Inside the tent, the halo of an oil lamp flickered against the canvas.
Minato Namikaze motioned for Kiyohara to sit, while he took the simple wooden stool across from him.
"Kiyohara-kun," he began. "Kakashi and Rin already told me the basics. About your eyes… can you explain in detail?"
Kiyohara was prepared.
He lifted his head and said, "Minato-sama, I'm surprised myself."
He paused, choosing his words.
"At the time… Rin was taken by Mist ninja. Kakashi chased after them. When I arrived, I saw Rin being surrounded, and then this strange chakra started surfacing on her…"
He slowed his pace and let a trace of "recalling the moment" show in his gaze.
"There was only one thought in my head—save Rin."
He raised a hand and lightly touched the corner of his eye.
"Then my vision started to burn. Suddenly everything became incredibly clear. The enemy's movements felt slow. I could even see chakra flowing. Afterward, Kakashi told me my eyes turned red and a tomoe appeared inside."
When he finished, Kiyohara quietly watched Minato.
None of that was a lie—every detail was true.
He'd only shifted the timing a little, moving the "awakening" from earlier to the most critical point on the battlefield.
It was a reasonable story.
The Sharingan requires intense emotional stimulation to awaken, and witnessing a comrade in mortal danger—throwing yourself in to save them—is one of the most classic triggers.
Most Uchiha awakened exactly like that.
Including Fugaku and Shisui.
Minato listened in silence, fingers unconsciously tapping his knee. His gaze rested on Kiyohara's face, as if weighing the truth of the account.
The fact that Kiyohara could freely deactivate the Sharingan all but confirmed he had Uchiha blood.
An outsider who transplanted a bloodline limit couldn't control it perfectly.
Kakashi was the living example—constant chakra drain, twenty-four hours a day.
"You're right," Minato finally nodded. "If you have Uchiha blood, awakening under strong emotion makes sense. Obito awakened his eye back then to protect Kakashi too."
When he said Obito's name, a sigh slipped into his voice.
"Kiyohara-kun… about your background."
He changed topics.
"Do you have any clues yourself? Did your parents ever mention anything about your ancestors?"
Kiyohara shook his head. "All I know is my father, and my grandparents… were commoners."
That was also true.
Minato already knew Kiyohara's file—everything in the records matched.
As for anything earlier… there simply weren't records.
After all, Konoha had only existed for a few decades.
"Then how much can you control the Sharingan right now?" Minato asked.
"My dynamic vision is a lot better," Kiyohara answered honestly. "I can see the trajectory of fast-moving objects, and I can see chakra flow. As for genjutsu and other abilities… I haven't tested them yet. I don't really know."
Also true.
Sharingan abilities need time to adapt—only later do things like "copying" and "hypnosis" start to emerge.
Minato looked thoughtful.
"The Sharingan is the Uchiha clan's bloodline limit. If it appeared in you, there must be Uchiha in your bloodline. The higher-ups will know soon, and the Uchiha will hear as well."
He stood, went to the edge of the tent, and lifted the flap to glance into the deep night outside.
"Kiyohara-kun, you're a Konoha shinobi. That will never change. The Sharingan is your power—and it's also the village's power. But the bloodline issue… may create complicated situations."
Minato turned back, expression serious.
"They'll probably summon you back to the village within the next few days."
Kiyohara nodded. "I understand."
Minato stepped closer and patted his shoulder.
"Don't worry too much. You're a ninja raised by Konoha, a bearer of the Will of Fire. No matter where your blood comes from, that won't change."
His smile was warm and steady.
"Yes, Minato-sama," Kiyohara replied.
Even though the Uchiha's position in Konoha was delicate, Minato was one of the few who didn't seem inclined to discriminate against them.
Or rather—if he became Hokage and Obito were still alive, he might even have tried to cultivate Obito.
It was a shame Minato would become the shortest-lived Hokage in history—speedrunning the position in the most brutal way possible.
