Chapter 8
A bead of sweat slid down Obito’s temple, a testament to his intense focus on the shogi board in front of him.
Across from him, Izo sat with a smug smile curling his lips, a look of supreme confidence plastered on his face. Behind him, Kiku cheered for her brother with an enthusiasm that grated on Obito’s nerves.
The former ninja hesitated, his hand hovering over the soldier piece in front of his minister. He had no choice. With a reluctant sigh, he pushed the soldier forward.
Izo’s smirk widened as he immediately captured the piece. Moving another piece with calculated precision, he declared, “Checkmate.”
Obito slumped back, a deep scowl marring his young face. Behind them, Kiku let out a delighted cheer, clapping her hands and showering Izo with praise.
“You’re a remarkable opponent,” Izo said magnanimously, extending a hand for a sportsmanlike handshake.
Obito took it, gripping tighter than necessary as he grumbled, “You don’t need to be so modest. You beat me easily.”
The older chuckled. “Well, for a four-year-old, you’re quite the competitor.”
Four years old. Obito fought the urge to roll his eyes. Mentally, I’m thirty-five, thank you very much, he thought dryly. He stood up from his seat, eager to escape the game that had devolved into humiliation, and gestured for Denjiro to take his place.
Denjiro accepted the challenge with a determined nod. Obito watched briefly as the older boy squared off against Izo, his intensity almost comical given the opponent’s age.
Stepping back, Obito wandered over to where Oden, Doji, and Kin’emon sat. The adults had been in deep conversation earlier, something that piqued Obito’s interest far more than shogi matches, but the moment he approached, their discussion shifted to trivial nonsense.
He scowled. Do they think I can’t keep up? He leaned against the wall, half-listening to the chatter while his thoughts wandered.
The past few weeks had been… strange. He and Kiyō had practically settled into Oden’s castle like permanent residents. Not that Oden seemed to mind. In fact, he seemed downright delighted with Kiyō’s antics. Kin’emon and Kanjuro, however, were less than thrilled.
Kiyō, for her part, had taken full advantage of the situation. From purchasing extravagant food and luxurious kimonos from the capital to spending her evenings in loud celebrations, she had somehow managed to become Oden’s buddy. The two of them were perfectly matched in their chaotic energy (If anything, she was complaining about the complete lack of firearms. She lost her gun when they crashed on their way to Wano and it doesn't seem like the gun culture has reached the isolated nation of Wano at all.)
Obito sighed. He could only hope things wouldn’t escalate into… complications. Kiyō had sworn off men, but trusting her to stick to her word seemed like a gamble at best. The last thing he wanted was for her to end up as Oden’s partner—or worse, for Obito to have a half-sibling running around.
As much as Wano was becoming routine, Obito couldn’t stop thinking about his long-term goal. Joy Boy. Where the hell am I supposed to find him? He had time—his current body was still too weak to accomplish anything monumental—but it frustrated him to be fumbling around in the dark. No leads, no vision, just a vague sense of destiny hanging over his head.
His gaze shifted to Oden. Strong, yes. Charismatic, annoyingly so. But intelligent? Strategic? Obito wasn’t convinced. Still, Oden might know something—or at least stumble upon something useful in the future.
“Do you know someone called Joy Boy?” Obito blurted out, directing his question to Oden.
Oden blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Joy Boy?” He looked to Doji and Kin’emon for support, but they both shook their heads, equally confused. “I don’t know anyone by that name,” Oden admitted, shrugging. “Who is he?”
Obito waved the question away with a sigh, muttering, “It’s not important.”
Oden opened his mouth to press further, but Obito cut him off, gesturing to Denjiro and Izo still locked in their shogi match. “Is everyone here bad at dealing with Izo’s smug face?”
Oden laughed. “Izo’s the best shogi player in this castle.”
Obito hummed, a thought slipping out before he could stop it. “Not really.”
“Not really?” Oden’s eyes sparkled with intrigue. “You know someone better?”
Realizing his slip, Obito hesitated. Memories of Itachi swirled in his mind, unbidden. He hadn’t dared to visit Itachi again, unable to face the guilt that bubbled up every time he thought of the younger Uchiha. But the idea of wiping that self-satisfied grin off Izo’s face… tempting.
“I know someone from Amigasa Village,” he said carefully. “Maybe I’ll ask him.”
Oden’s large hand landed on Obito’s head, ruffling his hair. “You should!”
Kin’emon, surprisingly enthusiastic, leaned forward. “Bring him here. I’d love to see Izo lose for once.”
Doji snorted. “You’re taking a child’s shogi record too seriously.”
Obito crossed his arms, resolving to find Itachi—not for his own sake, of course, but purely to humble Izo. Or so he told himself.
…
Obito made his way to Amigasa Village, Kiku trailing behind him with the energy of a puppy eager to explore new territory.
He glanced at her once, wondering why she had tagged along in the first place, but she simply beamed at him, completely unbothered by his questioning gaze. Whatever. It wasn’t like he could shake her off now.
When they arrived at the small wooden house nestled in the village, Obito raised a fist and knocked twice, stepping back slightly. The door creaked open, revealing an elderly woman with kind eyes that crinkled at the corners when she smiled.
