Three days could change much in a small town. The streets that had once bustled with life now stretched empty before them, save for the occasional hurried figure darting between buildings like fish sensing sharks in the water. The morning sun cast long shadows across cobblestones that should have been crowded with vendor carts and playing children.
Instead, there was only silence, broken by the rhythmic thud of crates being shifted.
"Just a bit further," Jin assured them, his weathered face creasing into what might have been a smile. The middle-aged shopkeeper led them through the ghost town of a marketplace, occasionally glancing back to ensure his unusual helpers hadn't vanished – though whether from concern for his goods or his helpers wasn't quite clear.
"Tobi is happy to help!" The masked figure's cheerful voice seemed to bounce off the empty storefronts. "These boxes are no trouble at all for Tobi!"
Shisui, walking slightly behind with his own load, suppressed a smile at his companion's antics. His enhanced senses painted the scene in vivid detail – the tension in the few civilians nearby, the way they drew back at Tobi's voice, the whispers that followed in their wake. It was amazing how quickly fear could poison a community's wells.
"It's honestly maddening," Jin spoke suddenly, his voice carrying the weight of decades. "Thirty years I've lived here, and never..." He shook his head. "Never anything like this."
"It is very unfortunate what happened," Tobi responded, his typically bouncy tone carrying an undertone of genuine sadness. "Tobi hopes the kids are found soon."
Jin stopped walking. The scrutinizing gaze he turned on them was sharp enough to cut glass, moving deliberately between Tobi's mask and Shisui's unseeing eyes.
"Thirty years," he repeated, his voice cutting through the air like sharpened steel, "gives you time to know every face in town. Every voice. Every story." His eyes narrowed. "Except yours."
Tobi immediately set down his crate, hands flying up in frantic denial. "No no no! Tobi would never do such a thing! Tobi is nice and kind! Especially to little kids, he would never do such a thing!"
The silence stretched for a moment, heavy with unspoken accusations. Then Jin's weathered face cracked into a genuine, if tired, smile. "Ah, shut it, you masked fool. If I thought you'd done it, we wouldn't be having this conversation." He turned away, resuming his walk. "You're a genuine soul, Tobi. Weird as hell, but genuine."
"You almost gave Tobi a heart attack!" Tobi clutched at his chest dramatically, earning a soft snort from Shisui.
They completed the delivery in relative silence, the once-lively town now eerily still. Where once Tobi had been stopped every few meters by someone seeking his help, now there were only empty streets and closed doors.
"That's the last of them," Jin said finally, counting out a modest payment. "Thank you both. These days... well, it's good to know there are still some reliable folks around."
The walk home was quieter still. They'd tried a few other usual spots for odd jobs, but were met with closed doors and drawn curtains. Even the usual bustling fish market was subdued, with half the usual stalls empty and the rest doing business with an air of suspicious urgency.
"Well," Shisui remarked as they approached their modest dwelling, "I suppose that's one way to clear your schedule."
Obito's response died in his throat as they reached their door. There, pinned carefully at eye level, was a note in familiar spidery handwriting. Their elderly neighbor's message was brief but clear:
*Tobi dear, Marines came asking for you this morning. The Vice Admiral himself wants a word, they said. Do be careful, and there's some soup by your door if you're hungry.
Mrs. Tanaka*
"How thoughtful," Obito's voice had dropped its playful lilt entirely. "A summons."
Shisui tilted his head, sensing the subtle shift in his companion's chakra. "Funny timing."
"Indeed." Obito's mask caught the afternoon light as he turned the note over in his hands. "Well, it would be rude to keep them waiting."
"Most people," Shisui observed with a ghost of his old smile, "don't sound quite so entertained by military summons."
"Most people," Obito replied simply, "aren't Uchiha."
They vanished from their doorstep without another word, leaving only disturbed dust and Mrs. Tanaka's cooling soup as evidence they'd ever been there at all.
...
...
...
The Marine base stood ahead, its stark white walls cutting into the afternoon sky. Two guards stood at attention by the main gate, their postures stiffening further as they spotted the unusual pair approaching.
