Chapter 7
Honestly, the relationship between Uchiha Obito and Uchiha Itachi was always… complicated. It was a twisted web of manipulation, secrets, and tenuous alliances. Obito—masquerading as “Madara”—had approached Itachi shortly after the Uchiha Massacre. Itachi, already burdened with the role of annihilating his clan, struck a deal with Obito: assistance in wiping out the Uchiha in exchange for sparing Sasuke.
Obito had viewed Itachi as a useful pawn, an ally with similar goals—albeit for entirely different reasons. A tool, powerful and capable but ultimately expendable. He respected Itachi’s intelligence and strength but always believed he could outmaneuver him. And yet, there was a grudging admiration between them, born from mutual recognition of the other’s abilities.
But Itachi had been an annoyance. Brilliant, strategic, a step ahead, but frustratingly tied to his moral compass. Obito had acknowledged Itachi’s potential—admitted, begrudgingly, that the younger man might’ve killed him if not for his terminal illness. Still, their shared complicity in the Uchiha Massacre had left them both haunted, though Obito’s guilt came far too late.
When Itachi died, Obito had exposed his true motivations to Sasuke, knowing it would drive the boy to hate Konoha. A masterstroke for Obito’s plans, but one that left an unexpected pang of regret. If Itachi hadn’t been so… good, so unyieldingly selfless, they could’ve ruled the world together.
Itachi was supposed to be an annoyance, even in death. But now? Obito sat across from a version of Itachi—years younger, a child in this strange new world, missing his famous long, pronounced tear-troughs—and a fresh, gnawing guilt rooted itself deep in his chest.
Obito had never considered Itachi after his reincarnation. His thoughts were occupied with Joy Boy, survival, and redemption to reunite with Rin. But now, staring at this younger, eerily familiar Itachi, regret weighed heavily on him.
Itachi was just a kid, Obito thought bitterly. Manipulated by adults—by me, by Danzo, by the Third Hokage. They all used his kind heart for their selfish ends.
His brooding was interrupted when the old woman, the one who had saved him earlier, placed a cup of tea in front of him. She smiled warmly, introducing the boy as her “sweet little grandson.”
Obito plastered on a fake smile and introduced himself in turn, realizing he hadn’t done so earlier. The old woman introduced herself as Akabane Airi before excusing herself to wash clothes. She encouraged Obito and Itachi to get to know each other, mentioning their similar age with a cheerful smile.
The tension in the room grew thick as the door slid shut behind her.
Neither Obito nor Itachi looked away, staring each other down without shame. Itachi’s face, calm and unreadable, was infuriatingly familiar. Obito felt his temple throb. If there was one thing that had always grated on him, it was Itachi’s damn poker face. Better than Madara’s, even. Was that just his natural expression?
A vein twitched in Obito’s forehead as he broke the silence. “Why are you here?”
Itachi tilted his head slightly, his calm demeanor unshaken. “Why am I here? In my own home? Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
Obito stiffened. Was that a jab? Sarcasm? Or just… Itachi being Itachi?
But wait. Did Itachi even know who he was? Itachi had only known him as “Madara” and later as “Tobi.” He’d never seen Obito’s real face, and he’d died long before Obito’s true identity was revealed in the Fourth War.
Still, at the door earlier, Itachi’s face had shown recognition—shock, even.
Obito sighed. He wasn’t in the mood for guessing games. “Do you know me?” he asked bluntly.
“Yes,” Itachi replied without elaborating, his tone infuriatingly nonchalant.
Obito’s eyes narrowed. The boy was trying to rile him up. He was sure of it.
Taking a deep breath, Obito forced himself to focus. He had been carrying too many regrets, and Itachi had recently joined that list. This was his chance to set things right, to apologize for his role in the younger Uchiha’s tragic fate.
Obito bowed his head deeply, his voice low and earnest. “I’m sorry.”
Silence.
Slowly, Obito raised his head to gauge Itachi’s reaction. His chest filled with a strange sense of satisfaction when he saw the shock etched on the younger boy’s face.
“Two in one day,” Obito thought with a smug grin. He’d made Itachi lose his composure twice now. He was on a roll.
But no. This wasn’t about winning. He needed Itachi’s forgiveness.
Itachi’s expression quickly returned to neutral. “Who… are you?” he asked, his tone measured.
Obito pouted, feeling slightly deflated. “So you don’t believe I’ve changed?”
“You have,” Itachi replied simply.
Obito frowned. “How do you know who I am?”
“Hagoromo,” Itachi said, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. “He allowed me to watch what happened after my death. I saw everything—up until the end of the war.”
