Chapter 1
Kakashi’s voice echoed faintly in the background, pleading and sharp, his words slicing through the chaos like kunai. “Why? Obito, why are you doing this? We still need you!”
Obito didn’t answer. His gaze lingered on the swirling madness of the battlefield, the clash of titanic forces shaking the very ground beneath them. But in his heart, the answer was clear, painfully so. They don’t need me. They need you, Kakashi. You’re the one who’ll lead them. You’re the one they’ll follow.
His throat tightened as he turned his face away. Focus on the enemy, he told himself, drowning out the protests of his once-rival, now-brother, again.
Kaguya’s presence loomed over them, an oppressive force that threatened to crush their spirits. Her movements were almost serene as she retreated into another dimension to regain her chakra. Naruto’s voice broke through, calling for him, the boy’s desperation clawing at the edge of Obito’s resolve.
But then came Black Zetsu’s voice—a rasping, oily sneer laced with venom. “Such futile efforts, Naruto. And you…” The creature turned its gaze to Obito, its tone sharpening with mockery. “What a waste of a life. Betrayer of your own kin, puppet of greater forces, and now… ashes in the wind.”
Obito’s chest burned. He couldn’t disagree. Black Zetsu’s words wormed their way into the cracks of his soul. A waste… yes, maybe I am…
But Naruto’s roar interrupted his thoughts. “SHUT UP!” The Uzumaki’s anger was a wave, pure and raw, and for the first time in what felt like years, Obito saw someone stand up for him. For him.
Sasuke seized the opening. His Sharingan blazed, his voice cutting like steel. “No time to waste. I’ll keep her occupied.” In a single leap, he activated his Perfect Susano’o, the towering form of chakra surging with power. His sword swung with precision, forcing Kaguya to shift dimensions once more.
This was it—Obito’s chance. Time was slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. He turned to Kakashi and Naruto, his breath shallow but determined. “Listen. Both of you…” His voice cracked but steadied. “Thank you. Thank you for… letting me remember who I was. Who I wanted to be.”
Kakashi’s single eye widened, his mask unable to hide the quiver in his voice. “Obito, don’t—”
But Obito continued, ignoring the sting in his chest, the way his body felt like it was dissolving into nothing. “Naruto… become Hokage. For me, for Rin, for everyone. Show the world there’s still light.” His lips quirked in a ghost of a smile. “I believe in you.”
He felt his body give way, a rush of warmth, a strange calm. Dust scattered in the wind, and Obito let go.
He woke to light. Blinding, infinite white light.
His breath hitched as he scrambled to his feet, his hands trembling. His body felt… different. Lighter. Smaller. He looked down and froze.
This was his body. His young body. No scars, no twisted flesh, no Sharingan seared into his socket. His hands were whole, untainted by blood.
“No…” The memories surged back, a tidal wave of guilt. The rockfall, the searing pain, the loss of his eye. The broken promises. Rin. Minato. Kushina. Naruto. The war.
His chest heaved, his mind drowning in the weight of his failures. He stumbled backward, clutching his head. “No, no, no—”
A voice, soft and familiar, broke through the storm. “Obito.”
He froze.
It was her.
“Rin…”
She sat before him, her soft smile brighter than any sun. She tilted her head, her brown eyes brimming with warmth, the warmth he had missed every single day of his cursed life.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said gently, her voice a balm to his fractured soul.
Obito’s legs buckled. He sank to his knees, unable to look at her for long. He felt unworthy, his heart heavy with shame. “I’m… I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice trembling. “It took me so long.”
Rin giggled, the sound like a melody from a distant, cherished memory. “It’s okay. You just got lost on the road of life, didn’t you?”
He swallowed hard. Lost didn’t begin to describe it. He nodded, his voice a whisper. “Yeah. A lot happened… before I got here.”
Rin extended her hand, her smile unwavering, but there was a hint of yearning in her eyes. “Come with me, Obito.”
His breath caught. He wanted to take her hand, to follow her to wherever this place was, to let go of everything. But his guilt shackled him. He looked away, his shoulders trembling. “I… I didn’t keep my promise to you.”
