Chapter Fifty-Eight: The Servant's Smile
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Perhaps it's hard to believe.
The thought flickered through Obito's mind as the car came to a stop—screech, bump, settle—and he stepped out onto ground that felt wrong in ways his newly sharpened senses could immediately detect. He stared at the building before him, a structure that seemed impossibly far from any place with civilization. Behind him, the car pulled away—vroom, crunch, fade—taking the driver with it, leaving only Obito and Naoya standing in the middle of nowhere.
Beside him, Naoya didn't seem affected by the building radiating cursed energy like a beacon. Instead, he smiled with that excessive mockery that suited his personality so perfectly it was infuriating to look at. That smile. That stupid, arrogant, punchable smile.
Of course, he's not stupid enough to say anything about sensing danger. He's silent, trying to analyze the situation. Why did we come here?
Obito tried to recall the information he'd memorized from the file, but quickly remembered there was nothing about this specific location. Using his ordinary black eyes—blink, focus, scan—he looked at the sign written on the building's front:
CURSE
Yes. That was what was written on the sign attached to this building, which was strangely situated among trees in a place far from any civilization. A building called "Curse" in the middle of nowhere. What could possibly go wrong?
"Follow me."
Naoya moved toward the entrance without looking at Obito even once. This bastard. He looks down on me this much? Obito's jaw tightened—grind, pop, relax—as he watched the blond-haired heir stride forward like he owned the world. Maybe he's right. If this were six months ago, it would make sense. But now? I'm different. I have the confidence to fight a first-grade sorcerer with a good chance of winning. To handle any kind of danger within logical bounds quite well. So I'm not that far below his level—
Maybe I even surpass him.
That's what Obito thought as he followed, his eyes fixed on Naoya's back with barely concealed anger—glare, burn, hide—without the other man noticing. And it was clear to Obito that the evil part of his brain was still telling him to do something terrible to the man walking ahead. But the logical part of his soul kept whispering: Don't rush. Don't rush. Don't rush.
The clash between these two voices was terrifying, like a bomb about to explode—tick, tick, BOOM—like they were about to unleash horrifying techniques against each other. But the internal struggle stopped when they reached the door.
Obito stopped.
Even Naoya, who didn't seem interested in him at all, turned around and looked at him like he was wondering what this idiot was doing stopping. Of course, Obito recognized that look from his naturally mocking face. But he didn't care about that. Instead, he looked at the ground beneath him—stare, focus, sense—and then spoke in a low but clear voice.
"There's something dangerous in this place. We shouldn't enter."
This is what I would say to a reasonable person. But Obito knew the person in front of him wasn't reasonable. He was selfish, arrogant, and it was impossible he would believe Obito. Still, he added with respect: "Sir, I can sense a barrier in this place. There might be a curse that can use domain expansion."
Naoya's expression changed.
The mocking, contemptuous look shifted into something contemplative—blink, narrow, calculate—an expression that seemed to be evaluating something good while simultaneously finding it hard to imagine that something could actually be that good. But finally, he said something that surprised Obito.
"Really? That's wonderful." Naoya's voice carried genuine appreciation. "You've become more useful than I expected."
Obito blinked—blink, blink, freeze—genuinely shocked by this change. He looked at Naoya like he was staring at a stranger. Is it possible that something happened? Did Obito transfer to another world? Is it possible someone took over Naoya's body somehow? Why else would he act like this?
Because there was a smile on Naoya's face now. A smile that looked like someone looking at a dear friend, not the contempt-filled expression of a master looking at a dog. The difference was so stark, so wrong, that Obito unconsciously took a defensive stance—shift, brace, prepare—gathering cursed energy slightly. Not enough to be noticeable to people who could sense cursed energy, but enough to defend himself if something went wrong.
I just want to protect myself if anything goes wrong. That's all.
"It turns out you've really become something different after all this time, child."
Naoya spoke to him like an adult addressing someone younger, placing a smile on his face that was still somehow mocking. Yet this smile didn't resemble the one in Obito's memories—the memories from the original body's owner. That old smile was full of contempt. This one had transformed into something... cunning. Like he was looking at a chess piece he wanted to control.
Obito thought for a moment and reached a conclusion. He wants to control me somehow. I don't need to be a genius to understand that. It's obvious this smile is looking at me like a doll he wants to manipulate.
"This is good. If that's the case, why not do what he wants?"
Obito felt happy with this idea and didn't hate it at all. First, he could be with Naoya, which meant having someone who would give him information—even if he was working and subordinate. And if he could eventually get close to the man, he might find some way to access the resources he desperately lacked. Especially since the battle had become bigger. Geto Suguru might have joined Kenjaku's team, which sought to destroy all of Japan, which would reveal cursed energy to the entire world. Every Japanese person would become nothing but an energy source for all other countries on a massive scale. And there was also external targeting.
