Space warped violently.
The Kamui vortex spun open like a devouring whirlpool, swallowing Uchiha Itachi's body whole.
Senju Tobirama's sharp eyes flickered with astonishment. He stepped forward in a blur, but before his hand could reach—it was gone. The vortex collapsed into nothingness, leaving only faint ripples in the air, as if the Uchiha had never been there at all.
Even Tobirama, master of the Flying Thunder God, could only narrow his eyes.
Kamui… truly one of the pinnacle escape techniques. Even with his speed, even with his precision—Tobirama had been helpless.
"Second Hokage-sama…" Several Anbu materialized in the shadows, exchanging uneasy glances. None dared to speak further, but their bewilderment was written across their masks.
Tobirama shook his head grimly.
Itachi Uchiha's chances of infection by Gen was uncertain at best… but the masked man's motives were clearer. He had no intention of allowing all Mangekyō Sharingan to be destroyed.
The logic was simple. If too many Mangekyō were erased, Uchiha Gen's future avenues of power would be crippled.
What disturbed Tobirama was not the rescue itself—but the timing.
The whole exchange had lasted less than a minute. Yet the masked man appeared at the perfect moment, his intelligence-gathering almost inhuman.
Had Kakashi unknowingly leaked information? No… even that seemed implausible. Something else was at work. Something far more unsettling.
Meanwhile, within Kamui's distorted space, Obito emerged onto a desolate canyon along the Land of Fire's remote border. Jagged cliffs stretched upward like broken fangs, and the air was heavy with silence.
He released his hold, unceremoniously dropping the unconscious Itachi to the ground.
The moment his boots touched stone, Obito's lone eye hardened. His voice, cold and venomous, cut through the still air.
"Wake up."
He kicked Itachi in the chest with merciless force. The Uchiha slammed into the rock wall, blood spilling from his lips as the impact raised a cloud of dust.
A violent cough tore from Itachi's throat as his body ached from the strike. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open. Consciousness returned, blurry at first—but then sharp. When his vision cleared and landed on the masked figure, his expression changed. Anger. Wariness. A shadow of hatred.
His gaze sharpened like drawn steel.
Obito tilted his head slightly. The faintest mockery laced his tone. "Your eyes… they look quite displeased with me."
Itachi's voice was hoarse but cutting. "You violated our agreement. You took Sasuke without my permission."
A chuckle escaped Obito, hollow and scornful. "Agreement? Tell me, Itachi… who was the first to break trust? Who betrayed me?"
Before Itachi could reply, Obito moved in a blur. His hand seized Itachi's throat and slammed him hard against the canyon wall, stone cracking under the force.
His grip tightened, killing intent bleeding from him like a blade pressed to Itachi's heart.
"Do not misunderstand. I didn't save you. You're alive only because you still hold value—to Sasuke."
His voice lowered, dripping with menace. "So, live obediently. Don't resist. Don't scheme. Or your beloved little brother will pay the price. You don't want that… do you?"
Itachi's eyes trembled. His breath caught.
At once, the anger in his gaze dulled into sorrow, pain tightening across his face.
Obito's lips curled beneath the mask. Seeing that shift gave him no small satisfaction.
So, the proud prodigy bends when it comes to Sasuke.
A faint, mocking laugh left him. "Funny. In the Rain Village, you dared to stand with Nagato and force me out of the Akatsuki. And now look at you. Helpless. In my hands."
His tone sharpened, scalding with contempt.
"Begging for Konoha's acceptance like a stray mutt. Did you truly believe Tobirama would take you in? He was ready to kill you the moment you faltered."
Itachi's lips pressed tightly together. His voice, when it came, was low and bitter.
"And whose fault is that? You. Gen. The two of you twisted the Sharingan until the world could only see a curse."
"Hopeless."
Obito spat the word like venom and released him. Itachi collapsed to the ground, gasping, clutching his throat.
The masked man loomed over him, his tone now cold and final. "You're an outcast, Itachi. Neither Konoha nor the world has a place for you. You know this. Everyone knows this."
He paused deliberately, letting the weight of his words sink in.
"So… the only thing you can do now is follow the script I've written."
His eye gleamed, its tomoe spinning lazily. "Wait for the day Sasuke is ready. And when that day comes… you will give him your Mangekyō. Personally."
The silence pressed heavily between them.
Itachi struggled upright, his fists trembling, nails biting into his palms until blood welled. His eyes brimmed with sorrow—pain, guilt, and fury all at once.