“Obito-kun!” She greeted, visibly delighted.
Obito swallowed, suddenly awkward under the warmth of her welcome, and muttered a quiet greeting in return.
Her gaze shifted to Kiku, curious. Before she could ask, Obito gestured toward the girl, keeping his explanation brief. “This is Kiku.”
Kiku, in stark contrast, practically sparkled with enthusiasm as she bowed deeply, her long sleeves swaying. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Obaa-sama!” she chirped.
Eri’s laughter was light, amused, and she stepped aside, inviting them in. “Come in, come in. Have you come to see Itachi?”
Obito nodded. “I want him to play with us.”
The words felt foreign coming from his mouth, and he resisted the urge to grimace. But Eri’s face lit up as if he’d just told her the best news of her life. “Oh my,” she said, clasping her hands together. “I’m so happy he’s making friends!”
Obito didn’t correct her. Didn’t say that “friends” was a strong word. Instead, he simply nodded, pretending like that was exactly what was happening here.
Then, just as quickly, Eri’s expression shifted into something more hesitant. “But… my grandson is rather frail. His body is weak.”
Obito met her gaze evenly. “I know,” he said. “I’ll take care of him.”
Eri sighed, touching her cheek in mild concern, but she didn’t argue further. Instead, she led them inside toward the guest room, explaining along the way.
“Itachi lost his parents when he was just a baby,” she murmured. “An accident. Their carriage slipped from the cliffside. He was the only one who survived.”
Kiku gasped, eyes welling up with tears almost immediately. She sniffled, bringing her sleeve up to her nose as if trying to hold it in. “That’s so sad,” she mumbled.
Obito tilted his head slightly, watching her reaction with mild curiosity. To him, it wasn’t the worst tragedy he’d heard. People died every day. In his past life, he’d seen countless children orphaned by war (or by him), villages wiped out like they had never existed. He had been part of that destruction himself. Compared to that, Itachi losing his parents in an accident felt… normal.
Kiku, on the other hand, was genuinely heartbroken over it. “I don’t even remember my parents,” she admitted quietly. “But at least I had my brother. Itachi… doesn’t have a brother.”
Obito blinked. He hadn’t really thought about it like that. His mind, instinctively, conjured up an image of Sasuke. The little brother Itachi had spent his whole life protecting. Even in death, Itachi’s love for Sasuke had defined him. But here, in this life, there was no Sasuke. It was just Itachi. Alone.
“Well,” Eri said, breaking the silence with a warm smile, “he isn’t alone anymore. He has friends now, doesn’t he?” Her gaze landed on Obito and Kiku expectantly.
Kiku straightened immediately, determination flashing across her face. “That’s right!” she declared. “I’ll be the best friend Itachi’s ever had!”
Obito felt Eri’s eyes settle on him next. He stiffened slightly. “…Yeah,” he mumbled, voice flat.
It was a lie, but whatever. He had a soft spot for old people, and if this was what she wanted to hear, then fine.
Eri’s smile deepened, satisfied, and she left to fetch Itachi.
As soon as she was gone, Obito tuned out Kiku’s excited rambling and let his mind wander.
The irony of it all wasn’t lost on him. In their past lives, Obito had only had his grandmother. Itachi had his entire family. Now, the roles were reversed.
And the thought of him getting a little brother—someone even clingier and more annoying than Sasuke—was just too ridiculous to consider. He shook his head, snorting softly to himself.
The door slid open again.
Itachi stepped inside, wearing his usual unreadable expression.
Kiku immediately lit up, as if she had been waiting for this moment her whole life. “Hi! I’m Kiku! We’re going to be best friends!”
Itachi blinked. Slowly. Then, finally, he spoke. “Best friends?” His tone was flat, as if the very concept of it confused him.
Obito, entirely unfazed, said, “Come play with us.”
Itachi regarded him with mild suspicion. “Why?”
“Because we’re friends.”
A beat of silence stretched between them.
Itachi arched a delicate eyebrow.
With a sigh, Obito reached into his sleeve, pulling out a small cloth bag. Without a word, he untied the knot and let the contents spill onto his palm. Skewers of dango, perfectly round and glistening, sat neatly in his hand.
Itachi froze.
Obito watched, fascinated, as the boy’s entire body went rigid. His shoulders tensed, his throat bobbed as he swallowed. A single bead of sweat slid down the side of his face as his eyes locked onto the dango, filled with a silent, almost desperate longing.
Obito smirked. “Come with us,” he repeated. “We have dango.”
…
“Checkmate.”
A single word. Calm, quiet, absolute.
The room fell silent.
Kiku gawked in shock. “They just started,” she whispered, disbelief heavy in her tone. “How did Itachi-kun beat my brother so fast?”
Izo, who had been sitting across the shogi board, stared blankly at the pieces, his fingers hovering uselessly over the board. Then, after a beat, he blinked, recovering with an awkward chuckle. “Hah… I lost,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I wasn’t careful enough.”
Obito grinned smugly, like he had won himself.
Kin’emon, who had been watching from the side, narrowed his eyes at the newcomer. “Where did you find this kid?” he asked, studying Itachi with newfound caution.
