Chapter 6
Obito trudged back to the elderly woman’s house, his frustration clear in the slump of his small shoulders.
Embarrassment burned faintly on his face as he awkwardly asked her for directions to the beach where she had found him.
The old woman, her kind eyes crinkling, offered to accompany him instead.
“That’s not necessary,” Obito cut in quickly. He didn’t want to trouble her more than he already had.”Just point me in the direction.”
She hesitated but eventually relented, giving him clear instructions. Obito bowed low in gratitude, his manners drawing a chuckle from her.
“You’re such a polite boy,” she said fondly, making him flush.
With a muttered thanks, he hurried out of her house and toward the beach, his heart pounding.
As he followed the directions, his thoughts raced. The beach was desolate, scattered with the wreckage of ships that had clearly failed their ascent to Wano. Obito scanned the debris, his heart sinking.
His ship was nowhere to be found, and neither was Kiyō. But he couldn’t give up.
He moved among the remnants, ignoring the growing ache in his legs. Kiyō was strong—but even she wasn’t invincible. The thought of losing her clawed at his chest, and he shook his head violently. He couldn’t afford to think like that.
Then he saw them.
Two figures stood by the shattered remains of a ship not far away.
Obito froze, his eyes narrowing. They were hunched over something—or someone. As he crept closer, his heart stopped.
Mom.
She lay unconscious on the sand, her face pale, her clothes disheveled. One of the men crouched over her, tugging at her clothing.
Rage erupted inside Obito like a wildfire.
Without thinking, he grabbed a broken plank from the sand and charged “Get away from her!” he shouted, charging toward them.
The younger one, a tall black haired man tied into a high ponytail, wore a black sunglasses, yelped in shock as the plank struck his arm. “Hey! What the—”
“You stay away from her!” Obito bellowed, swinging again.
This time, the blow caught the man on his shoulder, making him stumble back. “Kid, stop!” He shouted, raising his arms defensively. “You’ve got the wrong idea!”
“I’m not stupid!” Obito spat, his fury blinding him. “I know what you’re doing!” Before he could strike again, the older man, wore an orange Kimono, stepped forward.
His larger frame towered over the half Oni child, and with a single swift movement, he snatched the plank from the boy’s hands.
The man stared at the boy for a moment, then sighed. “You’ve got guts, kid.” He reached out and lifted Obito by the back of his shirt, holding him up effortlessly.
“Let me go!” Obito yelled, squirming and kicking his legs. If I only had my old body..you two motherfuckers would be long dead.
Th Samurai raised an eyebrow. “And let you whack my friend again? Not happening.”
”Yeah! Tell him, Kin’emon!” Behind him, his friend rubbed his shoulder, glaring at Obito. “What is wrong with you?!”
“You were trying to strip her!” Obito snapped, his voice trembling with rage.
The other blinked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “We were checking her injuries!”
”She’s hurt?” Obito’s voice cracked, his anger faltering.
Kin’emon adjusted his grip on the squirming boy and inspected his face. “You didn’t notice the blood? Kid, what’s your deal?”
“That’s my mother!” Obito blurted, the words spilling out before he could stop them.
Both men froze. “Your… mother?” the sunglasses teenager asked, his voice incredulous.
“Yes!” Obito snapped, his fists clenched tightly. “Now let me go!”
The two men exchanged a glance, their disbelief evident. “Well, that explains the attitude,” the man, Kin’emon muttered before gently setting Obito down.
The boy wasted no time rushing to Kiyō’s side. He knelt beside her, his small hands trembling as he touched her arm. “Kiyō,” he whispered urgently. “Please wake up. Please…”
Kin’emon sighed, crossing his arms. “We need to take her back to the castle. The cut on her stomach isn’t too bad, but we don’t have the tools to treat her here. And the fact that she’s ver unconscious does no good.”
Obito’s head snapped up. “No! You’re not taking her anywhere!”
The younger raised his hands, palms out. “Relax, kid. We’re not going to hurt her. We’re samurai, for crying out loud.”
“Yeah, Denjiro and I are samurai of Oden-sama, no less!” Kin’emon added with a proud grin.
Obito blinked, his expression blank. “Oden? You mean the food?”
Kin’emon nearly fell over, his face a mixture of shock and horror. “The food?! How dare you! Oden-sama is the Daimyo of Kuri! The future Shogun of Wano!”
Obito bit the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning. How could he have been so careless? He was supposed to blend in, not stand out like an idiot.
