The clearing lay still in pre-dawn's embrace, purple just beginning to bleed into the sky like watercolor on wet paper. Shisui perched on a branch, his chakra rippling out in lazy waves that mapped every leaf, every dewdrop, every subtle shift in the morning air. Below, Obito stood waiting, probably contemplating the life choices that led to him being dragged out for sparring at five in the morning by an enthusiastic, supposedly dead teenager.
Shisui moved first, because of course he did – patience had never been his strong suit, even in death. He launched himself forward with pure speed, closing the distance in a heartbeat. The kitchen knife in his hand caught what little light existed as he slashed at Obito's midsection. A test, really, and they both knew it.
Obito's scoff was practically dripping with judgment. "A kitchen knife? Really?"
Shisui's only response was the kind of teethy smile that would've made his Academy teachers nervous, followed by a kick that Obito blocked with the sort of textbook precision that screamed 'I'm not even trying.' Using the momentum of the block, Shisui sprang backward, fingers already forming the seal that had once made him infamous throughout the elemental nations.
Body Flicker.
He caught Obito's slight shift in posture – recognition, wariness, perhaps even a touch of anticipation. For Obito, watching Shisui's movements was like seeing a ghost dance – familiar yet impossibly present.
The Body Flicker carried him above Obito, the kitchen knife spinning down like a silver star. Obito sidestepped, movement casual, almost lazy. It was starting to get under Shisui's skin, how the older Uchiha seemed to be treating this like a babysitting exercise.
Well then, Shisui thought with a grin that would have made his enemies nervous (back when he had enemies and, you know, wasn't blind), time to show him what this baby can do.
What followed was a symphony of movement. Shisui flickered from point to point, each appearance lasting just long enough for Obito to register before vanishing again. Behind him, above him, to his left – a constant dance of presence and absence. Sometimes there would be an attack - a slash, a kick, a strike - but it would fade away just as Obito moved to counter. Shisui could feel Obito's growing frustration at being forced to play such a passive role.
Then came the masterstroke – a surge of chakra beneath the earth, followed by an explosion of dirt and stone as Shisui burst from below. Classic Konoha tactics, Obito thought with a hint of nostalgia as he leaped back, only to sense Shisui already behind him mid-air where dodging would be nearly impossible. The knife arced toward his shoulder in what should have been a decisive strike.
Should have been.
Instead, the blade passed through Obito like he was made of mist, and Shisui's brain temporarily short-circuited. The kick to his gut that followed was very much solid, though, sending him crashing through a tree with all the grace of a drunken civilian. He managed to catch himself before introducing his back to a second tree, skidding to a halt with his feet planted firmly on the ground and his mind racing.
"What the actual fuck," he eloquently announced to the clearing at large, wondering if death had somehow scrambled his spatial awareness along with his eyesight.
"Don't give me that!" Shisui shot back, his voice carrying an edge of indignation that definitely wasn't a pout. "I know you were underestimating me in the beginning. This blind guy is not that easy, you know."
"I've learned," Obito acknowledged, and Shisui could hear the shift in his stance, the way his chakra focused with new intensity. How nostalgic, Obito thought, to see that famous Uchiha pride spark to life. "They don't call you the teleporter for nothing." A pause, heavy with challenge. "But, clearly, it's not fast enough."
A sharp grin spread across Shisui's face, the kind that had once made his squadmates take several steps back. "Oh really now?" His chakra coiled tight, ready to show exactly what happened when someone told Shisui of the Body Flicker he wasn't fast enough.
Shisui's grin faded into something more focused, more intent. If Obito wanted faster, well – there were certain techniques he'd been developing since losing his eyes. Things that would have been impossible with the Sharingan's constant chakra drain.
His hands moved through signs that would have made his old sensory-type squadmates either laugh or cry: Tiger – to sharpen the mind, Snake – to extend the senses, Dragon – modified, his own addition to heighten perception, and finally, Ram – to pull it all together. Sorry, standard shinobi handbook, but sometimes you have to improvise when you're blind in another dimension.
Obito's eyes narrowed, the Sharingan spinning faster as the air around them seemed to ripple with a subtle, unfamiliar tension. His chakra shifted in response, steady and controlled, a silent acknowledgment of the shift in Shisui's presence.