"Stop right there!" The taller of the two called out, hand moving to rest on his rifle. "This is a restricted area!"
"Oh! Hello hello!" Tobi waved enthusiastically, bouncing forward despite the warning. "Tobi heard that the Vice Admiral wanted to see him! So, Tobi came right away because Tobi is a good boy!"
The guards exchanged bewildered glances. The shorter one stepped forward, trying to match his companion's authoritative tone but not quite managing it. "I said stop! State your business properly!"
"But Tobi just did!" He tilted his orange mask quizzically. "Tobi was told the Vice Admiral wanted to speak with him. Did the message not reach you? Oh no, did Tobi come at a bad time? Should Tobi come back later? But then Tobi would feel very bad about making the Vice Admiral wait—"
"Sir, I'm going to need you to—"
"Is there a problem here?" A new voice cut through Tobi's rambling, sharp and clear as a bell.
A woman in a marine captain's coat approached from inside the base. Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe bun, but there was something almost sardonic in the quirk of her eyebrow as she took in the scene.
"Captain Rei!" Both guards snapped to attention.
She ignored them, dark eyes fixed on Tobi. "You would be the masked handyman I've heard about?"
"Yes! Tobi is Tobi!" He somehow managed to bounce while standing still. "Tobi got a message that—"
"That the Vice Admiral wishes to speak with you, yes." Her gaze slid to Shisui, considering. "And your companion?"
"Oh, this is Tobi's cousin! Tobi and Shisui got the message together!"
Captain Rei studied them both for a moment longer, her expression unreadable. Then she turned to the still-rigid guards. "I'll escort them from here. Return to your posts."
"But Captain, protocol states—"
"I'm well aware of protocol, Ensign." There was steel beneath the calm of her voice. "And I'm also aware that the Vice Admiral is expecting them. Unless you'd like to explain to him why his guests were delayed?"
The guards paled slightly, stepping aside with hasty salutes.
"This way, gentlemen." She gestured for them to follow, adding with just a hint of dry humor, "Try not to terrorize any more of my subordinates."
As they followed her into the base proper, Shisui's lips twitched in what might have been a smile. The captain's footsteps were deliberately loud against the stone floor – a courtesy, perhaps, for the supposedly blind man following her. Or a sign that she was more observant than most. Shisui had already mapped the entire marine base structure the moment they crossed the threshold – a habit that had become as natural as breathing by now – and he found himself quietly amused at how familiar military bureaucracy felt, even in a completely different world.
"Tobi is very sorry about scaring the guards!" Tobi's voice echoed slightly in the corridor. "Tobi just gets excited sometimes!"
"I'm sure you do," Captain Rei replied, her tone suggesting she wasn't entirely buying the act, but wasn't particularly concerned about it either. "The Vice Admiral's office is this way. Try to contain your... excitement."
They followed her up the winding staircase to the third floor, where the air itself seemed to carry more weight – whether from authority or the lingering traces of cigar smoke was anyone's guess.
"Vice Admiral Goro issued the summons," Captain Rei explained as they climbed the stairs, her voice carefully neutral. "However, he's currently occupied with urgent matters. Vice Admiral Hiro will be speaking with you instead."
Tobi tilted his head with exaggerated curiosity. "Oh? The nice old man from the harbor?"
A ghost of something – amusement, perhaps – flickered across the captain's face. "I wouldn't recommend calling him that to his face."
The office they entered was spartan, save for a few medals and a large map of the Grand Line dotted with notations. Hiro stood at the window, his slim back to the door, hands clasped behind him. The afternoon light cast his shadow long across the floor.
"Thank you, Captain," he said without turning. "That will be all."
Only after the door clicked shut did he face them. His eyes, sharp as a hawk's, fixed first on Tobi's mask, then on Shisui. The weight of decades of military experience hung quite heavy in his scrutiny.
"Let's not waste time with pleasantries," Hiro's voice carried the weathered edge of a man who'd seen too much to bother with diplomatic niceties. Three days. Three days we've searched every cave, every crevice, every abandoned building on this godforsaken rock." His fingers drummed against the wooden windowsill, an abrupt rhythm of barely contained desperation. "The nearby waters have been combed twice over. Nothing. Not a single trace."
