Chapter 5
Wano, huh? Obito didn’t know much about this “Wano.” In fact, he didn’t know anything. No books, no maps, no overheard conversations from the crew had mentioned this mysterious place. All he knew was that Kiyō was excited about it, which, in itself, was unusual. She didn’t get excited often.
He rested his chin on the edge of the small boat as it glided over the calm waves. The vessel wasn’t much—a compact boat with a single cabin just big enough for two people. It had a tiny kitchen, a bed, and a cramped bathroom. And no, Kiyō hadn’t stolen it. She’d bought it. Obito had made absolutely sure of that before stepping foot aboard.
Getting away from Kaido had been surprisingly easy. All they had to do was wait for one of his infamous “chaos tours”—his daily routine of spreading destruction and instilling terror. Once he left, they slipped away unnoticed. Obito didn’t question why Kiyō hadn’t just told Kaido her plans. Even a fool could guess how poorly that conversation would have gone.
Inside the cabin, an unpleasant crackling noise echoed. Smoke wafted out of the tiny kitchen. Obito sighed. Kiyō was cooking. Or, at least, trying to.
Now, Obito could cook. He had learned young—Grandma wasn’t always around, after all and he spent his whole teenage years and adulthood alone. But this time, he held himself back. Not because of any potential suspicion (after all, how weird would it be for a three-year-old to whip up a gourmet meal? He actually doesn’t care, he’ll do what he have to do), but because the black haired woman needed to learn. And she wasn’t going to learn if he kept stepping in.
“Obito!” Kiyō called.
He stepped into the kitchen cautiously, his nose wrinkling as the smoky scent grew stronger. She was seated at the small table, two plates in front of her. Her face was lit with a bright, expectant smile.
“Dinner’s ready!” she declared.
He eyed the plates suspiciously, moving closer with deliberate slowness. The contents on his plate were… black. Charred. Indescribable. He sat down, picking up the fork and spoon with measured reluctance.
“What… is this?” he asked bluntly, staring at the plate.
Kiyō’s smile faltered for just a moment before she straightened up, almost defensive. “It’s oden!” she said, her tone overly bright. “It’s one of Wano’s famous dishes. I thought I’d try making it to celebrate!”
The previous Uchiha glanced at her hopeful expression. Guilt stabbed at him. He sighed, steeling himself, and scooped a spoonful of the unidentifiable dish into his mouth.
“Obito-kun!” Kiyō exclaimed, clasping her hands together as she watched with glowing admiration.
He chewed quickly, his eyes squeezed shut. It tasted like ash and disappointment. Every instinct told him to spit it out, but he forced himself to swallow. Reaching for the water, he gulped it down like a lifeline, trying not to choke.
“That… uh…” he hesitated, his mind scrambling for a tactful response. “Maybe next time, don’t cook it as much?”
Kiyō’s face broke into a wide smile, tears glimmering in her eyes. “Obito, you’re so sweet!” she gushed, pulling him into a tight hug. She smothered his face with kisses, ignoring his muffled protests.
“Stop—ugh! Gross!” he squirmed, face red with embarrassment.
Later that night, they lay in the single bed they shared because the boat didn’t have room for more. Obito stared at the ceiling, letting the gentle sway of the boat lull his thoughts.
“Mother,” he said quietly, breaking the silence.
“Hmm?” she hummed, her voice soft and relaxed.
“What’s Wano like?”
She turned her head toward him, smiling faintly. “Wano? It’s where my mom came from. Your grandmother.” Kiyō shifted onto her side to face him fully. “I don’t know much. My mom didn’t talk about it often. But it’s a closed-off country, completely isolated from the rest of the world since forever.”
“Why?”
Her brow furrowed. “I’m not sure. But she said that outsiders are forbidden. If anyone comes from outside Wano, they’re killed. And anyone gets outside of Wano, also gets killed.”
Obito frowned, processing the gravity of that statement. “So, they’ll try to kill us?”
The pirate waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of it.”
He didn’t find her reassurance particularly comforting, but he let it go for now. “What else do you know?” he asked.
