"And I told you no!"
The old, pale man leveled a glare at him.
"What do you mean no?! I gave you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! You can correct all your wrongs—it's a dream come true for a lot of people!"
Obito let out a dramatic groan, dragging a hand down his face like a man dealing with peak stupidity.
"Oh wow, a dream come true! For who, exactly? 'Cause it sure as hell ain't me!" He threw his hands up. "Yay, let's send the traumatized war criminal back in time so he can relive his worst years! Whoopee!"
Hagoromo sighed, already massaging his temples. "And why, exactly, would you pass on such an opportunity?"
Obito snorted. "For the last time, Sage of Six Balls, I am so over this bullshit. If I go back, I'll either snap from stress and start murdering everything—including myself—or I'll just make things worse. Or, plot twist, I'll disappear into the mountains, become a cryptid, and spend my days throwing rocks at unsuspecting travelers."
He folded his arms, scowling.
"You think I want to go back and deal with that mess? Hell no! The only thing waiting for me there is pain, responsibility, and Naruto yelling about friendship in my ear for the next decade. That's a hard pass, my guy."
Hagoromo pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly.
"So, let me get this straight—you would rather ignore your one chance at redemption, just to sulk?"
"First of all, it's not sulking, it's called self-care—look it up. Second of all, I don't need redemption, I need a vacation." Obito ticked the points off on his fingers. "And third? No matter what I do, someone's gonna find a way to blame me for everything anyway. " He scoffed. "Oh yeah, sure. That'll go great."
He shot the Sage a deadpan stare. "Face it, you just want free labor."
Hagoromo cleared his throat. "That is not—"
"—And I refuse to be your cosmic errand boy! So no, Sage of Blue Balls, I'm not going back! And you can take your grand plan, roll it up real nice, and shove it right up your—"
"Ahem." Hagoromo coughed into his fist, cutting him off.
Obito narrowed his eyes. "...Why do I feel like you just did something really stupid?"
The Sage exhaled, looking far too done with this conversation.
"It's already done, you problem child. You're going back whether you like it or not."
Obito blinked. His head tilted slightly.
"...What the fuck did you just say?"
Hagoromo gave a lazy shrug, as if he hadn't just flipped Obito's entire life upside down. "I already sent you back. Whatever you do now? Not my problem."
Obito stared at him in sheer horror, then threw up his arms.
"Oh, you son of a—"
And then he vanished.
Hagoromo let out a tired sigh, rubbing his temples. "Finally."
--
And there he was—again.
The Kiri-nin massacre.
The day Rin died.
The day he awakened his Mangekyō Sharingan.
Bodies were scattered like discarded trash, Kiri-nin reduced to lifeless husks in the aftermath of his rage. Blood soaked the ground, the air thick with the stench of death. Not far from where he stood, Kakashi lay on the ground—still breathing, miraculously. Beside him was Rin's still form, unmoving.
Obito sighed, rubbing his temples as he walked toward Kakashi, frowning.
"Again? Seriously?" He let out a humorless chuckle. "What exactly am I supposed to do here? Because I sure as hell couldn't save her the first time, and I don't see how round two is gonna be any different."
With an irritated huff, he dragged his gaze past Kakashi to Rin's body—only to pause.
She was still breathing.
His eye twitched. "Oh, you've gotta be kidding me."
Quickly kneeling beside her, he inspected the wound in her chest. A slow realization dawned on him as he noticed the faint glow of chakra mending the injury.
"Huh. Kakashi missed." He snorted. "Tragic." He poked at the wound lightly. "And wow, Bijū chakra sure is something. Healing already? Maybe I should stab myself and see if it works for me too."
Dragging a hand down his face, he let out a long, suffering sigh.
"For fuck's sake, Blue Balls Sage, of all the moments in time to throw me into, you just had to drop me here." He gestured wildly at the carnage. "This specific moment, really? Not, I don't know, a week earlier when I could've actually prevented this? No? Just straight into the aftermath of my emotional breakdown? Thanks, old man. Love your work."
He shook his head, exhaling through his nose. "And—somehow—you managed to rig this mess in my favor. I don't know how, I don't want to know how, but congratulations, I guess."
With another sigh, he pushed himself to his feet.
"Whatever. I've got bigger problems than Sage Grandpa's bad sense of timing. Like dealing with a certain slimy backstabbing inkblot and burning Madara's crusty corpse."
With that, he turned on his heel and walked off, grumbling under his breath.