"What the hell are you up to now?" he muttered, his tone calm but edged with intrigue, as though daring Shisui to surprise him.
The surge of chakra that followed was like dropping a stone into still water, except the ripples moved inward instead of out. The world... shifted.
At first, it was overwhelming – like trying to count every grain of sand in a desert. But Shisui had practiced this, refined it during sleepless nights when the weight of being here and now and blind threatened to suffocate him. His chakra sense expanded, then focused, then transcended.
Suddenly, he could feel everything.
The air molecules weren't just present; they were dancers in an impossibly complex ballet, each one leaving traces in his chakra field like stars streaking across the night sky. He could sense the slow cascade of morning dew rolling down leaves, count the heartbeats of small creatures hiding in the underbrush, feel the subtle variations in air pressure that preceded Obito's every breath.
Time seemed to stretch like warm caramel, not exactly slowing down but becoming more... accessible. Each moment was a novel waiting to be read, each movement a story he could follow from beginning to end.
Most importantly, he could sense Obito's chakra with unprecedented clarity. It wasn't just a presence anymore – it was a symphony of potential energy, a map of probabilities, a book written in a language of power and intent that Shisui could finally, finally read.
Well, Shisui thought, as the enhanced perception settled into place like the final piece of a puzzle, this should be interesting.
After all, what was the point of dying and coming back if you couldn't break a few laws of physics along the way?
Shisui moved, and the world seemed to hold its breath.
It wasn't just Body Flicker anymore – it was something else entirely, something that happened in the spaces between seconds. Where before he'd been appearing and disappearing, now he was... everywhere. The enhanced chakra sensing turned each movement into a calculated dance with reality itself, leaving traces of himself in the air like echoes of possibility.
His afterimages weren't mere illusions – they were moments of almost, places where he'd been so fast that reality hadn't quite caught up to the fact that he'd already moved on. Three Shisuis attacked simultaneously: one sliding low with that ridiculous kitchen knife (which was starting to feel more like an old friend at this point), another coming in with a high kick that could crater stone, and a third moving through hand signs for a fire technique that would never come.
Obito's chakra spiked with something that might have been surprise – or maybe amusement. Hard to tell with reformed villains sometimes.
"Didn't expect that, did you?" Shisui's voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, a chorus of possibilities speaking in unison. "Amazing what you can do when you stop depending on those fancy eyes of yours. Though I have to admit—" One of his afterimages phased through Obito's counter-attack while another landed a glancing blow to his shoulder, "—being temporarily dead really gives you time to workshop new techniques."
The clearing became a kaleidoscope of motion. Where Obito moved to block one attack, three more Shisuis were already there, striking from angles that shouldn't have been possible. Each afterimage carried the same sharp grin, the same deadly grace, like someone had taken a single moment and shattered it into dozens of equally lethal pieces.
But what made it truly devastating wasn't just the speed or the multiplication of attacks – it was the precision. Each movement was calculated using his enhanced sensing, reading the minute fluctuations in Obito's chakra, predicting his responses before they happened. Every afterimage was positioned exactly where it needed to be, turning the space around Obito into a cage of perpetual motion.
This, Shisui thought with no small amount of satisfaction, is what happens when you give a teleporter time to get creative.
Nevertheless, Shisui's attacks continued to phase through Obito like light through glass, each precise strike becoming nothing more than a 'could've been'. It was almost poetic, in a frustrating sort of way – one of the fastest shinobi alive (well, formerly alive) versus a man who could simply opt out of physical reality.
But even as his attacks passed harmlessly through their target, Shisui's enhanced senses picked up subtle changes in Obito's chakra. A tightening, like a spring being wound. The kind of tension that preceded something interesting.
Then came the sound – a sharp snap that cut through the morning air like a kunai through silk. In that fractional moment, Shisui's heightened perception caught everything: the slight shift in Obito's chakra flow, the way the earth's energy responded to his call, the almost imperceptible tremor that ran through the ground beneath their feet.
Oh, Shisui thought, this should be fun.
The earth erupted. Not in a single explosion, but in a calculated symphony of movement. Wooden pillars shot up like angry fingers trying to grab the sky, each one precisely placed to interrupt Shisui's established movement patterns. The clearing was rapidly becoming less of a clearing and more of a wooden maze designed by someone with a questionable understanding of Euclidean geometry.