She yawned, settling deeper into the mattress. “Wano is known for its samurai and ninja. My mom was a samurai, you know.”
Obito froze. His fatigue evaporated as his mind latched onto those words. Samurai… ninja? His heart thudded, and a spark of hope lit up in his chest.
Kiyō, oblivious to his reaction, continued. “Most of Wano’s people are samurai. Ninja are rarer—more like a minority.”
His expression darkened slightly. The opposite of my old world, he thought. There, shinobi had been the majority, with samurai relegated to a few small factions like the Land of Iron.
In his old life, samurai had followed the spiritual teachings of Ninshu, while shinobi had weaponized chakra into tools of war and survival. By the time he was born, samurai were almost extinct. Only the Land of Iron remained, standing apart from the Elemental Nations’ conflicts.
He exhaled slowly, pushing the memories aside. It wasn’t fair to feel disappointment over something so trivial. At least ninja existed in this world, even if they were a minority.
“When will we get there?” he asked seriously, eager to know more.
Kiyō laughed, ruffling his hair affectionately. “What’s this? You’re excited now because of the samurai?”
He shook his head, his face solemn. “No. The ninja.”
Her smile widened, clearly amused by his intensity. “Be patient,” she said. “Wano’s isolation isn’t just because they asked people nicely to leave them alone. The country’s geography makes it nearly impossible to invade. Plus, their samurai are powerful.”
Obito nodded, letting the information sink in. First Devil fruits that sounds familiar to Chakra Fruit. And now, Wano that is a small opposite version of his old world. Is this world not that different from his old one?
As his thoughts quieted, sleep began to take hold. That night, he dreamed of Konoha—imagining Wano as another version of the home he’d lost.
The violent jolts of their small boat yanked Obito out of sleep, his heart pounding. The shaking was relentless, chaotic, like the sea itself was trying to flip them over. He blinked, disoriented, only to see Kiyō sitting upright across from him, her dark eyes sharp and alert.
“Is it a storm?” he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.
She didn’t answer immediately, narrowing her eyes like she could glare through the walls of the cabin to pinpoint the source of the chaos. Then she stood abruptly. “No,” she said. “It’s not a storm.”
She reached for her rifle.
Wait, rifle? Oh, right—Kiyō used guns. That always threw him off for some reason. Maybe because no one in his old life did. And no, this wasn’t the time to reflect on that.
The Uchiha scrambled to his feet as she strode out of the cramped cabin, the door slamming open against the wind. He followed her in a hurry, his pulse racing, only to stop dead when he reached the deck.
A Sea King.
Its enormous body loomed above them, scales glistening in the moonlight. The sight of its gaping maw, lined with teeth the size of tree trunks, was enough to freeze anyone in place. Well, almost anyone.
Obito had seen a few of these creatures since his reincarnation into the New World-a fact he'd recently learned! The world was divided into four main seas: the East Blue, North Blue, South Blue, and West Blue, all connected by the Grand Line and the Red Line. As a self- proclaimed genius (not really), Obito took pride in memorizing these details.
Kiyō raised her rifle and fired.
The crack of gunfire jolted him, and Obito instinctively grabbed the railing, bracing himself against the violent waves created by the Sea King’s thrashing. The bullets barely scratched it, the creature roaring in fury as it lashed out.
Kiyō dodged the strike with precision, rolling across the deck and firing again. The scene felt surreal—like something out of a nightmare. Obito clung tighter to the railing, his mind struggling to keep up.
Then it happened.
The Sea King lunged, its jaws snapping wide, and in one horrifying motion, it swallowed Kiyō whole.
The world seemed to tilt on its axis. The boat rocked violently, nearly throwing Obito overboard. His chest tightened as he stared at the place where Kyo had stood just moments ago. She was gone.
Gone.
Kiyō… was gone.
No.
His hands trembled, his breath coming in sharp gasps. His mind screamed at him to move, to do something, but his body felt frozen. The image of her disappearing into that monstrous mouth replayed in his head, over and over.
It was happening again. That same helplessness. That same crushing weight that had consumed him the day Rin—
No.
