Spring was warm,
Konoha—Uchiha district.
Fugaku's home.
"Creak—" The door opened.
Uchiha Mikoto smiled at the boy in front of her. "Obito, is that you? Come in."
"Hello, Aunt Mikoto." Uchiha Obito—wearing sunglasses and his usual blue track jacket—awkwardly offered a box of sweets. "I bought these on the way. For the little brothers."
"Thank you, sweet boy. That's thoughtful." Mikoto patted his forehead, fetched him a pair of slippers at the entryway, and busied herself helping him put them on. Then she guided him to a cushion by the tatami, poured him a cup of hot tea with her own hands, and told him to wait a moment while she went to call Ren.
Obito cradled the warm tea and watched her bustle around. It felt like watching his teacher's wife—Uzumaki Kushina. Even though Kushina often scolded him by yanking his ear like she meant it, he could never bring himself to feel angry.
Obito used to not understand why. Later, after meeting Rin, meeting his rival Kakashi, and joining a team under Namikaze Minato… he finally got it.
It was home—the thing he'd always been missing, the thing he'd never had.
He was an orphan. A war orphan. He grew up on the village stipend and whatever his parents left behind. Like countless other orphans in Konoha, he'd never once known what it felt like to have parents, to have a real home—until spending day after day with Rin sparked a crazy, irresistible thought:
Chase Rin. Build a home with her. Just like…
Teacher and Kushina. Fugaku and Aunt Mikoto.
So Obito decided his top priority was simple:
Beat the love rival Kakashi and make Rin look at him differently—at the very least, treat him the same way she treated Kakashi.
But Kakashi was too strong.
Obito lowered his head and stared at the teacup in his hands. Yesterday, he'd trained with sensei again, and Kakashi had beaten him into a "pig head" again. The swelling still hadn't gone down.
If he kept being the dead-last loser, Obito felt like he'd only drift farther and farther away from Rin.
So…
After the last clan meeting at Naka Shrine—after seeing that Roy could help clan members awaken the Sharingan—something inside Obito that had been dormant suddenly surged like weeds after rain.
That was why he'd brought gifts and come here.
He took a sip of tea absentmindedly and looked toward the sliding door Mikoto had disappeared through.
It was noon. Sunlight was bright. Through the paper-paneled door, he could vaguely see a few silhouettes.
One was lying at an angle in another, smaller figure's lap, stretching with arms wide, lazily asking, "Who is it?"
A childlike voice replied, "Nii-san, it's Obito-niisan."
Then Mikoto's gentle urging followed. "Ren, get up—don't keep Obito waiting."
"Okaaay~"
The sliding door creaked open, revealing a lazy yet strikingly handsome face—three parts Fugaku's seriousness and stoicism, seven parts Mikoto's softness and fine features. With just a glance—
Calm, composed, and carrying a unique pressure.
The pressure that belonged to him alone… Uchiha Ren.
"Young Clan Head…" Obito shot to his feet and bowed stiffly.
"This isn't the shrine, and there's no 'young clan head' here." Roy smiled and motioned him back down. "Obito-niisan, just call me Ren."
"How can I?"
"And why can't you?"
Mikoto returned with three more cups of tea, and she opened the sweets Obito brought, setting them on the tatami. "Ren, Itachi—try the sweets Obito-niisan bought. They're from Sanshiki."
They'd had something like this yesterday too—Fugaku had brought them back after getting off duty. The person in the inner room seemed to still be asleep. Itachi dragged a cushion over and sat next to Roy. The moment he opened his mouth, Roy calmly shoved a sweet into it.
Only then did Roy look at Obito with an easy smile. "Father's still asleep. Obito-niisan—did you need me to pass along a message?"
The Third Great Ninja War was already underway. The front lines were tight. Kumogakure had sent out the A–B duo to wreak havoc. If canon held, as the war escalated, Minato would head back to the battlefield—and when he faced the A–B duo, that single Flying Thunder God performance would earn him the name "Yellow Flash," paving the way for his later popularity and election as Fourth Hokage.
"…Actually, I came to see you." Obito rubbed his hands, forced himself to meet Roy's eyes, and gathered his courage. "Ren… please help me awaken my Sharingan!"
He dropped back and slammed his forehead to the floor.
A clean, decisive prostration—he'd clearly made up his mind before coming.
Itachi froze mid-chew, blinking between Obito and Roy. Sharp as he was, he didn't know what had happened at the clan meeting, but the way clan members had been looking at Nii-san with respect these past few days told him something big had happened. And now Obito was bowing and begging to "awaken his eyes"…
While Itachi was thinking, Mikoto waved him over and guided him away.
"Itachi, come help me prep breakfast," she said casually, using it as an excuse to take him into the kitchen and leave Roy and Obito alone.
A little teru-teru-bōzu hung under the eaves, swaying gently in the breeze…
The living room fell into a short silence.
Obito kept his forehead on the floor, waiting nervously.
Roy sat cross-legged opposite him, quietly watching. His thoughts churned, and a panel prompt flickered in his mind:
[Detected: "Potential believer" is someone with "major causality." The "Faith Power" they can provide is even higher than Uchiha Itachi and Uchiha Shisui…]
Roy knew exactly why.
Because the shy, bright, kind-hearted boy kneeling here—this boy who seemed like goodness itself—would later fall into darkness, becoming one of the great tragedies that ran through all of Shippuden.
Mantis stalking the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind.
If Black Zetsu was the oriole, and Madara the mantis… then Obito was the cicada caught in Madara's grip.
Black Zetsu's "save mother" agenda, the alien origin… who could've guessed the mother of chakra—the one who planted the God Tree and reshaped the entire shinobi world—was an off-world being?
A strange, absurd feeling rose in Roy's chest—yet it was absurd in a way that still fit, disturbingly well.
He just kept watching Obito.
For a long time.
So long that Obito grew restless, sweating on the tatami, seconds stretching into years.
A slow breeze spiraled through the room, making rings ripple across the tea…
The tea had gone cold.
The steam was long gone.
Finally, a gentle voice drifted into Obito's ears. He let out a breath and felt his shoulders loosen.
"Obito-niisan… before that, can I ask you something?"
Obito wiped the sweat from his brow and forced a smile. "Go ahead."
"If Nohara Rin dies…"
"…what will you do?"
~~~
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