in his previous life, he had watched naruto series, one of the most popular anime and manga series of its time and was naturally familiar with Uchiha obito, the kind-hearted fool who dreamed of becoming Hokage, only to be twisted by Madara into a puppet chasing peace through illusion.
He was the masked man who drowned the world in blood and darkness. Only at the very end did he realize his mistakes, seeking redemption by entrusting everything to Naruto and fighting against Kaguya.
The irony was bitter. To be thrown into his body of all people. And as if fate wasn't cruel enough, he was met with another problem.
The fusion of physical and spiritual energy give birth to chakra. For most shinobi, one side tends to be slightly stronger than the other, but the difference is minor and barely noticeable—except for those with special bloodlines.
Due to his transmigration, his spiritual side had multiplied several times over, leaving his young body too fragile to keep up. Even for an Uchiha, naturally inclined towards spiritual energy, it was overwhelming.
For the past month, he ha been living on edge—suppressing, stabilizing, and taming the flood of yin chakra before it tore his body apart. Only now had his condition had stabilized to some extent.
During this time, his heart also regained some of its original calmness. and he forced himself to think more rationality.
Transmigrating as Obito wasn't pleasant—but it could have been worse. He could have been dropped into the body of a nameless orphan, destined to die in some alleyway. At least Obito had talent for chakra, the backing of the uchiha clan, and a grandmother who cared for him.
More importantly, he had knowledge of the future. If he played his cards right, his fate might not necessarily follow the tragic path of the original.
Right now, there was only one thing to do: cultivate strength diligently.
This was Year 46 of Konoha, the eve of the the third Great Ninja War.
He was still in his first year at the academy. In the original story, it wasn't made clear exactly when Minato's team was sent to the front lines, only that it was after they'd all advanced to chūnin.
But one thing was certain: if he entered that war too weak, he would die long before Madara ever sought him out.
The increased spiritual energy brought him a lot of trouble. The only silver lining was that his chakra reserve had been growing rapidly since then and as an outlet to release chakra, the proficiency of various ninjutsu in his repository grew rapidly, with transformation and substitution technique already intermediate tier while the cloning technique was just a bit short of it.
After a glance at his panel, he dismissed it and sat straighter. 'It's time to push the Clone Technique through.'
Mobilizing the chakra in his body, he snapped into the sequence of hand seals—Ram, Snake, Tiger—his fingers flowing with practiced precision.
A month of repetition had carved the movements into muscle memory and he could now complete the set in a little more than a second.
Whoosh!
A soft puff of smoke rose beside him, and when it cleared, a clone sat cross-legged, mirroring his posture.
Obito turned towards it, eyes narrowing in scrutiny.
Perhaps due to his increased spiritual energy, his perception was considerably sharpened.—so much so that, even without opening the Sharingan, his vision felt unnaturally clear.
Every detail of the clone stood out to him, down to the strands of hair brushing its forehead.
Although the clone looked identical to him on the surface, the more he studied it, the more flaws it revealed.
The hair was a shade duller. The skin slightly rough and dry. Its eyes were fractionally larger than his, the nose subtly off in shape, and the brows thinner than they should have been
He memorized every imperfection, then released the clone in a wisp of smoke. His hands flashed through the seals again.
Again.
And again.
Seconds stretched into minutes. The quiet room echoed with soft pops every few seconds.
An hour later, Obito's body was drenched in sweat. His hands moved, seals snapping together as he mobilized the last bit of his chakra.
Immediately, his eyes lit up. This time, he could feel a difference. The resistance in his chakra pathways had eased, and the energy coursed through them much more smoothly. The image his mind was more clearer than ever.
Whoosh!
The clone appeared with a crisp pop. Its features were sharp, the skin tone natural, the eyes almost identical to his own.
When he raised his hand, the clone mirrored the gesture in perfect unison.
For an instant, Obito felt as though he were looking into the mirror.
He let the copy dissolve into mist and exhaled. His fingers still tingled from the rapid seals, and his chakra was almost depleted but a smile tugged at his lips.
With a thought, the panel shimmered into view. He focused on the skills section, and as expected, cloning technique had advanced by a tier.
Cloning Technique: Beginner (94/100) —> Intermediate (1/500)
All three basic body techniques—Clone, Substitution, and Transformation—had reached the Intermediate tier.
That meant he could now perform each of them without any error with decent speed. For an academy student, this was already the standard of an average genin.
Closing the panel, Obito leaned back on his hands, pondering the next direction of his training.