The Sea King roared, snapping him back to the present. Its massive head turned toward him, its beady eyes locking onto its next target. Obito.
It opened its mouth again, wider this time, preparing to finish the job.
Obito’s anger flared, hot and blinding, his body trembling with the force of it. Rage toward the Sea King, toward himself, toward everything that had led to this moment surged through him like a tidal wave. He glared at the beast, his fists clenching so tightly his nails bit into his palms.
The Sea King froze.
Its massive body shuddered, and its eyes widened in fear, a thin sheen of sweat—or was it seawater?—glistening on its scales.
Obito blinked, the haze of his fury lifting just enough for him to notice the creature’s strange reaction. Why did it look… scared?
Before he could process it further, muffled gunfire erupted from within the Sea King. Blood gushed from its mouth as it let out a strangled cry, its massive form swaying unsteadily before collapsing into the water with a deafening crash.
His heart stopped.
The Sea King’s lifeless body floated on the surface, its gaping mouth slowly falling open. And then—
Kiyō.
Soaked and scowling, she emerged from the beast’s mouth, her rifle in one hand, the other gripping its slimy jaw. Her hair was plastered to her face, and she looked utterly disgusted.
“Ugh,” she muttered, pulling herself onto the deck. “I’m covered in Sea King saliva. This is disgusting.”
Obito didn’t hear her.
The relief hit him like a tidal wave, his knees nearly buckling under its weight. Before he realized what he was doing, he ran to her and threw his arms around her legs, clutching her tightly.
Kiyō froze, looking down at him in surprise. Then her expression softened.
“Hey, hey,” she said gently, kneeling down to his level. She placed a hand on his trembling shoulder. “I’m fine, see? I’m okay. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I thought…” His voice cracked, barely above a whisper. “I thought you were gone.”
Her eyes widened slightly, then she smiled, ruffling his hair. “It’ll take more than a dumb Sea King to get rid of me.”
Obito buried his face in her leg, his small hands clutching her pants. He didn’t respond, didn’t trust his voice not to break. Inside, though, he couldn’t stop the thought from surfacing.
She’s alive. She’s okay.
This pirate woman, who had somehow become more of a mother to him than anyone else ever had, was still here.
Kiyō tilted her head, frowning slightly as she seemed to mull something over. “It’s weird,” she muttered. “When I was inside that thing, I sensed something… strange.”
She glanced at her son, her brows furrowing. “It couldn’t have been… No. No way. He’s too young for that.”
The previous Shinobi looked up at her, confused, but she just shook her head, dismissing the thought. “Never mind. Forget it.”
Standing up, she surveyed the damage to their boat, her shoulders sagging. “Well, this is a mess,” she said with a sigh. “Guess we’d better start fixing it.”
The ship barely held itself together until they reached the next island: Dressrosa. It was breathtaking—bright, lively, and bursting with color. The buildings stood tall and vibrant, their intricate wavy designs and ornate rooftops giving them an air of elegance.
Obito’s eyes were drawn to a particular structure that towered over the rest, a grand colosseum that vaguely reminded him of the Chunin Exam arena from his old world.
“That’s the Corrida Colosseum,” Kiyō explained with a laugh, noticing his awed expression. “It’s where people come to watch fights. Real brutal ones too.”
Fights? Obito raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Of course, this world had a designated arena for senseless violence. Why wouldn’t it?
They docked at the harbor, where Kiyō approached a shipwright to ask if their battered boat could be repaired. The worker followed them to inspect the damage and frowned as he examined the wreck.
“This thing?” he said, shaking his head. “No way. You’re lucky to have survived a Sea King attack at all. It’s a miracle you’re alive.”
Kiyō’s face fell, her disappointment evident. “Not repairable?”
“Not a chance,” the worker replied. “But—” he gestured toward the ships docked nearby, “—we’ve got plenty of replacements. I’ll even give you a discount since you’ve clearly had a rough time.”
The pirate lady frown melted into a grin. “You’re a lifesaver!”