Obito’s heart skipped a beat. “Everything?” he asked, his voice tinged with hope. “Did they win? Naruto, Kakashi… everyone—did they beat Kaguya?”
Itachi gave a small nod. “They did.”
Obito exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, a smile tugging at his lips. Relief coursed through him. He’d carried that question in his heart, a silent weight Hagoromo hadn’t bothered to lift before sending him here.
But now he knew. They’d won.
Focusing back on Itachi, Obito’s curiosity deepened. “So… were you sent here to atone too? For your sins?”
Itachi nodded, unfazed.
Obito raised an eyebrow. “Is it about Joy Boy?”
Itachi tilted his head, confusion flashing across his face. “Who is Joy Boy?”
The two stared at each other in mutual bewilderment.
Obito crossed his arms. “If not Joy Boy, then what are you supposed to be doing here? How do you atone?”
Itachi shrugged lightly. “Hagoromo told me to do good. That’s it.”
Obito stared at him, incredulous. That’s it? Hagoromo had sent him on a convoluted mission to crown a king while all Itachi had to do was… be good? He scowled. “Favoritism,” he muttered under his breath.
But he couldn’t even argue. Of course Hagoromo liked Itachi better. Itachi’s crimes were born from good intentions, while Obito’s… Obito had enjoyed his villainy. For a while, at least.
Trying to mask his irritation, Obito asked mockingly, “So, what good have you been doing?”
Itachi flexed his hand absently, his tone quiet. “What I can.” A pause. “Not much, really.”
“Why? Because Wano’s so peaceful and closed?”
“No.”
Obito blinked, surprised. “Then why?”
Itachi’s dark eyes met his. “I’m sick,” he said simply.
Obito froze.
Itachi elaborated, his voice steady. “Same symptoms as before. Coughing blood, internal bleeding, fatigue, loss of strength.”
Obito’s chest tightened. It was the same disease, the same suffering. Part of him wanted to rage against the unfairness of it all. But another part of him, colder and more pragmatic, whispered that perhaps this, too, was part of Itachi’s penance.
Obito shifted the topic abruptly, his tone serious and unyielding. “Do you think,” he began, fixing Itachi with a sharp gaze, “that man”—the venom in his voice made it clear who he meant—“might’ve been reincarnated too? Madara, I mean. Because if he has, that’s going to be a massive problem. Madara doesn’t ‘atone.’ He’s stubborn. And evil.”
Itachi didn’t react immediately, his face calm as usual. Then, with infuriating bluntness, he said, “If you—the man who caused the deaths of half of Konoha, including your own teacher, the Fourth Hokage, and his wife, and starting a fourth Ninja War—could feel regret and try to atone, why couldn’t Madara?”
The words hit Obito like a blade. For a moment, guilt and shame twisted in his chest, squeezing painfully. Yes, he had done all of that. He had destroyed so many lives, ruined so many futures.
But guilt quickly gave way to anger. His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Itachi. “So now you’re defending Madara?” he snapped, voice sharp. “That man manipulated both of us! He took me—a kid, full of dreams and love for my friends—and twisted me. He killed Rin, framed it on my best friend and filled my heart with hate for everything and everyone I cared about.” Obito’s voice grew louder, his finger jabbing at Itachi accusingly. “You don’t get to pass judgment here, Itachi. Both of us were his victims. The difference is, I’m apologizing for my actions. Madara? He never would.”
Itachi held his gaze for a moment, then looked away, his expression unreadable. After a long silence, he said, as though speaking to the air, “I’ve thought about that.”
Obito crossed his arms, huffing in reluctant satisfaction that Itachi didn’t argue further. Of course Itachi had thought about it. The man was a genius; he always seemed ten steps ahead. Typical.
“Go on,” Obito said, his tone still clipped.
Itachi continued, ignoring Obito’s attitude. “I don’t think Madara was reincarnated.”
That caught Obito off guard. “Why not?”
Itachi’s voice remained calm, analytical. “Because Madara was the reincarnation of Indra, Hagoromo’s son. All of this—the cycles of reincarnation—was started by Hagoromo to reconcile his sons. And when they finally did, it would’ve been far too dangerous for Hagoromo to risk sending Madara to another world.”
Obito frowned, processing that. It made sense, in a way. “But Indra’s soul…?”
“It still exists,” Itachi said simply. “In our world. In his final reincarnation, Uchiha Sasuke.”
Obito nodded slowly, impressed despite himself. “That actually makes a lot of sense.”