"What the actual hell?" Shisui's voice cracked with sheer disbelief, bouncing between his afterimages as he dodged another sprouting pillar. "You're telling me you can use wood style now? Hashirama's—" He had to pause to avoid a particularly aggressive branch, "—the First Hokage's signature technique?" His laughter took on a slightly hysterical edge as he wove between the wooden constructs. "Is there anything you can't do? Should I be expecting water dragons next? Maybe you'll start pulling tailed beasts out of your pocket?"
Shisui's afterimages flickered through the emerging forest, each one wearing an identical expression of bemused incredulity. "Though I suppose I'm not really one to talk about breaking the laws of nature right now," he added, gesturing vaguely at his multiple simultaneous existences. "But at least I had the decency to stick to my clan's specialties. You're just... what, collecting legendary techniques like some people collect kunai?"
The wood style jutsu continued to reshape their battleground, each new growth forcing Shisui to recalculate his movement patterns. His enhanced sensing painted a picture of Obito's strategy – the wooden pillars weren't just obstacles, they were forming a pattern. A cage. A particularly elaborate game of three-dimensional chess where every move reduced the spaces where Shisui could safely flicker.
Clever, Shisui had to admit. Nothing quite like architectural warfare to deal with someone who's being annoying about physics.
The problem with fighting Uchiha - aside from their general tendency toward dramatic flair and psychological trauma - was that they always had one more trick hidden away. Usually something that made reality itself throw up its hands in defeat. Shisui had thought he'd seen it all during his first life, but apparently, death had given Obito time to develop some interesting new capabilities.
Still, every technique had its tell. The Sharingan relied on muscle tension before activation. Body Flicker created a distinctive chakra wake. Even the Mangekyo's most devastating abilities announced themselves to those who knew where to look. This new ability of Obito's couldn't be different - it was just a matter of proper observation.
There.
Through his enhanced sensing, Shisui finally caught it – the subtle fluctuation in Obito's chakra that preceded Kamui's activation. Like ripples in a pond before the fish breaks surface, or the way air pressure drops before a storm. A pattern, hidden in plain sight all this time.
Time to test a theory, he thought, a grin splitting his face as he created a formation that would have made his old teammates proud. Four Shisuis, moving in perfect synchronization, each one a promise of violence given form. The first swept low, kitchen knife singing through the air at ankle height. The second and third came in from opposite sides, one with a kick aimed at the ribs, the other preparing to drive an elbow into Obito's shoulder. The fourth – the real one – hung back, waiting for the perfect moment.
And there it was – that telltale chakra fluctuation. Shisui's grin widened. Got you now.
He deliberately overextended on his next attack, creating what looked like a momentary opening. Obito took the bait exactly as planned, moving to capitalize on the apparent mistake. But Shisui was already reversing, turning what seemed like vulnerability into perfect positioning for a decisive strike.
The kitchen knife flashed, aimed straight for Obito's waist with the kind of speed that turned air into lightning—
Something was wrong.
The realization hit him like a bucket of ice water. The chakra patterns he'd been reading, the subtle tells he'd thought he'd discovered – they were too perfect. Too convenient.
"Kai!" The release command came too late. Reality shimmered like heat waves over desert sand, and suddenly Obito was behind him, close enough that Shisui could feel the smugness radiating off him in waves.
"Got you," Obito's voice carried notes of both amusement and satisfaction. The knife was plucked from Shisui's grip with casual ease, and then—
Impact. A kick that sent him soaring skyward, the world spinning in kaleidoscope patterns around him. Before he could even think about recovery, Obito was there again (and wasn't that just unfair, having both Kamui and the high ground?), delivering a kick that introduced Shisui to the ground with enough force to leave a rather impressive crater.
Lying there, trying to remember how breathing worked, Shisui caught a glint of silver. His knife, descending toward his face with terminal velocity. He tried to move, but chakra exhaustion hit him like a ton of particularly spiteful bricks. All he could do was brace for impact—
The knife stopped an inch from his nose, caught between Obito's fingers with theatrical precision.
"You know," Obito drawled, twirling the kitchen knife with unnecessary flourish, "for someone who specialized in genjutsu, you really should have seen that coming. Then again—" he grinned beneath his mask, "—hindsight is always 20/20. Though in your case, I suppose that's a bit insensitive."