With a flicker, he phased back into the cave.
And there he was—Madara Uchiha, sitting like some ancient fossil in front of the Gedo Mazo, looking as ominous as ever.
The old man's eyes barely flickered up before he spoke.
"Child, why come back if you decided to leave in the first place?"
Obito groaned, rubbing his temples.
"Whatever, shut up. It'll be quick."
Madara frowned slightly, processing the words. Whatever answer he had been expecting, that sure as hell wasn't it. His eyes widened—right before his head suddenly wasn't attached to his body anymore.
His severed head hit the ground with a dull thud, rolling a little before coming to a stop.
Obito casually crouched down, plucking out Madara's Sharingan like he was picking apples. Rolling them in his palm, he inspected them with all the enthusiasm of a man checking eggs at the grocery store.
"Nice, still fresh," he muttered, stuffing them away like loose change.
Then, he turned his gaze toward the black sludge slithering up Madara's now very headless body.
"Oh, hey there, sentient oil spill, almost forgot about you." He extended a hand, sucking Black Zetsu into Kamui with zero hesitation.
"ARRGHHH!"
And done.
Obito exhaled, running a hand down his face. That was easy. Too easy. He blinked, noticing something strange.
The cursed seal Madara had placed on him? Gone.
His eye twitched. That shouldn't be possible. He hadn't ripped it off like he had for Kakashi, so what happened—
Then it clicked.
"…Fucking Six Paths geezer…"
He sighed dramatically, dragging both hands down his face.
"Right. So now I gotta seal this little sewage demon somewhere before it escapes and ruins my well-earned vacation. Goddamn it, world peace could've been so easy if those two motherfuckers had just died quietly. But noooo, they just had to fuck shit up, huh?"
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he forced himself to think. He knew a few sealing techniques, sure, but none of them were exactly… effective against something like Black Zetsu.
Obito let out a long, suffering groan, grabbing his head with both hands.
"ARGHHH, FUCK! NOT EVEN A FEW HOURS BACK AND I'VE ALREADY FUCKED SHIT UP! THIS IS WHY I QUIT, DAMN IT!"
For a few long, painful minutes, he just stood there, deep in thought. Then, with a sharp inhale, he snapped his fingers.
"Fuck it, we're going low tech."
He pulled out a shit ton of explosive tags scavenged from the Kiri-nin massacre and started casually scattering them all over the cave like he was decorating for a really violent Christmas.
Once satisfied with his interior design choices, he phased out, sprinting full-speed in a random direction.
BOOM.
The first explosion rocked the ground behind him.
BOOM. BOOM.
The next few went off in quick succession, each louder than the last, until the entire cave collapsed in on itself in a fiery hellstorm.
Obito stopped a fair distance away, panting slightly as he admired his handiwork. Then, with a casual flick of his wrist, he pulled Zetsu out of Kamui.
The moment the black sludge hit the ground, it let out a furious, very undignified screech.
"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS, OBITO?!"
Obito sighed, waving a hand dismissively. "Wow, geez, calm down, Oil Spill. You're making a scene."
Zetsu snarled.
"Making a—?! YOU JUST SEALED ME AWAY FOR KAMI KNOWS HOW LONG AND DID KAMI KNOWS WHAT!"
Obito clapped his hands together. "Ah, see, now we're on the same page!" He gestured toward the thick plume of smoke in the distance. "See that? No more cave. No cave means no evidence. No evidence means no one will find the Gedo Mazo."
Zetsu frowned, looking suspicious. "And why would you do that?"
Obito blinked, as if deeply offended. "What, you don't think ahead? Gotta clean up after myself, buddy. Can't have someone stumbling onto the world's most illegal chakra construct, now, can I?"
Zetsu narrowed his eyes. "That's… oddly responsible of you."
Obito beamed. "Thank you! I do try."
Zetsu's suspicion only deepened. "And yet, you didn't consult me first."
Obito didn't miss a beat. "Didn't need to. World peace and all that, you know? The big picture, the grand plan—yada yada, insert Madara's villain monologue here." He waved his hand in lazy circles. "Anyway, I'm out."
Zetsu reeled back in shock. "…Out?"
"Yeah, yeah, you know, just—" Obito made a vague 'poof' motion with his hands. "—gone. Done. Taking my two weeks' notice and fucking off."
Zetsu glared. "You can't just quit, Obito. You're not an intern."