A silence fell between them, heavy but not uncomfortable. Obito glanced at Itachi and decided to end things here. He stood and approached the younger boy, his expression softening.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, bowing his head slightly. “Will you forgive me?”
Itachi looked at him for a long moment before replying. “What you did to Sasuke… it’s unforgivable.”
Obito winced but didn’t look away.
Itachi’s tone softened. “But I’m here to do good, not to hold grudges. Forgiveness is part of that. I forgive you.” He gave a small honest smile.
Relief surged through Obito, more powerful than he’d expected. When Itachi extended his hand for a handshake, Obito took it eagerly, gripping it harder than he’d intended. Itachi didn’t flinch, and the two shook hands firmly.
For the first time in years—perhaps lifetimes—Obito felt a weight lift from his shoulders. It wasn’t everything, but it was a start.
After they broke the handshake, Itachi accompanied Obito to the door. No more words were exchanged; there was nothing left to say.
As Obito stepped out into the open air, he glanced back briefly. Their relationship, whatever it had been, ended here. He had a greater purpose now, one far beyond Itachi’s quiet mission of redemption.
Still, he had a feeling this wasn’t the last time they’d cross paths. They lived in the same province, after all, and their shared history was far too deep to ignore forever.
One person forgiveness is granted, a Million ones left. Good job, Obito, he thought sarcastically.
Obito made his way back to Oden’s castle, his steps deliberate and steady. He was greeted at the gates by Ashura Doji, who looked every bit the grumpy sentinel he clearly saw himself as. The large samurai narrowed his eyes at Obito.
“Where were you?” Ashura asked, his tone clipped.
Obito didn’t hesitate. “Not your business.”
A vein bulged on Ashura’s forehead. “You’re as rude as ever,” he muttered before exhaling heavily. “Fine, go inside. Oden-sama wants to speak with you and your mother later.”
Without waiting for a proper response, Ashura pushed open the castle doors and stepped aside. Obito walked past him, not bothering to suppress the challenging look he threw his way. Ashura muttered something about kids these days but said nothing further.
Obito navigated the familiar halls back to the guest quarters, pausing briefly to check his surroundings. Everything seemed calm, but his guard remained up. He opened the door to their room and immediately froze at the sight before him.
Kiyō was sitting on the floor, looking more lively than she had in days, surrounded by Kiku and Izo—the two siblings from earlier. Even Raizo, the ninja, stood at a distance, watching over the interaction with what appeared to be genuine interest.
“Ah, Obito! ”Kiyō’s face lit up the moment she saw him. “We were waiting for you!”
Kiku and Izo turned to look at him as well, curiosity evident in their expressions.
Kiku, the cheerful one, beamed at him. “Your mother is so much fun!”
Obito blinked, stunned for a moment. His mother… fun? Was this the same Kiyō who regularly fired a gun at sea kings and argued with Kaido without hesitation? Apparently, she was beloved by children. Who knew?
Raizo gave Obito a respectful nod. Obito returned it silently, making a mental note to thank the ninja for looking after Kiyō in his absence.
Izo, the elder of the two siblings, stood and introduced himself properly. “I’m Izo, and this is my younger sister, Kiku.” His tone was polite but carried an air of maturity beyond his years. He nudged Kiku, who eagerly chimed in with her introduction, her tone friendly and lighthearted.
Obito evaluated them for a moment before nodding and giving his name in return.
Kiyō smiled warmly at her son and patted the spot beside her. Obito walked over and sat down, feeling a strange sense of ease in the lively atmosphere.
“These two are just the cutest,” Kiyō declared, ruffling Keiko’s hair playfully. The young girl blushed furiously and began rubbing her cheeks in embarrassment, muttering something about being treated like a baby.
Kiyō laughed brightly, squeezing Kiku’s cheeks affectionately. “I’ve always wanted a daughter as sweet as you!”
Izo, torn between protecting his sister and not wanting to offend their guest, hesitated, his expression a mix of confusion and silent pleading for the ordeal to end.
Meanwhile, Obito leaned against Kiyō, speaking quietly so only she could hear. “I’m hungry,” he complained, clutching his stomach for emphasis.
Kiyō immediately turned her attention to him, hugging him close. “Jealous, are we?” she teased, a sly grin on her face.
Obito stared at her flatly. “That’s not what I said.”
Across the room, Raizo, with his impeccable ninja hearing, caught the exchange. “I’ll fetch some food,” he offered with a nod. Before Obito could thank him aloud, the ninja disappeared in a puff of smoke.
Obito stared at the spot where Raizo had been, his drak eyes lighting up with admiration.