He straightened, forcing himself to nod. “Of course I know who he is. I was just… joking. You made a pretty stupid face just now.”
Denjiro smiled. “Some sense of humor you’ve got, kid.”
Kin’emon grumbled something under his breath, clearly unimpressed.
Denjiro turned back to Obito, “What’s your name?”
Obito hesitated for a moment, counting his options. Then, with a quiet sigh, he replied, “Obito.”
Kin’emon carried Kiyō in his arms, his steps careful but firm as Denjiro and Obito followed closely behind. The Oni child didn’t bother to hide the suspicious glare he directed at both men, particularly at orange coloured Kimono. There was something oddly satisfying about the fact that the man, despite being much larger and older, was visibly sweating under the intensity of a glare from a four-year-old boy. It brings back the memories back when he was supposedly Uchiha Madara.
Kin’emon, trying desperately to maintain some semblance of composure, shot Denjiro a sideways glance as if asking for help. Denjiro, unbothered, smirked at Kin’emon’s discomfort.
“What were you two doing at the beach, anyway?” Obito asked suddenly, his tone sharp and demanding.
Denjiro turned his head toward the boy and answered casually, “We check the wreckage at the beach from time to time. Sometimes there are survivors—people from outside Wano or, occasionally, those trying to leave.”
Kin’emon added, glancing down at Obito, “Like your mother here. She looks like she was trying to escape.”
Obito stiffened at the implication. Though their assumption was wrong—they’d been trying to get into Wano, not out—it was clear that either option carried its own risks. He thought quickly.
“You’re wrong,” he said coldly. “We were just spending the day at the beach when we got attacked by sea monsters.”
Denjiro chuckled, raising a hand in a placating gesture. “Relax, kid. It’s not that big a deal in this part of Wano. Lord Oden is pretty lenient about these things.”
Kin’emon laughed. “Yeah, Oden-sama himself has tried to leave Wano over twenty times now! He fails every single time, but he keeps trying.”
Obito blinked, his mind stalling. The future shogun of Wano actively trying to defy the laws of his own country? It was hard to wrap his head around. Is this guy really fit to be a leader? Obito thought skeptically. Still, he had to admit their luck; at least they weren’t suspected of being from outside Wano.
Between their clothing and the fact that both he and Kiyō bore a passing resemblance to Wano’s inhabitants, they’d avoided scrutiny. He silently thanked Kiyō mother’s genetics for that (even though he had the same face.) Even if it’s just dumb luck, I’ll take it.
As they walked, Kin’emon mentioned that they wouldn’t be entering through the village directly. “It’s best not to alarm the residents of Kuri,” he explained. Instead, they would take a path through the forest and ascend the mountain.
Obito furrowed his brows. “Why the mountain?”
Kin’emon looked down at him, puffing up his chest with pride. “Because Oden-sama’s castle is at the top, of course. A man as important as him doesn’t live among the common folk.”
Right. Of course, he doesn’t. Obito rolled his eyes but kept his expression neutral. His thoughts briefly wandered to the kind old woman who had saved him. He made a mental note to return and reassure her later—she deserved that much after taking him in.
Interrupting his thoughts, Denjiro turned to Obito with a curious expression. “So, where are you from, kid?”
The former Shinobi tensed slightly but recovered quickly, his mind working fast. “Outside Kuri,” he said smoothly. “We came here looking for a fresh start. We went to the beach to relax, and then… well, you know the rest. A kind old woman from Amigasa Village saved me after everything went wrong.”
Kin’emon hummed thoughtfully. “And what part of Wano are you from?”
Obito froze internally, cursing Wano’s lack of accessible information. If he’d known more about the country’s geography, this would’ve been easier. Thinking quickly, he settled on the safest answer he could think of:
“The capital.”
Kin’emon and Denjiro seemed satisfied with the response. Kin’emon nodded, and Denjiro’s eyes lit up.
“The capital?” Denjiro said with enthusiasm. “Kin’emon and I are from the capital too! We came to Kuri five years ago to follow Great Lord Oden.”
Obito gave a noncommittal grunt in response, deciding he’d had enough of indulging their questions. He stared straight ahead, his silence making it clear he wasn’t interested in further conversation.
The two men exchanged a glance, but neither pressed him further, leaving the man stuck in a toddler body to stew in his own thoughts. At least they stopped talking.