Obito stroked his chin, fake pondering. "Mmm… see, I couldn't—but then I did, and now we're here. Funny how that works, huh?"
Zetsu let out a low, seething grumble, muttering about "failed projects" and "backup plans."
Obito, being the charitable person he was, pretended not to hear it.
"Alright, Oil Spill, good chat," he said, clapping Zetsu on the shoulder—only to pull back and wipe his hand on his cloak like he'd just touched something disgusting. "Blech. Anyway, you do your thing, I'll do mine, we both go our separate ways, and we never have to talk again. Sound good?"
Zetsu eyed him warily. "...Fine. An unwilling ally is worse than a willing enemy. Say nothing to anyone, and all will be well."
Obito smirked. "Cross my heart, won't tell a soul."
And with that, he was gone.
Obito perched on the highest branch of a lone tree, a few kilometers away from Konoha, staring at the village like it personally owed him money. The wind rustled his cloak, and the moonlight cast long, jagged shadows across his face.
"And what the fuck am I doing here?" he muttered to himself.
He had time to change his mind. Plenty of time, actually. He could turn around, disappear into the wind, start a nice, quiet life somewhere that wasn't in the middle of his old nightmares.
He drummed his fingers against his knee.
"Yeah, no. That sounds boring as shit."
Exhaling, he closed his eyes for a moment before reopening them, gaze sharpening.
"Fuck it. We go in as a civilian."
Now. The problem.
This was a Shinobi village. Meaning security here was tighter than his old man's morals had ever been. And unlike your average city in the Land of Fire, Konoha didn't exactly welcome random drifters waltzing in unannounced.
Which left him with a very pressing issue.
How the hell do I infiltrate as a regular civilian trying to start a new life in the strongest village in the world?
Obito had no goddamn idea.
Or at least… no bulletproof plan. Which meant only one thing.
He had to scout first.
With a sigh, he flickered out of existence, reappearing in a new location closer to the village. From a safe vantage point, he let his gaze sweep over Konoha's walls, watching the patrols, the movements, the patterns.
Alright, let's see…
Guards stationed at the main gates, obvious. Another patrol circling the perimeter every ten minutes. A few hidden ANBU on the rooftops, blending into the shadows. The usual.
Then there was the problem of chakra signatures.
Obito didn't have a signature anymore—not a readable one, anyway. Kamui made sure of that. He could slip through the village walls undetected, easy. But if he wanted to stay in Konoha as a civilian, he needed an actual identity. A backstory. A paper trail.
He clicked his tongue.
"Ugh. Paperwork. Almost makes me want to just start killing people again."
Almost.
Obito leaned back against the trunk, arms crossed, thinking.
Maybe a traveling merchant? No, too much risk—he didn't have wares. A retired mercenary? Ha, like Konoha would let a non-affiliated fighter just stroll in without grilling him for every damn detail of his past.
…A refugee?
Now that had potential.
War was a thing. People lost homes. Stragglers, runaways, survivors—they showed up all the time. Konoha, for all its paranoia, still had some bleeding hearts running around.
Obito smirked.
"Alright. Let's be sad and tragic."
Step one: Get a disguise. He couldn't exactly walk in looking like an Akatsuki reject. He needed something simple, rugged, the kind of thing a war-torn survivor might have.
Step two: Fake a story. Preferably one that didn't involve any mention of Kamui, Uchiha, or anything remotely close to the truth.
Step three: Bullshit his way through the gates like an Oscar-winning performer.
He cracked his neck, already feeling the oncoming headache.
"God, this is gonna be a pain in the ass."
And with that, he got to work.
"I need a good identity... And it always starts with a good name."
Obito rubbed his chin, glancing toward the village in contemplation.
"I will be… Tobi!"
He paused.
"But let's tone down the fool act. Somewhat."
Dropping into a crouch, he scooped up a handful of dirt, letting it sift through his fingers as he thought.
"And a village. With a backstory…"
He clicked his tongue.
"Let's see… I left my home to escape the war, looking for somewhere safe. Konoha always wins, so naturally, it's the safest village, right? Not the most flawless excuse, but passable."
Shaking off the remaining dust from his fingers, he stood, stretching out his shoulders.
"Now, for a job… I could be a tea seller. That could work."
He frowned.
"But I need funds. And… some actual tea to sell."
His frown deepened.
And then, like divine inspiration, the most absurd idea hit him.
"Biggest fucking heist in history. I will steal as much tea as possible, stockpile it, and—no, wait. Not just a seller. A tea salon."
