I quietly chucked the "Hatake" alias into the trash where it belonged. Seriously, what was I thinking? Using that guy's surname? I might as well tape a "please stab me" sign to my back. White-haired Kakashi knockoff strolls into the Uchiha tragedy zone? Instant aggro magnet. That's suicide, not strategy.
Blacken Obito is like ten times stronger, and playing the Kakashi card just adds salt to a nuclear wound. I'm reckless, not brain-dead.
I casually adjusted my stance, subtly tweaking my muscle tension for maximum "I-don't-give-a-damn" energy. My vibe? Nonchalant bodyguard on a lunch break.
Across from me, Uchiha Obito stared with thinly veiled curiosity—or was it confusion? Hard to tell through the mask, but the way his brows creased said, Who the hell is this weirdo?
Goko, huh? Yeah, I made that up on the fly. Totally not suspicious.
Obito tilted his head slightly, then tossed aside the bloodied blade in his hand. The thing spun once and thunked into a tree. Dramatic much?
His cloak rippled in the wind. Classic Akatsuki chic.
I could feel him mentally poking at the situation. The outfit. The hair. The energy. His Sharingan glinted.
Yeah, you're seeing it too, aren't you, buddy? The resemblance. Kakashi—but with boobs. Or rather, if Kakashi raided Anko's wardrobe and committed to the bit.
I watched as Obito visibly wrestled with the mental image. For a brief, glorious moment, I could feel his brain rejecting the cursed thought: "Did Kakashi cosplay as a waifu?!"
Good. Suffer.
He squinted at me like I was some forgotten side character in his tragic backstory. Friend? Family? Kakashi's long-lost cousin?
Then it hit him.
A flicker of rage twisted through his chakra. Just for a moment. But I felt it.
After killing Rin, Kakashi—miserable, broken, ramen-deprived Kakashi—had somehow found a new friend?
That, apparently, was a sin too far.
Obito's killing intent surged.
Oops.
I watched the chakra spike and immediately regretted...well, everything. Kakashi should've just let Obito win that last Ichiraku ramen-eating contest. None of this would be happening right now.
Meanwhile, Uchiha Itachi—baby Itachi, still wet behind the ears and tragically earnest—finally managed to peel himself off the emotional pavement. His Sharingan was active, the double tomoe spinning with fresh trauma.
He looked at me, unsure and hesitant. "Go," he said in that calm, noble tone of his. Like some tragic prince stepping into the flames.
Kid, no. You are eight.
"I'll cover you," he added.
Bless his dumb, heroic heart.
He stepped forward, hands already weaving signs.
Oh no. He's really doing it.
Itachi launched a Genjutsu, the illusion slipping toward Obito like a butterfly in a hurricane.
"Stupid," Obito muttered, unimpressed. "That's child's play against a Mangekyō."
Yeah, I knew how this scene played out. Ergou-Sharingan vs. Mangekyō Sharingan was like showing up to a gunfight with a bent spoon.
But Itachi wasn't done.
From his sleeve, he whipped out the last of his shuriken. A tight spread, well-timed.
The sharp steel sang through the air.
"Whoosh!"
Obito blinked to the side. Effortlessly.
He landed, calm as ever, and casually brushed his cloak like he was dusting off some dandruff.
He stroked his mask with all the villainous swagger of a man who knew the gap between him and his enemies was wider than the Hokage Monument.
"See?" he said, almost gently. "The gap between us is a gulf."
Itachi's gaze hardened. "It's not over."
The ground beneath Obito exploded.
Turns out Itachi had been multitasking: Genjutsu, distraction, and sneaky shuriken bombs. Respect.
A thick cloud of smoke erupted. Flames licked at the trees. Debris rained down.
For a moment, just a moment, there was hope.
"Did we get him?" Itachi asked, eyes narrowed.
Cue ominous laughter.
"Nope," came the voice from the smoke.
A silhouette emerged, unscathed. Not even a tear in the Akatsuki cloak.
Uchiha Obito.
Still alive. Still smug. Still overpowered.
Itachi clenched his fists, frustration bubbling under the surface. He'd expected this, sure. But facing the reality of that kind of power?
It crushed the soul a little.
I sighed and tugged my forehead protector up slightly, letting my six eyes shine just a little. The crystalline blue glow flickered through the trees.
"Man," I said. "Love really is terrifying. Doesn't just break hearts—sometimes it breaks entire forests."
I'd recovered some strength while they fought. Not all. But enough.
Time to stop being a damsel.
Obito turned toward me again, clearly done playing.
He looked at the two of us the way an adult looks at kids who've wandered into traffic.
"I'm bored now," he said, voice like frost.
"Let's end this."