"Rin, Obito, how is life in the Pure Land? I have a new goal now. I will not keep sinking."
"Rin, Obito, Konoha is not as pure as we believed, but I will carry your love for it and try to change it. Sensei, Kushina-sensei, I am sorry. I am not worthy to be your student. As a shinobi I let myself rot and ignored Naruto's situation."
"Fortunately, your clansman came, sensei. He is truly powerful. He changed Naruto's life completely. Otherwise, I would not know how to face you in the Pure Land."
Maybe it was the link between Sharingan, or some tie beyond reason. When Obito drifted to Konoha's graveyard on a whim, Kakashi was already there, speaking to the memorial stone.
Leaning against a tomb, Obito sneered in his heart. Pathetic Kakashi. You could not even protect Rin. Even if you stop decaying, what then?
Memories of days with Kakashi and Rin pressed in. Obito's fingers dug into the soil beside him, slowly and deeper.
Then he stopped and turned toward the gate.
A tall figure walked in through the thin morning mist. Hair the color of flame, a strange hybrid of garb: a fitted upper robe like a combat jacket with an open collar to the clavicle showing a white underlayer, sleeves wide and drifting as he moved, a white sash tied carelessly at the waist. The lower half fell into a loose kimono skirt, white socks and geta flickering under the hem.
Carefree and unrestrained. With that so-called ordinary face he still carried an air outside the dust of the world.
Obito's lone eye flickered. Since when did Konoha have a boy this striking?
He almost dismissed him. By footfall and breath this was only a civilian.
But the Hashirama cells inside him screamed: danger. Lethal.
Muscles knotted tight, Obito smothered his chakra and quietly opened his three-tomoe Sharingan.
The scene changed. The same "ordinary" youth, yet behind him towered a heaven-darkening tide of crimson. Within it, black lightning flashed and died, oppressive and dire.
With each step the youth took, that crimson tide ate the white fog in clean increments like the jaws of a beast.
A bead of sweat slid down Obito's temple. The feeling was like the first time he saw the Demonic Statue of the Outer Path.
"I'll help you, Obito. This one is scary, dattebayo."
Without asking, Spiral Zetsu wrapped him in whispering white branches. Obito's striped tiger mask rippled into a spiral-white mask with a single eyehole.
With Spiral Zetsu covering him, Obito finally tore free of the pressure.
The youth was Moke. After blinking to the graveyard's edge, he entered at an unhurried pace. He had spooled his crimson power high, letting it build. With its soul-pressure nature, if the gap was wide enough, the other side could not even sense it. Even up close their perception warped. No risk of knocking out civilians.
Hearing the soft footfalls, Kakashi turned. Seeing Moke, he blinked in surprise.
"Moke-sama, what brings you to the cemetery? To pay respects to Kushina-sensei?"
Moke studied the forever drooping eye. The slack was gone. There was iron there again. He was a little surprised that this perennial dead fish had lit a fire.
"Good eyes, Kakashi. Whatever woke you, you have a bit of the old genius back."
Kakashi's hand rose to the hitai-ate at his scarred eye. In just a few days his creed had collapsed. Guy's slap had jolted him awake. But awakening alone was not enough. Without his father and Minato's hands to guide him, his training stumbled.
He bowed low.
"Moke-sama, I want to reclaim my father's honor. I want the strength to protect the ones I choose. The helplessness was driving me mad. Father, Obito, Rin, Sensei, Kushina-sensei, I saved no one. I refuse to keep living like that."
He stayed bent. Hands at his sides clenched tight.
"Please forgive the rudeness, but guide my training. I want power like yours. I want to protect people the way you protect Naruto."
Moke was a little taken aback. They had known each other scarcely two days, and this Leaf shinobi was asking an outsider to teach him. Apparently Konoha had lost his trust.
"Not bad. You have wasted years, but the makings of a strong man remain. I will take you."
"Before formal lessons, I will show you what power beyond Kage looks like."
He raised his voice toward the tombs.
"Come out, Uchiha Madara. I felt your gaze the moment you looked at me."
A low voice answered with a laugh. "Interesting. When did dying Leaf sprout a warrior like you?"
A black cloak and a spiral mask appeared from behind a stone.
Moke glanced at the chain coiled on the man's wrist. Obito's Mangekyo was a twin spear, one for the surest defense, one for the surest strike. With Hashirama cells he could channel the Nine Tails, which meant his chakra pool already sat above Kage. The ocular power fortified every inch of him; his taijutsu and ninjutsu at least sat at Kage class.
Right now Obito stood between Kage and super Kage. Pure strength at Kage's peak, Mangekyo letting him touch a higher table.
That matched what Moke sensed. Before Spiral Zetsu wrapped him, Obito felt the pressure, and that pressure shook him.
He was perfect sparring. Newly adult, propped by Spiral Zetsu he could scrape into the super tier. His combat sense was middling. Moke's own experience was thin too. If tail swipes and claw swats counted, it was not nothing.
A rare equal measure. Moke's blood stirred.
He licked his lips. He also wanted to know where he stood against this world's monsters. The other day he had put on a show, but he lacked a veteran's will. Against the right era of the Third he might not actually win.
"Uchiha Madara, find somewhere else to trade blows. You would not want to break this place."
Obito's pupil pinpricked.
This brat seems to know something.
He kept his voice level and barked a laugh. "Bold little upstart. To challenge your elder. Fine. Old friends sleep here. Let the elder indulge the youth. Kid, you pick the place. I too would test the Leaf's current mettle."
Calling himself "old" at eighteen in front of a thousand-year fox made Moke want to sigh, but his patience was gone. He pointed.
"The Forest of Death. Plenty of room. Move, 'senior'."
He leaned on the last word, then gathered spirit particles underfoot and rose into the air, drifting toward the Forest.
Watching him fly like the Third Tsuchikage, Obito's eye slit brightened with interest. He had been stiff under that earlier pressure and angry about it. With Spiral Zetsu's shell, his confidence surged. Even Nagato could not claim to devour him whole. If this kid wanted to die, so be it. Wound him deep, kill him if possible.
Obito said nothing more. He slid into the earth with a ripple and sped for the Forest of Death.
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