His grin stretched wide.
"Yes! People will come, sit, drink tea, chat with friends—" he gestured dramatically to the empty air, "—I'll become a pillar of the community, a beloved tea vendor, the very heart of casual Konoha social life!"
He laughed, running a hand through his hair.
"A genius plan! All I have to do is commit mass theft, evade Konoha's economic oversight, avoid suspicion from shinobi, and set up a business from scratch with no existing identity!"
His grin faltered slightly.
"…Yeah, okay. Might need some adjustments."
But still. It wasn't the worst idea.
One Week Later
Obito slumped against his handcart, staring at the road ahead with dead fish eyes.
"I stole way too much money... Way too much."
He sighed, shaking his head.
"Managed to get myself a fake identity in the capital thanks to that, but now I have too much left over. No clue what to do with it."
He paused.
"...Eh, who cares."
He had hit the capital of the Fire Country like a silent, tea-obsessed storm. First, he raided some very unfortunate nobles' pockets, then used those ill-gotten gains to purchase an identity off the black market. That meant one thing—he could now enter Konoha legally.
And so, here he was, pushing a handcart filled with fresh tea leaves toward Konoha's gates, just a few kilometers away. His supplier in the capital had been more than happy to take his money in exchange for a variety of high-quality tea. Now, he was rolling toward his childhood village, dragging behind him enough leaves to host an entire Daimyo's tea party.
The memories tied to this place? Not the best. But he'd made peace with that a long time ago. This wasn't about the past. This was about relaxing for once in his godforsaken life.
And, well… if he had to settle anywhere, Konoha was the only place that ever felt remotely like home. It was where he met Rin. Kakashi. His sensei. Kushina. It was where Naruto was born—the same Naruto who had somehow kicked his ass philosophically enough to set him back on the right path.
Obito scowled.
"I swear to Kami, Naruto, if you don't thank me after this, I don't know what I'll do to you."
His mood soured further as he trudged along, exhaustion gnawing at his brain.
He had been bored out of his mind on this trip. No fights, no drama, no grand world-ending conspiracies—just walking, pushing a cart, and drowning in the realization that he had willingly chosen the most tedious possible way to spend his time.
Obito let out a long, suffering sigh.
"One leaf… two leaves… three leaves…"
He poked the tea bags with a gloved finger, staring at them like they held the secrets of the universe.
"So. Many. Leaves."
His eye twitched.
"...I should've just stayed evil."
After a few hours of relentless walking, Konohagakure's front gate finally came into view.
Obito froze mid-step, staring at the sight like a man who had just found an oasis in the desert. Then, without warning, he exploded into motion.
"YES! Fuck yes! Finally! I'm coming home, baby!"
He took off, running full speed toward the gates—fast, but not too fast. Just enough to keep up the act of an overexcited civilian and not a very ex-terrorist with reality-warping powers.
--
Konohagakure – Front Gate
Two guards sat at their post, enjoying what had been, up until now, a peaceful shift.
"Hey, buddy?" The first guard, a brown-haired man with perpetually unkempt hair, nudged his partner.
"Yeah?" replied the second guard, a black-haired man with his hair tied neatly in a bun.
"Am I hallucinating, or is there a cloud of dust heading our way?"
Kazuma, the black-haired guard, wrinkled his nose and followed his colleague's gaze. A rapidly approaching dust trail was definitely coming straight for them.
"Uhhh… yeah, that's not normal." He squinted. "And is it just me, or do you hear screaming?"
The first guard fell silent for a moment, listening carefully.
"...Yep. Definitely screaming."
Kazuma slowly leaned back in his chair, expression turning deadpan.
"If I'm being honest, I really don't want to know what's going on."
The brown-haired guard groaned, stretching his arms before reluctantly standing up.
"Come on, Kazuma. Time to earn our paycheck."
Kazuma scoffed but followed suit.
"I don't know how your paycheck works, Daichi, but mine would be proud if I got it without working."
Daichi clicked his tongue and crossed his arms, standing tall in an attempt to look more authoritative.
"Stop complaining and stay serious."
Kazuma sighed, adjusting his bun to make sure it stayed in place.
"Yes, yes, mom… Ah, there's the culprit."
And yes, the culprit was none other than Obito, standing just outside the gate, panting and groaning like he had just run a marathon. His performance was convincing enough to make the guards relax slightly.