"Go rest. We depart early tomorrow," Minato said.
Kiyohara nodded and left the tent.
The night wind carried the damp, earthy scent unique to the Land of Grass. In the distance, scouts moved along the watchtower.
He inhaled once and headed toward his own tent.
"Kiyohara."
As he stepped out, he found Yūhi Kurenai and Shiranui Genma waiting outside.
"So you really do have Uchiha blood," Kurenai said, wearing an expression like something finally clicked into place.
Genma scratched his head as well, as if it explained why Kiyohara was so absurdly strong—bigger chakra reserves, faster growth.
"I didn't expect it either," Kiyohara said, going along with their interpretation.
It was the perfect camouflage for the "Willbook" system.
In the shinobi world, bloodline theory was basically gospel—anything could be blamed on lineage.
If you had the blood, you had the explanation.
Because this stuff really could be inherited through DNA—dragons beget dragons, mice beget burrowers.
"Then you'd better train with me properly from now on," Kurenai blinked, her red eyes fixed on him.
She didn't have much connection with the Uchiha, and now that Kiyohara had the Sharingan, she wanted to see whether the legendary Sharingan genjutsu really lived up to the rumors.
"Sure," Kiyohara nodded. He didn't refuse.
With the Sharingan, his learning speed would only climb.
And some of Kurenai's higher-level genjutsu—he could try to "borrow" and learn through practice.
"You agreed way too fast," Kurenai said, suspicious.
"Training with someone pretty is more motivating," Kiyohara laughed.
"Smooth talker," Kurenai rolled her eyes.
But she still looked pleased.
In her mind, it meant Kiyohara had finally "woken up" and recognized her charm.
Hmph.
Thinking that, she couldn't help smiling.
Genma's eyes widened.
What did Kiyohara do to Kurenai to tune her like that?!
He remembered Kiyohara had even given Rin a bracelet back at the Whirlpool ruins—and Rin still wore it.
So what was this now?
Two-timing?
Genma could only sigh and label Kiyohara a master of time management.
Damn it—he wanted to learn too!
"I'm heading back. It's late," Kiyohara said.
After the prolonged fighting, fatigue was finally catching up with him.
"Okay. Get some proper rest," Kurenai snapped back to herself and nodded.
The three of them split up and headed for their tents.
Back in his own tent, Kiyohara lit the oil lamp and sat cross-legged on his bedding.
He'd been tense ever since the battle ended. Now he finally had a moment to sort through what he'd gained.
First and most obvious—he'd obtained the Sharingan.
It would draw attention, yes, but it also meant he could use this power openly.
In the shinobi world, bloodline limits were a major pillar of strength. The Sharingan's insight would massively boost his Magnet Release, taijutsu, and medical ninjutsu.
More importantly, his "awakening" explanation was airtight—perfectly aligned with Rin's crisis, and unlikely to raise suspicion.
Because in this world there was no way to "perfectly inherit" the Sharingan's power from a transplant. You couldn't shut it off—Danzō's armful of eyes was proof enough.
Of course, at this point Danzō probably didn't have that many yet—only the Sharingan in his right eye.
That was exactly why Shisui got "first-killed": he never expected Danzō to already have a Sharingan in that eye.
Also, Kiyohara's combat experience had skyrocketed.
Raiga and Hōzuki Kurotsuki—two elite Mist shinobi—gave him new understanding of how to apply his toolkit.
If he hadn't been cautious and probing for Raiga's potential backdoors, he could've ended it even faster.
Raiga had a self-destruct move, Lightning Burial: Banquet of Lightning, a suicide blast that dumped all chakra at once to take an enemy down—like Deidara's C0. If Raiga still had two arms and enough chakra, he might have tried it.
But with an arm missing and already near death, he never got the chance.
Raiga's Kiba, was a valuable prize—but it was also one of the Seven Ninja Swords, and each carried a summoning formula. They could be called back unless sealed properly.
Kiyohara couldn't perform the necessary sealing on the spot, so he stored it in a sealing scroll for now.
