"Is it Rin? Rin Nohara?!"
Obito's voice was full of desperate hope.
"Yeah, that's the one—Rin Nohara."
White Zetsu nodded, confirming Obito's guess.
"Yes!"Obito's entire face lit up like he'd just won the lottery.
"Tell me everything! What did you see?"
He leaned forward urgently, eager for even a sliver of news about her.
"They completed a mission and returned to camp. That Rin girl and another companion stayed behind to talk about medical ninjutsu."
"Kakashi?"
Obito frowned slightly.
He'd entrusted Rin to Kakashi—of course Kakashi would be close to her.
As long as he returned soon… things could still go back to how they were.
"No. The other one was named… Kiyo…"
"KIYOHARA?!"
Obito's voice cracked with disbelief.
That guy again?!
He still remembered how Kiyohara held Rin's hand right in front of him saying he was studying medical ninjutsu!
'That's not how you learn medical ninjutsu!'
Now they were alone in a tent… Who knew what Kiyohara was doing?!
"I have to go back!"Obito shouted, pounding the stone wall with his remaining arm.
He tried to break through with brute force, but every movement tugged painfully at the still-healing flesh of his right side—where new muscle tissue was starting to grow. A new arm… was forming.
"Even if you go back, what would it change? You still don't understand, do you, Obito?"
Uchiha Madara slowly opened his eyes—his crimson Sharingan glowing in the darkness.
"In the time you've been gone, your teammates didn't stop moving forward without you."
"The dead being replaced by the living… isn't that just natural?"
Madara's words dripped with cold detachment.
Just like Hashirama had replaced him by that woman, Uzumaki Mito.
"Replace me? No way!"
Obito's eye widened in panic, the flickering torchlight casting heavy shadows across the bandages on his face.
'Is there… no place for me anymore?'
"No one can replace me! Rin… Rin will definitely wait for me!"
His mind clung to her promise—that she'd always be watching him.
"Wait for you?"
Madara didn't blink.
"According to Zetsu, that Kiyohara kid—he's talented, progressing quickly. And more importantly… he knows how to talk to people."
"Right now, he's alone with the girl you can't stop thinking about. What do you think happens, given enough time?"
Even Madara, who had no experience with romance, understood how quickly emotions could spark when a man and woman were alone.
"Shut up!"
Obito exploded, raw disbelief twisting across his face.
"Rin's not like that! And Kiyohara? He's a nobody—a civilian! I'm a Uchiha!"
He stood up abruptly, trying to resume his training regimen, trying to force his body to heal faster.
But this half-regrown body couldn't keep up.
With a groan of frustration and pain, Obito collapsed onto the ground—helpless, furious.
Madara watched quietly. A satisfied glint flickered in his eye.
Yes… this is what I want.Doubt. Pain. Frustration. Anger.
All of it… feeding the darkness.
When reality breaks apart everything you once believed in—when the things you treasure are stripped away one by one—only then will you fall.Only then will you truly become… mine.
'Only the world of the victor…'
Madara closed his eyes once more, darkness wrapping around him like a cloak.
The Next Morning
After reporting to Kakashi, Kiyohara left the base alone and headed to the nearby supply town that served as a regional hub.
The town was small, but bustling thanks to the many Konoha shinobi stationed nearby. Several shops specifically catered to ninja needs.
Kiyohara moved with practiced ease to a familiar weapon shop, its owner a weathered middle-aged man with a single-lens eyeglass and rough, calloused hands—a seasoned smith if ever there was one.
Without wasting time, Kiyohara laid out the loot from his recent battle—three Mist swords and assorted spoils—from a sealing scroll.
"Boss, give me a number. I want full cash."
The shopkeeper carefully examined each item. His eyes gleamed with particular interest at the fine long sword Kiyohara had taken from the Mist swordsman.
After some brief haggling, the deal was struck—and to Kiyohara's surprise, he walked away with a thick stack of bills, well above what he had expected.
Then, Kiyohara pulled out a few broken blade fragments.
"Chakra metal?"
The smith's eyes lit up immediately. He cradled the shards with reverence.
"Planning to forge a ninja sword, are we?"
"Exactly."
Kiyohara nodded.
"Use this chakra metal as the base—infuse as much as possible into the blade for optimal conductivity. Any leftover scraps and fees—take it out of the money from earlier. If that's not enough, I'll make up the difference."
The smith gently rubbed the chakra metal with a craftsman's pride, then nodded confidently.
"You've come to the right man. With this material, I can forge you a masterpiece."
"Normally I'd charge more for this kind of job, but it's a rare treat to work with chakra metal. Let's call it an even Five Hundred Thousand ryō."
Kiyohara agreed without hesitation.That was far more affordable than he'd expected—likely because this smith cared more about the craft than the profit.
The wait was excruciating.
Kiyohara wandered the town, stocking up on essentials, but his thoughts kept returning to the sword.
By the next evening, he returned to the shop.
The smith looked tired—but proud.
From beneath a thick cloth, he slowly unwrapped a long sword case and handed it over with great care.
"Take a look, young man. See if it meets your expectations."
Kiyohara took a breath and opened it.
Inside lay a beautifully-forged tachi.
Its blade was sleek and narrow, the hilt wrapped in a special grip tape for sweat absorption and control.Along the base of the blade, faint chakra-metal ripples shimmered subtly.
Kiyohara couldn't hide the grin that spread across his face.
'The sword is complete.'
At that moment, the spirit of Youthful Kiyohara emerged from the urn and gazed upon the blade.