After a moment of exaggerated wheezing, Obito snapped to attention.
"Hey, hey, guard-san! Am I in Konoha?! Please tell me I'm here! I've been traveling for hours without a break, and I ran the moment I saw the gates! I'm exhausted!"
Kazuma flinched at the sheer childishness in Obito's tone. His face twisted slightly, like he had just swallowed something sour.
"Ugh," Kazuma muttered before stepping forward. The guy looked… rough. A nasty scar ran down his face, and his hair was a long, tangled mess, as if he'd been actively avoiding hairbrushes his entire life.
"Uh… yeah? You're in Konoha. Got identification papers on you, kid?"
Daichi remained behind Kazuma, arms still crossed, his face as rigid as stone. His sharp eyes studied the boy carefully. He looked normal enough—young, maybe 14 or 15 at most.
His gaze slid past the kid and focused on the cart he was pulling. With a subtle nod to Kazuma, he wordlessly signaled that he was going to check its contents.
As he stepped closer, a strong aroma of tea leaves hit him like a wall. He pulled back the covers, inspecting each basket carefully. Everything checked out—just tea leaves, along with a list of prices for the wares.
Satisfied, Daichi approached Kazuma and gave him a firm nod. Everything was clear.
Kazuma nodded back at Daichi before offering the kid a small, professional smile.
"Alright, kid, here's your ID back. Before we let you in, I need to ask you a few questions."
Obito nodded eagerly, practically bouncing in place.
"Yeah, yeah, sure, sir! Whatever you need, guard-san!"
Kazuma let out a quiet sigh, already feeling the headache forming. Loud. This kid is so damn loud.
"Okay, good," he muttered before straightening his posture and pulling a folder from the desk. He flipped it open, scanning the details before glancing back up.
"Your name is… Tobi?"
"Yes!"
Kazuma sighed again, fighting the urge to rub his temples.
"How long will you be staying in the village?"
"I don't know!"
Another deep inhale. Another exhale. Patience.
"Where will you be staying?"
"In a hotel, guard-san!"
Kazuma clenched his jaw but kept his voice neutral.
"And your reasons for coming here?"
Obito threw his arms open dramatically, letting the oversized sleeves of his robes flutter in the breeze.
"I want to open a tea salon! People will come to drink tea, take a break from work, chat with friends—cool stuff like that, guard-san!"
Kazuma stared at him for a long second before checking the papers again. He motioned to Daichi, who gave a curt nod, confirming everything was in order on his end as well.
"Alright then, kid. Welcome to Konoha." Kazuma reached into a drawer and pulled out a small badge, handing it to Obito. "Keep this on you at all times—it marks you as a newcomer. If you're stopped for inspection, it'll prevent any misunderstandings. We wish you a good day."
Without waiting for a response, Kazuma turned sharply, dropped into his chair, and let his forehead hit the desk with a dull thud.
Daichi joined him, settling into his own chair as he watched the boy—Tobi—disappear into the village.
"You look exhausted, Kazuma."
Kazuma groaned, gripping his head with both hands before dramatically arching his back and letting out a long, drawn-out wail to the sky.
"No shit, Daichi?! That kid is nuts! He's so loud and hyperactive! I don't know what to tell you, man—he's exhausting! There's no way I'm stepping foot in his tea salon!"
Daichi scoffed, raising an eyebrow.
"That bad?"
"Yes!"
--
BACK TO OBITO
God, they were boring. That black-haired guy was fun to torture, though._
Obito walked at a leisurely pace through the village, eyes scanning his surroundings. The streets were familiar yet different—Konoha had changed in small ways since his time. New buildings, new faces, but the same warmth in the air, the same feeling of home… even if it wasn't really his anymore.
Still… how the hell was it this easy to get into Konoha?_
He frowned, adjusting the strap on his cart as he continued onward. Sure, there was an armistice between Konoha and Iwa, but that shouldn't mean security was this lax—especially not so soon after the war. Didn't they learn anything after the last time?
He shook his head, pushing the thought aside.
Not my problem. I have tea to sell and civilians to scam— ahem—entertain._
--
Alright ladies and gents , done , here a chapter ,
Yeah I know I'm inconsistent when it comes to my work , but I've got so many ideas !
I don't know if I will update
-son of Artemis
-fucking over the rules of reality
Cause... Idk I they bore me pretty quickly, if you guys do really wish to see them updated let me know ...
Like comment etc you know the drill.
Hehehehhehehe