The scent of miso soup mixed with freshly steamed rice instantly assaulted Obito's nostrils as he descended downstairs, making his stomach grumble in protest.
His grandmother was already at the low table, carefully setting out bowls and plates.
She glanced up at him as his footsteps creaked on the wood, her eyes softening, but it was immediately replaced by a frown when she saw the damp strands of hair clinging to his forehead.
"Obito, you were training again, weren't you?" she asked, continuing in a helpless tone. "I told you not to push yourself too hard. Training matters, but not at the cost of your health. You've only just recovered."
Obito sat down across from her and gave a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, Grandma. Really. I know my limits."
Her gaze lingered on him for a few seconds longer before she sighed and shook her head. Scooping up the ladle, she poured soup into his bowl and passed it toward him.
"You're too much like your father," she murmured absentmindedly.
Obito accepted the bowl with both hands, feeling the warmth from it seeping into his palms. The same warmth enveloped his whole body when he took a sip, washing away his fatigue.
"Thank you for the food," he said loudly, then started gulping it down eagerly.
His grandma chuckled and patted the back of his hand with her thin, slightly trembling fingers. "Eat well, little Obito. You'll need a strong body if you want to become a proper ninja."
'Only if the original Obito also thought the same way. Could have saved me a whole month of being on edge,' he chuckled inwardly between bites.
"Oh." His grandmother seemed to remember something as she said, "How could I forget? Your homeroom teacher sent a letter today. He asked about your health. If you're feeling better, he wants you to return to the academy. Ofcourse, you can rest a little longer if not."
Obito looked up, nodding. "It's okay. I'll go tomorrow."
His grandma frowned at his answer. "So soon? Promise me you'll take it easy in the practical lessons. No reckless sparring again."
"I promise," Obito said sincerely, keeping his expression light. But inwardly, he almost laughed at the irony.
Before his transmigration, the original Obito had been sparring with Kakashi during taijutsu lessons when a blow to the head knocked him down.
The blow itself wasn't that hard, just enough to daze someone for a moment, but it was exactly at that moment his soul crossed over.
To everyone else, it looked like Obito had fallen into a coma because of the strike, and all the blame naturally fell on Kakashi.
Although he felt a little guilty about it, Obito didn't bother correcting the misunderstanding. Instead, he used it as an excuse to take a full month off from the academy, which gave him precious time to stabilize his condition.
It was a pity for Kakashi, really, but there was no better option at that time.
The meal passed quietly. When Obito finally set his empty bowl down, a thought randomly surfaced in his mind.
"What happened to Obito's grandmother in the original story?"
His gaze drifted to the old woman sitting across from him. Seeing her slightly hunched back and wrinkled face, he felt a dull ache settle in his chest.
As far as he could remember, after Obito's supposed death at Kannabi Bridge, she was never mentioned again.
'Did she die during the war… from the grief of losing Obito?'
He felt that it was most likely what happened. The old woman truly considered Obito her whole world. He had witnessed firsthand just how much she'd aged in the short time he'd been unconscious.
Obito narrowed his eyes. On one hand, whether intentionally or not, Obito had died because of him. On the other, if he survived the coming war, she wouldn't have to suffer the same fate.
For a moment, he didn't know what he was supposed to feel.
'Would she... hate me if she knew I'm not really her grandson anymore?' The thought lingered in his mind as he looked up at her.
As if sensing his gaze, his grandmother lifted her head and gave him a gentle smile. It was warm and pure—full of tenderness and love for him. Her face was old, marked by the tears of time and hardship, but in that moment, Obito felt like he had never seen a smile more beautiful than this.
The care she had shown him over the past month flashed through his mind, and he fell into a daze for a moment.
'She probably would...' he muttered inwardly.
"I'll wash the dishes," he said suddenly, standing before she could object.
She looked at him in surprise, then laughed softly. "Such a good boy. All right, go on."
Obito carried the dishes to the sink, washing each one carefully before placing them back in their proper place.
When he finished, he returned and offered her his arm. "Come on, Grandma. I'll walk you to your room."
She laughed at his serious tone but didn't refuse, taking his arm as they made their way down the narrow hallway.
At her doorway, she paused and gently touched his cheek.
"You've grown up so fast," she whispered, her eyes reflecting the lantern light.
Obito forced a small smile. "Good night, Grandma. Sleep well."
She slipped into her room, sliding the door shut behind her.
Obito stood in the quiet corridor for a long while before turning back to his own room.
Once inside, he closed the door and walked over to the corner beneath the window, where an old wooden chest rested. The lid creaked as he lifted it open.
There wasn't much inside. Just a few old kunai and shuriken sets, a carefully wrapped tanto, and a faded Leaf headband, its metal plate full of scratches.
As he examined them, his thoughts began to wander.
There were no memories of his parents in his memories. Ever since he remembered, he had always lived with his grandmother.
And from what she'd told him, his mother—Aiko—had been a civilian-born medical ninja who married into the clan. She died a week after giving birth to him.
His father, Uchiha Raiden, had been a jōnin and a member of the Konoha Police Force. He'd fallen during the Second Great Ninja War, months before Obito was born.
This chest held what little they had left behind for him.
Obito set the weapons aside, then reached deeper and eventually pulled out six scrolls and a worn booklet.
He carried them to the desk, shut the chest, and sat down.
The scrolls unrolled one by one under the lamplight.
Great Fireball Jutsu — C-rank
Phoenix Sage Fire Technique — C-rank
Fire Dragon Jutsu — B-rank
Healing Palm Technique — C-rank
Delicate Illness Extraction Technique — B-rank
Obito's gaze lingered on them for a long time before he sighed and put them all aside.
The reason for the medical ninjutsu was self-explanatory. His chakra control wasn't there yet. Even if it was, it wouldn't be enough.
From what he had heard from Rin, a true medic-nin had to be a doctor first—someone with extensive knowledge of anatomy, physiology, pathology, and pharmacology.
Fortunately, the Academy library haf beginner-level textbooks on all of those subjects. He could start from there.
As for the fire ninjutsu, they were too destructive and attention-grabbing. He could forget about practicing them before finding a suitable spot.
Now that only left one item on his desk.
Obito picked up the booklet and opened it.
His brows furrowed immediately. The handwriting was terrible. It was crooked, uneven, and barely readable.
But as he read on, his eyes started glinting with interest.
These... were his father's notes. More accurately, His insights into chakra control and fire nature chakra transformation.
The lamp flickered softly, shadows dancing across the desk.
Obito straightened in his chair and leaned closer, the words reflecting in his dark eyes as he continued reading.