Oden, however, was thoroughly entertained. “Obito, are you and this boy brothers?”
Obito groaned. “I told you already, no!”
“But you look alike,” Oden insisted.
Kiku tilted her head thoughtfully. “Maybe you’re related somehow?”
Izo crossed his arms, nodding. “They do seem similar. Both are quiet and… well, geniuses.”
Kiku suddenly perked up, eyes sparkling. She turned to Itachi, expression softening as she clasped her hands together. “You’re cute too! Like a little doll!” Then, before anyone could stop her, she reached out and pinched his cheek.
Itachi flinched, momentarily breaking his usual blank expression.
The door slid open with a soft creak, and in stumbled Kiyō, her long black hair an absolute mess, eyes half-lidded with lingering sleep. She let out a lazy yawn, rubbing at one eye as she surveyed the room with groggy disinterest.
“…What’s going on?” Her voice was sluggish, still thick with sleep.
From across the room, Oden grinned, looking thoroughly entertained. “Your son brought a friend to crush Izo in shogi.”
She blinked slowly, her tired brain catching up to the words. Then, just as carelessly, she let out another yawn, stretching her arms over her head. “Huh. Neat.”
Meanwhile, Itachi’s gaze flickered toward Kiyō, studying her with sharp, assessing eyes. The moment he had realized she was Obito’s mother, his interest had been piqued.
Itachi, with his same unwavering composure, he turned his attention to Kiyō and said, voice quiet but sure, “It’s nice to meet you.”
Kiyo blinked at him again. Then, just as nonchalantly, she shrugged. “Sure,” she said. “Nice to meet you too, kid.” She had already lost interest, glanced at the gathered group, lips pressing into a small, thoughtful pout. “So… what’s for lunch?”
Before anyone else could answer, Kiku lit up like a lantern and rushed to Kiyō’s side, practically clinging to her leg with excitement. “Oden-sama caught a Fire Boar this morning!” she announced with childish glee. “We’re eating that!”
Kiyō hummed in acknowledgment, completely unfazed. “Dunno what the ‘fire’ part means, but sounds tasty.”
…
The ocean lapped quietly against the sand, gentle waves dragging themselves forward, reaching just far enough to wet their small, bare feet before retreating again.
The sun hung low in the afternoon sky, painting everything in a golden hue, but there was something distant about it—detached. The world looked too peaceful for the kind of thoughts that stirred inside Obito’s head.
They sat side by side, not close, not distant. Just two silhouettes at the edge of the world.
Itachi was the first to speak. His voice was soft, like he was afraid to disturb the sea. “So… you’re from outside Wano.” He didn’t ask it like a question. It was more of a realization, quiet and simple.
Obito didn’t hesitate. “It’s nothing like here.” He didn’t elaborate at first, letting the silence stretch between them, like the ocean tide. He picked up a small stone and tossed it into the water, where it sank without a sound.
“Itachi,” he finally said, voice low, “you’re lucky. You were born in Wano. It’s a place that still resembles Konoha… in ways. Structured. Sheltered. Still naïve.”
Itachi didn’t respond. Just hummed in that unreadable way of his, eyes on the water as if trying to see the world beyond it.
Obito stood, brushing sand from his clothes, looking out over the endless sea like it could give him answers. “You don’t understand,” he said seriously, arms at his sides, fists lightly clenched. “The world out there is huge. And terrible. There are monsters that wear human faces. And things—things I don’t know it yet, let alone understand. I was ready to meet Rin in the afterlife. I was ready for that peace.” A bitter laugh broke through his chest, dry and humorless. “But instead, I ended up being shoved into some ridiculous mission.”
Itachi turned to look up at him. “What is the mission?”
Obito’s expression soured further. “I have to find a man named Joy Boy,” he muttered. “And crown him king.”
There was a pause.
“That sounds… exhausting,” Itachi said after a moment, his tone neutral but just dry enough to suggest the understatement wasn’t lost on him.
Obito scoffed. “Difficult? I’m four. I can’t even open jars properly. And Hagomoro want me to find a complete stranger and put him on a throne that doesn’t exist yet.” He paused, then added, “I can’t survive on my own like this. So, I have to become stronger. It’s the only way.”
At that, Itachi’s gaze dropped back to the water, thoughtful. “But we don’t have chakra anymore. There’s no ninjutsu. No genjutsu. Just fūinjutsu, and even that seems primitive here.”
“I know,” Obito replied, a tinge of frustration in his voice. “Trust me, I’ve been feeling the loss every day.” Then, a glint sparked in his eye. He turned toward Itachi, his voice lower, conspiratorial. “But hey, Itachi… have you ever heard of something called haki?”
Itachi blinked. The word meant nothing to him. “Haki..?”
Obito grinned—sharp, eager. It wasn’t quite joy, but it was close. “It’s not chakra, but it’s close enough to matter. Power of the spirit. Willpower made real. It’s… it’s our best shot.” The grin softened slightly, became something a little more genuine. He stepped forward, tilting his head. “So, what do you say?” he asked, voice light with mischief. “Want to be my training partner?”