But still, he was powerless.
He could only stare at Obito in silence, body shaking, trapped in the cruel inevitability of the fate laid before him.
Space pulsed faintly with residual ripples of Kamui, the canyon plunged into silence once more.
Obito ignored Itachi's trembling frame and turned his attention to the long-dimmed Sharingan resting in his palm.
It was Shisui's Mangekyō.
Once, this eye carried the power to sway destiny itself—Kotoamatsukami, the fabled genjutsu that could twist a man's will without him ever realizing it. But now, after unleashing Izanami, it had burned itself into emptiness, reduced to a hollow, lifeless shell.
"A shame for such a treasure to die like this..." Obito murmured, the scarlet glow of his remaining eye reflecting off the dead glassy orb.
Yet as he studied it, something stirred within him.
The Wood Release cells grafted into his body began to writhe restlessly, gnawing at him from within, as though they hungered for the Sharingan in his hand. The sensation was raw, animalistic—a predator scenting prey.
Obito's lips curved into a cruel smile. "So, even the power of the First Hokage craves Uchiha eyes... how poetic."
His gaze drifted to Itachi as a demented idea flashed through his mind.
Without warning, Obito's hand shot out, gripping Itachi's skull like a vice. The younger Uchiha tried to resist, but his limbs felt heavy, his chakra sluggish—his body nothing more than a fragile puppet under Obito's overwhelming strength.
From Obito's palm, jagged wooden branches erupted like fangs from a beast, splintering into Itachi's forehead.
Flesh and muscle tore, blood gushed, his vision whited out in pure agony.
The searing pain almost shattered his consciousness, yet not even a scream could escape his throat.
"Let's see how far you can endure," Obito whispered coldly.
With deliberate cruelty, he pressed Shisui's ruined eye into the gaping wound, embedding it into the raw fissure of skin and bone. The dead orb sank into place like an artificial third eye.
Immediately, the Wood Release coiled around it, weaving a grotesque lattice of roots and sinew, fusing eye and host. The cursed graft pulsed with parasitic hunger, spreading through Itachi's nervous system, stabbing into every vein and chakra channel.
Itachi's body convulsed violently. His pale face twisted in anguish as the foreign eye greedily drained his chakra, devouring it and reshaping itself.
Then, impossibly, the sealed Sharingan flickered with light.
Under the Wood Release's corrupt nourishment, it twitched, spun—then slowly, sickeningly—opened.
One tomoe gleamed at the center of the grotesque third eye.
The moment it awakened, a whisper seeped into Itachi's mind.
It was not Obito's voice, nor his own.It was something older.Darker.A whisper like a thousand voices clawing from the depths of a pit.
Wish... Speak your wish...
The sound pierced into his very soul.
Itachi staggered, clutching his head as if trying to tear the whispers free. Memories surged—his parents' faces, Shisui's last moments, Sasuke's innocent eyes. His body shook, lips quivering, as though the forbidden eye was dragging out every secret longing and every buried regret.
"Sasuke..."
The name nearly slipped, but at the last second, Itachi's will fought back. His body trembled, his jaw clenched until blood dripped between his teeth.
Seeing this resistance, Obito leaned close, his breath hot with venom."Still clinging to that pathetic Will of Fire? Do you think it will save you from me... or from Gen?"
Itachi's silence was his only defiance.
Obito chuckled darkly, releasing his grip. "No matter. The curse has already taken root. Whether you wish it or not, this eye will one day devour you whole."
He stepped back, his single Sharingan narrowing as Kamui began to spiral at his feet. His voice cut the night like a knife:"Uchiha Itachi... Play your role. Live for Sasuke's sake. And when the time comes... die for him."
Obito's body dissolved into the vortex, vanishing into the void.
Silence returned.
Itachi collapsed to his knees, blood dripping from his forehead. The cursed eye burned, twitching and shuddering, its presence writhing within him like a parasite.
The wind howled across the desolate canyon, carrying the taste of iron.
Slowly, painfully, Itachi rose to his feet. His face was pale, eyes heavy with sorrow.
The grotesque eye on his forehead opened faintly, its tomoe spinning.It mocked him with every heartbeat, a constant reminder of his corruption.
Yet even as pain consumed him, he staggered forward.
He would endure.
For Sasuke.
No matter how cursed he became, that single reason was enough to keep walking beneath the endless, merciless night.