The mountain loomed ahead, the path narrowing as they climbed. Obito spared a glance at his mother unconscious form in Kin’emon’s arms, the tension in his chest easing ever so slightly. I’ll get her back to safety. No matter what.
As they approached the summit, Obito finally saw it—the castle of Kozuki Oden. A towering structure, its blue, brown, and white exterior loomed against the horizon, every detail speaking of a man destined to rule. The grandeur struck Obito as excessive, but somehow fitting for someone as significant as a shogun-in-training.
At the gates, a man stood waiting for them. Massive and broad-body, with naturally harsh features that made him look perpetually angry, he had bright pink, curly hair and wore a blue kimono layered with a robe decorated in floral patterns. His deep voice boomed as he called out, “Kin’emon! Denjiro! What do you have there?”
Denjiro stepped forward with ease, gesturing toward Kiyō’s unconscious body. “We found an injured woman on the shore.” He shifted to reveal Obito trailing behind them. “And this is her son, Obito.”
Kin’emon muttered, “Violent son. And terrifying, too.”
Obito barely reacted, his dark eyes focused instead on the new man. His stoic face remained unreadable as he silently assessed the stranger.
Denjiro, seemingly unbothered by the tension, grinned. “This is Ashura Doji, one of Oden-sama’s subordinates.”
Ashura snorted, folding his massive arms. “You forgot to mention the kid’s rude.”
Kin’emon sighed. “Oh, yes. He stares. Constantly. He’s doing it right now.”
“And he doesn’t stop?” Ashura raised an eyebrow.
Obito said nothing, his intense gaze locked on the towering figure.
The pink haired Samurai waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever. Take the woman to the guest quarters. I’ll fetch someone to treat her.” He turned and opened the gates with little ceremony, his massive frame leading the way into the castle grounds.
As they walked, Kin’emon handed Kiyō’s limp form to Denjiro, excusing himself to inform his master. Obito stayed close to Denjiro, watching their surroundings with quiet curiosity.
The guest quarters were a world away from the rocking decks of the ship where Obito had spent the last three years. The wooden floors and sliding doors felt strangely familiar, reminiscent of his old life in Konoha. For a brief moment, a pang of nostalgia hit him, but he shook it off.
Denjiro carefully laid Kiyō on a futon in the center of the room. Obito immediately sat beside her, his small frame stiff with worry.
“She’ll be alright,” Denjiro said gently, watching the boy’s tense posture.
Obito didn’t reply, his focus entirely on Kiyō’s pale face and the bandages wrapped around her abdomen.
Minutes passed in silence until the sound of footsteps caught Obito’s attention. His head snapped toward the door, eyes sharp and wary as it slid open.
Three figures entered the room. The first was an elderly man, short and hunched, carrying a medical kit. He moved briskly toward Kyo, exuding the no-nonsense air of someone who knew their work. Obito immediately recognized him as the doctor and shifted aside to give him space.
The other two figures, however, were children.
The first was a girl around nine, with a round, pretty face framed by straight, dark violet hair tied into a ponytail. Her pastel kimono, adorned with floral patterns, swayed slightly as she moved, and a small wooden practice sword hung at her side.
The second was a boy, likely about eleven. His face was sharper, and his violet hair tied into a messy high ponytail added a certain wildness to his appearance. He wore light makeup, including faint lipstick, paired with a white and pink kimono tucked into practical hakama pants. A small sword rested at his hip.
Both stared at Obito with open curiosity.
Obito stared back.
Their wide-eyed wonder met his cold, unyielding gaze. He didn’t flinch, his dark eyes daring them to look away.
The girl leaned toward the boy, whispering loud enough for Obito to hear, “Kin’emon was right. He has scary eyes.”
The boy stiffened, hissing back, “Kiku! Don’t be rude! He’s a guest!”
The girl quickly muttered an apology, though her gaze remained fixed on Obito. Then, with all the bluntness of a child, she asked, “But Izo-nii, Why does he have horns?”
The boy, Izo, groaned, running a hand over his face. “You’re being rude again!”
“I said sorry!”
Denjiro sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. The doctor, however, had no patience for the distraction.
“Out,” the old man barked. “I’m treating an injured woman!”
The children quickly scurried out, closing the door behind them.
Denjiro exhaled and turned to Obito. “You can relax now. Maybe get some rest.”
“I’m staying,” Obito said firmly, his small hands curling into fists on his lap.
Denjiro studied him for a moment, then smiled softly. “Alright, suit yourself.”