Later, he'd hand it over to Konoha in exchange for merit points—under everyone's eyes, he had no choice but to keep it clean.
And because the Hōzuki clan could use a summoning scroll to recall the swords, fragments were safer than whole blades—just like Kiyohara had done with Executioner's Blade fragments earlier.
"I should finally hire a craftsman for the Executioner's Blade fragment," Kiyohara thought.
He'd stripped a mountain of gear off Mist ninja.
Before, he hadn't forged anything because he lacked money—and because he didn't want anyone recognizing the materials.
Now, with the Sharingan (and Uchiha Kiyohara's spirit), he could simply use genjutsu to guide a craftsman into believing it was just a strange material and get it shaped into specialized throwing tools—kunai or shuriken.
But he couldn't use that to scam money. Genjutsu was temporary; any merchant would notice later when they counted their daily books.
Finally, his chakra capacity and control had grown again.
War was the fastest way to sharpen a person.
High-intensity combat forced the body to squeeze out potential. Chakra pathways grew tougher through repeated cycles of full–empty–recovery.
He could feel his control getting tighter too.
The downside was his stomach and digestion—he'd pushed himself hard, and it still ached. He'd need a few days to recover.
"My butterfly effect is real now," he thought.
Rin survived.
Her "binding" at the heart was triggered and caused a partial tailed-beast rampage, but at the critical moment he destroyed the core and used medical ninjutsu to keep her alive.
That meant Obito saw the "Rin was stabbed" scene that pushed him over the edge and awakened the Mangekyō—but then immediately saw Rin "come back," and saw her protect Kiyohara.
What would that emotional whiplash do to Obito?
Kiyohara didn't know.
But he was sure the outcome diverged sharply from the original timeline—where Rin truly died and Obito fully fell into darkness.
"Future me," Kiyohara called inside his mind, tapping the urn.
Uchiha Kiyohara's spirit emerged, translucent in the lamplight.
"What is it?"
Kiyohara had noticed: unlike the others, this future self preferred staying inside the urn and rarely appeared unless called.
"I want you to teach me Uchiha-style taijutsu and throwing techniques," Kiyohara said directly.
The spirit nodded. "Sure. With Uchiha-style taijutsu, your Sharingan can be used to its full potential."
"Explain," Kiyohara said. He was ready to learn immediately.
Aside from inherited swordsmanship, his taijutsu was still mostly basic. If he learned higher-level technique, the raw strength he gained from Magnet Release field rotation and Earth Spear would translate into far more lethal application.
"Then I'll start with the fundamentals," Uchiha Kiyohara said.
"Okay."
Kiyohara pulled out paper and a pen to take notes.
Every second a spirit stayed out, it faded a little more—so written notes meant he could review later without draining them.
It wasn't until midnight that Kiyohara finally slept.
Uchiha taijutsu, he learned, was unlike Guy's straight-ahead power. Unlike the Hyūga Gentle Fist, which broke the body with precision.
It was more like assassination technique fused with close-quarters combat—fully exploiting the Sharingan's insight to pre-read an opponent, dodge with minimal movement, and strike from the best possible angle.
Uchiha Kiyohara also taught him fundamentals of force transmission and body mechanics.
By the end of the night, Kiyohara had a rough framework.
What he needed next was practice—tons of it.
Or to complete Uchiha Kiyohara's second "wish" and see if he could inherit more directly.
…
At the Graveyard of the Mountains.
In the pitch-black underground passage—
"I'll cut every chain of cause and effect."
Obito stared into the gloom.
Madara had called this underground a crack between life and death.
Now Obito felt the phrase fit.
He'd believed that once he escaped, he could return to how things were—living with Rin and Kakashi again.
But he still ended up back here.
"Hmph… no one noticed you on the way back, right?"
Madara wore a deep, satisfied smile.
"Obito came back using his new ability. No one noticed him," Spiral Zetsu replied.