Her voice remained warm, patient. “You did. You worked so hard, didn’t you?”
Obito’s head snapped up. Her words struck him like a kunai to the heart. “I…”
“You did,” she repeated, her voice firm yet kind. “You went through so much. You tried to make things right. You never gave up, even when it hurt.”
He stared at her, his vision blurring as tears welled in his eyes. The memories of his struggle played out in his mind: the years under Madara’s shadow, the battles he fought, the pain he endured. He had been so lost, so consumed by hatred and regret. But she was right. He had fought.
Rin stepped closer, her hand brushing his. “I’ve been watching you, Obito. All this time.”
Tears spilled down his cheeks, his heart aching with a mix of sorrow and relief. Her hand was warm, grounding him in this moment. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he let himself feel the depth of her love, her understanding.
He let her pull him to his feet. Her smile widened as she led him forward, their hands entwined.
This was it. The end. His soul felt lighter than air. He followed her without hesitation, leaving behind the pain, the mistakes, the blood.
Everything faded into white, and Obito smiled.
At last, he was home.
“Not quite.”
The deep voice cut through Obito’s moment of optimism, shattering the tranquility like glass under pressure. His hand, once warmed by Rin’s touch, now felt cold and empty. The radiant white surrounding him darkened into an oppressive, endless black. Rin was gone. The warmth she brought, the peace she symbolized—all of it vanished in an instant.
Obito’s chest tightened as he stood frozen in the void. It didn’t take him long to realize the truth. Of course, this was inevitable.
I can’t… I don’t deserve to follow her.
His mind spiraled, memories of his crimes surfacing like ghosts. Brainwashing, terrorism, mass murder, collateral destruction, enslavement, war crimes, genocide… Each transgression hit harder than the last. The faces of the people he’d wronged flashed before him—Minato, Kushina, Kakashi, Naruto, even Rin herself.
How could I have been so stupid to think I could escape all of this? That I could walk into the afterlife and hold her hand like nothing happened?
She was an angel, pure and kind. And he? A demon. A creature of chaos, carved from hate and regret. He should have known better.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, my child.”
The deep voice returned, calm and measured, but powerful enough to command attention. Obito’s heart raced as he looked around, his senses sharpened, searching for the source. His surroundings, an abyss of nothingness, gave no clue.
“Who’s there?” Obito demanded, his voice steadier than he felt.
The void responded with silence, dragging seconds into eternity. Then, from the emptiness, something began to take form.
At first, it was only light—soft, radiant, yet commanding. The shape of a man emerged, his features coming into focus. His long, flowing hair glowed like the moon, his robes intricate and otherworldly, adorned with patterns of the stars. His eyes held a wisdom that seemed to pierce through time itself.
Obito’s breath caught in his throat as he recognized him.
“You…” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
The figure smiled faintly. “You know who I am.”
“Hagoromo Ōtsutsuki,” Obito said, his voice now louder, tinged with disbelief. “The Sage of Six Paths… The founder of ninjutsu. The first Jinchūriki. The one who split the Ten-Tails…” His words trailed off, his mind reeling.
Hagoromo inclined his head, acknowledging the recognition. “And you are Uchiha Obito. A man who has walked a path darker than most.”
Obito’s expression twisted, his defenses rising. “If you’re here to remind me of my failures, don’t bother. I’ve had enough reminders already.”
But Hagoromo’s expression didn’t waver. Instead, he gestured with an open hand, his tone as calm as a still lake. “I’m not here to chastise you, Obito. In fact, I’m here to offer you something… unique.”
Obito narrowed his eyes, skepticism flooding his thoughts. “Offer me? The only thing someone like me deserves is hell. I’ve accepted that.”
The Sage’s smile softened. “Perhaps. But I do not make decisions lightly. Your future depends on your answer, not my judgment.”
Curiosity began to chip away at Obito’s bitterness. He crossed his arms and eyed Hagoromo cautiously. “What kind of offer?”