Shisui would have offered a witty retort, but at that moment, he was too busy cataloging all the new and interesting ways his body had found to experience pain. Still, he couldn't help but appreciate the irony – death, resurrection, interdimensional travel, and he still couldn't avoid getting played by a classic genjutsu setup.
Some things, apparently, never changed.
Shisui lay sprawled in his personal crater, contemplating the fascinating way the world seemed to be spinning in multiple directions at once. So this is what chakra exhaustion feels like when you're already dead, he mused. Somehow worse than the first time around. Though the first time didn't involve getting thrown around by an impossibly powerful relative with reality-bending eyes, so maybe that's not a fair comparison.
"Here." Obito's voice cut through his existential contemplation, followed by something small being pressed into his palm. Through his chakra sense – now reduced to barely a whisper – Shisui could feel the faint pulse of energy from what he assumed was some kind of pill.
"What's this? Your special brand of afterlife aspirin?"
"Chakra pill. My own recipe." A pause. "Don't expect Konoha quality. The local ingredients are... different."
Shisui dry-swallowed the pill, immediately grimacing at a taste that suggested Obito's culinary skills were still questionable outside of rice and veggies. "Tastes like you mixed regular chakra pills with seaweed and regret."
"The seaweed was necessary." Obito's tone carried that particular blend of defensive and clinical that suggested he'd done quite a bit of experimental pharmacology since arriving in this world. "The local flora has different chakra absorption properties. Had to improvise."
As the pill's effects began to spread through his system – like warmth seeping back into frozen limbs, if frozen limbs could also feel vaguely nauseous – Shisui managed to push himself into a sitting position. His muscles immediately filed several strongly-worded complaints about this decision.
"Your technique," Obito began, and Shisui could hear the shift in his voice from sparring partner to something more serious, more concerned, "it's consuming too much chakra. Two minutes of combat and you're completely drained. In this world..." He trailed off, letting the implications hang in the morning air.
"Well," Shisui stretched, wincing as several joints reminded him of their existence, "it's not everyday I'll be facing someone as strong and unfair as you. Most fights don't involve people who can just... opt out of physics whenever they feel like it." He gestured vaguely in Obito's direction. "Besides, the chakra drain is a fair trade for not dying. Again."
"That's not—" Obito cut himself off, and Shisui could practically hear him counting to ten in his head. "This isn't just about survival. The threats in this world... they're different. Unpredictable. You can't afford to exhaust yourself in the first few minutes of a fight."
"Says the man with enough chakra to reshape geography," Shisui muttered, but there was no real bite to it. He knew Obito was right – this new world operated on different rules, harbored different dangers. Being able to move faster than sight wouldn't help much if he collapsed from chakra exhaustion while facing whatever monsters this ocean had cooked up.
"I'll work on it," he conceded, then added with a grin, "Though next time, maybe we start with basic sparring before jumping straight to 'let's trap the blind guy in a wooden maze while breaking several laws of physics.'"
Obito's response was to drop Shisui's kitchen knife next to him with a soft thud. "Next time, bring a proper weapon."
"What, you don't appreciate my creative repurposing of culinary implements?" Shisui picked up the knife, running his fingers along its edge. "I'll have you know this knife has sentimental value now. We've been through a lot together. Vegetables, fish, interdimensional combat..."
"You're impossible," Obito said, but there was something almost fond in his exasperation. "Can you stand?"
"Probably. Whether I should is another question entirely." Nevertheless, Shisui began the process of convincing his legs that vertical was a perfectly reasonable orientation. "Though I have to ask – that genjutsu at the end? Was that really necessary, or were you just showing off?"
"Consider it a reminder," Obito replied, and Shisui could hear the smirk in his voice, "that even in a new world, some old lessons still apply."
"Right," Shisui drawled, finally achieving something approximating a standing position. "Always watch out for Uchihas with a flair for the dramatic. Got it. Though that might be a bit redundant, considering the 'dramatic' part is basically a clan requirement."
The sun had fully risen now, painting the clearing (or what was left of it) in shades of gold. As they made their way back toward town, Shisui couldn't help but reflect on the strangeness of it all – two dead Uchiha, walking through a jungle in another world, discussing combat techniques over the aftermath of a spar that had probably violated several laws of nature.
