As Rin collapsed, Kakashi stood frozen in place, his breath caught in his throat. The Chidori in his hand flickered out, the electric current dissipating as the realization struck him like lightning.
"I… killed Rin?"
His grip around the handle of his kunai trembled uncontrollably.
"I killed… Rin? I—killed—Rin!"
Rin's smiling face, the sound of her laughter, the memories they shared—it all flashed before his eyes. And with them came Obito's voice, echoing in his ears:
"Kakashi… I'm entrusting Rin to you. Protect her."
Kakashi fell to his knees, his kunai slipping from bloodied fingers. His mind reeled, his world crashing around him, the storm within him louder than the rain pouring down. He looked at her small, still form—Nohara Rin, impaled by his own hand—and everything around him collapsed into silence.
Obito, hidden beneath the battlefield, watched it all unfold. His wide eyes reflected the image of Rin falling, blood staining her uniform, Kakashi paralyzed beside her.
A scream ripped from his throat—raw, primal, filled with agony.
His chakra surged uncontrollably. The Sharingan in his left eye twisted, morphing in an instant into a Mangekyō pattern—a pinwheel of anguish. He didn't feel the pain as the power surged through him. He didn't register the transformation as the white Zetsu armor covering the right half of his body reacted violently, its surface twisting into a horned, thorn-covered mask that reformed itself into a white vortex pattern, leaving one red Mangekyō eye exposed.
Cells from Hashirama Senju coursed through him, activating involuntarily. Wooden spikes burst from his right side, twisting like tree roots seeking blood.
Kirigakure's ANBU operatives on the surface had noticed Kakashi's collapse but not Obito's emergence. One turned, alerted by the movement.
"Who's there?!"
Another muttered, "It's just one person. Can't be reinforcements."
The moment they spoke, shuriken flew toward Obito—but they passed clean through him, embedding harmlessly into the trees behind.
Obito stepped forward.
"This world…" he said, his voice shaking, "…this world… I refuse to accept it!"
He charged.
The earth cracked under his feet as he launched forward. One of the Mist-nin slashed with a sword, but Obito slipped through it like a ghost and countered with a sudden burst of Wood Release—sharpened wooden spikes erupting from his arm, impaling the enemy mid-swing.
Blood rained down onto the white of his mask, dyeing it crimson. Another Mist-nin came at him—Obito lashed out again, a wooden spike skewering the ninja through the chest.
Panic spread.
"Wh-What kind of jutsu is this?! He's a ghost!"
"No—his body… it's intangible!"
Obito didn't respond. His Mangekyō spun furiously. He moved like a phantom, his Kamui phasing him in and out of reality, immune to their blades.
A squad of three Mist-nin leapt from above, aiming their swords at his heart. They passed straight through. Instead, their blades pierced their own comrades who stood in Obito's place a heartbeat ago. Obito reappeared behind them, twisted mid-air, and sent them flying with a devastating spinning kick.
"Get the specimen!" someone shouted from behind. "Take the girl's body and retreat!"
But those words ignited something even darker in Obito.
He howled and rushed the group heading for Rin's corpse. One ninja barely had time to react before a wooden spike exploded from Obito's palm, skewering him. It expanded violently—impaling him with a forest of branches.
"…Wood Release…" murmured Zetsu from within Obito's body. "He used it unconsciously… So this is why Madara chose him."
The last of the enemy standing before Rin died screaming, slammed into the earth by Obito's fists. One punch, then another—he didn't stop, even after the man stopped breathing. The ground split beneath the force. Obito had become a force of nature. His punches were like explosions, turning bodies to pulp.
"This… this can't be a shinobi," one Mist-nin muttered, backing away, sword trembling in his grip.
Rain poured from the heavens, but it could not wash away the blood now coating the ground like paint. The moon above, dim behind clouds, seemed tinted red from the carnage.
Obito stood at the center of the slaughter. He was no longer a boy.
He was a demon in the shape of one.
Breathing hard, Obito slowly approached Rin's body. He knelt beside her and gently picked her up as if she were still alive—still warm.
He held her close, cradling her like something precious that the world had stolen.
The white mask peeled open, retracting like a blooming flower. His tear-streaked face pressed against hers.
"Is this… what hell is?" he whispered.
The battlefield was silent. Only the rain spoke.
And from the shadows, a new presence stepped forward. Cloaked in black, hood drawn low, a man in a mask watched the aftermath from the edge of the battlefield.
Uchiha Madara had arrived.