Obito turned back to Kiyō, his expression unreadable as he silently willed her to wake up.
Obito wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep, but he woke to something warm and familiar resting gently on his head. For a moment, he stayed still, enjoying the comforting sensation. Then realization struck, and he bolted upright, his dark eyes wide. He turned to see Kiyō awake, smiling softly despite the paleness of her face.
“Mom!” he exclaimed, his voice thick with relief as he threw his small arms around her.
She laughed lightly, wrapping him in a hug. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”
Reluctantly, Obito pulled away, studying her face for signs of pain. She seemed tired but otherwise fine.
Looking around the room, Kiyō’a expression turned curious. “Well, it seems we made it to Wano in one piece. And judging by this fancy room, you did pretty well, Obito.”
“It’s a castle,” he said plainly.
Kiyō blinked at him in surprise. “A castle?”
He nodded. “The castle of the heir of Wano, Kozuki Oden.”
Her eyes sparkled dramatically, brimming with mock tears. “My son! Building influential connections already? What a prodigy!”
Obito flushed. “Stop it! It’s just luck.” He quickly added, “Also, they think we’re from the capital. Just so you know.”
Kiyō hummed in understanding.
Obito hesitated before taking her hand in his. “I need to go see someone. An old lady saved me and helped me look for you. I need to let her know I found you.”
The black haired woman tilted her head at him, raising a curious eyebrow. “Since when were you this polite?”
His face turned bright red. “She’s old! It’s just… proper.”
Kiyō gasped theatrically, pressing a hand to her chest. “Who raised you to be like this? Certainly not me. Respecting elders? Shocking.”
Scowling, the Uchiha stood and stalked toward the door, ignoring her loud, teasing laughter. He closed the door behind him with a soft click, sighing as her laughter faded into the background.
The corridor outside was quiet. He made his way through the guest quarters and stepped into the garden. The serenity of the space surprised him—no people, only the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze and birds chirping in the trees. He breathed deeply, trying to shake off his lingering worries.
He couldn’t leave Kiyō alone for long. He needed to ensure she was safe before he could think of anything else. That meant he had to speak to Kozuki Oden himself.
Determined, Obito made his way deeper into the castle, heading toward what he guessed was the main hall. The corridors were nearly silent, save for the occasional muffled sound that seemed to come from somewhere distant.
Suddenly, a voice boomed from behind him, halting him in his tracks. “Stop right there!”
The four years old cursed inwardly at his dull human senses. Back in his old body, no one could have snuck up on him, not even a falling leaf.
He turned swiftly, his sharp eyes landing on the source of the voice—a man in his early twenties. The man’s build was comically disproportionate, with a large, square head nearly as wide as his body. His exaggerated cheekbones and long, angular jaw gave him an oddly intimidating appearance, though his black, spiked hair and thick, lightning-shaped eyebrows didn’t help. He wore a black kimono with orange-lined edges, dotted with blue specks, and simple wooden sandals.
The man crossed his arms, glaring at Obito. “A bold little intruder, aren’t you?”
“I’m not an intruder,” Obito said flatly. “I’m a guest. And I need to see the daimyo of Kuri.”
The man’s expression narrowed, and then, suddenly, realization dawned. He smacked his fist into his palm. “Ah, I remember now! You’re the kid they brought in with the injured woman.”
Obito nodded, trying to gauge the man’s intentions.
The man straightened, his tone serious. “Unfortunately, Oden-sama isn’t available right now.”
Obito’s brows furrowed in disappointment.
Sensing his frustration, the man added, “Go back and rest with your mother. Food’s being prepared for you both.”
At the mention of food, Obito’s stomach growled in agreement. But he quickly remembered the old woman. He still needed to find her and tell her Kyo was safe.
Noticing Obito’s hesitation, the man asked, “What’s holding you back?”
The previous Shinobi answered honestly. “There’s an old woman who saved me. I rushed off to look for my mother, but I need to tell her I found her and that she’s alright. But I can’t leave my mother alone. I don’t trust any of you.”
The man struck a bizarre pose, his face deadly serious. “You can trust us! Oden-sama’s retainers are honorable and reliable!”
Obito blinked at him.
“Raizo of the Mist!” the man declared with exaggerated pride. “A ninja of unparalleled skill!”
Obito’s eyes widened. A ninja? For a moment, his childish awe took over. The very idea of encountering a ninja in this strange new world filled him with an odd nostalgia.