But that wasn't the scariest part to him. No, the scariest part was that the events might have changed so significantly that the future couldn't proceed in one direction—especially with differences this large.
That small fear had somehow become the reason Obito smiled and acted calmly.
"Yes, sir. This place is very dangerous. It seems the cursed energy here is suitable for someone who can create a barrier."
Naoya moved to stand beside Obito—step, turn, study—like he was examining him before clapping his hands together—CLAP—like he'd received the answer he'd been waiting for.
"Well done." Naoya's eyes gleamed. "So, is there a way to enter? I need some information from the person inside."
Obito paused, unsure how to answer—until a moment later when his eyes flashed red—SHIFT, SWIRL, ACTIVATE—the Sharingan springing to life in an instant. He stared at the energy flow in the best way possible, predicting the barrier's lines and directions. Finally, he moved—step, step, turn, step, stop—circling the building multiple times before stopping at a specific point.
He smiled.
His hand moved quickly—WHOOSH—forming his energy into blue fire aimed at the designated area. He directed the strike with perfect precision.
RRRRRIIIP.
The sound of tearing came from everywhere at once. Naoya watched as the entire building seemed to move, like it was about to disappear bit by bit. A tearing sound emerged—RRRRRIP, CRACKLE, POP—like fabric being shredded, then quickly transformed into the sound of breaking glass—SHATTER, CRASH, TINKLE—before disappearing within seconds.
And then the building with the sign reading "CURSE" was gone.
In its place stood a much smaller wooden house in the forest area, which was honestly much more logical than an abandoned building called "Curse." But none of that mattered to the Zenin clan heir, whose eyes were fixed on his dog who had executed the mission with precision.
As expected. There could never be any idea of betrayal in a dog's mind if it's been trained properly.
Naoya approached Obito—step, step, smile—who was smiling back, confident he'd completed the task assigned to him. Obito had acted like a formal servant, or like the way actors behaved in movies he remembered—especially those who worked for masters. He noticed Naoya getting closer and speaking in a voice that sounded like a master praising his subordinate.
"Well done. You did your job excellently."
Naoya said nothing else and moved forward—step, step, stop—stopping in front of the wooden cottage.
And in the next moment—
SWISH, SWISH, SWISH, SWISH—
Multiple attacks launched from inside the cottage, shaped like blades, flying toward them with lethal intent. Neither of them was surprised. Naoya didn't move, but gestured to Obito with his hand. In the next second, Obito had vanished from his spot—POOF—becoming like a ghost as he appeared in front of the cursed-energy-coated blades.
SWOOSH, THWACK, CRACK—
He sent them flying away with a simple motion. Dozens scattered in every direction, embedding themselves in trees—THUD, THUD, THUD—with satisfying impacts. Obito didn't move after blocking them, instead looking at Naoya like a loyal servant and saying:
"Would you allow me to handle the situation, sir?"
But inside, Obito's mind was thinking one thing:
"I'll use him for now. But when everything ends and I become stronger, I'll kill him in one second. But before that, I'll torture him. Someone like him doesn't deserve to be happy while alive."
Obito swore with extreme coldness, not even realizing that many things had changed his heart. He had become colder toward killing somehow. If he had realized it, he would have noticed that the idea of killing was growing bit by bit in his mind. Not because of hatred, not because something was controlling him—but even he wouldn't be able to describe the feeling taking hold of him.
It was like someone was trying to control his body without his awareness.
Unfortunately, that feeling was low-level, like a parasite taking control of him gradually without stopping.
But that didn't matter, because in the next moment—
FWIP—
A spear shot toward Obito from the cottage. His Sharingan reacted instantly—FLARE, TRACK, GRAB—his hand snapping out and catching the spear mid-flight. He slammed it into the ground with extreme precision—CRASH, THUD, EMBED—before checking the direction it came from.
And slowly, from the large wooden house, a man emerged.
He looked like he was two meters tall, with wide, powerful muscles stretching his simple clothing. But the most important feature was his thick beard—bushy, gray-streaked, wild—and eyes sharp as knives—GLINT, FOCUS, DANGER—as he stared at the two like they were walking meat.
"What are you little brats doing in this place?" The man's voice rumbled like thunder. "Were you given permission to come here?"
Neither answered.
The man's expression twisted with annoyance, his voice filling with something like regret—like he was remembering painful things from his life. "It seems kids these days have really become so stupid they don't listen to adults anymore."
Then he vanished.