Hagoromo’s expression shifted, becoming more serious. “You have sinned, Obito. Deeply. Your crimes—”
The Sage began listing them, one after the other, with a tone so casual that Obito flinched. Hearing them spoken aloud was far worse than replaying them in his mind. Each word felt like a nail being driven deeper into his chest: murder, terrorism, war crimes, genocide…
“Stop!” Obito snapped, his voice cracking under the weight of his shame. He turned away, unable to meet Hagoromo’s piercing gaze.
Hagoromo paused, watching the man before him with a mix of pity and understanding. When he spoke again, his voice was gentle. “You know you cannot walk into peace without earning it. You’ve felt regret, but regret alone is not enough. What you lack is atonement.”
Obito’s fists clenched. He stared at his hands, the hands that once carried Rin and later became tools of destruction. “Atonement,” he murmured bitterly. “How can someone like me atone for all of that?”
“That,” Hagoromo said, stepping closer, “is why I’m here.”
Obito turned to him, confusion flickering in his eyes. “Why would you help me? You, of all people? After everything I’ve done?”
Hagoromo’s expression remained serene. “Because you are my descendant, Obito. My blood flows through your veins. That alone is reason enough.”
Obito blinked, startled by the simplicity of the answer. But before he could respond, Hagoromo continued, his voice lowering slightly.
“And… I would not want to see a soul as kind as Rin’s grieve over your suffering.”
“What was that?” Obito asked, genuinely did not hear him.
“Nothing,” Hagoromo said quickly, though the faintest hint of a smile crossed his lips.
Obito stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. “So, what’s this offer of yours?”
Hagoromo’s face grew serious again. “It is simple. If you truly wish to join Rin in peace, you must first balance the scales of your life by doing something righteous. Only then can your sins be absolved.”
Obito’s stomach twisted. “What exactly does that mean?”
“There is a king,” Hagoromo said, his voice steady. “A man who must rise to his rightful throne. Your task is to help him achieve this destiny.”
“A king?” Obito asked skeptically. “Who?”
Hagoromo’s eyes gleamed. “His name is Joy Boy.”
The name meant nothing to Obito, but the weight in Hagoromo’s voice was undeniable. “And where am I supposed to find this ‘Joy Boy’? How am I supposed to help him if I’m already dead?”
Hagoromo raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Does that mean you accept?”
Obito hesitated, then shrugged with feigned indifference. “Not like I have much of a choice if I want to see Rin again.”
The Sage’s smile widened. “Very well.”
“What’s the catch?” Obito asked warily.
“There is no catch,” Hagoromo replied. “Only a method.”
Obito leaned forward slightly, his curiosity piqued despite himself. “And what’s that?”
“Reincarnation,” Hagoromo said brightly.
Obito blinked. “Wait, what?”
The Sage laughed softly at his reaction, amused. But before Obito could process the absurdity of the idea, the void around him began to shift, turning darker and darker until it consumed him entirely.
The raging storm howled across the sea, lightning flashing in jagged streaks, illuminating the restless waves. Thunder rumbled, a deafening roar that seemed to echo the cries of a woman laboring in agony. Rain hammered down on the ship, its crew battling the elements to steady their course.
Inside a dimly lit cabin, a woman lay on a makeshift bed, her long, dark hair plastered to her sweat-drenched face. Her pale skin glistened under the lamplight, her features contorted in pain but unwavering in their resolve. Her eyes were shut tightly, her jaw clenched, and her cries were filled with both suffering and determination. Around her, women worked tirelessly, their hands trembling as they helped her through her labor.
In the room next door, a man sat slouched on a massive chair carved like a throne. His sheer size dwarfed the furniture, his imposing figure radiating raw power even in his drunken state. He was colossal, towering at 710 centimeters, his muscular frame so exaggerated it rendered ordinary men insignificant in comparison. His broad shoulders, thick arms, and disproportionately slimmer legs made him a mountain of a man.
Two massive horns, sharp and curved slightly forward before arching upward, jutted from the sides of his head, their color a pale gray. His unruly mane of black hair cascaded down his back, with thick, rectangular strands framing his face and even sticking up sporadically. His hooked nose and wide mouth, adorned with full lips, gave him an intimidating presence, while his narrow yellow eyes, always sharp and calculating, burned like smoldering coals.
