After bidding his grandmother good night, Obito returned to his room.
Sliding the door shut behind him, he crossed to the corner where a worn wooden chest rested beneath the window. He crouched, fingers brushing across the aged lid before lifting it open.
There weren't many things inside. Just a set of worn-out kunai, a polished tanto carefully wrapped in cloth, and a faded hitai-ate whose metal plate bore a shallow scratch.
As he examined them, his thoughts wandered. There was no mention of Obito's parents in the original story. Even after his transmigration, he had inherited no memories of them.
He had always lived with his grandmother. From what she had told him, his mother—Uchiha Aiko—had been a civilian-born medic-nin who married into the clan. She had died giving birth to him.
His father, Uchiha Raiden, had been a jōnin of the clan and a member of the Konoha Police Force. He had fallen during the Second Great Ninja War, months before Obito was born.
The chest contained what little remained of them. Sifting through the layers of cloth, Obito finally found what he was searching for: a slim, weathered book and four scrolls.
He carried them to his desk, carefully closed the chest, then settled into his chair.
The scrolls came first. He unrolled them one by one.
Great Fireball Jutsu – C-rank
Phoenix Sage Fire – C-rank
Healing Palm Technique – C-rank medical ninjutsu for minor wounds, bruises, and muscle tears
Hemostasis Technique – D-rank medical ninjutsu for stopping bleeding
Obito's gaze lingered on the scrolls, narrowing. He let out a quiet sigh before setting the fire techniques aside.
The Academy never taught more than the three basic E-rank techniques to its students for a reason. It wasn't just about their low chakra reserves. Children's bodies were fragile and their chakra pathways still underdeveloped.
Unless one possessed extraordinary chakra control and affinity with the respective chakra attribute, forcing high-ranked jutsu through them risked rupturing those pathways.
And Obito's body was already far from ideal. His overwhelming yin chakra put immense pressure on his body. To attempt something like the Great Fireball now would be reckless, if not suicidal.
Closing the fire scrolls, he returned them to the chest before picking up the medical ones again.
His fingers traced the delicate strokes of his mother's handwriting as he fell into thought.
He had never considered walking the path of a medic-nin. But this was his mother's legacy, laid before him like a gift. It felt wrong to discard it—especially considering these techniques could one day save his life.
Besides, the potential of medical ninjutsu wasn't low. The knowledge gained in the process would also help immensely if he ever decided to delve into research.
'Still… for now, it will have to wait', Obito thought, setting the scrolls aside.
Ever since Tsunade's reforms, the Academy had screened children with potential for medical ninjutsu at an early age. But from what he had heard from Rin, the path demanded far more than just chakra control.
A true medic-nin had to be a doctor first, with sufficient knowledge in anatomy, physiology, pathology, and pharmacology. Only then could one use medical ninjutsu effectively.
Fortunately, the Academy library held beginner texts on each of these subjects. Obito planned to hone his theoretical base there before delving into medical ninjutsu.
Now only a single book remained on the desk. Obito lifted it, opening the worn cover.
His brow furrowed. The handwriting was terrible, almost unreadable. Yet as his eyes traced the words, his breath caught in his throat.
These were his father's notes.
Insights into the nature transformation of fire attribute chakra!
The lamp's flame flickered, casting long shadows across his desk.
Straightening in his chair, Obito leaned closer, the pages reflecting in his eyes as he read on.
....
The next morning, before dawn had fully broken, Obito arrived at the small training ground behind his house.
The air was crisp and cool, carrying the scent of dew. He drew a steady breath then began...stretching.
Forward bends, side stretches, and arm pulls across his chest. Then, as he felt his stiff muscles loosen up a bit, he started jogging around the clearing to train his stamina.
After several rounds, he took rest for a minute to catch his breath and then switched to sprinting.
He ran in short burst, as fast as his short legs could carry him, taking rest every few laps.
As he felt his thighs started burning and his lungs started aching, he dropped onto the grass and started doing push-ups, squats and then planks, his small frame shaking with every moment.
When his arms finally gave out, he rolled onto his back, staring up at the morning sky.
The clouds drifted lazily overhead as his heartbeat pounded in his ears.
The body was the foundation of a shinobi. A weak body meant slower seals, weaker strikes, and dulled reactions. On the battlefield, that was the difference between life and death.
For him, it mattered even more. His imbalance of yin chakra pressed heavily on his body. If he didn't build himself up now, that imbalance would only grow worse.
Taijutsu, kenjutsu, shurikenjutsu—all demanded strength. Technique alone was useless if the arms behind a kunai were weak, or the legs behind a dodge too slow.
That was why Obito placed body training at the top of his list.
He wasn't an expert, but in his past life he had been a regular at the gym. Drawing on that experience, he had crafted a routine—light enough for a six-year-old body, yet demanding enough to steadily build him up.
A ninja's body, strengthened by chakra, was naturally tougher than a normal person's. But he was still a child. Pushing too hard now could stunt his growth.
What he needed now wasn't to brute force it, but lay a solid foundation that could aid in his growth, achieving the effect of one plus one greater than two
Once his breathing steadied, he rose and shifted into taijutsu practice.
The academy had taught only the basics—straight punches, simple kicks, basic blocks. Nothing flashy, but fundamentals every shinobi needed.
For him, who ranked near the bottom in taijutsu in his class, they were worth drilling.
Recalling the teachers instruction in the academy from his memory, he planted his feet in the training ground and began throwing straight punches.
They naturally didn't carry much power. But he focused more on refining the form.
After punches came kicks. The low ones came easily, but his legs wobbled as he aimed higher. Grimacing, he forced himself to repeat the motion again and again.
Rubbing his aching thighs, he moved on to blocks and footwork—raising his arms, shifting weight, stepping to the side.
He knew real combat would be fast and merciless, but these drills were to laid the foundation for the future, to build habits. Someday, those habits would turn into instincts.
By the time he finished, his clothes were drenched in sweat and his whole body ached from fatigue.
Dragging his tired body back inside, he went straight for the bath. Warm water poured over him, easing the burn of fatigue.
For a brief moment, he allowed himself the comfort of simply standing there with his eyes closed.
Afterward, he dried off and changed into fresh clothes
""Obito! Breakfast is ready!"
"Coming!" he answered quickly.
At the table, the smell of freshly steamed rice and grilled fish greeted him. He sat opposite his grandmother, bowing his head.
"Thank you for the food."
"Such a polite child," she said with a smile, ladling soup into his bowl.
When the meal was done, Obito slung his small bag over his shoulder, fastening his ninja pouch at his hip.
His grandmother fussed over his collar at the door before finally letting him go.
The Uchiha clan compound was already awake, as he made his way to the main streat, Obito saw a a group of children chasing after each other, their laugher echoing through the compund.
Elderly clan members swept the front steps of their homes, some familiar with him smiled at him as he walked past. Obito returned the greeting with a polite nod.
The rift between the Uchiha and Konoha's higher ups hadn't yet accelerated to the point it would after the nine tails rebellion. So the clan still lived lived in the heart of the Konoha, close to the administrative district.
Obito eventually left through the main gate, the bustling noise of Konoha swelling around him.
The streets were even more lively than the uchiha compund—Civilians strolling around, vendors calling out wares, shinobi hurrying toward missions.
Before long, the tall silhouette of the Ninja Academy came into view.