The desperate edge in his voice betrayed what his rigid posture tried to hide. This wasn't an interrogation – it was a drowning man reaching for shadows.
"Our community is small. Everyone knows everyone. Their stories, their families, their secrets." His gaze burned through Tobi's mask like he could strip away the spiraled facade through sheer force of will. "Then this happens, just weeks after two strangers with... unusual capabilities appear on our shores."
"No no no!" Tobi's hands flew up in theatrical protest. "Tobi has been nothing but helpful! Ask anyone in town about—"
"I don't want to hear it!" Hiro's fist crashed down, the solid oak desk splitting with a thunderous crack that echoed through the office. "No more games. No more acts. Who are you? Where did you come from? Why this island?" His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Did you take those children?"
Neither Shisui nor Obito flinched – they'd weathered far worse storms than a grandfather's desperate rage. Then silence stretched between them.
Hiro dropped into his chair, the wood creaking beneath the sudden weight. The fury seemed to drain from him, leaving something raw and vulnerable in its wake. "This... this isn't right," he muttered, more to himself than his guests. "You're not..." He shook his head, running a hand over his face. "Tobi's reputation in town, the way you've integrated... it doesn't fit."
The admission seemed to cost him something vital. "I don't truly believe you're responsible," he continued, voice heavy with reluctance. "But we have nothing else. No leads, no traces, no..." He swallowed hard. "And Vice Admiral Goro is convinced of your involvement."
Shisui could feel the conflict radiating from the old marine – duty warring with instinct, suspicion with observation.
"Vice Admiral Goro wants you both detained for questioning," Hiro said finally. "I've convinced him to give you a chance to clear your names first." He turned slightly, addressing Shisui directly.
"Vice Admiral Goro wants you both detained for questioning," Hiro said finally. "I've convinced him to give you a chance to clear your names first." He turned slightly, addressing Shisui directly. A wry smile touched his lips, though his eyes remained sharp. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't dissect his presence quite so thoroughly. I may not understand what you're doing, but I can feel it all the same."
A playful smile tugged at Shisui's lips. "Perhaps," he replied softly, "it's precisely because I cannot see that I've learned to look so carefully."
Hiro's unexpected bark of laughter held more surprise than humor. He shook his head, reaching for the den den mushi on his desk. "Ensign," he spoke into it, "escort our guests to the waiting room. They'll be meeting with Vice Admiral Goro upon his return."
...
...
The waiting room was exactly what you'd expect from a military installation – aggressively uninspiring, with chairs seemingly designed to make meditation impossible. Two hours had crawled by like a particularly stubborn summoning jutsu, marked only by the steady rhythm of Obito's pacing and the occasional shuffle of guards outside their door.
"So," Shisui broke the comfortable silence, lips quirking into a familiar half-smile, "what's our play here?"
Obito paused his circuit of the room, and though the mask revealed nothing, Shisui could sense the calculating weight of his consideration. "We wait," he said finally, dropping the Tobi affect entirely. "Let them fumble through their investigation for now. If they can't get their shit together..." He shrugged, the gesture eloquent in its dismissiveness. "Well, this was never really our problem to begin with."
"True enough." Shisui tilted his head, considering. "Though that does leave the question of what comes after. We're still practically blind when it comes to this world – no offense to myself, of course."
A soft snort escaped from behind the mask. "Actually," Obito's voice carried an odd note of... was that fascination? "I've been hearing stories. About pirates, of all things."
"Pirates?"
"Mm. Apparently, some man kicked off an entire era by dying. Left behind some grand treasure, and now everyone from children to grandparents are setting sail to find it." There was dark amusement in his tone. "Imagine causing that much chaos with just your last words."
Shisui's laugh was sudden and genuine. "What, thinking of becoming a pirate now? Captain Tobi has a certain ring to it."