After some browsing, they settled on a modest but sturdy replacement. While waiting for the preparations to be completed,Kiyō suggested they explore Dressrosa. The previous Shinobi reluctantly agreed, though he secretly found the vibrant streets intriguing.
As they wandered, Kiyō’s attention shifted to a few shop windows displaying dresses. Her excitement was palpable as she darted in and out of shops, purchasing a handful of outfits for herself.
Then, an idea struck her.
“We need to blend in with Wano’s locals,” she said, holding a dress up for inspection. “We should buy their traditional clothing.”
“Traditional clothing?” Obito repeated, curious.
Kiyō nodded enthusiastically. “My mom used to wear something. She always said it was part of Wano’s culture.”
She went on to describe it, and Obito immediately recognized the garment from his old world, Kimono. A wave of nostalgia washed over him. Maybe Wano wasn’t so different from his world after all.
The search for kimonos, however, proved fruitless. Kiyō grew visibly frustrated as they combed through Dressrosa’s bustling markets with no luck.
The four years old offered a solution. “Why don’t we just buy fabric and make our own?”
Kiyō blinked at him, then grinned. “That’s… actually a great idea.” She paused, her grin turning sheepish. “But I can’t sew.”
“Learn,” Obito said flatly.
Kiyō burst into laughter. “You’ve got way too much faith in me, kid.”
Once they’d gathered fabric and sewing supplies, Obito made another request. “Can we visit the colosseum?”
Kiyō arched an eyebrow, smirking. “Boys will be boys, huh? Fine. Let’s go watch people beat the crap out of each other for fun.”
Ignoring her teasing, Obito followed her to the colosseum. They booked seats and entered just as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the arena in a warm glow. The fights were intense, and Obito found himself oddly entertained, though he wouldn’t admit it out loud.
Afterward, they returned to the harbor to board their new ship, carrying their dinner back with them. The ship was small but cozy, just enough for the two of them.
The next few days in Dressrosa passed quickly. Kiyō threw herself into her newfound hobby of sewing kimonos, much to Obito’s quiet amusement.
He watched her struggle with cutting fabric and threading needles, her brows furrowing in concentration as she muttered curses under her breath. Her first few attempts were laughably bad—one sleeve was three times longer than the other, and the seams looked like they’d been stitched together by a blindfolded monkey.
He had to stifle a chuckle when she hurled a botched kimono across the room, declaring it her mortal enemy.
But she didn’t give up.
After countless failed attempts and plenty of angry outbursts, Kyo finally succeeded. She held up two finished kimonos, her face glowing with pride.
Obito’s was a bright orange with white accents, simple but clean. Kiyō‘s was green with matching white edges.
“Try it on!” The black haired woman urged, practically bouncing with excitement as her drak eyes shone.
The half Oni hesitated but eventually relented, slipping into the kimono. It fit surprisingly well.
Kiyō clasped her hands together, her eyes sparkling. “You look adorable!”
Obito scowled, his face heating up. “I’m not adorable.”
Kiyō just laughed, ruffling his hair. “Sure, you’re not.”
“What about these?” he asked, touching the small, white horns on his head.
Kiyō tilted her head in confusion. “What about them?”
“People in Wano aren’t used to kids with horns,” he muttered. “It’ll stand out.”
Kiyō’s expression softened. “Good. Let them get used to it.” Her tone was firm, leaving no room for argument. “Your horns are part of who you are. If they don’t like it, that’s their problem, not yours.”
Obito sighed but nodded, her words sinking in.
The rocky cliffs loomed ahead, the thundering waterfalls cascading down in relentless torrents. Obito stood at the bow of their small ship, staring up at the daunting sight of the Koi Waterfall. This was how they were supposed to enter Wano? Ridiculous. He folded his arms and turned toward Kyo, who was securing ropes with an almost maniacal enthusiasm.
“This is the plan?” he asked flatly.
Kiyō shot him a quick grin. “What’s wrong with it? We tie the ropes to those koi, they pull us up the waterfall, and bam! We’re in Wano.”
He gestured toward the massive, gleaming koi swimming in the basin below the falls. “You want to hitch a ride with those? That’s your genius plan?”