Izo caught his expression and chuckled. “You like Raizo, huh?”
Startled, Obito quickly looked away, his ears turning red. “Not him,” he muttered defensively. “Just… ninjas in general.”
Kiyō ruffled his hair fondly, while Izo nodded in agreement. “Ninjas are impressive, that’s for sure,” he said, his tone genuine. “And Raizo is the best ninja in all of Wano.”
Kiku nodded enthusiastically but added with a bright smile, “But samurai are better than ninjas!”
Izo immediately turned to her, frowning. “Kiku, that’s not true. Samurai and ninjas are equally important to Wano. They’re both powerful in their own ways.”
Kiku looked down, guilt written all over her face. “Sorry, Izo-nii…”
Obito, however, couldn’t let it slide. “Ninjas are better than a million samurai,” he stated matter-of-factly, his arms crossed.
Kiku gasped, her expression scandalized. “That’s not true!”
“It is,” Obito insisted, smirking. “All samurai do is wave swords around.” He made an exaggerated motion of swinging a sword. “But ninjas? They have cool techniques, gadgets, and weapons.” He mimicked throwing shuriken, his confidence unwavering.
Izo tried to mediate, his tone stern. “Enough. Both samurai and ninjas are equal. There’s no need to compare.”
Kiku nodded solemnly in agreement, as though she hadn’t just made the same comparison earlier.
Kiyō’s sudden burst of laughter filled the room, catching everyone’s attention. She pulled Obito’s head against her chest, grinning ear to ear. “I’m just so happy to see you making friends!”
Obito opened his mouth to protest but stopped himself, glancing at her beaming face. For a moment, he considered arguing that he wasn’t making friends, especially not with kids. But he decided against it.
She’s happy, he thought, letting himself relax slightly in her embrace. That was all that mattered.
Obito sat beside Kiyō, casually leaning against the futon where she rested, surprisingly at ease despite the towering presence of the man sitting across from them. Kiyō, however, was visibly tense, her shoulders stiff as she stared at the large man, her gaze flickering between him and her son.
This man was Kozuki Oden, Daimyo of Kuri and future Shogun of Wano.
Oden was an enormous figure, muscular and commanding, towering at an intimidating 382 centimeters. His wild black hair was styled into a unique circular flat-top, with a prominent widow’s peak and sharp sideburns that framed his face. His dark eyes, lined with dramatic red eyeliner, bore a piercing intensity, and his thick eyebrows only added to his striking features. Dressed in a vibrant orange kimono adorned with yellow crescent moon patterns and a large purple-and-white knotted sash draped over his shoulders, Oden exuded both authority and charisma. He could almost be called handsome—if you squinted past the overwhelming personality radiating off him.
Beside Oden sat Kin’emon and a pale, long-haired man with an unsettling aura who was introduced as Kanjuro. In the corner of the room, Raizo stood silently, ever the vigilant ninja. Kiku and Izo had also joined them, sitting close to Kiyō, their usual curiosity evident in their bright eyes.
Obito inclined his head slightly, his voice even as he addressed Oden. “Thank you for your hospitality, Oden-sama.”
Kiyō blinked, startled by her son’s formal tone. She stopped staring at Oden and looked at Obito, her lips parted in slight confusion. Then, realizing she hadn’t spoken a word of gratitude herself, she straightened awkwardly and muttered a rushed, begrudging, “Uh, yes. Thanks— I guess.”
Obito shot her a sharp look, one that clearly said, Seriously? That’s how you thank someone?
Kiyō scowled but, under her son’s silent rebuke, she turned back to Oden, her expression a mix of embarrassment and irritation. “Thank you for letting us stay,” she bit out, her voice laced with reluctant politeness.
Oden threw his head back and laughed loudly, the sound echoing through the room. “This is the first time I’ve seen a child teaching their mother proper manners!” he exclaimed, wiping a tear from his eye. “What a strange pair you two are!”
The other retainers chuckled along, some louder than others.
Oden finally settled and introduced himself officially, not that anyone in Wano needed an introduction. “I am Kozuki Oden,” he declared with a dramatic flourish, as if his presence alone wasn’t enough. Then, in a nonchalant tone, Oden asked, “So, why were you trying to leave Wano? I hear you were found on a wrecked ship.”
Kiyō took control before Obito could respond, her tone sharp. “That’s none of your business.”
Oden blinked at her bluntness, but instead of looking offended, he seemed amused.
Kin’emon and Kanjuro, however, were not amused. “You dare speak to Oden-sama like that?” Kin’emon barked, his face red with indignation.