"Hardly." Obito settled against the wall, his posture reflecting years of contemplation. "Their whole system is laughably simplistic – pirates, marines, revolutionaries... black and white labels in a world that's clearly varying shades of gray. I'd rather stay out of their power games entirely. Fight for our own survival, nothing more."
"And explore the world," Shisui added, a hint of genuine enthusiasm coloring his voice. "See what other impossibilities this place has to offer."
"Getting ahead of yourself there," Obito remarked, though there was warmth beneath the dry observation. "That's assuming we get wrongfully convicted for kidnapping children we know nothing about."
"Well," Shisui mused, his voice touched by the effortless precision of a genius shinobi, "can't we just look for them? Surely finding a couple of kids isn't that hard." His fingers drummed an idle rhythm against the armrest.
Obito hummed, low and thoughtful, his mind circling a suspicion he wasn't quite ready to voice. The timing was strange, sure, but what was even more peculiar was how clean everything felt. Too clean for criminals of this world. If he didn't know better, he'd swear a shinobi was behind this—but that was impossible.
"Might be more complicated than that," he said at last, but before he could elaborate, the door creaked open.
The door creaked open, and Captain Rei stepped inside, her expression carefully neutral. "Vice Admiral Goro will see you now."
She stepped aside, and behind her, a man entered with measured authority.
Vice Admiral Goro cut an imposing figure, his white coat pristine despite the late hour. Where Hiro carried age and experience like a well-worn blade, Goro wore his authority like polished armor—gleaming and untested.
"So." His voice filled the space with rehearsed authority. "These are our... persons of interest."
Tobi sat with uncharacteristic stillness, though his mask remained tilted at that eternally cheerful angle. For just a flicker of a moment, the sharp calculation in his posture smoothed out, the weight of Obito slipping away as the fool returned. Beside him, Shisui maintained his usual posture of relaxed attention, unseeing eyes directed vaguely forward.
"Tobi is very interested to meet you too, Vice Admiral sir!" The masked man's voice bounced off the walls with its usual energy. "Though Tobi is sad it couldn't be under better circumstances!"
Goro's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "This isn't a social call."
"Oh, Tobi knows! Tobi has been waiting very patiently to clear up this big misunderstanding!"
"Misunderstanding?" Goro circled the desk, reminding Obito absurdly of a peacock strutting before its audience. "Six children vanish without a trace. No signs of forced entry, no witnesses, no evidence – except for two strangers who appeared on this island mere weeks before the incident."
"Tobi has been helping people!" He raised his hands in that exaggerated way that somehow made him seem even more suspicious to the untrained eye. "Ask anyone! Well... maybe not anyone right now because everyone seems very upset with Tobi... but usually they would say very nice things!"
"Indeed." Goro's smile didn't reach his eyes. "A mysterious masked man, doing odd jobs around town, learning everyone's schedules, gaining their trust..." He placed both hands on the desk, leaning forward. "Perfect cover for someone planning something more sinister."
"Oh no! Tobi would never—"
"Your companion," Goro cut through Tobi's protest, turning his attention to Shisui. "Blind, you claim. Yet moves with perfect precision. Always at your side, always watching – yes, watching, despite those dead eyes. Care to explain that?"
"Tobi's friend is very good at managing without sight!" The cheerful defense came instantly. "Tobi helps too! Tobi is a very good friend!"
"And neither of you have any documentation. No history. No verifiable background." Goro straightened, adjusting his cuffs with deliberate precision. "Just appeared one day, like ghosts."
He walked to the window, staring out at the darkening sky. "You know what I think? I think you're both far more dangerous than you appear. I think this whole act –" he gestured at Tobi without looking "– is exactly that. An act. And I think six families are suffering because we didn't see through it soon enough."
Tobi tilted his head, and for just a moment, something in the gesture felt less clownish and more... considering. "Tobi understands the Vice Admiral is very worried about the missing children. Tobi is worried too! But Tobi thinks maybe the Vice Admiral is looking in the wrong direction?"
"Is that a confession?"
"No no! Tobi means that maybe there are other things to look at! Like why this peaceful island suddenly needed so many marine ships! Or why—"
"Enough." Goro's voice cracked like a whip. "I've heard sufficient. Guards!"