Kiyō shrugged, completely unbothered. “There’s no other way.”
“There has to be another way.”
“There isn’t.”
Obito sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Of course there wasn’t. This world thrived on chaos, and this entry method seemed entirely on brand.
“Look, trust me,” Kiyō said, tightening the last knot. “People do this all the time!”
“People also die doing this all the time,” he muttered, earning a laugh from her.
With a deep, resigned sigh, Obito folded his hands together. “Hagoromo-sama,” he said dryly, casting his gaze upward, “if we both die, kindly reincarnate us together so I can rub it on her face for eternity.”
Kiyō glanced at him over her shoulder. “What was that?”
“Praying for your sanity,” he replied with a grimace.
She rolled her eyes and threw the ropes into the water. Within seconds, the enormous koi latched on, tugging the ship forward with alarming speed. Obito clung to the railing as the ship lurched violently, the roar of the waterfall growing deafening.
“This is insane!” he yelled over the sound.
“Isn’t it great?!” Kiyō shouted back, her grin as wild as ever.
The ship tilted precariously as the koi began their ascent, pulling them up the waterfall’s vertical incline. Obito tightened his grip, teeth clenched, his heart hammering in his chest. The water sprayed everywhere, drenching them both as the ship wobbled and jolted.
And then everything went wrong.
The koi veered to one side, the ropes slipping, and the ship spun out of control. For a brief, stomach-dropping moment, Obito felt weightless. Then, darkness.
…
…
Obito jolted awake, gasping for air.
Where—?
He blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of his surroundings. The faint morning light filtered through a simple wooden window. The room smelled of herbs and old wood. He was lying on a worn futon, the kind he hadn’t seen since his old life in Konoha.
His instincts kicked in immediately. His body tensed as he scanned the room for threats, his hand already reaching for a weapon he didn’t have.
Footsteps.
The sliding door creaked open, revealing an elderly woman with a kind, wrinkled face. She paused when she saw him awake, her expression shifting from surprise to warmth.
“Oh, you’re awake!” she said cheerfully, stepping inside.
Obito relaxed—just a little. There was something disarming about old people, their fragility contrasting with the wisdom they carried. He gave her a respectful nod. “Where am I?”
Her smile widened. “You’re in Amigasa Village,” when she saw his confusion, she continued, “In Kuri Province.”
Amigasa? Kuri? He frowned. None of these names meant anything to him. His confusion must have shown, because the old woman tilted her head, her smile fading slightly.
“Are you not from Kuri?” she asked, her tone laced with curiosity. “What’s a young boy like you doing here all alone? Where are your parents?”
Parents.
Obito’s eyes widened as a memory surged forward. Kiyō.
He bolted upright, nearly losing his balance in the process. “My mother—she was with me!”
The old woman blinked in surprise, her concern deepening. “Oh dear. Was she lost? Or—”
“I need to find her.” He stood hastily, wobbling on his feet but determined.
“Wait, child!” The woman reached out to steady him, but he shook his head.
“I appreciate your help,” he said with a polite bow, his voice firm. “Thank you for saving me.”
Her laughter was soft and full of amusement. “Such a polite boy. It’s no trouble at all.”
Obito’s cheeks reddened slightly, but he didn’t let it distract him. Straightening, he asked cautiously, “Are we… in Wano?”
Her brows furrowed. “Of course. Where else would you be?”
Relief flooded his chest. They’d made it. Somehow, against all odds, they were in Wano. He thanked her again before stepping outside, his heart racing with anticipation.
The village was small but lively, the air filled with chatter and the sound of wooden geta clacking against stone paths. People dressed in vibrant kimonos bustled about, their hair dyed in an array of colors that made the entire scene feel alive.
Obito paused, taking it all in. It was almost overwhelming—so much activity, so much color. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen, even in Konoha.
But there was no time to marvel. Kiyō was still out there, and he had no idea if she was alive.
His chest tightened at the thought, but he shook it off. Kiyō is strong—infuriatingly so. She had to be alive. She just had to.
Clenching his fists, Obito set off outside the village, determined to find her.