Kaido of the Beasts. No yet.
The future self-proclaimed “Strongest Creature in the World” tilted his head back, downing yet another cup of sake with a grumble. The half-empty jug at his feet bore testament to how much he’d already drunk. His gruff voice broke the stillness of the room.
“A crew like no other,” he muttered under his breath. “The Rocks Pirates, the greatest of them all… and now? Nothing. Gone. Ended with Rocks’ death. And now, in the same damn year, I’m supposed to be… a father? From that woman of all people?”
He scoffed at the idea, his drunken brain struggling to process the concept. He poured another drink, not noticing when the woman’s cries from the next room had gone silent.
It wasn’t until one of the women assisting in the birth stumbled into his cabin that he looked up. Her face was a mix of terror and excitement, beads of sweat glistening on her brow as she bowed deeply.
“Kaido-sama,” she said, her voice trembling with respect. “It’s a boy. You have a son.”
The words seemed to hang in the air. Kaido blinked, his drunken haze momentarily lifting. He sat up straighter, the jug slipping from his fingers and rolling across the floor. A son? He rubbed his temple, struggling to grasp the reality of the situation.
Back in the birthing room, the woman cradled her newborn son in trembling arms. Despite the exhaustion etched into her features, she smiled tenderly at the baby boy wailing in her embrace. Her dark eyes softened as she gazed down at him, tracing a delicate finger over his round, warm cheek. His cries were loud and piercing, his small fists flailing, but she didn’t mind.
She was mesmerized. Her son. Her child.
The baby had short, spiky black hair that stuck up wildly, and his tiny frame radiated life despite the storm outside. His cries were full of vigor, echoing through the cabin as if announcing his arrival to the world.
The door to the room burst open, the thunder outside barely drowning out the heavy footsteps of Kaido. His enormous frame filled the doorway, his yellow eyes locking onto the scene before him. He stomped closer, the floor creaking under his weight, his curiosity outweighing his drunkenness.
“Show him to me,” Kaido demanded gruffly, his deep voice reverberating through the room.
The woman didn’t respond, her focus entirely on the newborn in her arms.
Kaido’s irritation flared. He repeated himself, louder this time. “I said, show me my son!”
Her head snapped up at last, her warm gaze turning to ice as it landed on Kaido. Her dark eyes were fierce, her glare cutting through him like a blade. Despite her weakened state, her voice was sharp and commanding as she spoke.
“You will not touch my son as long as there’s a drop of sake in your veins.”
Kaido’s jaw tightened, the vein on his temple throbbing as his anger simmered. The other women in the room scurried out in fear, their presence barely a memory as the tension thickened. But she remained unmoved, her unwavering stare locking Kaido in place.
“Damn it, Kiyō,” Kaido growled, her name slipping from his lips like a warning. He clenched his fists, but he made no move to defy her.
Instead, he sighed heavily, forcing himself to rein in his frustration. His eyes drifted to the child cradled in her arms. Curiosity flickered in his expression as he leaned slightly closer, his gaze scanning the boy’s tiny features.
Once she was satisfied that Kaido wouldn’t act rashly, Kiyō returned her attention to her son. The boy’s cries had calmed, softening into quiet hiccups as he blinked up at her. His dark eyes—so much like hers—fluttered open, meeting her gaze.
Kaido’s voice broke the silence. “What’s his name?”
Kiyō was quiet for a moment, her fingers brushing over her son’s soft hair. Finally, she looked up, her voice steady and resolute.
“Obito.”
Kaido frowned slightly, the name unfamiliar to him. “What’s it mean?”
Her gaze hardened as she met his eyes, her tone sharp and pointed. “It means someone respectable. Someone worthy of honor.”
The implication wasn’t lost on Kaido, who grunted in response. His lips curled into a faint smirk, but he said nothing more.
Kiyō looked down at her son once more, her expression softening. Obito… live up to your name, she thought. Be nothing like your father and mine. As she gently touched the small bumps on the top of his head, which she immediately recognized as incomplete horns.