"Obito! Dinner's ready!" The soft, aged voice drifted up from downstairs.
"Coming, Grandma!" Obito called back. He wiped his sweat-soaked forehead with his sleeve, then pushed himself upright.
After folding his futon and sliding it neatly beneath the bed, he headed down the narrow wooden stairs.
The scent of simmering miso soup and freshly steamed rice filled the air, making his stomach grumble in protest.
At the low table, his grandmother was arranging plates—rice, pickled vegetables, and a small piece of grilled fish.
She looked up as he entered, her wrinkled face softening into a smile.
"Obito, you've been at it again, haven't you?" she said, worry flickering in her eyes as she noticed the sheen of sweat clinging to his brow. "Training is important, but don't push yourself so hard. You've only just recovered."
Obito sat across from her, returning a faint smile. "I'll be fine, Grandma. I promise."
Her eyes lingered on him for a moment before she sighed, shaking her head. She ladled soup into his bowl and slid it gently toward him. "You're too much like your father," she murmured.
Obito accepted the bowl with both hands. The warmth spread through his chest at the first sip, soothing his fatigue.
In his past life, meals had been little more than takeout cartons, instant noodles, and lukewarm coffee. Here, a single bowl of hot soup prepared by someone who cared for him felt like a luxury he had long forgotten.
For a brief moment, the weight of transmigration, the looming war, even the shadow of Madara—all of it faded away.
He was just a boy sharing dinner with his grandmother.
"Thank you for the food," he said softly.
His grandmother chuckled and patted his hand with her thin, trembling fingers. "Eat well, little Obito. You'll need a healthy body if you want to be a proper ninja."
As if remembering something, she added, "Ah—your homeroom teacher sent a letter today. He asked about your health. If you've recovered, he wants you back at the academy. But if you still don't feel well, you can rest a little longer."
Obito thought for a moment, then nodded. "It's okay, Grandma. I'll return tomorrow."
Her brows furrowed slightly. "I know you're eager, but be careful during spars, all right?"
Obito's smile didn't falter as he nodded in reassurance but inside he couldn't help sighing at the irony.
Before his transmigration, Obito had been sparring with Kakashi during academy training when a blow to the head knocked him down.
Nothing serious had happened then, but it was at that exact moment that his soul crossed over. From the outside, it looked like he fell into coma due to the injury on the head, and when he woke in the hospital days later, everyone assumed Kakashi's strike was to blame.
He hadn't bothered to correct them. Instead, used it as an excuse to take a month off from the academy.
It gave him precious time to stabilize his condition—and more importantly, it served as the perfect cover for the shift in his personality.
He got a convenient cover story. It was a pity for Kakashi, but he had no better choice.
The meal passed in silence. When Obito set down his empty bowl, a thought surfaced in his mind.
'What happened to obito's grandmother in the original story?'
After Obito's supposed death at Kannabi Bridge, she was never mentioned again, simply vanishing from the narrative, as though she had never existed.
Obito's gaze lingered on the old woman. Her back slightly hunched, her hands trembling faintly with age. A pang tightened his chest
'Did she pass quietly, forgotten in the chaos of war? Or did she mourn alone, carrying the weight of losing her grandson while no one even remembered her pain?'
His fists clenched beneath the table. The latter felt far more likely. He had witnessed it himself: in the short time he'd been in a coma, she seemed to have aged a decade due to all the weight of worry for him.
Obito lowered his gaze, hiding the flicker of determination in his eyes. He wasn't Obito. He won't let her be erased from the story.
Not only because she was his only relative in the world but also because of the love and care she had shown him over the past month.
"Let me do the dishes," he said, rising before she could refuse.
She gave him a startled glance, then chuckled. "Such a good boy. All right, you can do it."
Obito carried the dishes to the sink, washing them carefully before returning each one to its place. The work was simple, almost mundane, but to Obito it carried a rare comfort.
When the last bowl was stacked neatly away, he offered her his arm. "Come on, Grandma. I'll walk you to your room."
She laughed softly at his seriousness but didn't protest, letting him guide her down the narrow hallway.
At the doorway to her room, she paused and rested a hand briefly on his cheek.
"You've grown up so quickly," she whispered, eyes glimmering in the lantern light.
Obito forced a smile and nodded. "Good night, Grandma. Rest well."
She slipped into her room, sliding the door closed behind her.
Obito stood in the quiet corridor for a long moment, staring at the wooden panel, before finally turning back to his own room.