Then again, he thought, maybe this is exactly what second chances are supposed to look like – a little weird, a little painful, but ultimately heading somewhere new.
Even if that somewhere involved getting thrown around by your supposedly dead relative before breakfast.
...
...
...
The walk back to town was a study in the various ways muscles could express their disappointment in life choices. Shisui's body had apparently decided to catalog each individual impact from his intimate meeting with the ground, sending helpful reminders with every step. Even his chakra sense felt tender, like a bruise you can't help but poke just to confirm it still hurts.
Their comfortable silence shattered as they approached the town outskirts. Something was... off. Shisui's chakra sense painted a picture of tension, of wrong notes in an otherwise familiar symphony. The usual morning bustle had been replaced by something more subdued, more guarded.
"The marines," Obito murmured, his voice shifting to the carefully modulated tones of Tobi. "There are more than usual."
Shisui extended his senses, counting the uniformed presences. "Twice as many. No, three times." He caught fragments of whispered conversations, fear threading through the words like poison through water. "Something's got them spooked. Recently too – the anxiety is too fresh."
As they reach the town center, the change is stark. The usual morning market crowd is sparse, huddled in whispered conversations. Marine officers patrol in pairs, their presence heavy in the air. Shisui catches fragments of worried conversations - something about "protection" and "never seen so many ships."
They pass Mrs. Hana's bakery, usually a bright spot in Tobi's morning routine. She's there, but her usual cheerful greeting is subdued. "Tobi-san," she calls out softly, wringing her apron. "Have you heard? The fleet..."
Before she can finish, a commotion erupts from the direction of the bay. The sound of multiple ships dropping anchor, their chains rattling like omens. The townspeople are gravitating toward the docks, a mix of curiosity and apprehension in their movements.
"Well," Shisui says, his voice low enough that only Obito can hear, "I guess our quiet morning just got interesting."
The crowd parts instinctively for Tobi (because even with the goofy mask, something about him screams 'give this man space'). Shisui stays close, his chakra sense painting a picture of mounting tension. The bay is chaos - not just from the fleet's arrival, but from the kind of focused panic that comes with missing children.
Through his enhanced senses, Shisui picks up scattered conversations: "- just vanished from their beds-" "- six children, all last night-" "- Vice Admiral's grandson, can you imagine-"
Then there's a shift in the crowd's energy. A figure is descending from the flagship, his presence alone commanding attention. But what catches both shinobi's attention is the elderly man already waiting at the dock - the retired Vice Admiral, his usual composed demeanor cracked by barely contained fury and grief.
The retired Vice Admiral's voice carries across the dock, harsh with barely contained rage. "Six children. Six! Right under our noses, Goro." He's addressing the newly arrived Vice Admiral, a bear of a man with medals gleaming on his chest.
The newly arrived Vice Admiral – Goro, apparently – moved with the careful precision of someone used to breaking things by accident. "We'll find them, Hiro. Every ship in the fleet is-"
"Save the platitudes," the retired Vice Admiral cut in. "I want to know why my grandson was taken from his bed while marine patrols walked past his window. I want to know why six families are missing children while we discuss protocol."
Shisui focused his chakra sense on the old marine, curiosity piqued by something... different about his energy. It was too refined, too aware - nothing like the diffuse signatures of civilians. The energy coiled and shifted with practiced control, almost like-
The old man's head snapped toward them, energy sharpening into something predatory, precise - like a blade finding its target.
Well, that's interesting, Shisui thought, but they were already moving. By the time the marine's gaze found their previous position, the space was empty. No trace, no shadow, no hint that two shinobi had ever been there at all.
They reappeared on a rooftop across town, still within view of the harbor's unfolding drama. Shisui let out a low whistle. "He sensed us. Just like we sensed him."
"Mm." Obito's tone suggested he was filing this information away for future reference. "Their energy... it's more developed than we thought."
"Should we help?" Shisui asked, more out of habit than genuine intention. They both knew the answer.
"Let the marines handle it," Obito replied. "If they fail..." A shrug. "Then perhaps we'll see how competent this world's authorities really are."
Shisui grinned. "And if they're not?"
"Then we'll know exactly what we're dealing with." Obito's mask turned toward the harbor one last time. "Come on. We haven't had breakfast yet."
They vanished into the morning air, leaving behind a mystery that wasn't theirs to solve.
At least, not yet.