Two marines entered immediately, hands on their weapons.
"Take them to the holding cells. Separate ones." His smile was cold as winter steel. "We'll continue this discussion in the morning. Perhaps after a night in custody, you'll be more... forthcoming."
"Oh! Tobi has never been in a marine cell before! Will it be exciting? Does Tobi get his own bed? Will—"
"Get them out of my sight."
As they were led away, Tobi's endless chatter echoing down the corridor, Goro missed the brief moment when Shisui's lips curved in what might have been amusement. After all, what was a cell to men who could walk through walls?
The real question was: would they choose to stay?
...
...
...
Vice Admiral Goro's office was silent save for the soft clink of ice against glass. The bottle of whiskey on his desk - a gift from some dignitary whose name he'd long forgotten - caught the lamplight like liquid amber. He didn't usually drink on duty, but these weren't usual circumstances.
"Sir?" Captain Rei's voice cut through his contemplation. She stood at parade rest, her expression carefully neutral. "The prisoners are secured."
"Good." He didn't look up from his glass. "And the package?"
"Being moved as we speak. The research facility will receive their delivery on schedule."
The ice clinked again as he swirled his drink. "And our friend from headquarters? Has he expressed any... concerns about our methods?"
"Inspector Kazama remains focused on his own objectives." The captain's voice carried a subtle edge of distaste. "As long as the specimens meet the requirements, he claims not to care about local disruptions."
Goro's laugh was hollow. "Local disruptions. Is that what we're calling it now?" He finally looked up, fixing her with a sharp stare. "Six children disappearing in the night. A retired Vice Admiral breathing down our necks. And now these two strangers..." He shook his head. "It's getting messy, Captain."
"With respect, sir, it was messy the moment we agreed to this assignment." She shifted slightly, the only tell in her otherwise perfect composure. "The World Government's demands are becoming more... extreme."
"Careful, Captain." His warning carried no real heat. They'd worked together too long for such pretense. "Those are dangerous thoughts."
"More dangerous than kidnapping children for government experiments?"
The silence stretched between them like a drawn blade.
"They were chosen carefully," he said finally, as if that somehow made it better. "No one important enough to cause real trouble. No connections to make waves. Even Hiro's grandson was just... unfortunate timing." He drained his glass. "And now we have perfect scapegoats. The mysterious masked man and his blind companion. Who better to blame?"
"Unless they prove more troublesome than anticipated."
Goro's smile was cold. "They're locked in our cells, Captain. What trouble could they possibly cause now?"
Before she could answer, a knock interrupted them. Lieutenant Yaris entered, his usually pristine uniform showing signs of haste. "Sir, the transport team reports everything is proceeding according to plan. They'll reach the rendezvous point by dawn."
"Good. And the sedatives are holding?"
"Yes sir. Though..." He hesitated. "The medical officer noted some concerns about prolonged use on subjects this young."
"Noted and irrelevant." Goro's voice carried the weight of finality. "Our orders were clear. The World Government requires human subjects for their research, and they specifically requested children. Our job is to provide them, not question their methods."
He stood, walking to the window. The moon cast long shadows across the base's courtyard, where marines went about their patrols, blissfully ignorant of what happened in the layers above their pay grade.
"Tomorrow at noon, we'll hold a public execution," he continued, his voice carrying the practiced righteousness of a man who'd justified too many sins. "Justice will be swift and decisive. The grieving families will have their closure, and the marine force will be seen as efficient and effective." His smile turned sharp. "By the time the children are truly gone from the island, and the mission would end there, successfully."
Captain Rei's reflection in the window remained carefully blank. "And if they prove... difficult to execute?"
Goro's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Then we'll have to be more... creative. After all, accidents happen in custody all the time." He turned back to his desk. "Now, about the patrol schedules..."
In the shadows outside his window, a figure that shouldn't have been there flickered briefly before vanishing entirely. Inside the cell blocks below, a blind man smiled at nothing in particular, his unseeing eyes filled with a terrible understanding.
The game, it seemed, was about to change.