He lunged toward the red-eyed one first—BOOM, WHOOSH, CRACK—his fist enhanced with cursed energy to such a degree that the air whistled from the strike's power—FWWEEET—but unfortunately for him, the boy about to be hit had disappeared.
Obito appeared in the air above the man's arm, hovering in a relaxed position—float, balance, smirk—looking down with a strange smile that seemed like someone who had discovered something unique. He spoke with a mocking tone:
"It seems kids these days are very fierce and fast. But that's all."
The man swung his arm back—WHOOSH—forcing Obito to retreat and spin vertically through the air before sending a cursed-energy-enhanced kick straight at the man's stomach. The kick was calculated and precise, like it knew exactly where to hit—specifically, an additional spot on the man's body in the stomach area.
But for someone with great experience, over 50 years old yet still possessing such a powerful body, the movement was manageable. He blocked with his hand—SMACK—but the impact force sent him back several meters—skid, slide, stop—and he immediately concluded that the kick's power didn't come from the body alone. It was due to the boy's terrifying cursed energy manipulation and concentrated explosive force.
"You'd better surrender, old man." Obito advised coolly.
"I think you're from the Zenin clan, aren't you?" The man didn't speak to Obito, instead looking at the other young man—the one with the arrogant smile, blond hair, and blue eyes leaning toward sky-blue, who looked like a laughing snake watching an entertaining play.
That young man—Naoya—didn't respond to the accusation. He just laughed a little—heh, heh, heh—then gestured to Obito.
"Capture him well. He has some good information we need to obtain. But you can cut off his limbs—I don't care."
The man felt a strange pressure coming from the black-haired boy with red eyes, who looked at him differently now—like he'd been waiting for this order. But that wasn't the only thing the man noticed. Unlike the blond-haired young man who only saw Obito executing orders, the black-haired, muscle-bound man had a better ability to read expressions.
He noticed the boy's hand tremble—just slightly—like he was about to attack the blond-haired Zenin.
The man smiled because of this observation, but said nothing. Instead, he took a fighting stance, gesturing to Obito and saying:
"Alright then. I'm enjoying this, young man. I want to see if you can execute these orders from your master."
Ugh.
Obito sighed deeply inside. I didn't want this to happen. I don't even know what Naoya wants to get from attacking this man in the first place. What brought us here? But since I've decided to try acting to the maximum extent, I can't regret it now. I have to execute my ideas—even if it requires physically crushing this muscular man who looks like he's in his forties.
But before attacking, Obito decided something else. He took a more precise fighting stance and spoke with a hesitant but firm voice:
"I'll make this quick. But you'd better surrender, because I don't want to destroy you."
The man's smile became more ferocious at these words. "Alright then. I'll be happy to see this."
Before the man could say another word, Obito appeared beside him—SHUNSHIN, WHOOSH, MATERIALIZE—an instantaneous movement like teleportation. But the man's instincts reacted, and he tried to move away. In the same moment, Obito's fist connected directly with the man's stomach.
BOOM.
The sound exploded from the impact's force. The man vomited a quantity of blood—BLARGH, splash, drip—before flying backward and crashing into a distant tree—CRACK, THUD, SNAP—the trunk splintering on impact.
Obito looked at the result and couldn't help but sigh, saying to himself: You should have just surrendered. Why this stubbornness?
Then he looked at Naoya. He didn't smile, but thought happily inside: Now he'll definitely see the power I possess. This way, I can get better resources.
His plan was simple in this moment: using his power, he would use Naoya as merely a tool to reach his future goals and control a larger amount of Zenin clan power. This way, he would gain resources that would help him increase his strength in the future—and maybe even obtain an intelligence source within the council.
In the end, knowing the future has become useless with events changing so significantly. In the current situation, it's better to try establishing some methods for gathering information—even if it means pretending to be a servant.
Anyway, I don't have much dignity left thanks to the original body's owner. And in this situation that has become dangerous—with Japan's future and my own future at stake—it's better to focus only on future events and push thoughts of revenge away.
At least for now.
But an evil smile was etched on his face like he was insane. In his mind, he was only thinking about the future way he would punish Naoya for everything he'd done to him. So he was happy. He even secretly wished Naoya would mistreat him more this way. That will increase my negative feelings and hatred.
He didn't know why, but he'd started feeling that the concept of hatred somehow helped him become stronger. Not just through controlling negative cursed energy, but because this concept strangely made him feel a greater connection to his Sharingan technique.
Maybe there's an instinctive connection I don't realize.
But he decided not to care about that right now. Instead, he would just enjoy watching what would happen in the future.
It's better to be crazy now instead of being sane, so I don't seem too strange in this despicable world.
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END OF CHAPTER
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