“Are you really a ninja?” he asked, trying and failing to sound indifferent.
“Of course!” Raizo boomed, puffing out his chest.
Obito’s curiosity got the better of him. “Can you do Katon: Goukakyuu no Jutsu?” He mimicked the hand seals expertly. “Or maybe genjutsu?”
Raizo tilted his head, clearly baffled. “What’s Katon?”
Obito deflated visibly. “Never mind,” he mumbled, disappointed.
To salvage the situation, Raizo pulled out a set of shuriken, tossing one into the air before catching it deftly. Obito’s black eyes lit up immediately.
“You have shuriken here?” he asked, his excitement impossible to hide.
Raizo grinned. “Not just that.” He produced a scroll from his sleeve. “This is a storage scroll. Watch!”
With a flourish, he opened the scroll and summoned several weapons from it.
Obito’s mouth fell open. “That’s fuinjutsu!”
Raizo nodded, clearly pleased by the recognition. “You know your stuff, kid.”
Realizing how much of his childish awe had slipped out, Obito blushed furiously. “That’s just basic knowledge,” he said with forced indifference.
Raizo laughed.
Obito cleared his throat and began walking toward the exit. “I’m going to Amigasa Village to find the old woman. Take care of my mother.”
The Ninja saluted dramatically. “Leave her to me!”
Satisfied, Obito left the castle. The fresh air hit him as he stepped outside, his mood lifted from his earlier frustrations. Maybe it was meeting Raizo—a ninja, no less—or maybe it was the knowledge that Kiyō was safe for now.
Obito made his way down the mountain with surprising ease. Not because he was a ninja—without chakra in this world, he couldn’t leap or accelerate like he used to—but because this body of his was… useful. He’d noticed it before, but it was becoming increasingly clear that this new form was more durable, agile, and oddly efficient compared to his old one at the same age. And he knew why: he was part Oni.
At first, Obito thought Kaido was just a giants, which is something he read about. But Kiyō had explained it to him—Kaido wasn’t a giant. He was an Oni. Apparently, Oni were different. Giants, she said, were huge, ranging from 12 to 22 meters tall (Kaido was only 6 meters, after all) and a far of their extremely high height, they were technically humans and nothing else special about them.
Obito’s eyes had widened at the prospect of meeting an actual giant, but Kiyō had laughed, saying giants rarely left their homeland, Elbaf. They preferred to stick to their own.
What made Oni special, she told him, was their strength, endurance, and physical resilience, far surpassing that of regular humans and giants. That made Obito a half-Oni, a hybrid of a near-extinct race. Obito had laughed dryly at that revelation—because of course. In his old life, he’d been one of the last three Uchiha alive (and yes, he’d personally helped ensure their near-extinction; no applause, please). And now, in this life, he was unique again.
He’d asked Kiyō if she was some special race, too. She’d snorted, saying she was sorry to disappoint, but she was just a regular human. (The irony, as Obito would later learn in a distant future, was that this wasn’t true at all. Clan drama seemed determined to follow him into a third life.)
But that was a problem for another day.
For now, Obito reached Amigasa Village, retracing his steps to the old woman’s home. As he approached the door, he reminded himself to be polite. With a steadying breath, he raised his small hand and knocked softly.
No answer.
Frowning, he knocked again, this time a little louder. Finally, he heard slow, almost painfully deliberate footsteps approaching. He scolded himself for his impatience—of course she’d be slow, she was elderly! Still, the wait was agonizing. He really needed to ask her name. Calling her “the old woman” all the time was getting ridiculous.
The door creaked open.
Obito opened his mouth to offer a polite greeting, but the words froze in his throat. His jaw dropped, and his dark eyes widened in shock.
Standing on the other side wasn’t the old woman at all.
It was a boy, about his age. Thin, almost frail-looking, with pale skin and jet-black hair tied into a small ponytail. His coal-black eyes mirrored Obito’s expression of disbelief.
For a moment, they just stared at each other, two small figures trapped in stunned silence.
Then the boy’s gaze shifted upward, landing squarely on Obito’s horns. His expression didn’t change much—calm, observant, and eerily familiar. He opened his mouth, his voice quiet, unassuming and childish.
“You have horns,” he said, his tone blunt and entirely too casual, as he remembers.
Obito snapped out of his daze, his shock fading into a wry, mocking grin.
“Well,” he said dryly, folding his arms, “it’s nice to see you too, Itachi.”