Even little Kiku looked disheartened, her lips pulling into a frown as she gazed at Kiyō with sad eyes. Kiyō’s own shoulders sagged when she noticed the girl’s disappointment.
Oden waved a hand dismissively. “No, no, it’s fine. She’s right—it’s none of my business. Besides,” he added with a grin, “who wouldn’t want to leave Wano? Sure, it’s beautiful and all, but it’s not exactly paradise. I tried leaving this place a dozen times before I even came of age!”
Obito tilted his head, intrigued. He studied Oden closely, noting the sheer power that radiated from him. The man had a presence that reminded Obito of Kaido—his biological father in this world. It made sense. Someone like Oden, powerful and ambitious, wouldn’t want to be confined by the borders of an isolated country.
Oden leaned back, his grin widening. “Anyway, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like,” he said generously. “Not many people live here aside from my retainers, and I don’t mind a few extra faces around.”
Obito felt a flicker of respect for the man. He seemed down-to-earth despite his position of power.
Then Oden ruined it.
He leaned toward Kiyō, his expression turning mischievously charming. “Especially a lady as lovely as you,” he said with a wink.
A vein bulged on Kiyō’s forehead. “Oh, really?” she said, her voice dangerously sweet.
Kiku, unaware of the tension, spoke up. “Does Oden-sama want to go back to having a harem?”
The room fell into an awkward silence.
Obito stared at Oden with open disgust.
Oden began waving his hands frantically. “No, no, no! That’s not true! That was in my wild youth! I’m taking my responsibilities seriously now—mostly.” He cleared his throat and added, “I was just complimenting a beautiful woman, that’s all.”
“Don’t,” Kiyō snapped, her tone like ice. “And if I weren’t injured, I’d break your arms for even trying.”
Kanjuro scowled. “You shouldn’t threaten Oden-sama!”
Kiyō’s glare turned to him, sharp enough to make him visibly flinch. “And you don’t tell me what to do.”
Kiku tugged on Obito’s sleeve, her eyes wide. “Your mom is scary…”
Obito puffed out his chest with pride. “I know.”
Izo chimed in from beside his sister. “A woman has to be scary in a world full of arrogant perverts.”
Kiku nodded solemnly, taking her brother’s wisdom to heart.
Obito gave Izo an approving look. “You’re wise,” he said, thinking briefly of the terrifying Tsunade from his past life.
Kin’emon bristled. “Are you calling Oden-sama arrogant and perverted, Izo?!”
Izo gasped theatrically. “How could I!”
The sarcasm was evident to everyone except Kin’emon, who nodded in satisfaction.
Oden roared with laughter once more.
Kiyō rolled her eyes, looking unimpressed.
Obito decided to put an end to it. “We’re declining your offer to stay,” he said firmly.
Kiyō immediately clamped a hand over his mouth. “Don’t listen to my son—he’s too young to make decisions like this. We’d be happy to stay in your magnificent castle under the protection of the great Daimyo of Kuri.”
Oden grinned, looking pleased, while Obito shot his mother a furious glare. Kiyō ignored him effortlessly.
Kin’emon whispered to Oden, loud enough for Kyou to hear, “I think she’s just taking advantage of your wealth.”
Kanjuro nodded. “It’s not safe to let strangers into the castle.”
Kiyō turned her sharp glare on both men. “I heard that.”
Kiku straightened, her small voice filled with conviction. “Kiyō-san isn’t taking advantage of Oden-sama! She’s a kind lady who’s injured! Ans scary..”
The guest room given to Kiyō and Obito was simple but comfortable, fitting for a temporary stay. The futon beneath them was soft, and the faint glow of moonlight filtered through the paper screens, painting the room in a serene silver light.
Mother and son lay side by side in the quiet of the night, their breaths the only sound filling the space. Obito turned his head slightly toward Kiyō, his dark eyes narrowing. His voice was flat, but the hint of accusation was clear.
“You’re not actually planning to get back on your feet and leave Oden’s castle anytime soon, are you?”
Kiyō didn’t even hesitate. She turned her head to meet his gaze, a mischievous smile creeping onto her lips. It was the kind of grin that promised trouble, the one that Obito had come to recognize as the precursor to one of her infamous schemes.
“Of course not,” she said, her tone dripping with mock sweetness. “I plan to exploit that spoiled heir until he’s on his knees, begging me to leave his precious castle.”
Obito let out a long, exaggerated sigh, rolling onto his back to stare at the wooden ceiling. He covered his face with one hand, feeling both secondhand embarrassment and reluctant admiration for her boldness.