It found Obito's new power amazing—he could enter some other space, filled with block-like "tombstones."
"Why didn't you show your whole face?" Madara asked calmly.
He didn't explain how he knew about Obito's disguise, and didn't care whether Obito demanded an answer.
Obito stopped, glancing at Madara.
At this point he didn't care how Madara knew.
But "show your face"?
Show a face everyone had already forgotten?
"I was forgotten. They couldn't recognize me even with such small changes. That proves I was never truly remembered."
Obito's voice was twisted with obsession.
Months—maybe longer—of lightless rehabilitation had warped his sense of time.
Sunrise, sunset, hunger, fatigue—those anchors of ordinary life no longer existed for him.
He didn't even need to eat or use the bathroom anymore.
His world was only pain, training, and the one hope: seeing Rin and Kakashi again.
And now that hope had shattered.
Rin looked at him like an enemy.
Kakashi's hostility. Rin's coldness.
He'd even seen the effortless rapport between Kiyohara and them.
The place that should have been his… had already been filled seamlessly.
Just like Madara and Zetsu said—he'd been replaced.
Even if he returned, could anything go back to normal?
"I can be replaced so easily. That means whether I exist or not doesn't matter. Rin saying she'd always watch me was just polite talk…"
Obito stared at Madara, eyes flickering with madness.
"I'm completely disappointed in this world of betrayal and lies. This Rin is fake. This shinobi world that created all of this is fake…"
Madara nodded with satisfaction as Obito muttered.
Obito really was easy to stir up.
He was a diode—absolute belief, then absolute doubt.
No real psychological guidance—just extremes.
And that was exactly what Madara wanted.
Obito used to believe in everything: the Will of Fire, bonds between comrades.
When reality snapped those beliefs one by one, he didn't doubt parts—he denied the whole.
If "beauty" was fake, then the world that held that "beauty" had to be fake too.
That black-and-white extremism was the product of long-term confinement and distortion.
Obito had lived in an environment Madara carefully crafted: dark, sealed underground, no normal bodily rhythms, only white monsters and an old man.
In that environment, most people would collapse into loneliness, fear, anxiety—sometimes even hallucinations.
With no outside stimulation, cognition dulls, emotions spiral, mental health breaks.
That was exactly how Madara added fuel to Obito's already obsessive nature.
"Good."
Madara's voice echoed through the cave.
"You've finally seen the truth. This world's essence is endless pain and betrayal. Shinobi, nations, bonds… all of it is nothing but a fragile structure built on lies."
He paused, then continued:
"Then tell me, Obito."
"Will you keep living in this fake world—forgotten and replaced… or will you join me and create a new world?"
Obito fell silent.
Countless old memories flashed through his mind.
Now every one of them felt coated in fake light.
"A world with no pain, no loss, no betrayal," Madara said softly.
"A world where everyone can stay forever with the one they love. A perfect dream—yet a dream made real."
"Tell me… how to create that new world, Madara."
Obito finally spoke again.
He would create a world without betrayal.
In that world, Rin would truly keep watching him.
And there would be no Kiyohara.
Even if that happiness required burning the old world to ash.
Madara's smile deepened, wrinkles folding tightly.
"Come here."
He extended a hand—thin and withered.
"You no longer need to repay me. You no longer need to live for Konoha, for comrades, for the people who already forgot you."
"From today on… you are the savior!"
Madara nodded.
Over the next stretch of time, he would pour everything he knew into Obito.
Of course, he would also plant safeguards—just in case Obito tried to break the "binding charm" or stray from the path.
That safeguard was…
Black Zetsu.
Madara's true trusted existence—more accurately, the one he believed he absolutely controlled.
Black Zetsu would watch Obito, steer him, keep him locked onto the predetermined road.
"Savior… heh."
Madara watched Obito's resolve harden, and thought again: Kiyohara's talent might be higher.
But Obito was far easier to manipulate and guide.
Sometimes being stupid… had its advantages.